Chapter Four

Cooper

To say this is awkward would be an understatement. Alaina is handsy. Really handsy. I've pushed her away multiple times, but she doesn't seem to be getting it. One second her hand is on my lap. The next her head is on my shoulder with her arm slung around my neck. It's too much. We just met less than an hour ago.

I stare toward Bryan trying to give him eyes like this isn't working, but he doesn't catch on. Instead, he mows down two slices of pizza at once like he hasn't eaten all day. "Damn, I'm starving. You two have a nice walk?"

Alaina speaks up first. "Yeah. Turns out we're both huge fans of blue jays."

"Cooper doesn't like blue jays," Iris says with snark, readjusting herself at the table. She looks cute as hell when she's being feisty.

"I like blue jays," I say, glancing toward her. "They're just not my favorite."

"Right. She said they were your favorite."

"Actually," Alaina adds, "I said we liked the same bird."

The tension is thick, and I could easily end all of this right now. The second I walked out that door, I knew nothing would ever come from the walk Alaina and I just took. She's not my type from a looks perspective, and her personality… she's got to be one of the most judgmental people I've ever talked to.

Iris rolls her eyes. "You know what I like… dogs. Big dogs, little dogs. All kinds of dogs. I like them fluffy, or with flat coats, and sometimes… I even like ‘em with no hair at all."

Apparently, my dream girl has skipped way too many lessons on discrete passive aggressiveness. I try not to laugh. "Are you okay?"

"Of course! How was your walk? You tell her how much you hate country music?" I assume this comment is because Alaina is from Nashville. I've never seen this side of Iris. It's kind of cute the way she's pissing all over me to stake her claim.

Alaina turns toward me. "Me too! Everyone thinks that I love it because I live in Tennessee, but it's so boring and sad. Why do people listen to music that makes them cry? I don't get it. I'd rather listen to rock."

"What do you do for a living, Alaina?"

"Oh, I work in a plastic surgeon's office." She flips her hair back, which I'm also sure is fake. "I get everything thirty percent off. I can get quotes for you guys, too. I mean, Iris, if you're looking for liposuction or—"

I turn toward Alaina. My tone bites as I growl, "She doesn't need anything."

"I'm just saying," Alaina continues, "it's there if she wants it. Everyone can use a touch up and she has a little extra around the jaw line and around her waist."

I don't commonly fight women, but this one is out of line. Way out of fucking line and my blood is boiling.

I stand from the table and turn toward her. My tone harsh as I say, "That's enough!"

Alaina grins as though she's getting off on the drama. That's the difference between women. Some of them cause drama for the sake of drama. So many people act like it's just their emotions, but emotions and drama are two completely different things.

"She's a big girl. She can speak for herself." Alaina's tone is curt as she says, "She clearly could use some help, and it's okay. We're all—"

"Enough." I take Iris by the hand and lead her into the kitchen, ignoring all the eyes that follow us. She doesn't need to hear anymore bullshit. I may have been checked out for the last few years, but I know Iris has always been sensitive about her looks, and Alaina was just being mean. If Alaina wants to turn her body to plastic, that's on her. Suggesting it to others is outright ignorant.

The kitchen door swings closed behind us and Iris leans against the back counter, her eyes like waterfalls.

"She's right. I do need plastic surgery."

I study her for a moment, watching her soft hands as they brush tears away, all while her hair moves around her face. She's gorgeous. Even in sadness, the woman glows. My hand rests on her cheek. "You donot need plastic surgery. You're perfect."

"I'm not her. That's what men want. They want a perfect, little doll they can play with, fuck, and make them look good."

Laughter piles up in my throat. "I'm sure some men want that, but I don't. Honestly, not all men are like that." My cock thumps against my zipper and I pull her against my chest. Drums beat at the inside of my stomach and my hand moves to the back of her neck. Before I think through the thought, I pull her against my lips and I'm tasting the sweet sauce from the pizza she ate and dragging in the scent of wildflowers from her hair.

Years of longing and yearning disappear in seconds, but something else develops. A need, an urge, a desperation.

I growl into her mouth and take her harder until our tongues touch and we're twisting them together in passion.

Fucking hell!

My cock is hard, and my hands are wild, running over her skin, touching her… everywhere.

She sighs and tugs at my shirt, unbuttoning each button until my chest is exposed, and her fingers are buried in my hair.

Laughter sounds just a few feet away, the only thing separating us from shocking everyone we love—a thin wall.

My hand moves over her smooth leg and up her thigh, until my finger rubs against the thin cotton of her panties.

What am I doing?What are we doing? I actively feel it happening, but I've lost control.This is why I've kept my distance. I didn't trust my body not to react.

I've thought about this so many times. I've dreamt about it even. Her in my bed, bent over, while I eat her little pussy and listen to her come over and over again. The sweet sounds her body would make. The way she'd feel when I stretched her open.

Fuck!

She moans and I palm over her wet core, kissing her neck, scraping my teeth across her shoulder. How do I walk away from this? How do I breathe her in and leave, knowing I'll never have this to myself?

"I need you," I groan lowly in her ear.

"I need you, too," she sighs, her lips against my cheek. "I need you right now!"

I press a finger against her panties and work her clit through the fabric. She's so fucking wet, and I'm so damn hard.

Her hand is against my cock, but my jeans are in the way of enjoying her touch. She unzips them as more laughter ensues from the other room.

We should move. I know we should move, but I don't want to stop because I'm afraid she'll change her mind in the shuffle. There's too much at risk. I need her too badly now.

She strokes my cock in her small hand, and I push her panties to the side and slide in a finger, and then two, thrusting into her with force until her heavy tits are crowded against my chest and her arm is wrapped around my shoulder. She's close enough now that all those sweet sounds warm my ear.

Fuck!

I didn't think it was possible to come with her hand alone, but I'm so close. I'm way too close. I can't embarrass myself like this. I need to change things up. I need to touch her, experience her, feel all of her.

"I need to taste you," I groan quietly.

She squeaks. "I need you now! Please! Take me upstairs and fuck me!" She grinds back and forth against the countertop as I thrust inside of her.

Moments pass as I contemplate a plan that could get us upstairs in the bedroom without anyone noticing, but we'd have to walk right past the dining room table with flushed cheeks and disheveled clothes. I'm pretty sure a bunch of adults would realize what was happening.

I kiss her neck, drag in her scent, and lean into the lobe of her ear, spreading heat as far as I can. "You're perfect. Do you know that? And that pussy is so fucking tight."

"Yeah. I, ugh, I'm a virgin. So…"

Holy fucking hell!

I love that she's saved herself, but I can't take her virginity. I want to. I want to be the one to slide into her little core and make her feel good. I want to touch her and never let any man have her ever again, but the price is so high. I worry she'd regret it. We'd never be the same again. She'd hate me. She'd look at me and know I took something that she could never get back.

"Are you weird about it?" She pants as I thrust my fingers inside of her.

"No, baby girl. I'm not weird at all. I want to be your first. I want it so bad."

"So be my first. Fuck me! I've been saving myself for you."

My heart is still and the blood that used to pulse to my brain has redirected itself to my cock and only my cock. The thought that she's saved her sweet, little pussy for me isoverwhelming.The thought that her tight little core is right there, waiting for me. The fact that she's slick and ready… fucking hell!

I growl into her throat and bite her neck gently. "Then what? I couldn't take you once and walk away. I'd need you always."

"Or it could be a secret. We don't have to tell anyone ever. We could decide right now. I'm your dirty little secret, Cooper, and you're mine."

"What about a family and a life? I want that with you. You couldn't be my dirty secret. There's not a dirty thing about you." I kiss her lips softly and continue to thrust as she pumps my cock with her soft little hand.

"I don't know." She grins. "I think there might be something dirty about me."

I kiss her lips and push into her deeper. "I couldn't see you with another man. You'd be mine."

"I'd always be yours, and you'd always be mine. We'd know that, but we have to figure this out… someway. I can't just not have you."

The logic is flawed. Something inside of me knows that, but right now, with my cock rock hard, and every bit of blood in my body being sent to encourage it, the thought of a secret relationship with my best friend's sister sounds like the best idea ever thought.

I kiss her lips again and again, wild and untamed, like an animal who's cut loose from his pen.

It isn't until the door swings open and Shanna stares at us with daggers in her eyes that I realize what can happen to wild and untamed animals.