20. Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty

Toby

F ucking hell, I need a drink.

Her hand wrapped around my cock?

Fuuuuuck.

I've spent the last several minutes picturing what it would feel like to not have the barrier. Feel her hand on my bare cock. To see if her pussy is as tight as she is, and now I'm so fucking hard, there's nothing I can do to make this rager go down.

But whiskey will.

I'm halfway across the living room when I hear her door open and I can't stop my feet from freezing like I've been caught. Halting my escape to go take care of myself in the form of a sip.

What if she's coming out for me?

"It smells amazing," she calls down the hallway, the patter of her soles hitting the tile and bouncing around in my skull like a tease of what could be.

Did she make herself come?

I have half a mind to just fucking ask her but I feel like my torture will only continue either way.

No means she's coming for me.

Yes means she already came for me.

Grunting, I reach into my shorts and tuck my stiff dick beneath the elastic mere seconds before Anna enters the kitchen. In a cute little off-white frilly top that stops just beneath her tits and pants that mold to her ass, leaving a peek of porcelain smooth skin between the two pieces.

Her hair flows in waves around her shoulders, the red strands a bright contrast against her pale skin, and I can't help but picture the way my hand would look wrapped up in her locks.

I've never seen her so relaxed.

My dick pulses at the thought—well, at everything about her—begging for attention.

"Is it done?" Anna calls, her back to me with the teasing little patch of skin calling to me like a siren in the night, while she retrieves the serving spoon I abandoned.

"Yeah." Even I hear it in my voice, the gravel so thick that it almost comes out like a growl, when she glances over her shoulder in my direction, a slight pink tinting her pretty face.

There it is.

I groan when she shoots an innocent smile my way, then goes about stirring and fucking with shit in the kitchen.

It takes two full length deep breaths and a countdown from ten to get my feet to move me back across the living room and into the kitchen instead of up the stairs to the box of liquor stashed on the dusty floor. I lean against the island, my hands clutching the surface, the height a perfect cover for the boner that's refusing to settle.

But then Anna bends into the fridge, her perfect ass pushing up into the air, and it takes every bit of my control to white-knuckle the counter instead of vaulting over it.

I need a fucking drink.

Shaking the thought that keeps resurfacing in my head, I puff out a breath and run a hand through my hair.

After what happened last night, I've been doing my damnedest to ignore that niggle in the back of my mind, refusing that urge to pick up the bottle. It's been tormenting me all day, tempting me, calling me to take just one sip to ease the anxiety it's caused.

I was on my way to do just that.

The way her eyes looked up at me, all sad and puffy and full of fucking pity, is exactly why I've kept that night to myself for twelve goddamned years.

I never want her, or anyone, to look at me like that again.

Even the boys don't know the truth of the whole deal and even if they've figured it out, they don't talk about it because I don't talk about it.

Talking about it hurts.

"Jeffers." The snapping tone draws me back to another look I'm adding to the list of shit I don't want to see on Anna's face when it comes to me.

Worry .

"Yeah, Mama?" I meet her gaze, ignoring the little crinkle between her brows, and give her a nod of reassurance. "What'd you need?"

At least my dick calmed down.

"I asked you …" She pauses to lick her lips, the pink of her tongue drawing my eyes and tempting my dick all over again. "I asked how you liked your chili."

I take in the way her mouth entrances me to the proud cleavage dipping into the low neckline of her top. "In a bowl like a normal person."

She leans into the counter, the light illuminating the freckles that adorn her skin, light and barely there, yet enough to outline the tops of her tits all the way around to her exposed shoulders. It's an irritated stance, and somehow, it's sexy as fuck. I'm ready to get her on this countertop, beneath these lights, just to see what other colors I'd find on her body.

And how rosy she'd let me get that ass from my palm.

" Jeffers. "

"Yeah?" Slowly, so very slowly, I trail my gaze down her, pausing at the peaked nipples behind the lace. "Need me to show you how to eat good?"

If I hadn't had my focus zeroed in on Anna, I would have missed the slight shudder.

"Actually …" Anna trails off, a flush rising on her cheeks. "I've been trying to eat healthy. I can't remember the last time I ate something like this."

Hello, cold bath.

"What?" I snap, my brows furrowing. "Like you haven't ever had chili?"

"No, I have." Anna flutters her hand between us dismissively, but that tinge of pink is still on her cheeks when she turns away and something about the color suggests it's not arousal. "It's just been a long time. How do you fix yours?"

"Load it the fuck up 'til it's goop."

"Attractive." She wrings her hands. Just like at the store.

I round the counter and snag her wrists, dipping to catch her sight. "I'm not going to judge."

I'm not sure what makes me say that, but it must be close to the right thing because she sighs and rolls her fucking eyes again. "You microwaved Bailey's. You have no room to judge."

"Exactly," I state. "So, what's the problem, Prune?"

Anna huffs. "I've been on this diet for forever and I—"

"Hold up," I interrupt. "Diet? For fucking what?" Lifting her wrist, I take in her curved stature, and for the life of me, can't find anything other than sexy standing in front of me.

She lets loose another irritated sigh. "What do you think, Jeffers?"

I narrow my eyes at her sarcastic tone. "Spell it out. Tell me why the hell you think you can't eat the chili."

"I never said I couldn't," she growls and wiggles her wrists in my grip.

"Then why act like it?" I hold tighter.

"Because!" she snaps, yanking free from me and spinning away.

Except, I chase. "Because why?"

Anna stalks in the direction of the bedroom, with me hot on her heels.

I'll be damned if she thinks she can escape me this time.

"Just let it go. Leave me alone." She throws up a hand as she walks, that ass of hers swaying with each step.

"No can do."

I hook an arm around her waist before she can cross the threshold to the bedroom and pull her back against my body. Her ass crashes into my groin, and I don't bother holding back the thick noise that escapes me.

"See," she hisses and forces her fingers between my forearm and her soft belly in an attempt to push me away. "I'm like a freaking wrecking ball ."

" Whoa , Mama." I cinch tighter around her midsection despite her resistance. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"I'm—Just let me go!"

"Nope."

Anna growls, struggling more in my arms, and that's when I move. Lifting her up, her back hits my chest and her legs raise to kick at air. "Let me go, Jeffers!" she squeals, her nails biting into skin and her heels meeting my shins as I walk.

I ignore it all as I advance until the bed is in front of us and there's no room left to move.

Tossing her onto the mattress, I snag her ankle before she can skitter away.

She flops over, raises her free foot and kicks in my direction.

"I hate you!"

I catch the other ankle on her second kick and pull her body across the bed until my hips are snug between her thighs. "No, you don't."

She growls and arches her arm back, her fist flying forward to connect with my ribs. "Yes, I do."

Another fist lands on my torso, except this time, her face is more than just flushed from exertion. I tilt her chin up until her eyes meet mine and I see the heat that she's fighting in her piercing green irises.

The anger swirling in them.

The arousal.

"Stop fighting it."