“Fuck, you’re soaked. Is this for me, Peyton?” One hand is gripping my thigh now while his thumb caresses my pussy through the lace of my panties.
“Yes, who else would it be when it’s just the two of us?” My head tilts up as I let my words seep in.
Chance slides his thumb beneath my panties, working my clit, slicking me with my own wetness until he goes for broke. Two of his fingers slide deep inside me, working back and forth. The palm of his hand giving me that added friction on my clit.
“I’m close,” I breathe out. His mouth is near my throat, not where I want his lips the most. I want Chance’s lips on mine. I want to feel his tongue slide against mine, for him to devour me like he is with his fingers.
“Peyton,” he rasps against my neck, his fingers working me up, his tongue licking at my skin. It’s only a matter of moments before he pushes me over the edge. My hand moves to the one that’s working me up, holding him there, as my hips are rocking up to meet every movement, while my other hand clutches at his shoulder, my fingernails biting through the fabric of Chance’s shirt.
“Chance.” I’m weak and breathless. When he nips at my neck, that’s when I’m catapulted into the most amazing orgasm ever.
I’m still convulsing around his fingers when his cell phone starts ringing. His body goes taut, and I know our cocoon is broken when he wrenches his body away from mine. My dress is still rucked up where he left it. I don’t look away from him. There’s absolutely no way I can.
“Fuck, that shouldn’t have happened. It won’t happen again.” Those are the words he says, words that will forever be ingrained in my mind. He stomps out the door, yelling, “Yeah,” into his phone, and I’m left sitting on my desk after having the best of the best, yet Chance just made it feel like the biggest mistake of my life.
“So stupid. Why would I ever allow this to happen?” I mutter to the empty office, which is more of a modular trailer that we keep at a job site as a central location. Which provided him with the easiest way to leave instead of talking about what happened like normal adults. I fix myself up the best I can, reluctantly get back to work, my emotions a jumbled mess, and put Chance Adams away in the furthest cavity of my heart. Locking him away and throwing that damn key in the garbage. There’s no way I’ll ever get close to him again, not after what just happened.
One
Chance
Present
“Fucking hell,” I grumble to the empty office. Another day, and still Peyton is just as frosty as she has been for the past six months. The only person to blame for that is me. And I do that, every single morning when I look in the mirror. I fucked up, I know I did. That still doesn’t sit well when we work together day in and day out. Now, she wants vacation time. I’m not a fucking idiot. I may have been born at night, but it wasn’t last night. Peyton asked for a full week off. The only time someone asks for that amount of time off is when they’re hunting for a new job.
That’s why, when I got a phone call the other day from my brother, Fox, to work on a beach house he just bought in Kelson Beach, South Carolina, I knew it would sway Peyton. A completely paid-for vacation, and the only thing she’d have to do is sit in on the initial meeting and help me project budget totals. A job I fucking hate, but one of the many tasks Peyton performs for me.
When I told her about a working vacation today, she was hesitant at first, asking what the catch was. Her normal firecracker self would have demanded what this was all about, but in the past month, she’s changed. Once again, that place in my chest aches, no matter the amount of rubbing it. It doesn’t go away. She’s branded deep inside me. Her scent still haunts me in my dreams, every single night. And I’m the idiot who screwed it up. So, yeah, this vacation may have me working while Peyton relaxes, but the summer nights will have us both burning up if I have anything to say about it.
When she left today, Peyton said she’d be ready in an hour. From there, we’re heading right to the airport. Something about picking up something last minute. I go through the process of closing everything down for the week. This week was the only one I could afford to have this office and jobsite closed down. Adam’s Construction is on the smaller side, and it’s costing me a whack to let the guys have this week off, but I do it every year. The week between Christmas and New Year’s, they need that time off. Fuck, so do I, now more than ever. Especially if I’m going to pull my head out of my own ass, like my brother so aptly put it when he called me.