Sawyer (Carolina Reapers 2)

I rolled us to the side so I didn’t suffocate her, and kissed her forehead. “God, if we’re that good at this the first time, how good are we going to be in a month?”

“Or two?” She kissed my chest as her breaths evened out. “Or maybe ten minutes?”

I laughed and tipped her chin so I could see her eyes. “Give me five.”

“Deal,” she agreed, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

By the time morning came, we’d gotten even better at it, and I knew I’d never get enough. I sneaked out of bed an hour before I was due on the ice for practice, and scribbled her a note that I left on the bedside table with a key to my apartment, asking her to either stay in that bed until I got back, or lock up when she left.

I walked out of the apartment knowing two things.

One, I wanted her in that bed when I got back.

Two, there were already strings, and I fucking liked them.

10

Echo

I slammed the key down on the bar, right in front of where Annabelle Clarke sat with one leg crossed over the other. Her Gucci pumps made her curvy legs look ten times longer than they actually were and the Chanel skirt and blouse combo did everything but label her as Sweet Water’s city clerk. Annabelle had been my best friend growing up, and while we’d remained close, distance had put a wedge between us after my father died—something I was constantly trying to remedy.

“He left me a key, Annabelle. A key.”

Annabelle covered a sugary laugh with her hand, her fingers a polished pink.

“There is nothing, absolutely nothing humorous about a man giving me a key.”

“Oh, come now, Echo, it is a tad funny.” She tilted her head, her perfectly wavy brown hair falling over her shoulders. “Especially the way you’re reacting to it.”

I sucked in a deep breath, and I swore I could still smell Sawyer on my skin. Taste him on my lips. Feel him between my thighs. The man had sent me over the edge with just his fingers. Then he’d completely set me on fire when he’d slid that considerable length inside. God, he was like satin-covered steel, and he’d hit every spot my body had. He’d touched me like he’d been studying my body for years, not months. It’d been mind-blowing and terrifying and consuming and perfection all wrapped into one blissful explosion.

“Echo,” Annabelle said when I’d done nothing but stare at that damn key for well over a minute. “You told me last week that you were fond of this guy.”

I snapped my gaze to hers then darted my eyes around the bar like I was terrified of anyone knowing that fact. It wasn’t like my regulars or our Reaper crew didn’t see us together all the time, but last night had changed things, slightly. But that damn key was way over the line.

“That was before,” I answered her, shaking my head. I leaned against the bar, pinching the bridge of my nose before looking at her again. “I do like him. We’re friends.”

She arched a neatly trimmed eyebrow at me. “Friends who have sleepovers?” she teased.

I couldn’t help but smile at her overtly sweet suggestion. “He’s a good friend,” I said.

“How good?” she whispered the question, shifting on her barstool to draw closer to me.

“Good enough that I haven’t called him to hand him his ass over this key.”

Annabelle gasped, sitting up straight, her eyes shifting to that same glossed-over true-love look she always wore when watched The Little Mermaid when we were kids.

“Don’t look at me like that,” I chided, stomping toward the bin of freshly cleaned glasses. “I don’t do this. I don’t do keys. I explained that. No strings. No relationship.” I scooped up a tumbler and put it in its place behind the bar, then repeated the motion with the next.

“You did once before,” she said, though her words were coated in acid.

I halted mid-placing a glass on the shelf. “Annabelle, you know I’ve apologized a hundred times for—”

She stopped me with the wave of her hand. “We’re past that, honey,” she said, folding one hand neatly over the other. “But you did. Once. You allowed yourself to fall for someone—”

“And look where that got me!” I cut her off, slamming the glass on the shelf a little harder than necessary. I took a breath. “Chad and I were together before Dad died,” I said. “I loved him then, but after? I used him as much as he used me. Because he couldn’t be what I needed when I lost the last of my family. And I know now that it meant he never truly loved me, just the idea of me. But…it doesn’t matter. I got swept up in the numbness his world offered. I lost sight of everything.”