Perfect Bastard (Mason Creek)

“Avery,” he called out.

My head was too messed up to know what emotion he’d used when saying my name. I turned on the speed. Though I didn’t run, I was nearly there. I hopped in my truck; glad I had left the keys. I turned it on. Because it was a tow truck with a large flatbed, there was no speeding out the drive as I had to turn it around near the barn.

He was still standing there in the doorway as I finally passed by, heading out. It reminded me how he’d stood there at the barn dance, watching me flee but making no move to chase me.

What had I done?

It wasn’t that I regretted what had happened completely. But I’d just let Nate Bowmen—known playboy, heartbreaker, panty-melter—screw me bareback. The man had a fuck list, that in my estimation, rivaled the number of days in a year. What had I been thinking?

Nothing. I’d been thinking about nothing but getting his monster cock inside of me. And I had to say, all those people who said size didn’t matter were wrong.

Never in my life had I been so thoroughly and utterly fucked. And there was no other word for it. His dick had hit every pleasure nerve ending in my pussy.

But it could never happen again.

Funny enough, it was Barnes I heard in my head. “Never say never.”

And wasn’t that the truth when I realized I’d left the tablet in Nate’s house. But there was no way in hell I was turning and going back now. It’d wait until the morning. Because if I didn’t show up with it when I returned to work, Dad would use that damn Find Me program and hell would break loose.

SEVENTEEN

Nate

She fled the scene yet again as I watched with discontent. I hadn’t been quite done with her. I could have gone all night with the creative ideas that circled in my head.

Then there was the problem of the evidence I’d been in her pussy without a condom that covered my dick. I’d never in my life made that mistake before. Once her Jeep disappeared, I closed the door. That was when I noticed the tablet still sitting on the front console table just inside the door.

She’ll be back, I thought with a smile.

I remembered my phone and found myself outside searching my car for it. Eventually, I found it in the back, behind the driver’s side seat on the floor. The harrowing circles I’d done on the road hit me. I’d seen my life flash in front of my eyes, and it was probably why I’d been so reckless with Avery.

There were no takebacks, so I didn’t play the “what if?” game. Instead, I went upstairs, hesitating before I got in the shower. The caveman part of me didn’t want to wash her scent from my skin. But the rational side of me pushed me forward and instead I replayed my memories as I cleaned myself off.

She didn’t return that night. I spent a restless night tossing and turning as she invaded my dreams. I kept seeing her face and that one blissful moment when she’d come hard, if her expression told the truth.

The next morning, I was in the kitchen preparing breakfast when a knock came at my door. It differed from the previous time. Gone was the forceful banging. In its place was a tentative rap. I smiled and went to the door.

Her hand was out again. “Good morning to you,” I said.

“You know what I’m here for,” she said, though without the bite from our other interactions.

“I do. But are you sure you do?” I arched a brow for emphasis.

She pursed her lips before speaking. “I need to get to work. If you could please get me the tablet, I would be grateful.” Her monotone belied the heat I was used to.

“I’m making breakfast. Do you want some?”

“No,” she said more forcefully. “I really need to go.”

“The tablet is in the kitchen,” I said and headed in that direction.

I heard the door close, and her steps followed, though at a slower pace than mine.

“Coffee,” I said, and nodded in the direction of the Keurig. Then I went and flipped the pancake. There was a stack already waiting. “You are welcome to breakfast. You have to eat, right?”

She glanced around and didn’t see the tablet. “If you could get the tablet, please,” she asked again.

“I think we should talk about last night. First thing, I’m clean, if you were wondering. I haven’t done that with anyone but you.” Though I sounded casual, I watched for her reactions.

Her eyes, which had been hooded, finally met mine. “Good to know. I did worry about that.”

“I don’t sleep with every woman I meet,” I said in my defense.

She shrugged. “I figure you have a name for every day of the year.”