I watch as her fingers fit into his hand and he gives it a gentle shake. “Sweet tea?” he asks her.
“That would be perfect, sir,” she says softly.
He snorts. “No ma’ams and sirs in this house, Exeter. This is family, unless you’re in trouble, then you can add the ma’am and sir.” He winks.
Exeter smiles as I slip my hand around her waist and tug her gently against my side. “I said ma’am and sir a lot growin’ up,” I admit.
“He sure as shit did,” my dad says with a bark of laughter. “Wyatt?” he asks.
I guide Exeter over to the sofa so that she can sit next to her grandmother. “I’ll come get a beer, say hey to Mama.”
“You best,” he calls out as he begins to walk into the kitchen.
Once I’m inside of the kitchen, my dad already has a glass and is filling it with my mom’s famous sweet tea. All southern women think their sweet tea is famous. I don’t correct my mama, ever, and tell her that though, I simply allow her to believe that hers is the best I’ve ever had, just like her pecan pie and anything else that comes out of her kitchen.
“Finally,” she states, turning to face me, a wooden spoon in her hand. “It had to take a near tragedy to get you to bring your new girl here, but I can’t say I’m completely sorry for it, either.”
I shake my head with a smile. If she knew the true circumstances, she would not be so jovial about the visit. I aim to keep Mama in the dark though, it’s better that way. She’s lived her own hells, she doesn’t need to relive them with my woman.
“C’mon and meet her,” I say, lifting my chin toward the living room.
“I think I will,” she nods.
I make my way toward the fridge and grab a can of beer, luckily me and my dad drink the same brand. I grab one for him too and together the three of us make our way out to the living area where I know that my woman waits for us, nervous as fuck.
My phone rings just as I’m about to make the proper introductions. Reaching into my pocket, I notice that it’s Beaumont. I almost ignore the call, but something niggles at the back of my mind that I need to take it. He never calls me.
“I need to take this,” I say, turning around I jog out of the back of the house.
“Beau, what’s up?” I ask as my greeting.
I hear music in the background, it’s loud like he’s at a club or a party. “I’m coming back to town for a couple weeks. I need to get away,” he slurs.
“Whatever you need, man,” I say, my brows furrowing.
Why would he feel the need to tell me that he’s coming to town? He’s never informed me before, he usually just calls me when he’s been here for a few days and we meet for a drink.
“Brother, you okay?” I ask.
He lets out a long sigh. “I—I don’t know…” His voice trails off. “Drinks when I land?” he asks.
“Tell me when, I want you to meet someone, officially anyway.”
“Oh shit,” he cries. “The curvy brunette?” he asks, sounding much more excited and jubilant than he did just seconds ago.
Chuckling, I confirm, “Yeah, Exeter.”
“Can’t fuckin’ wait,” he states before he ends the call.
I stare at my phone. I debate calling Ford or Louis, asking them if they’d had any strange calls from Beau, but instead, I shove my phone back in my pocket and turn toward the house. I’ll text them later, right now I need to be at my girl’s side while she meets my family.
Fuck.
This is it, she’s the one, I can feel it down in my goddamn bones. This is my woman, meeting her new family for the first time. The thought brings a wide smile on my face. Shit. I’m as sappy as fucking Rylan, I think to myself with a chuckle. I don’t hate it either.
EXETER
My eyes open with a start. My heart slams against my chest and I sit straight up in bed. I hear Wyatt grumble beneath his breath, then he cracks an eye open and looks over at me. I watch the moment he realizes that I’m sitting up, my hair and eyes equally wild. I had a nightmare. Not a dream. A nightmare.
My father was there, except he wasn’t hurting me. He had a gun pointed to Wyatt’s face and he pulled the trigger. I woke up as soon as I heard the blast from the barrel. I couldn’t bear to see Wyatt die, not even in a nightmare.
“Sugar, what’s wrong?” he asks, his arm sliding over my hip.
His fingers wrap around my side as he moves a bit closer toward me. I feel his beard brush against my waist as his lips touch me there.
Looking down, I cringe when I realize that I’m completely naked. I feel like after that dream, I need to cover up, cover everything, curl into a ball and cry. It felt so real, my emotions, the scene before me, it seemed like it was happening in real time. I bite the inside of my cheek, wondering if it is some kind of premonition of what is to come.
“Had a dream,” I murmur when his fingers squeeze my hip.
His teeth nip my skin, his hand on my hip, gently pulling on me. Slowly, I shift down the bed until I’m lying on my back. Wyatt stretches next to me, his entire body pressing against mine. I expect him to try and talk to me about the dream, to get details and force me to work through it, but he doesn’t.
Wyatt dips his chin, his mouth finding one of my nipples and his lips wrap around it, at the same time I feel his tongue circle the bud.
“Wyatt,” I breathe, both of my hands diving in his hair to hold him there.
My eyes close as my head falls backward. His fingers dance down the center of my chest, my stomach and toward my mound. Spreading my legs, I whimper when his teeth nip my nipple at the same time his fingers fill me.
Lifting my hips, I moan at the sensation of his fingers curling inside of me. His thumb presses against my clit, firmly rubbing circles as his mouth focuses on my breast. It feels like too much and not enough all at the same time.
My fingers tighten in his hair and I tug his head back with more force than I intend. A smile twitches on his lips as he releases my nipple.
“Sugar?”
I shake my head, my breath coming out in a whoosh. “I need more. I need you,” I practically plead.
His fingers make another come-hither motion inside of me before he pulls them out, then they find my clit and he circles it with his wet fingertips. I watch as he then lifts those wet fingers to his mouth and he sucks them in deep, his eyes focused on mine, and nowhere else.
“Please,” I beg.
His lips twitch again, his eyes darkening at the same time and I watch as wrinkles form in his forehead, as if he’s holding himself back. He doesn’t need to. I want him—all of him. I hold my breath as he moves between my spread legs. He adjusts himself so that he’s on his knees and only then does he lean forward slightly.
He doesn’t wrap me in his arms, his expression is primal, and I know that he’s on the edge, ready to completely lose his shit. I can’t wait. Spreading my thighs wider, I lift my hips hoping he’ll sink inside of me, immediately. He doesn’t. He lifts his hand, wrapping it around the top of the headboard, his chin dipped and his other hand at the base of his cock.
“Lift your legs, spread,” he grinds out.
I do what he demands. Lifting my legs, my knees come close to my chest, my eyes focused on his face. His chin is dipped and his tongue pokes out slightly as he aligns himself with my center and slowly sinks inside of me. I expect him to slam down hard, but he doesn’t.