Sweet Keeper (Sweet Talkers Book 1)

by Thalia Sanchez

  “You think?” I inquire, arching a brow.

  Stanley scoffs.

  “Do you have any doubts?”

  I fake a yawn, stretching on the bed.

  “I dunno. I’m sleepy already,” I lie. “Maybe you’ll have to prove me otherwise.”

  Stan recognizes that I’m messing with him, and the next thing that I know, he’s on top of me. Supporting his weight on his elbows, I feel the pressure of his firm body against mine without crushing me. His eyes analyze me, lust darkening the green shade of his orbs.

  I wrap my legs around his hips, anchoring the heels of my feet on his butt. A moan escapes from my throat when his hardness rubs on my sex, the friction sending pleasure waves through my body.

  “Yeah, we’re definitely not sleeping,” I speak in a pant.

  Stanley seems to agree with my statement, but he chooses to torture me. His mouth abandons mine and descends to my neck, kissing, biting, and licking the sensitive skin.

  It’s going to be a long night.

  Chapter Nineteen

  I manage to sleep for two hours before Stanley wakes me up. My body is still begging for sleep, my eyes are heavy, and I can barely keep them open during the first couple of minutes. The memories from last night hit me like a cold wave, but I’m not disgusted by them at all. No matter how sexually frustrated I am, I treasure the moments that I shared with him.

  We kissed for so long that my lips are still sensitive due to the friction. I don’t mind it. The ache makes me smile, even when I’m not in the best mood due to the lack of sleep. I genuinely hate mornings, and the fact that I need to go through an exhausting process of going to the police station, file a report, and get a new phone has me pissed.

  “Bree, wake up.”

  A moan escapes from my lips, and I turn and toss in bed, trying to get five more minutes of sleep. I’m not going to be a decent human being. However, Stanley is not on the same page because his hand wraps around my arm, and he moves me.

  For a few seconds, I think that I won this battle until I feel his lips on my shoulder, ascending slowly to the curve of my neck, kissing the sensitive spots that he discovered.

  “Don’t be evil,” I mumble in a whimper.

  Stanley laughs and moves away from me.

  Rubbing my eyes to erase any traces of sleep from them, I blink a couple of times to clear my vision. Stanley is sitting next to me. His sandy blond hair is darkened and wet, letting me know that he took a shower. He’s shirtless, and I can’t help it when my sight travels over his torso, discovering the parts that I didn’t get to see during the night. Stanley has a toned body. Not in an exaggerated way, but you can know that he’s an athlete in every sense of the word; strong arms, defined chest, and visible abs.

  The day he becomes a professor, his students will be crazy for him.

  I know that I am.

  “Now that you’re awake and conscious, I need to tell you that we’re in the middle of a crisis.”

  “What kind of crisis?” I ask, hoping that it’s not a silly thing because I’m not in the mood for that yet.

  “Your dad is on his way here.”

  His words catch me off guard, and I cough, choking on my saliva.

  “What?” I question, not knowing if I imagined it or if he indeed said that.

  Stanley’s face is severe, and his eyes have a spark of anguish. He’s not joking around.

  “Ash called. Your dad went to your place to pick you up, and he was pretty surprised to find out that you weren’t there,” he explains quickly.

  I sit on the bed, absorbing everything that he said. I understand now how this is a crisis because my dad will be pissed off that I didn’t tell him that I wasn’t going to be at my apartment and because he doesn’t know that I stayed with a guy. Of course, I won’t tell him that I shared a bed with Stan and that the last thing we did was sleep. However, my dad is an intuitive person, and I’m very expressive.

  “Wait, Ash has your number?”

  “Ryder’s.”

  Although I’m interested in it, I don’t make comments about it, focusing on the fact that I don’t have time to look like a decent human being before my dad gets here.

  “Where are my clothes?”

  Stanley points at the pile of folded clothes on top of his desk.

  “Ryder put them in the washer last night,” he lets me know.

  I’m really in debt with these guys because I don’t know what I did to deserve this kind of treatment. They’re amazing. I’m a lucky bastard; Ryder and Stanley are a pair that everyone deserves to have in their lives.

  Turning around, I kiss his shoulder.

  “Thank you,” I say with a smile. “Now, is there a bathroom around here that’s not inside Ryder’s room?”

  Stanley arches a brow.

  “What, no morning striptease?” He hums, shaking his head.

  I hold back a chuckle.

  “Sorry, handsome, but you lost your chance of seeing me naked when you rejected me last night.” I wink at him, and he laughs as I stand up, grabbing my clothes.

  His eyes travel down to my legs.

  “Next door,” he directs me, pointing at the right side.

  I blow him a kiss and go out of his room, following his direction. I turn the knob with confidence, and I’m not prepared to see what’s inside—more like who’s inside.

  John Carter is standing in front of the sink, passing his hands through the black strands of his wet hair. A single towel is wrapped around his hips, covering the essential parts of him. His tattoos stand out on his arms. I spot a small one on his upper side, tiny numbers that I can’t decipher.

  For a second, I’m startled, and I trail my eyes off him, my cheeks brightening. I didn’t want to stumble upon him. Not in his apartment. My mind completely forgot that he lived here. I didn’t even think about this when I got out of Stan’s room.

  “Sorry,” I squeak, turning around.

  “I was already leaving,” he says, unbothered. I remain at the door, avoiding his gaze at all costs. He walks past me and stops, a malicious grin forming on his mouth. “You know? I find it funny that you’re seducing my roommate after that message that you sent me. I’m curious, is he your rebound?”

  Anger ignites in my chest, spreading through my system, burning my veins, and boiling my blood. His audacity amazes me. The fact that he’s trying to make it look like I’m less than him, that I’m with Stanley because I couldn’t get to him, disgusts me. He doesn’t know me. The only thing that he has gained from me is an embarrassing message. John has no right to assume things about me.

  I despise the moment where I found him attractive for the first time.

  “I can’t even say that he is because I’d have to consider you a man, and you’re barely a boy.” I sneer with so much venom that I’m surprised that I haven’t poisoned myself.

  His eyes darken, and he continues his path, leaving me alone in the bathroom. I close the door behind me, feeling my heart beating furiously. John read the message and recognized me. Fear crawls into my system, closing my throat for a few seconds. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with this information. I’m conscious that it’s a small thing that shouldn’t bother me, but what if he makes the connection and figures out that Ryder lied to him about the phone?

  Even when we try to ignore it, we did something illegal.

  What kind of hell raising will John Carter do when he finds out?

  I do my best to forget about it for now and concentrate on changing my clothes. I look myself at the mirror, noticing the massive bruise on my cheekbone. I take a hand to my face, wincing when I touch the area. This will take its sweet time to heal.

  I use the mouthwash to get rid of the morning breath, and brush my hair with my fingers, although it’s a lost cause. There’s no way that I’ll dome the beast any time soon.

  Two minutes later, I come out of the bathroom, looking slightly decent. At least better than the way I looked before I came in. I go back to the
room and notice that Stanley changed too. He’s now wearing a shirt and worn-out jeans.

  “I don’t even remember where my shoes are,” I say sheepishly.

  “They’re right there.” Stan points at the corner of the bed where my boots are. “Let me see that bruise,” he asks, stepping towards me, cupping my face between his hands.

  “It’s not that bad,” I lie, trying to make me feel better about it.

  Stanley makes a face, disagreeing with me. He lets it pass, and I’m grateful that he does because I don’t want to get into that. It was an awful and unfortunate thing that happened to me. There’s no reason to keep digging into that. I prefer to focus my mind on what happened after.

  “Put your shoes on.”

  “Bossy,” I whisper.

  “I heard that.”

  I bite back a snicker and put on my boots as fast as I possibly can. I don’t want to leave my father waiting longer than necessary. That will only make him angrier. I approach Stanley after I’m done and put my hands on his shoulders, standing on the tip of my toes to reach his mouth. The kiss is barely a gentle pressure.

  “I don’t think I’ve said this enough but thank you.”

  Stan gives me one of his brightest smiles, putting his hands on my waist.

  “Do I get a kiss too?”

  I jump at the interruption, and Stanley lets out a groan. Turning around, I see Ryder standing in the door frame with a mischievous grin. His dimples salute me, and his blue eyes spark with amusement.

  “Sorry, buddy. I don’t kiss arrogant boys.”

  Ryder opens his mouth, offended by my words.

  “And you kiss him?” He scoffs, pointing at Stanley with his hand.

  Stanley rolls his eyes.

  “C’mon, Bree. I’ll walk you out,” Stan announces, wanting to get out of that conversation.

  Is he slightly jealous? Because Ryder is messing with him on purpose. He’s pushing his buttons to see if he can get a reaction out of it, just like Ash does when she brings up Stanley in our conversations.

  I kiss Ryder on his cheek, smiling.

  “Thank you.”

  “Don’t mention it,” he shrugs it off and hugs me briefly. “Now, go before your father murders us.”

  A knot forms in my throat. Stan puts a hand on my lower back, pushing me gently to walk with him out of the building. My father is already here when we get to the parking lot.

  Austin Pierce is an intimidating man when he’s mad. I think it’s because he had to develop an absolute firmness with his profession. My dad’s a defense lawyer, and also one of my guardian dogs. But it’s all fake, even when he seems like he’s about to kill Stanley with his glare. My dad is tall as a pole—something that I didn’t get from him—and his skin is darker than mine. There’s a shade of stubble covering his jaw, showing that he hasn’t shaved in a couple of days. Today he’s not wearing his usual black suit, but dark jeans and a white shirt.

  I can feel the intensity of his gaze, and I shrink a little. I’m not afraid of him. He’s an excellent man and a caring father, but he doesn’t appreciate that his younger daughter spent the night with a boy after she got mugged.

  As soon as Dad spots the bruise on my face, he steps away from the car.

  “It’s fine, Dad,” I mumble, stepping back because I don’t want him to touch my face.

  “Like hell it is,” he spits out. “You should’ve gone to the station and to a hospital to make sure that you didn’t have a concussion.”

  “Now, you’re exaggerating.”

  I earn a dirty look from him.

  “This is your well-being, not a tiny meaningless thing.”

  “I was fine here,” I retort.

  My dad looks over my shoulder, starting at Stanley.

  “I bet,” he hisses, and I know that I hit a nerve.

  If looks could kill, Stan would be six feet under. Dad is livid because I stayed with a guy.

  “Be kind,” I order through gritted teeth.

  He arches an eyebrow.

  “Kind?” Dad looks at Stanley. “Have I been unkind to you?”

  Stanley gulps and starts to shake his head when I raise a hand, begging him to remain quiet.

  “Cut the passive-aggressive talk,” I say in a firm tone that would’ve won me a ticket to get grounded in the past. I can’t allow him to be cruel with Stanley when he’s not responsible for my decisions. “You better start being friendly with him because you’re going to be hearing and seeing a lot of Stan in the future.”

  They both look at me with surprise clinging to their faces, and I realize in the position that I put myself in. Maybe I shouldn’t have said that. It sounds like Stan and I have a serious relationship when we haven’t had that talk yet. However, it seems to work because my dad purses his lips together before he forces a smile.

  “Oh, is that so?”

  I can’t back away now.

  “Yep.”

  “That’s great,” Dad pronounces as if the thought hurts him.

  I almost laugh at his face, but I maintain my position. I may regret pissing him off. Although, he needs to stop being rude to the guys that come into my life. I think that my father and his attitude towards the male population were the main reason I didn’t date a lot during high school; that and the fact that no one wanted to risk getting hurt by James if they broke my heart.

  “So, we agree then.”

  My dad coughs.

  “We need to go, Bree.”

  I turn around and wrap my arms around his neck, crushing him in a tight hug. I can feel his muscle tense when my dad growls. Biting the inside of my cheek, I kiss the corner of his lips.

  “You want to see me dead,” Stanley whispers.

  “You’ll live,” I assure him. “He’s all bark, no bite.”

  “I can hear you, young lady.”

  I raise my brows and smile innocently, letting go of Stanley.

  “I don’t know, can you?”

  Dad scoffs loudly and opens the door of the car, silently telling me to get inside. Giving Stanley a last look, I say goodbye and hop in. I watch dad surround the car before he comes in. I fill him in on what happened last night, detailing everything that I remember, which isn’t a lot.

  As expected, the cops scold me for not reporting the robbery when it happened. It’s not something that I didn’t know. I’m familiar with the proper procedure, but honestly, it wasn’t worth it. The only reason why I’m even filling the report is that I need it for the insurance of the phone. I didn’t see the guy; I don’t know if he had tattoos or physical details about him. He used clothes that completely covered him.

  It’s as useless as reporting it now.

  Three hours later, exhausted, and with a new phone on my power, I enter my apartment only to be interrogated by my friends. They’re all waiting for me in the living room when I arrive; their concerned expressions tell me that they’ve been worried sick for me. They speak at the same time, driving me insane for a minute. I can grasp a few sentences of what they said.

  “Why do you have Ry’s number?” It’s the first thing that I say after reassuring them that I’m okay.

  Ash’s white skin turns red as a tomato.

  “That’s not the point!” she exclaims. “You should’ve told us! We spend the whole night up.”

  Guilt settles in my stomach. They were worried, and I was busy kissing the hell out of Stanley.

  “Guys, I’m fine, seriously,” I repeat. “I know I look like shit, but it looks worse than it feels.”

  “We’re glad that you’re okay, Bree. Just don’t disappear from us like that,” Cora intervenes, taking a turn to hug me, squeezing me hard.

  Ash sighs and hugs me too. Karma follows her, making sure that I’m entirely okay, and I’m not lying. That’s when they start to have a suspicious glow on their eyes.

  “So, you spent the night with Stanley...”

  I choke, but I try to hide it with a cough. I’m not ready to cause them euphoria and give them
material to tell me that I was stubborn. Thinking of a way out, I hold my phone up.

  “I need to call my mom.”

  It’s a lie. I already spoke to my mom when I got out of the station. Before they have a chance to protest, I sneak into my room, making sure that the door is safely closed. So, I jump on the bed, considering if I should sleep the thoughts away or not. Instead, I unlock the phone to let Stanley know that I’m back at the apartment. I didn’t have to change the number because the company made sure to deactivate the other chip, and thanks to the cloud, I have all of my contacts and photos.

  Immediately, a new message pops in.

  Lu: I heard what happened to you. I hope that you’re okay.

  Me: I’m okay! My parents are just making a big deal out of it, LOL.

  Lu: Don’t minimize your experiences, dumbass.

  I groan because I know that she’s right, but I don’t want to saturate my mind with what happened. Jumping on that carousel of overthinking is not a choice.

  Me: *shrugs* I’m ok.

  Lu: BTW. I’m finally coming back home! I’m going to be there by Sunday!

  Me: FUCK, YES!

  An incoming call doesn’t allow me to get too excited about Luanna moving back to the city, but I don’t mind it either when my brother’s name shines on the screen.

  I answer immediately.

  “Let me guess, mom already filled you in,” I anticipate the conversation.

  He scoffs.

  “Do you ever process things like a normal person?” James quips.

  “Please, since when are we normal?” I snap back in a lighter tone. “It wasn’t a big deal, honestly. I’m lucky that things didn’t escalate.”

  The truth is that I need to minimize the damage because it helps me get over the traumatic experience. If I keep thinking about it, the terror will shatter me. Nausea courses through my stomach just imagining what could’ve happened if the guy had a knife or worse. I could be dead, but I’m not, and I’m not going to sit down and cry about it. I’m grateful that I’m safe at home, that I’m able to live for another day.

  I learned my lesson last night. That’s all that matters.