Sweethand

by N. G. Peltier

  “Stop!” Cherisse cried. They were too busy grappling to listen. She looked around at the stunned faces, and fuuuuck, there were already phones being held up to capture everything.

  “Jesus Christ, just stop, dammit!” It was a bad move the minute she stepped closer, tried to pry Keiran away. Should have known the minute Sean started spewing something about “pussy” and “sweet” that it would take a turn for the worse, but her flaming cheeks weren’t enough to dissuade her from trying. Keiran’s back was to her, and his arm reared back to either shove Sean or punch him. Shit. She stepped back quickly, letting his arm go, completely forgetting the table was at her back until she crashed into it.

  Fuck. Her hip took the brunt of it. She vaguely thought that was going to leave a mark as she went down hard, knees scraping against the floor as her palms met the ground.

  She actually considered just staying down there. Her hip throbbed, and her knees felt raw and less a few layers of skin. Shiny brown shoes hastily appeared in front of her.

  “Jesus, Cherisse.” Dale stooped down, eyes filled with worry. He looked over her head a split second—Cherisse could still hear the scuffle behind her—then looked back to her and asked, “You alright?”

  “Just please.” She didn’t know if he could hear her. She didn’t even want to lift her head right now to see the faces looking back at her. She was too embarrassed. “Take me home.”

  “Of course.” He helped her to her feet.

  She didn’t look back at Keiran or Sean, ignored the guests around her. She just wanted to get home and sleep forever.

  “YOU SURE YOU’RE GOOD by yourself?” Dale asked for the millionth time.

  Her hip twinged a bit, the scraped knee throbbed, too, but she’d live. The minor physical bruises were less on her mind than her embarrassment. She’d stayed away from her phone the entire drive, certain she’d find something online already. She’d rather not know right now. Shower and sleep were her main plans.

  “You should go before that becomes more than a drizzle.” The sky looked ready to open up, the constant patter slowly turning into heavier drops. “I’m good, really.” Remi was out and not sure to be back tonight. The small bag she’d had draped over her shoulder was the one she used for overnighting, so Cherisse wasn’t entirely sure if this date Remi was going on involved after-hours activities. She hadn’t asked, and Remi hadn’t volunteered any information. She expected a text either way, at some point.

  Dale looked uncertain. “I’m going to kill him, I swear,” he mumbled but gestured for her to go inside, which she happily obliged, watching from the window as he ran back to his car.

  She wanted to bury herself beneath her covers and not come out again for a while. Just have Remi push some food into her room, and she’d be good to go. Except, rent didn’t pay itself, and her job couldn’t be done while she hid away in her room.

  She decided to shower and tend to her boo-boos. She’d been right about her hip—there was a small bluish mark forming there when she checked in the shower. Her knee wasn’t in bad shape, just some scrapes she cleaned with Dettol, gritting her teeth at the burn. A cupcake-decorated bandage slapped over the knee, and she was all good.

  At some point, she’d dozed off in front the TV but the constant plings from her phone jerked her awake. The pounding of the rain on the roof had been a soothing rhythm to help get her to sleep, but her message notifications certainly weren’t that. Cherisse squinted down at her phone. The time showed 11 p.m. Just an hour after she’d left the wedding. The text she’d figured would be from Remi wasn’t.

  Keiran: Cherisse I’m so sorry. I just wanna know you’re ok. I didn’t know you fell until...after

  He’d sent a bunch more before that. She scrolled back up, checking the time of the first one. Not too long after Dale had whisked her away. She considered ignoring him, but her fingers flew over the screen.

  Cherisse: I’m fine.

  She’d said that a lot tonight. Three bouncing dots appeared immediately. He’d clearly been waiting on her response.

  Keiran: I...ok uh...I’m outside. You didn’t answer before and I got worried so I came by. And I know you probably don’t wanna see me now but...

  Cherisse: WHAT! YOU’RE OUTSIDE?

  She hadn’t expected that, especially not with the way the weather was raging out there. Again, this night. Could she get back her balance at all?

  Keiran: Please. And it’s cold out here

  She considered refusing. Leaving his ass out in the cold rain would serve him right, but she was already moving to the door, replying to his text while she did that, aware of her ratty shorts and equally worn sleep top. The thin straps were so stretched out. Whatever, she didn’t need to impress Keiran.

  Ugh. She was going to regret this, but she could hand him his ass to his face, and that would be satisfying, at least.

  Chapter 19

  Keiran

  SHE LOOKED PISSED OFF and ready to run him from her front door, but Keiran was too busy being thankful she was alright. He’d known she wasn’t seriously hurt—only after he’d been forcibly separated from Sean, he’d realized she was gone. He’d been filled in on how she’d tried to part them and the fall, and that didn’t diminish his concern. He’d also obviously embarrassed her, so he had a lot to apologize for.

  He shivered as the rain howled at his back. He’d run towards her apartment, caught without an umbrella again, so he was soaked.

  She glared at him, eyes settling on his bruised cheek. Sean had gotten in a shot after Keiran’s punch. His hand was still twinging from connecting with Sean’s jaw.

  “This is emotional blackmail.”

  “What?”

  “You show up here in a goddamn storm, looking like a drowned puppy, so of course, I feel sorry for you and let you in. Too guilty to turn you away in this weather.”

  Shit. She was right. He hadn’t considered any of that. Obviously, he wasn’t thinking anything through tonight. He was cold and shivering, and it would be hell to see to drive in this, but maybe he could just wait it out in his car.

  “I’ll go. I didn’t mean to guilt you into anything. I’m sorry,” he repeated.

  “Just get your ass inside, Jesus, fuck.”

  For the second time, he stood inside her apartment, dripping water in front of her door.

  “Just fucking stay there.”

  He didn’t move. She obviously wasn’t letting him drip water through her place like last time. Not that he blamed her. He was lucky she’d even let him in.

  “I’m truly sorry,” he said again as she returned with a big fluffy towel that she tossed at him.

  “Yeah, you said.”

  “I really am. It should’ve never escalated to that extreme, but Sean shouldn’t have spoken to you like that.”

  “I’m a big girl. I can take it.”

  Cherisse had looked stricken by that asshole’s words. Sean’s jab about Keiran’s careless words added fuel to the fire and set him off. Because Sean wasn’t wrong. Sure, he’d made the public apology she’d asked for. Didn’t make what he’d said any less shitty.

  She sat down on the couch, cross-legged, and gestured to the floor. He wasn’t getting any dry clothes either, so he’d have to ride out this storm soaked.

  “How’s the face?”

  “Little sore,” he admitted. He stretched out the fingers on his right hand. “Hand’s a little twingey, but not too painful.”

  “You should put some ice on it, but my ass isn’t getting up to do it.” Her steely gaze pinned him in place. “You should’ve just walked away. I haven’t even checked social media at all, but I can imagine what everyone’s saying. I’m not trying to blow up my career because of you two. Sean likes the attention. I doubt this is the kind of thing you want sticking to you when it comes to your work.”

  It wasn’t. Shit. Sierra would be within her rights to blacklist him. She’d probably never want to work with DK Productions again. He hoped this wouldn’t lose them business. He
hadn’t even thought of that in the heat of things.

  “I messed up.” He scrubbed a hand over his face, blocking out Cherisse’s face for a moment. When he brought her in his sights again, she was looking at the TV.

  She sighed deeply. “I didn’t ask you to come to my rescue, and definitely not like that.”

  “I know. I wasn’t thinking about anything but shutting his ass up.”

  “Yeah, I won’t lie to you, his words hurt. Not because I’m ashamed of any additional pounds on my ass, but he just knows how to pick at my insecurities and get under my skin. I’m so angry at you right now, but myself, too.” She ducked her head, finger picking at the hem of her top. “I thought he couldn’t make me feel so small ever again, but I was wrong, clearly.”

  “Fuck him. He didn’t deserve you.”

  She gave him a sidelong glance, eyes flashing. “And what? You think you do?”

  “I never said that.” He truly hadn’t fought Sean with any ulterior motive. He’d just wanted the guy to shut the fuck up and not hurt Cherisse. Okay, maybe he’d also not wanted him to let on about them working together. Which, if he told her about now, wouldn’t go over well.

  “Did you fight him thinking, what? I’d fall into your arms with gratitude?”

  “Jesus, Cherisse. I wouldn’t do that.”

  She shrugged. “Well, Keiran, I didn’t expect you to fight a guy in the middle of a wedding, but here we are.” The sudden boom of thunder made them both jump. “Even the weather can’t get its shit together tonight,” she mumbled. She jabbed a finger his way. “You shouldn’t have punched him, but I know you were sticking up for me, so thanks, I guess.”

  She was letting him stay. He was grateful for that. This weather would be a bitch to drive safely in. He wasn’t keen to try. She was allowing him to hang around a bit, and that was fine by him. He’d ruined enough things tonight. He wasn’t about to do the same with this.

  KEIRAN AWOKE, TO CHERISSE snuggling into him, chest rising and falling as she slept. For a moment, he thought he was still dreaming, but it came back to him. The Cat Mom t-shirt he wore was a good indication.

  She’d finally taken pity on him and offered him the biggest-sized sleep shirt she had, that still fit snugly across his chest. Pants were a no, so he’d wrapped the big towel around his still-wet boxer briefs. He’d tossed his shirt and slacks into the dryer while Cherisse had kept her head facing the TV. Until she sighed and allowed him onto the couch, all the way on the other end from her.

  At some point, they’d both drifted off and had gotten wrapped up in each other like this. The rain hadn’t let up, the pounding on the roof practically drowning out the TV. Could explain why they’d both knocked out. Rainy nights were perfect for sleeping. The steady thrum of it against the roof always made snoozing easier.

  He should go before Cherisse woke up and realized he was still here. But, the damn rain and wind howling like a banshee. Still not a great idea to drive through it.

  He maneuvered so he could retrieve his phone out of his pocket without waking her. It was a couple of minutes to 1 a.m. As unlikely as that seemed, he hoped the weather would take a miraculous turn for the better. No telling when Remi would come strolling in. He didn’t think Remi would appreciate him being here, especially if she’d caught wind of his foolishness tonight.

  He checked his phone. Several missed calls and texts from his father. He was definitely ignoring those for now. In fact, he was ignoring all social media too. That was best left for morning after he’d had some sleep. He hoped like hell his family and friends hadn’t seen any of his brawl with Sean. He didn’t want to have to explain any of it.

  He looked back at Cherisse, stared at the faint dusting of freckles decorating the bridge of her nose. There was even a smattering of them on her shoulders. The urge to trace them, follow the dots into some sort of discernable pattern, was great. He kept his hands to himself. That way led to trouble.

  “Shit.” The softly muttered curse jerked his gaze away from her arms. Eyes open, she blinked up at him. “Fucking hell, I fell asleep on you. Were you watching me sleep this whole time?” She scooted back a bit, rubbing her eyes.

  “Not the entire time,” he admitted sheepishly.

  “Because that’s not weird at all,” she said around a jaw-cracking yawn as she stretched her arms over her head, her top molding around her breasts. For the first time, Keiran noted she wasn’t wearing a bra. The worn material of her top did nothing to hide a damn thing. He tore his eyes away from her nipples, poking against the top.

  “I wasn’t being a creeper, promise. I should go,” he added even as he’d all but told himself moments ago that wasn’t a good idea. He was also way too aware of her soft thighs in those shorts.

  “Wait it out. I refuse to be labeled a completely heartless bitch to send you out in some freak storm weather like this.” She got off the couch to peer out the window. “Looks real bad out there.”

  Keiran was proud of himself. His eyes didn’t linger on her ass. He merely snuck a quick look. But when Cherisse returned to the couch, he maybe had some of that lingering heat in his eyes because the concern melted away as she cocked her head at him.

  “You’re doing it again.”

  “What?”

  “Let’s not pretend like you don’t know.” Her tongue swiped out and wet her bottom lip, and well, that was just unfair. Had she done that on purpose, or was it just an unconscious nervous move?

  He did know what he was doing. She wasn’t wrong. He wanted to kiss her. She wore the soft and sleepy look well, but it was the concern he’d seen in her eyes that made him want to risk it all for another kiss. She’d actually cared about him going out in this rainy mess, even after all the shit he’d done tonight. But he needed to dial it down a bit. He didn’t want Cherisse feeling uncomfortable around him like he’d pounce on her at any moment.

  “Sorry,” he muttered, all too aware of his tight boxer briefs beneath the towel. He should’ve tossed those into the dryer too, but it would’ve been too strange sitting on Cherisse’s couch bare-assed, even with the towel. “I probably wouldn’t survive another one of your ‘putting my back into it’ kisses, anyway.”

  “You sure won’t.” The little smile quirking up the corner of her mouth made him hard, promised so many naughty things.

  Her hand drifted up slowly, hovered near his face as if giving him time to move away. Why would he ever? Her hand brushed his cheek, and Keiran didn’t move, barely released a breath in case any sudden movements would jolt her to her senses. Make her realize what she was doing. He wasn’t sure what was happening right now.

  “What are you doing?” he whispered, not wanting to shatter whatever this was but compelled to ask.

  “I don’t know,” she admitted. Her thumb moved on from his cheek to the corner of his mouth.

  “Something you’ll regret tomorrow?” His brain wouldn’t stop trying to find ways to ruin this for him.

  “I don’t know,” Cherisse repeated. “I’m still angry with you, but curious too, I guess. To see if lightning strikes three times.”

  He had no idea what had brought this on. He didn’t care. Any misgivings he had vanished as soon as her soft lips brushed his. The hand that had been caressing his face slipped down to his neck. Keiran let her take the lead. He was on board for the ride. She could take him wherever she wanted. At this point, he was going with whatever.

  That didn’t last long, though. The minute her tongue swept in and deepened the kiss, he was sending her backward on the couch. Her leg wrapped around him, strong thighs tugging his body forward, so he was up close and personal now. Kiss turning frantic, tongue seeking the wetness of his mouth, hips tilted up until there was no way Cherisse couldn’t feel his response to her.

  He was pressed up between her legs, and fuck if he couldn’t stop himself from thrusting forward, the same way their tongues were going at it in each other’s mouth right now. He slid his hand in her hair, gently tilting her head back so he
could get at her throat to pepper her skin with light kisses.

  “Motherfucking fuck.” The curses spewed from her lips. Her thigh rode higher on his hips, threatening to dislodge his towel. He let his hand slip down to grab a handful of her ass, and he found bare skin.

  Oh, sweet Christ.

  Her shorts had ridden up until a good portion of her behind was hanging out of it. Bless this soft cotton and her thong, truly. Easy access. He kneaded her soft flesh as his mouth roamed back up to hers. He wanted to go further, push her top down so he could tongue her nipple until she screamed, but all in due time. If she allowed it. He was still braced for her to call mistake on this and shut everything down. But he was milking this for everything he could, as long as she was allowing it.

  “Why’d it have to be you?” she groaned into his mouth. “God, the first guy to make me feel like this. Been so long, and it’s you? God help me.”

  “Sorry to disappoint,” he said dryly.

  He wasn’t annoyed by her words. He was on fire, and so hard. He had Cherisse’s hands on him. He. Did. Not. Care. He understood what she was saying. It had been some time since he’d been with anyone like this too. It was blowing his mind that he had Cherisse under him like this at all. That her hand was reaching between their straining bodies to grasp him under the towel.

  “Wet,” she said. “Not just me, your briefs. You should take them off.” God, he was going to die before he really had a chance to savor her. She molded him through the wet material, and his short-circuiting brain wondered if this was her revenge. Murdering him by touch. “Just don’t stop,” she panted. “Don’t stop touching and doing what you’re doing,” she instructed.

  “So bossy.” He grinned down at her.

  She narrowed her eyes. “What’d I just say?”