Sharp Right Turn (Sharp Turn Saga #2)

by Faye Byrd

  He puts his hand over mine and squeezes. “We’ll figure it out, Easy.”

  We chat a little longer before they get up to make their departure. “Bye, Trystan,” Weston calls into the kitchen with a little wave.

  Shaking my head, I shove him toward the door. “You do realize you’re married, right?

  “Pssh,” Weston says, wrapping his arm around Ryder’s back and pulling him into his side. “I know where my bread’s buttered.”

  As soon as the door is shut behind them, I make my way to the kitchen. “You didn’t have to disappear in here,” I say, propping against the bar and eyeing Trystan’s tush as he takes a large covered pan from the oven. “You’re not my dirty little secret.”

  He sits it on the stovetop and turns to me with a smirk. “But I want to be.”

  I flutter my lashes and look to my purple toenails. When he says things like this, so completely out of the blue, it catches me off guard and I find myself lost.

  My mind wanders into dangerous territory all too fast.

  When I chance another glance, he’s still smirking. Walking over to stand before me, he guides my chin until I’m holding my head high. “What’s with the shy glances away from me, Easton?”

  I shake my head. “Sometimes, you just surprise me. It’s like I don’t even know who that woman is in those moments. Trust me, I’m not her.”

  He winks. “I know you’re not, but you are a puzzle. One that I intend to take apart and put together many times.”

  I roll my eyes. “Cheesy, Ashby.”

  He shrugs. “Well I am a chef, cheese is my thing.”

  We stare at each other for a second before bursting out laughing. It’s a good, hard laugh at our near-constant banter coming to a corny head.

  After we’ve calmed enough to talk, Trystan gets more serious. “You know, just because I wasn’t in there doesn’t mean I didn’t hear some of what was said. I heard Ryder ask about you going back to work.”

  “Yeah, I told him it just isn’t possible.”

  “But it is if you think about it,” he says in a rush. “Maybe not right away, but sooner than you initially thought.”

  “How is that?” I ask, not understanding where he’s going with this.

  “I, uh”―he palms the back of his neck and clears his throat―“I can keep him for you.”

  I almost immediately refuse him, but when my brain registers what he’s actually suggesting, it gives me pause. It’s not a bad idea. Maybe not right away, but in a week or two, it might not only be a viable option but a damn good one.

  He’s studying me closely, his expression reserved, but there’s a spark of hope in his eyes, also. He visually sags with relief when I speak. “I think that might be a good idea, too … later though, not just yet.”

  His smile is blinding. “You’re serious?”

  I act affronted. “Of course, I am.”

  “Thank you, Easton.”

  “No thanks needed. It is your job as his father after all,” I retort with a hint of sass.

  “It is,” he agrees, matter-of-factly.

  Just then I hear the boys stomping down the stairs. Cam enters the kitchen first. “I hungry, Mama.”

  “Trystan’s cooking dinner. Why don’t we grab a snack and go play in the backyard while he finishes?”

  “Yeah!” Cam says excitedly, turning to yell into the living room. “Come on, Blue. Let go, boy.”

  I grab a knife and a couple of apples before following the boys to the yard. As I peel and slice them, Cam grabs Blue’s Frisbee and tosses it as far as he can. The boys laugh, run and toss the Frisbee, eating apple slices as they go. When Blue loses interest, they head straight for the swing, and I take turns pushing them. We’re still there when Trystan calls us in for dinner.

  After another fabulous meal, Trystan stays to clean the kitchen while I take the boys upstairs. Their bellies are full, but their clothes are a mess, so I ask if they want to take a bath. Since this is a new idea, even Blake readily agrees. Afterward, I dress them both in a set of Cameron’s PJs and send them to play with their toys.

  I head back down and Trystan is sitting on the couch. Not trusting myself in his vicinity, I take the chair across from him. I just can’t keep getting caught off guard, and with him so close, it’s begging for trouble.

  He rests his head back on the couch. “Did you get the boys all squared away?”

  I pull my legs under me and nod. “Yep, gave them a bath and now they’re playing.”

  His brows rise. “Gave them a bath?”

  “Yeah, they were extra dirty today. I dressed Blake in a pair of Cam’s PJs, so he’d be ready for bed when you leave. Is that okay?”

  “Of course it’s okay. He’s your son, and I trust you.” His earnest words coupled with his soft expression are almost enough to do me in. Our bond has been built in such a short time, and the lines are expanding and blurring every day.

  “I trust you, too, Trystan.”

  We’re silent after that declaration, each lost in our own thoughts, but it isn’t uncomfortable. If I had to guess, I’d say the trust was there before the first week was out. There are just some things you know, and our dedication to our children is mutual.

  After a few minutes, Trystan sighs. “We should get to the hotel. It’s past their bedtime already.”

  I stand and follow him up the stairs.

  When we get to Cam’s door, I walk straight into Trystan’s back. He turns with a finger over his lips and tilts his head to the room. Both boys are lying on Cam’s bed, under the covers, sound asleep. My heart squeezes as I take in our little boys, who make the most adorable sight ever.

  Grabbing Trystan’s arm, I pull him from the doorway. When we’ve moved enough not to wake them, I stop. “They’re so adorable. I hate to disturb them.”

  He runs his hand through his hair. “I know. I do, too, but I need to get him back to the hotel.”

  “Maybe.” I glance down to the floor, steeling myself, before facing him again. “Maybe you can just sleep in the guest room instead?”

  Trystan’s eyes move over me in a way my body is all too accustomed to. He steps closer, and I retreat, my back hitting the wall. His arms go up on either side of my head, and his lips move closer. He’s leaning in, and I can’t find the desire to stop him.

  His cheek brushes mine as his mouth moves to my ear. “Easton, if I’m staying tonight, it’ll be with you,” he says lowly, his voice pure sex.

  I swallow. I don’t have the ability to speak―to object.

  His lips move to my neck and skim the oversensitive skin there; up and down, over and over they glide and caress. I’m frozen in my spot. Desperate to accept but terrified of the consequences. My hands fist his shirt, itching to feel the flesh beneath.

  Leaving my neck, his lips make their way along my jaw to the corner of my mouth. I turn my head to meet them, and my world brightens―everything becomes clear.

  I can’t deny it any longer.

  2 Slippery When Wet

  Trystan

  Her mouth meets mine, and her essence invades my soul, filling me with need like never before. I want to consume every fucking inch of her. I grip her head and twist, my tongue exploring her every dip and crevice.

  Tasting her. Savoring her.

  But it isn’t enough. I pull back and meet her eyes. They’re brighter now, more intense than they’ve ever been. “Are you sure you’re ready for this?” I lean closer, caressing her ear with my lips. “I want to invade every inch of you. I want to bury myself so deep you’ll feel me for days, but you have to want it, too.”

  She fists my hair and tugs, bringing my eyes back to hers. “Fuck me, Trystan.”

  I drop my head to her shoulder, barely able to keep myself in check. Her words cause my cock to strain against my jeans. “Please say you mean it, Easton.”

  Her breaths match the racing rhythm of my heart. “Don’t back out now. You’ve teased me for weeks.”

  Unable to refrain myself any
longer, my body reacts. My hands move around her back and down to her ass, giving it a firm squeeze, before following the seam of her jeans to where the heat is a welcoming sensation. I apply pressure at her center.

  She moans.

  “I’m going to fuck you so good, Easton.” My voice is strained as I slide my fingers back and forth.

  “Show me,” she pants, stepping away from the wall and leading me to her bedroom. As soon as we’re inside, she strips her shirt and slings it across the room, turning to me. “What are you waiting for?”

  I step closer and do the same with my shirt. Her eyes immediately go to my chest. I smirk, kicking off my shoes and flicking the button of my jeans. Her eyes follow my fingers as I ease down the zipper, just enough to give my aching cock some relief. I step closer.

  My fingers trace along her bra and around to the clasp. Her chest heaves as the straps fall from her shoulders. As slowly as my body will allow, I pull the unnecessary garment away to reveal nothing but skin. I cup her tits, so full in my palms, and brush my thumbs across her hard nubs.

  “So beautiful,” I whisper, my mouth watering.

  Her eyes fall closed, and goosebumps scatter across her skin—her exquisite fucking skin. Desperate for more, my fingers roam down, across her flat stomach and to the button of her jeans. With a simple flick, it’s open, and the zipper follows.

  I pull her tight against me, chest to burning chest, and trace my tongue across her lips. Lust takes over, and we meld together, tongues twining and hands roaming. The sensation of her fingers exploring my back and sides only serve to stoke the already out of control flame.

  She rips her lips from mine and steps back, pushing her jeans and thong down her long, creamy legs. She’s bare and breathtaking before me as she perches on the edge of her large, roomy bed.

  With hurried, jerky movements, I rid myself of my constrictive jeans and go to her. She slides back and spreads her thighs to accept me eagerly. I move between them, and starting at her ankles, I kiss and suck my way to where I’ve been fucking dying to be for weeks. I push a finger inside, coating it with her juices, and her gravelly moan goes straight to my cock.

  I push another in before adding my tongue. I take long, slow licks while my fingers thrust in and out. Then I suck hard, constantly moving my tongue at a firm, rapid pace. Her hips begin to gyrate, riding my fingers and tongue, searching for release. When it comes, it’s a long slow ride, and I’m the driver. I give and give until her pussy stops convulsing.

  Kissing each of her thighs, I move up her body and frame her face with my palms. “You’re exquisite, Easton. Perfect.” I thrust my cock against her soaked pussy and release a sigh.

  “Please,” she pants, seeking more friction.

  Sitting on my haunches, I grip my cock tightly and groan as the sensation. Her eyes are on me as her hand moves down her stomach. I stop it. “That’s my job.”

  Bracing over her, I line myself against her pussy, never taking my eyes from hers. I work my way inside with slow, shallow thrusts before pushing as deep as her body will allow. Being buried inside her takes away my breath. She’s tight and hot and fucking perfect. I slowly pull back and push into her again. Her legs curl around my ass and grip me close as I start a steady pace.

  Moans echo. Hands grab. Tongues twine.

  It’s a battle.

  A battle of wanting to peak yet never wanting it to end.

  My muscles are tense, and my cock is throbbing for release. “Do you feel it? Jesus, Easton. I don’t think I’ve ever been this hard or this deep.”

  Her breathing escalates as my strokes quicken, turning into small mewls of pleasure. “That’s it. Give it to me. Let me feel your tight, hot pussy clamp onto my cock,” I growl into her ear.

  “Ahh, Trystan …” Her nails dig into my shoulders as her walls clench around me.

  I pound harder, faster. Her moans grow louder before tapering off, and all at once, it becomes too much. The tightening in my lower abdomen begins to unravel, and a surge of energy pulses through me. I erupt, releasing weeks of pent-up sexual frustration.

  I collapse. Spent.

  After catching my breath, I lift my head and meet her eyes. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to squish you.”

  She smiles a lazy, just-fucked smile. “I’m good.”

  “It was good.” I smirk.

  She swats me, and I move to the side, disconnecting our sex-sticky skin. There’s not a spec of insecurity as she rolls to face me, propping her flushed cheek on one hand and reaching over to brush my chest with the other. My muscles tense at her touch and the feeling travels directly to my ready-to-go-again cock.

  “You know you can’t stay in here, right?” she asks softly. The intense blue has faded from her eyes, but there’s a different kind of intensity there now

  It’s like I’ve been doused with a bucket of ice.

  These past two weeks have done nothing to deter my awakening to all that is Easton Wilder. She’s smart and passionate, tender and loving, motherly and protective. She’s scattered my head, and because of that, I’ve pulled back, not wanting to rush into something that can break me—break our sons—if it all goes wrong. Friends with benefits is a fine fucking line, and I’m starting to think I’ll fall over the wrong edge.

  And here she is now, reminding me of what this is. It’s not a natural progression in a normal dating relationship. It’s two parents doing whatever they can to secure a match for their son. Were that not a factor, we’d never have traveled this road to begin with. At least not at this pace, and surely not sex before everything else.

  I swallow down my hurt and give her a fake pout. “Why not? You get what you want, and now I get kicked out?”

  She rolls her eyes. “We can’t have the boys catching us.”

  I sigh. “I know.”

  “Besides, friends with benefits don’t sleep together,” she adds, lifting the cover and sliding beneath it, hiding her skin from my eyes.

  “What about parents with benefits?” I wink as I sit up and look around for my clothes.

  She giggles. “I like that, actually, but no, I don’t think they do either.”

  This time I really do pout.

  It shouldn’t bother me. I’m a man who’s accustomed to this scene, but the thought of leaving her naked in this bed brings me more displeasure than it should. I’m overwhelmed with the urge to hold her close as she sleeps. To wake her and have her again.

  Inching closer, I push a sweaty curl behind her ear. “If you send me to the guest room, I can’t rouse you at four a.m. for round two.”

  Her teeth tug at her bottom lip as she thinks over my suggestion. “Although it was mind-blowing, I think once … or twice in my case”―she smirks―“is enough for tonight.”

  My fingers dance a trail along her collarbone. “Mind-blowing, huh?”

  Her lashes flutter. “You know it was.”

  I push closer, my lips aching to taste her again, but she stops me with a hand to my chest. “We’ll continue this next time.”

  “Invitation accepted,” I growl. Just the thought of having her again turns me on. “But fuck, Easton, you’re going to drive me mad.”

  “Little ole me?” she asks with a horrible southern accent.

  “Yes, you.” I chuckle. “All right, since you won’t let me stay, I guess I’ll go sleep in that dark, lonely guest room.”

  I make exaggerated movements as I crawl from the bed, flexing as many muscles as possible while gathering my clothes. She ogles me the whole time but never once does she change her mind. With a quiet sigh, I pull on my briefs and T-shirt and grab my shoes from the floor before starting my walk of shame.

  “Mmm, it was mighty fine having you here, but it’s almost as good watching you go,” she calls as I get to the door.

  I pause and turn. “Don’t push it, Easton. I’m sure I can change your mind if I really try.”

  She covers her mouth, probably to keep me from seeing her smile. “Oops, sorry. See you in the mornin
g.” She rolls over, pretending to fall fast asleep.

  I wake before sunrise the next morning with breakfast on my mind. I get up and slip my jeans over my legs, leaving my T-shirt off, and head down the hall to peek on the boys. They’re still fast asleep, tangled across the bed like the motley duo they are. Satisfied all’s well, I go downstairs to get started on breakfast.

  Only to be brought up short.

  Easton is sitting at the bar with a cup of coffee, her hair still wet from a shower. She turns when she hears me, her eyes dropping to my bare chest. “Couldn’t sleep?” she asks, slowly panning to my face.

  “Actually, I slept fantastically.” I smirk, stretching my arms over my head and flexing my muscles. “I was coming down to cook breakfast before you guys woke.”

  Her eyes wander again, and I can’t help but flex a few more times.

  They jump back to mine. “Stop it!”

  “What?” I ask innocently.

  She turns back to her coffee. “You know what.”

  I take the stool beside her and caress down her arm. “I can’t help it, Easton. You do this to me.” I grab her hand and place it on my hardening cock. “I want you every time I see you.”

  Her palm lingers, but only for a second, before she snatches her hand back. “We need to set some ground rules.” Her voice is firm and so are her eyes when she turns to me “Last night was incredible, Trystan. We both know that, but we have to make sure the lines aren’t blurred. There’s more at stake than just us. We have the boys to think of, and we need to tell them.”

  My brows furrow. “That we’re fucking?”

  She smacks me on my bare chest. “No!”

  “What the fuck was I supposed to think?” I ask, rubbing at the sting. “One minute you’re talking about us fucking and making ground rules, and then you say we need to tell them.”

  She points to her temple. “You’re supposed to think with your head.”

  “I was,” I answer with a smirk.

  Rolling her eyes, she says, “What am I going to do with you?”

  I waggle my brows. “I can think of something.”