Page 71 of The Wrong Guy
WELCOME TO THE SAUSAGE FEST!
I giggle at the silliness, but Jesse’s in no laughing mood. His eyes are dark as midnight as he smirks at me in that sexy, bedroom way that drives me crazy. “Hey, Birdie,” he grumbles. “Fuck, I missed you.”
That’s all it takes. I’m a puddle, standing on his front porch with big news I wanted to share about the oddities in the divorce decree. But now I can barely remember my name.
This is what I want. A man who wants me, not for the boxes I check, but because I’m a blend of just-right and all-wrong. A man who doesn’t want me to be less and thinks my “too much” is the perfect amount. I thought that wasn’t Jesse, but it turns out I was so wrong. He’s exactly that man. The one who challenges me and isn’t afraid to call me on my bullshit, but also sees that sometimes I need a safe space to crack the strong, independent shell I wear as armor and be taken care of.
Stepping inside, I curl right into his chest, my head fitting there perfectly. Smiling against his skin, I sigh, “I missed you too.”
He places a soft kiss to the top of my head as his arms wrap around me, and after a moment of connection where we end up swaying together, I feel like I can relax enough to breathe again. He makes the day melt away until the only thing that matters is him.
No, us.
“Get in here and tell me about this meeting with The Asshole,” Jesse says as he pulls me in and takes my purse. He sounds more annoyed than jealous, even rolling his eyes sardonically. “And I’ll tell you about my meeting with Chrissy.”
“Later,” I argue, shaking my head as I take his hand and lead him toward the kitchen. “First, I was promised an up-close-and-personal look at your dining room table. I hope you’re hungry.”
I throw a sexy smile over my shoulder as I raise a questioning brow. As if the growing “hot dog” in Jesse’s pajama pants isn’t answer enough. “Fucking starving for you. Always.”
He has me naked and spread-eagle on the table in seconds, sitting in one of the chairs like I’m his gourmet dinner, though I don’t know that I’ve ever seen him attack a meal with as much gusto as he does me. Not even Tayvious’s infamous chili cheeseburger, which would be an understandable and allowable exception for anyone who’s ever had one.
I lose track of how many times his devilish tongue makes me come, demanding one more from me with my clit between his teeth and my ass sitting in a puddle of my own making as he holds me in place with a tight arm pressing down over my hips. I don’t think I can do it again, but Jesse knows my body almost better than I know it myself, and I shatter violently, bucking and writhing with a scream choked in my throat and my nails digging into his shoulders.
“You’re so fucking beautiful right now,” he murmurs once I regain consciousness. His head is resting on my inner thigh, leaving beard burn I know I’ll feel tomorrow, and I can sense his eyes looking up my body as his fingers trace pathways over my other thigh.
I can’t help but giggle a little bit. I don’t feel beautiful. I feel like an absolute mess—hair in knots at the back of my head, eye makeup running, mouth dry but skin soaked, and I can’t catch my breath. I lick my lips and look down at Jesse. “Thank you.”
Chapter 24
JESSE
“Doo-doo-doo-doo, doo-doo-doo-doo,” I sing, doing my best to imitate the Mission: Impossible theme song, dramatically making my way down the hallway. I press my back to the wall, looking behind Wren and me for any tails we might’ve caught along the way. “Coast is clear, let’s go.”
I peel myself off the wall with a dangerous grin and grab Wren’s hand to encourage her toward our destination—the property tax office.
Wren’s heels click-clack noisily, and if we were actually on a top-secret mission, they’d garner way too much attention, and her laughter would surely get us busted. “Sshhh,” I hiss, glaring at her offending heels. “Before I banish those to the bedroom!”
“You’re the one who’ll lead people to ask questions we don’t want to answer,” she teases back. Her smile says she’s having fun being silly, though.
We need it after this morning. We spent the hours as the sun came up curled together in my bed, talking through the drama of our individual days. She was surprised when I told her how bluntly aggressive I was in my meeting with Chrissy, but understood the strategy of setting the stage for our new working relationship. But neither of us was surprised at Jed trying to pull a fast one in the divorce decree. I think we’d be more surprised if he didn’t do something shady.
Wren hasn’t let me see the decree, claiming confidentiality, which I understand, but she’s sure the property list is incomplete. Her doubt in it is enough for me.
That’s why I called Maggie this morning and asked her to meet us for this hush-hush meeting too. She’s entirely trustworthy and has had numerous opportunities over the years to prove that, to the point that if Jed was doing something sketchy, he must have hidden it from Maggie too. For example, she had no idea about the affair with Lucy. But if anyone knows about Jed’s properties, it’s her. Jed wouldn’t know how to file his nails, much less ownership papers with the county.
Of course, that’s what lawyers are for, but there’s always a trail. Always.
And hopefully, Maggie is a bloodhound.
One more corner and we’ll be there, but before we can make the turn, someone else comes around it and nearly runs right into us. “Oh! Sorry,” Bill Ford says, stopping short and looking from Wren to me and back. His smile falls slowly, turning to suspicion. “What are you two up to?”
“Hi, Dad. What are you doing here?” Wren asks, ignoring his question. “It’s like old times, seeing you around the halls here.” She smiles as though remembering happy times when Bill was the mayor and Wren was interning with Ben.
Rather than going down memory lane with her, Bill narrows his eyes. “Good try, but I taught you that trick. Now, what’s up?”
Wren laughs, the sound a bit forced and high-pitched, and bats her lashes a bit.
“Immune to that one too. Ask your mother.” He tilts his head, enacting the Dad Glare 5000 to silently pull the answer from Wren.