Entice (9 page)

“Sawyer,” I turn in my seat to face him, “I’m—”

Loud thumps on the top of the car interrupt me and I look past Sawyer to see a pretty face shining behind him. “Hold that thought.” He taps my nose and rolls down his window. “Hey, Bennett.”

“Hey, stranger, get out and hug me!” The pretty girl steps back from the door so he can open it.

He wraps her up in a hug, twirling her around then setting her down. “Bennett, this is—”

“Emmett?” she cuts in, giving me a friendly wave. “Nice to meet you. I’m Bennett Cole. My boyfriend, Tate, and I live next door to Sawyer.”

I climb out of the car and walk over to her, extending my hand, thankfully not shaking anymore. “It’s nice to meet you. I am Emmett.”

“Tate’s at work, but I think the rest of the Crew’s gonna take a dip, maybe grill some burgers. You guys gonna join us?”

Sawyer looks to me, thoroughly enjoying this, waiting for me to speak for us.

“I don’t have a suit,” I manage, “and I’ll only be here for a little while.”

“Pssh,” she waves her hand at me, “Laney or I can loan you a suit. Come on, stay. You’ll have fun, I promise.”

I can’t get in a bathing suit in front of strangers, in front of him. I give Sawyer a look, pleading with him to get us out of this, but he doesn’t. Instead, he moves his eyes up and down me, then licks his lips. “Yeah, Em, grab a suit from Ben here. A cool swim sounds real good to me.”

Hiding my aggravation, I force a smile and look back to the welcoming redhead. “Sounds great, thank you.”

“Yay!” She grabs my hand and pulls me towards the other side of Sawyer’s duplex, flowers and flags of all colors decorating the walkway and porch. “Come on, I’ll get you fixed up. We’ll be over in a sec, Saw.”

“Looking forward to it,” he says with a chuckle. “Pick a bikini,” he whispers in my ear, placing a soft kiss right below it.

Chapter 8

Another Sweet Day

—Emmett—

T
hese are the greatest people in the whole world, almost unreal. Each one of Sawyer’s friends is more kind, welcoming and down to Earth than the last. The girls aren’t catty, gossiping and whining, but rather fascinating, interesting and funny. I’m having a great time, but I can’t help feel a bit sad, knowing I won’t become a permanent fixture in this “Crew” as they call it; which will truly be my loss.

Sawyer walks over, slinging one leg over the chaise I’m sitting on and placing himself behind me, his legs surrounding me on both sides. “Having fun?” he whispers into my ear.

“So much,” I reply honestly, turning my body slightly back towards him. “You?”

“I always have fun with them,” he nods his head to his friends, “and with you here? In a bikini? Yeah, I’m feelin’ good.”

I try not to look at his bare chest, especially not the dark trail leading down to his swimsuit or any further. “WXYZ,” I hear in a breathy moan inside my hormone-induced brain.

“Now you know your ABCs?” He laughs, making his whole glorious chest shake.

Crap, I should’ve stopped at his V and certainly not have finished out loud.

The glare of the bright sun off his tanned, ripped abdomen and pecs has my mind spinning in circles. I’ve never seen anything like him, not even close. I hope he doesn’t notice that I notice the miniscule holes that tell me his nipples are pierced, or his rock hard biceps, or my anything-but-ambiguous examination of his tattoos.

Truly, his ink is amazing, the canvas of his body a work of art in itself. His right bicep proudly boasts a compilation of colorful, merging tattoos that almost dance before my eyes, starting at the slope of his shoulder and ending right below his elbow. The main focal point is a gothic cross with faint wings behind it, thick black tribal lines branching down his arm. To the left, the lines seamlessly transform into tree roots. To the right, the thinnest line breaks into a scripted “Semper Fidelis,” which I already know means “Always Loyal.” It fits him perfectly.

On his left bicep, as large and intimidating as the right, is a lone “7,” surrounded in big “fuck you to them all” flames.

And then there’s his ribcage. The left side says, “Beckett,” and the right, “Courage.” I can’t quite put my finger on it, but there’s something…

“They’re ambigrams. Check it out.” He’s careful to swing one leg over and around me to get up and stand in front of me. He turns and contorts, bending down and placing one hand on the lounger, and his “Beckett,” upside down, becomes “Sawyer.”

“Holy—” I gasp, fascinated.

“And,” he stands and swivels, bending once again to show me the “Courage” is now “Strength.”

It’s the coolest thing I’ve ever seen in my life. I decide right then and there, an ambigram tattoo is going on the bucket list. I reach out my hand, looking up and seeking acceptance, which he readily gives with his eyes, before running my fingers over the words. I hear him suck in a hiss of a breath when I make contact, his muscles tensing under my touch.

“I love them,” I whisper.

“So now you’ve seen them all.” He takes his place behind me and I shift to face him. “Cross, wings, roots,” he’s pointing as he lists them, my eyes eager to keep up, “seven, flames, and two ambigrams.”

I don’t know if I ever consciously thought tattoos weren’t sexy, or never thought about it at all, but I officially have a stance now. Hot. As. Hell. Yeah, I tried not to notice any of it, or at least convince myself over and over in my head that my chemical reaction is simply that, but I think the fact that I’m still staring back and forth between every tattoo and inch of his body, maybe panting, might have blown my cover.

Time to pull it together. I close my eyes and shake my head. Ground zero, Emmett, knock it off. What were we even talking about? Oh yeah, he asked if I was having fun and I may have answered him. “It’s beautiful out today, and everyone’s great. Thank you for bringing me.”

“You’re welcome, Shorty pants. And with that thank you,” he lifts a finger to my face and slowly traces my jawline, “I would like to know, why a butterfly tattoo?”

Ah, seems I’m not the only one with wandering eyes…and we’re back to tattoos.

So he had seen it; I didn’t even think of makeup today. “Butterflies have very short lives. The minute they reach their full potential, become what they were meant to be, their clock is ticking,” I explain. “If they’d never emerged, never taken flight, they’d have postponed their end. So technically, their quest for life kills them.”

“Emmett.” He searches my eyes back and forth, his thumb resting now on my chin to hold my gaze in place. “If you’re sick, I’ll help you,” he whispers. “Please, let me help you with whatever you need. Whoever it takes, the best in the world, I’ll find them.”

I cup his face, the words caught in my throat, my thoughts momentarily lost to his beautiful face. “I already told you I’m not dying, Sawyer, I swear. But my destiny’s been chosen and I’ve accepted that as my path and happiness.”

“What does that even mean? Just tell me, Emmett. Wherever you’re going,” his lips brush my own, flavored with longing and hope, “I want to go with you.”

“Oh yeah, is that right?” My green eyes glitter with mischief as I throw his words back at him. “How can you be so sure?

“Because from the day I first saw you until the day I saw you again, I didn’t like where I was. Now you’re here and I do. So it stands to reason that staying with you, wherever it is we’re going, is my best course.”

“You got any ideas?” I touch his arm. “Cause I’m a little lost.” I am getting lost, every minute I spend with him making it harder to remember why I’m not allowed to enjoy it, crave it, need it like my next breath. Maybe I’ll start leaving myself sticky notes or put a snap band around my wrist as reminders of why it’s simply a bad idea to think he’s a good idea.

A splash of cold water on my back makes me jump with a loud shriek. “Damn, that was cold!” I laugh, turning to see who got me.

Evan is pointing at Zach, who’s pointing at Laney. I think they all three pushed each other in the pool in one giant jumble.

“Sorry.” Evan smiles at me. “Ya’ll wanna play Chicken? Hummingbird, get in here, woman, let’s take these punks down.”

I feel like I’ve fallen into the Planet of the Hot Guys…none of them are anything short of perfection physically, and they all treat these women like queens. I want to stay in this world, build a small cottage and move in forever…why can’t I stay?

I’m saved from having to talk myself out of playing when Laney pipes up. “Punks, huh? Oh, we got you, come on, Dane!”

I lean back against Sawyer, his hands rubbing up and down my arms, as we watch the teams go all out in some merciless games of Chicken. The methodic slide of his hands on my skin, coupled with his solid form, the perfect back pillow, and the hot sun, and I’m soon fighting to hold my eyes open, even amongst all the commotion.

“Hey,” he leans over me, his hot, smooth voice in my ear, “let me carry you up to my bed for a nap.”

“I’m fine, really. Little longer.” I turn to my side and curl into him shamelessly. I can’t help it, his skin is hot, and there’s enough of it with his enormous body to warm up every part of me. “Tell me something else, without the game, because you want to.”

“Like what? Gotta tell ya, this is a lot easier when you tell me the question. I’m a guy; I don’t store up random facts and memories.”

“Yes, you do; you’ve already proven that’s a lie several times. But I’ll let you slide this once. Tell me about your parents.”

“No, pick something else.”

That refusal was adamant and I want to know why, my head perking up. “You don’t have to tell me,” I run my hand gradually up his chest, warm, slick with suntan oil and hard as stone, “but will you tell me why you won’t tell me?”

“Too ugly. I don’t ever want you to look at me like the people who know do. Ever.” He takes a few deep breaths, so deep from such a large body, and I feel my body lift up and down with his lungs. “What about your parents?”

“Very ugly.” I lay my head back down but leave my hand beside it. “Man, we need some happier questions.” I chuckle, and he joins me.

“Em, you’re almost asleep. You ready for me to carry you up now?”

Wiped out, I nod and curl my arms around his neck. He lifts me with one arm behind my back and the other under my knees and I can’t help but feel cherished.

“Bye!” a myriad of voices call out from the pool as we leave.

“Don’t forget, Thursday night Crew Night!” Laney calls from the water. “You better come too, Emmett!”

“Mhm,” I answer her with a mumble into Sawyer’s neck, where my head rests on his shoulder.

He walks us down a hall and then lays me, as though I am made of glass, onto the softest bed I’ve ever felt. My body sinks into the mattress and I turn on my side, snuggling my face into a pillow that’s saturated with the smell of Sawyer.

If I can’t have him, at least I can see him in my dreams, and smell him now too.

I hear the buzz of the fan he must have turned on, then feel covers being tucked tightly around me.

“Get some rest, Shorty,” he whispers, kissing the top of my head, “and when you wake up, we’ll figure out how to make you mine.”

Pretending to be already so deep in sleep I don’t hear him, I will my breathing to remain even, concealing the panic his almost irresistible words stir in me. The lights go out and he pulls the door silently closed, with one more whispered, “Sweet dreams, Emmett,” before he retreats.

W
hen I finally pry my eyes open, the room is completely black, no light offered from the window. I’m not surprised I slept into the night; not only was I exhausted, but sinking into this glorious bed was intoxicating.

I try to sit up when I’m stopped by a large arm slinking around my waist and tightening its hold, begging me to stay close. I slowly push out my butt, seeking reconfirming contact with an actual body, proof that this isn’t some wonderful dream I never want to awake from. Oh my!

“You keep doing that and we’re gonna be talkin’ bout a whole new ball game, woman,” he mumbles in a sleepy voice.

I flip over and gasp. “Sawyer, why are you in this bed?”

“Well, Shorty, that’s an easy one. It’s my bed.”

“And the little surprise poking me?”

“If by little you mean gargantuan, then it’s my dick. He likes you too.”

Sitting up abruptly, I cross my arms with a huff. “Do you have a lamp or something? I can’t see a thing.”

“You can feel your way,” he suggests with a chuckle, fumbling around and knocking things over before finally switching on a light. “Nice nap?”

Oh, God. Sleepy Sawyer is even more tempting than usual Sawyer. He’s lying on his side, looking over at me with one arm stretched above the pillows and one down his side. There’s already a slight dark stubble on his jaw and his blue eyes are downright sinful.

“Wonderful, thank you.” I look away, down at the fascinating sheets. “For carrying me and letting me sleep, I mean. But…but I didn’t think you’d get in here with me.”

“Why not?” He scoots over, sliding both arms around my waist and kissing the outside of my thigh. “I’ve never slept with a girl before,” he drops a kiss on my knee, “though I definitely understand the appeal now.”