Home > Built (Saints of Denver #1)(42)

Built (Saints of Denver #1)(42)
Author: Jay Crownover

I helped him shut the lift gate and leaned a hip against the bumper of his SUV. There was no one else on the planet I would rather talk to than my little brother, but considering that everything that had me all twisted up revolved around one of his closest friends, I wasn’t sure how much to share. Old fears that he might judge me, or look down on me for my recent choices, raised their ugly head and made me stiffen next to him. Rowdy had never been anything but accepting and loving toward me after the awkwardness of our first meeting was out of the way. But the thought of someone else I loved, someone else who was supposed to love me, finding fault in me and my actions was almost crippling.

“Just worried about court on Monday. I care about all of my clients and their cases, but it’s a little different when it’s someone you know on a personal level as well.” I did what I always did when I felt my feelings start to slip. I slapped on my professional mask and locked everything down in a deep, dark place where no one, not even me, could touch it.

A crooked grin pulled at his mouth as he clapped me on the shoulder. “Don’t worry. You’re the best, so everything will work out the way it’s supposed to.”

He was always so optimistic, so go with the flow. It was an inherent difference in our personalities and it always made me slightly envious that, even though his childhood hadn’t been any kind of picnic in the park, he still had escaped the soul-crushing existence of living under my father’s roof.

“I hope so. I don’t think I can even beginning to wrap my head around failing Zeb or that little boy. You should see them together, Rowdy. They belong together.”

He started to move around the side of the car and I followed suit. He looked back at me over his shoulder and his expression was knowing. “Then you’ll make sure they end up together, Sayer. That’s all there is to it.”

If only it was that simple. I let the subject drop and climbed into the backseat so I could sit next to Poppy. She was chattering on and on to Salem about something from when they were younger, so I dug my phone out of my purse and couldn’t decide if I was relieved or crushed that there were no missed calls or messages from a certain bearded contractor.

Swearing under my breath, I turned the device off and put it back in my purse. When I lifted my head back up I noticed Rowdy’s gaze, the exact same blue as my own, watching me intently in the rearview mirror. Salem had also turned her head to the side and was looking at me curiously. To complete my humiliation, Poppy was also gazing at me with curiosity bright in her tawny-colored eyes.

“What?” I know I sounded surly, but I couldn’t help it.

“Why don’t you tell us what?” There was humor in my brother’s voice, so I did the only adult and mature thing I could think of and kicked the back of his seat. He grunted at me, which had the Cruz sisters laughing at us.

“It’s a work thing.” I grumbled the lie out and Poppy laughed softly at me.

“Sure it is. Just like you coming home covered in paint last night was a work thing.” I frowned at her and slumped down in my seat.

“That was work. Not my work exactly, but still work.” At least it had been until I ended up naked and fucked. I sighed a little. I’d never ever actually been fucked before Zeb. Seattle Sayer had never dated men that were the kind to fuck, and again I could kick her for all that she had missed out on. I sure as hell had never had sex up against a freshly painted wall with my ass sticking up in the air and now I knew what I was missing.

I wanted to be numb to it all. Wanted to chalk it up to raging hormones that had hummed around Zeb since the beginning. I wanted to be detached and calm so that I could tell him it was a mistake that we shouldn’t make again. I wasn’t any of those things.

Nope, despite my best effort to keep a lid on them, my feelings, where Zeb Fuller was concerned, were leaking out through every crack they could find in my icy exterior. They were oozing, flowing, liquid, and as hot as lava all over me.

I was heated up and flushed thinking about it and annoyed that he had seen all of me on display and I had gotten only a fleeting glimpse of his wide, tattooed chest, his narrow hips, and the line of dark hair that dusted below his belly button and pointed right at his cock. That was something else I wanted to see. He felt huge but I wanted to touch it, put my hands and mouth on it, and see if my impression was correct or if it had just been the position he had me in. I wanted to know him inside and out the way it felt like he now knew me. All the guys before him had been careful, deliberate . . . boring. Just like I was. They didn’t fuck and neither did I . . . well, neither did I before last night. Another new part of me to be terrified of and that I needed to try and control before she got me into trouble.

I sighed and fought the urge to fan myself with my hand. I was supposed to be working on forgetting about last night, not reliving every caress, imagining every growled sound of satisfaction over and over again. Working my way out of this problem was proving to be particularly difficult and it was putting me in a bad mood. I’d spent a lifetime having no moods and here I was turning into a basket case because of a boy. My father’s scorn would have whipped across me like a thousand lashes if he could have seen me now.

I wondered if Rowdy could tell because I saw him exchange a look with his beautiful girlfriend and then he dipped his chin down in a little nod at whatever unspoken communication passed between the two of them. That kind of connection, that tie to another person, seemed so dangerous to me that it made my heart squeeze painfully tight in my chest. They could hurt one another with such ease.

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