Dumped on His Wharf, I Married His Brother and Set Their Price novel · Chapter 2 of 24

Chapter 2: The Turnout

In his truck above the cove she takes what she wants from his hand and learns he has watched her for two years; he refuses the couch.

Torsten drove with one hand on the wheel and the other flat on my knee.

Neither of us said a word until the lighthouse road.

The sun was going down behind the spruce.

My hands would not stop shaking in my lap.

"Pull over," I said.

He pulled into the gravel turnout above the water, where the tourists parked for the sunset, and shut off the engine.

The cab ticked.

Out past the windshield the cove had gone orange, and a single bell buoy rang somewhere in it.

"You okay, Sue?"

"No," I said. "I took my shirt off in front of two hundred people."

"And?"

"And I proposed to a man I have said maybe forty words to."

"Forty-one," Torsten said. "You said pass the rolls once."

I started to laugh, and the laugh broke in the middle, and I put both hands over my face.

He did not say anything.

He did not tell me it would be all right.

His big hand came around the back of my neck, warm and rough, and he held on.

"Here are my rules," I said into my palms. "One year. Separate rooms. I'll take the couch."

"I never agreed to the couch."

I dropped my hands.

He was looking at me with his whole face, and there was nothing polite in it.

"You asked for a year and half the mortgage," he said. "I said yes to that."

His eyes did not leave mine.

"I did not say yes to a couch."

"Torsten," I said.

"I'll marry you Monday and I'll be decent about it. If you tell me no, I'll sleep on the porch."

His thumb moved on the side of my throat.

"But you're looking at my mouth, Sue."

I was.

I had been looking at it since the barrel.

"I'm angry," I said. "I'm so angry I can't feel my hands."

"Then use them."

I climbed over the console.

He saw me coming and slid the seat back with one hand.

I got a knee on either side of his thighs.

He put his palms under my ass and lifted me the last few inches, easily, until I was settled in his lap.

My head touched the roof of the cab.

He was hard already.

I felt it through his jeans and the thin cotton of my skirt, the full thick length of him pushed up against me.

"Oh," I said.

"Yeah," Torsten said, and his voice had gone low and rough. "That's been there since you told me to marry you."

I kissed him.

I kissed him with nobody watching this time, my fingers in his hair and my teeth on his lip.

He made a sound in his chest that I felt in my stomach.

His hands slid up my thighs and pushed the skirt to my waist.

He stopped, and bit my lip.

"You want this," he said against my mouth.

"Yes. If you stop, I'll hit you."

He laughed into the kiss, and then the laugh turned into a groan, because I had rolled my hips down against him.

His hand found the edge of my underwear and pulled it aside.

Two thick fingers slid along my pussy and found it soaking.

"Look at you," he said. "Look at how wet you are, Sue. For me."

"For you," I said.

"Say it again."

I held his shoulders. "For you, Torsten."

He pushed both fingers into me, slow, and my head went back against the roof.

They were so thick that my whole body tightened around them.

He curled them up and rubbed, and I heard a noise come out of me that I did not recognize.

"That's it," he said. "Let me hear you."

"Don't stop."

"I'm not stopping."

His thumb found my clit and pressed in a small hard circle.

I rode his hand without deciding to.

The seat creaked, the windshield was fogging, and out in the cove the bell buoy kept ringing.

He watched my face the whole time.

He talked to me in that low voice.

He told me how good I felt and how tight I was and how long he had wanted to find out.

"Two years," he said. "Two years at the end of that table, Sue, watching you cut your chicken."

My mouth fell open.

"You never said."

"You were his."

His fingers pressed deeper, and the heel of his hand ground against my clit.

"You're not his now," Torsten said. "Come for me."

I came with my forehead against his and both fists in his collar.

It went through me hard and long, my thighs shaking around his hips.

He held me up with one arm around my back while I cried out against his neck.

When I could breathe, I was still sitting in his lap with his fingers inside me.

He drew them out slowly.

He looked at me, and then he put them in his mouth and sucked them clean.

I made a noise.

"Jesus Christ," I said.

"Nope," Torsten said. "Just me."

I started to unbuckle his belt.

He caught my wrist, gently.

"Not here," he said. "You've had a day."

"I want you."

"I know you do. That's why not here."

He kissed my palm.

"The first time I get inside you, Susannah, it's going to be in a bed."

His thumb stroked my knuckles.

"And I'm going to take as long as you let me."

I looked at his face, flushed and serious and enormous in the dusk.

"That's the separate rooms," I said. "That's the couch."

"That's the bed," Torsten said. "And the door that locks."

I climbed off his lap and back into my seat, and I pulled my skirt down with a hand that still shook.

"Take me home," I said.

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