Sweet Submission ✓

𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 13

Tyler drove home without knowing how he got there. He sat in his car, unable to get Kate out of his head. Everything about her. The warmth of her naked body, the sound of her gasping little moans, the way she’d traced the lines of his chest with her forefinger. The perfect fit of his hands into the curve of her waist, the smoothness of her ass and fucking gorgeous breasts.

And all the other stuff he’d learned in so short a time—the fact that she knew all the lyrics to “The Lumberjack Song,” her encyclopedic knowledge of library stuff, her pretty painted toenails.

It was kind of cute how her wardrobe was so boring, but she took the time to polish her nails. Not to mention all the things he’d seen in her bathroom—expensive lotions, powders, bath salts, loofahs. Underneath it all, Kate Darling was the most sensual woman he’d ever met.

He wanted more of her. For him, not because he was “improving” her for another man. Just the thought of her asking Norwood to the symphony or whatever made him clench his fists with anger.

What the hell was wrong with him? He’d never gotten territorial about a girlfrie…fuck bud…friend with benefits before.

Jealousy wasn’t his thing. He was loyal to the girls he was with, and he’d been in love a couple of times, but he never worried that they’d be interested in another man. Not because he was an arrogant ass—though he guessed to a degree, he was—but because he treated women right and told it like it was. There were never any secrets, misunderstandings, confusion.

Hell, he rarely even fought with them. He just gave them what they wanted, made sure they were happy, and life was always good.

Why should it be any different with Kate? She’d been honest from the start. She’d asked him for dating advice, then she’d taken it to the next level with the fuck buddy thing—all because she was working up the courage to ask another guy out on a date and start a real adult relationship.

Good for her.

Too bad for him that he was letting a hot fuck and 2:00 a.m. pancakes mess with his head.

He finally got out of the car and let himself into his apartment. As usual, the place was a disaster—the kitchen counters piled with dirty dishes, empty pizza boxes, and beer cans, the living room strewn with chips bags, unwashed T-shirts, and old socks.

Since he wasn’t tired, he changed into track pants and went out for a two-mile run, hoping the exercise would get rid of his tension. But all it made him want to do was run back to Kate’s neat little house.

He wanted to crawl into her bed, which was too small for both of them, and fall asleep with her tucked right against his side. Then he wanted to wake up when the sun rose and eat leftover pancakes while she quizzed him about cataloging.

And wasn’t he just losing his shit?

He killed the next couple of hours with a few rounds of Destiny, losing his first match in the crucible. After a shower and more grumbling, he drove inland for half an hour, turning off the interstate near the farming community of Rainsville.

He guided his car down a dirt road and parked at the side of a three-bay garage. One car sat in an open bay, junkyard cars cluttered the adjoining field, and a black lab lounged at the front door of the office. As Tyler approached, the dog got to his feet and ambled over to greet him.

“Hey, Bandit.” Tyler scratched the dog behind the ears and produced a treat that he’d taken out of the stash in his glove compartment. The dog wiggled happily and trotted back to his spot.

Tyler entered the office, where Charlie, the grizzled old army vet who owned the garage, was seated behind a grimy, paper-strewn desk. The smells of oil and engine fluid filled the room. An episode of Fawlty Towers played on the old TV in the corner.