Page 18 of Fox (Hot Shots 1)

Page List


Font:  

“I promise I won’t. Now tell me.” Our pinkies are entwined between our bodies while her other hand is holding my neck, her thumb sliding along my jaw.

“Benedict Fox Adams, that’s my full name.”

“I can see why you go by Fox.” A small smile is playing on her lips, but she’s not saying anything, not like other people do. It’s why as soon as I was allowed to in school, I went by Fox, and it stuck, so I don’t ever go by my given name.

“Yeah, it wasn’t always fun, that’s for sure.”

“I bet not, but Benedict doesn’t suit you. How did Chance luck out with a normal name?” she asks, which causes me to laugh. I roll to my side, bringing Melanie with me, even though it means my cock slips out of her warm heat.

“Oh, he got the middle name of all middle names though. Apparently, my mom thought it was funny to give us some crazy kind of name, but my dad put his foot down after she came up with Benedict. Chance’s middle name is Bartholomew. Could you imagine having that as a first name. God bless Dad.” At this she laughs.

“Could you imagine? That’s a long name, and they’d more than likely call him Bart.”

“Sunshine, you are not wrong. Though, having dick in my name sure gave everyone a good laugh too. Come on, lazy bones, let’s get cleaned up and fill our bellies.” I kiss her forehead. She sighs in contentment, but I’m rolling out of bed before she lures me back inside her again.

“If we must.” She follows my lead, and now it’s me who has to hold back from going after her again.

“I know. There’s always later on though.” I wink, grab her hand, and take her back to the shower. This time, maybe I’ll actually get to wash her body and have her coming on my tongue.

18

Melanie

It’s been a week, full of as much fun that Fox and I can have. Don’t get me wrong, I still have those crying jags. Sometimes I hide them from him, sometimes he holds me while I cry and listens to me mourn the loss of my dad. If it weren’t for Fox, I wouldn’t be doing as well as I am. Though, part of that is because he urged me to see a grief counselor. I didn’t want to at first. Nothing about sitting in a stuffy office sounded like something I wanted to do. Fox has a solution to every problem and said if that was the issue, there’d be no reason not to do it as a teleconference instead. That’s what I did. It’s for thirty minutes every other day, and even my therapist said this will take time, and she’s not wrong.

That’s why I’m sitting on Fox’s back deck, my body holding dad’s guitar that just arrived from Gene. My guitar would have sufficed, but now that I’m staying here longer and the house is being boxed up, I knew I needed it here with me. I jot down a few notes here and there, making adjustments. Somehow, I managed to get a whole lot of my father in me when it comes to singing and songwriting. We even co-wrote a song together. It was never sold though. Dad was firm on it being just for the two of us, something we can jam out to together. Now that he’s gone though, I’m thinking about getting the lyrics written and framed. The only problem is, now I don’t really have a place for them.

A thought comes to mind, and I run into the house, guitar in my hand to put it back in the case and exchange it for my laptop. Fox and I haven’t talked about what happens when my rental is up at the end of next month. One thing is for sure though, I’m not going back to California, and I’m so in love with Kelson Beach, I think I’ll find a more permanent place here, if I can afford it at least.

I get comfortable in my chair, pull up the website to see what would be best, a long-term rental or a house to invest in. I’m busy searching when I hear footsteps. Fox must have gotten off work early again. If he doesn’t stop getting home early to me, Sloane will be doing all the work herself. She can do it. Believe me, that girl has more grit than Jax gives her credit for. I got to see that firsthand over the weekend at the guys’ tournament. Fox’s team ended up losing, but he wasn’t the loser in the end, and neither was I.

“Well, what do we have here.” Her voice is like nails on a chalkboard. I look up and see the proverbial womb donor. She’s standing on the back deck to my rental, but she’s looking right at me. Of course, I would forget my phone that’s sitting on the kitchen counter next to my abandoned glass of ice water.


Tags: Tory Baker Hot Shots Romance