Page 37 of Naked Coffee Guy

“We’ll leave, but first you’ll hear what I have to say. Maren won’t tell you, so I will.”

“Mac, please,” Maren begs. I stop and squeeze her hand.

“I won’t,” I promise. I won’t tell on your fucked up sister. I turn back to Manny. “Your daughter is an amazing woman. She’s smart, and funny, and so full of heart. Her musical talent is off the charts, and she’s going to be famous one day. But even if she isn’t, she has so much she should be proud of. And if you’d get your head out of your ass, you’d be proud of her too. But you’re too blind to see it. You see her in your home after all these years, and you automatically think she’s stealing from you without even considering there might be another reason why.”

I’m squeezing Maren’s hand, but she’s squeezing back just as tight. I glance at her, and I can see she’s done. The look on her face is full of pain, even as she tries to keep her mask on. Her need to escape is stitched into every cell of her body.

“We’re done,” I murmur. She immediately turns, releasing my hand and racing through the open front door. I follow after her, hearing the door close behind us without a further word from her dad. I’m so pissed, I can barely see straight.

But Maren? She’s volcanic. She tries to open the door to my car, then slams her hands on the windows when she discovers it’s locked. I don’t care if she breaks the windows. It’s just an overpriced car.

I reach her side, then pull her into my arms. She struggles, pounds her hands against my chest, a rageful growl in her throat. I hold her tight, as if I can squeeze the fury from her veins.

“Get off me!” she screams, but I hold fast. Her struggle lessens, and then she’s shaking. I smooth her hair, my hold lessening as I glide my hands over her back. When she pulls back, this time I let go. Her face is free of tears, her eyes dry. But the veins in her temples, and the way she’s clenching her jaw, let me know how hard she’s holding back.

“I just want to go home,” she whispers.

I’m struck by the layers in her words. Home. The one her family barred her from? Or the one I took from her when I sold the apartments?

I feel like an asshole. I had no choice, but she’d never understand that. I now understand the depth of her pain over the concept of home. Her family denied her a home, so she picked herself up and made her own home. Then I come along and rip that away from her too.

“I’m so fucking angry, I could scream,” she hisses through clenched teeth.

I unlock the door and open it, pushing aside my guilt. Right now, the last thing she needs is for me to bow to my guilt. She doesn’t need a confession, she needs a release.

“Get in,” I order.

She glares at me, looking ready to fight me. But then she surprises me and does as she’s told. Once I’m in the driver’s seat, I peel away from the curb. Maren’s eyes are glued to the window, and I realize she’s watching her parents’ house in the side mirror. I glance at the reflection in my rearview mirror, seeing the lights off at her parents’ house—as if we were never there, as if they’re sleeping soundly, safe from harm.

We don’t speak as I drive, even as I take the interstate to King’s Cove, away from the heart of Sunset Bay. She doesn’t know it, but we’re heading toward my home on the hill. I take the winding roads, the city getting further and further away as we’re surrounded by darkness. The only light is from my headlights and the glow of the full moon reflecting on the ocean below. The only traffic would be from people who live up here, and at this late hour, the roads remain empty.

We pass my gated driveway, and I keep going. I long to bring her to my house, to show her where I live, to feel her body under the satin fabric of my sheets. I want to kiss away her hurt, to touch her in ways that will make her forget. But right now, I know this is not the release she’s looking for.

I reach the turnout, the one that’s miles from any home and offers an uninterrupted view of the ocean. It’s not like we can see much at this time of night, but no one will hear us either. No one will hear her.

“What are we doing here?” she asks, breaking the silence. I say nothing. Instead, I unbuckle and get out of the car. She’s already opening her door when I reach her side. It’s windy enough that I feel protective as she takes a step closer to the cliff edge.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” I say, and she shoots me a weary look.

“You’re the one who brought me here,” she reminds me, her voice raised over the sound of crashing waves below. “Why, though?”

I gesture to the miles of ocean below us. “You wanted to scream, right? Here’s your chance.”

She hesitates for only a second. Then she turns, takes a deep breath, then empties everything she has into the screaming wind. There are no words, just an animalistic, guttural cry that carries with the tempest around us. I wrap my arms around her waist as she gives it everything, unloading years of hurt into the wind. Her tiny body shudders from sheer force, and she clutches my arms as she continues to scream—for the sister she saved, the home she was turned from, the ways she changed, and how her family would never know.

But I know, and I’ll be damned if I ever let anyone make her feel that way again. Even if it means I have to keep my secrets, because the only other choice is to stay away from her, and I already know that’s no longer an option.

Maren sinks to her knees, and I drop with her. She’s sobbing now, and I scoop her into my arms, holding her as she buries her face in my chest. She clings to my shirt as she fully submits to the brokenness inside, no longer fighting. Maren, who is always so strong, who keeps her mask on tight. But in her vulnerability, I am struck by her true strength. She will walk away from this, I know. In this moment, though, I will be the pillar she can lean on so that she can truly feel. I cradle her head, kissing her tangled hair as I crush her against me. She pulls me in tighter, our bodies molded together like she can’t get close enough.

And then her mouth is on mine, and she’s kissing me with unbridled fire, sparked by tension and rage. She searches my mouth for solace, I search hers for absolution. She straddles me as I sit in the gravel against the car, my slacks and the thin fabric of her panties the only barrier between us. Her hot breath contrasts with the wind around us, and I clutch her ass, needing all of her—needing inside her.

My thoughts immediately go to the condom in the glovebox, and how far away it seems. But it’s as if she’s reading my mind.

“I’m on the pill,” she breathes in my ear, and it’s all the convincing I need. I unbuckle my belt, pull down the zipper, then nudge her panties to the side. She’s dripping wet, her cunt hot and tight as I slip my fingers in. She groans, clenching around me, and I realize neither of us has this kind of patience. I need to feel her around me.

I free my cock, and hiss as she slides on me. My mouth greedily tastes hers as she clings to me, grinding down on me. Her skirt is hitched around her waist, her thighs gripping mine, and I know her knees are scraping against the rough ground. She doesn’t let it slow her down, though. This is raw and animalistic, especially the way she growls as I hold her hips in place, pushing her down so I can reach the deepest part of her. I taste her tears mingled with sweat, and I lick every inch of her skin within my reach. We push and pull against each other, and it’s unclear who’s in control. For the record, I feel out of control as she grips the back of my neck, meeting me thrust for thrust as she rocks against me. Like I’m slipping into space and she’s the only thing keeping me grounded.

Headlights flash from a passing car, but she never breaks rhythm. She grips me by the neck, squeezing slightly, and fuck if the threat of suffocation paired with the threat of being caught doesn’t send me over the edge. I cry out against her mouth, her hips rocking over mine as we come together. She feels so fucking good, the bareness of her sliding over me as I throb inside her.