Between Never and Forever by Brit Benson

31

I watchSavannah drive off with my feet planted on the sidewalk and a vise grip of guilt around my windpipe.

Give me something. Please.

I would give her everything if I could.

I’ve spent so long juggling everything, terrified to let even one responsibility slip, that I can’t even begin to fathom stopping. I wouldn’t even know how. The silicone wedding band burns my finger, and I flex my hand to ease some of the imaginary sting.

Another envelope came this morning. More brochures and pamphlets. More bribes. More not-so-thinly veiled threats. Since Helen works at the bank, I know she’s seen that I’m finally pulling out of the red, thanks to the money from the studio. She’s getting desperate, and desperate people are dangerous. Especially the self-righteous ones.

The most recent straw she’s clawing at is threatening to take me to court. Saying my marriage to Julianna was a sham because I wanted her insurance pay out, which is hilarious seeing as how I refuse to take it.

She’s done this before.

She doesn’t have a damn leg to stand on. Julianna and I made sure of it. Legally, Helen and William Lark have no claim to Brynnlee. They can try to petition for custody, but they’ll get nowhere. I dropped the envelope off at Clark’s law firm this morning, and he reassured me that everything is fine, but it still makes me anxious.

I turn and walk back to Sharon and Brynn.

“I’m sorry,” Sharon says, and I wave her off.

Sharon didn’t do anything wrong. It was only a matter of time before Savannah found out anyway. I wasn’t expecting it to be the same time I found out that she’s our anonymous donor, but it’s over and done with now.

“Is Ms. Sharon really Sav’s mom?” Brynn pipes up, and I glance at Sharon before nodding. I don’t lie to my kid. Sharon knows that. If Brynn asks, I give her the truth.

“Yeah, Boss, she is.”

Brynn looks at Sharon with wide eyes.

“She’s the daughter you were unkind to? Sav’s the daughter who moved away because you were sick?”

“Yes,” Sharon says. “That’s her.”

Brynn opens her mouth to ask another question, but I hold up my hand, stopping her.

“No more questions today, Brynnlee. They’ll get answered, I promise, but not today.”

I can tell Brynn wants to argue, but she holds her tongue, and I give her a small smile in thanks.

Sharon takes Brynn back to the office, while I finish the walk throughs at River View, and then I meet the girls for dinner at SandBar. Brynn doesn’t ask a single question. She holds true to my “not today” decree. Instead, we talk about her STEM program, the movies she’s watched while staying at Sharon’s, her friend Cameron’s new crush in Connecticut, and how I’m not ready for Brynn to have any crushes at all, to which she said I don’t have to worry because she thinks handholding is gross because palms touching is gross. Sharon thought that was adorable.

By the time I say goodnight to Brynn and Sharon and head home, I’ve almost forgotten about this mess with Savannah.

I haven’t, but almost.

It’s not until I reach my block that I remember tonight is a late shoot. I should just go to bed, but just like last time, I don’t. I’m drawn to Savannah. I’ve always been drawn to Savannah. It’s always gotten me in trouble, and when I see what scene they’re shooting, I know this time won’t be any different.

A sex scene, and it’s taking place on my deck. The deck I built.

I watch from the sliding glass doors. They’re open, allowing cords to run through the house and to a generator out front. I lean on the door frame, just out of the reach of the camera, with a perfect view of everything. I’m close enough that I can hear everything, too.

I knew this would be happening. I shouldn’t be surprised, but seeing Savannah locked in a passionate kiss with Paul Northwood makes me want to punch something. Preferably Mr. Hollywood’s insured face.

The way she’s clawing at him as he picks her up and places her on the railing. The way she wraps her legs around his waist. Even the way she moans his character’s name has me seeing red.

I hate every second of it, but I can’t tear my eyes from her. I’m staring, scowling, when she pops her eyes open, and they land right on me. She freezes, long enough that she breaks character and the director calls cut.

“Sorry,” Savannah says, then flicks her eyes to me before adding sweetly, “let’s go again. I’ll do it better this time.”

“You don’t have to be better, Sav. You were doing great. Just don’t get distracted,” the director says. “Just pick up where you left off. Ready? Action.”

This time, she starts to play it up. Tugging Paul’s hair. Thrusting her hips. Moaning louder. I keep willing the director to stop her. To tell her to tone it down, but she doesn’t. Then Savannah directs her gaze at me, but she does it discreetly this time. She never stops moving. She never stops touching him. Kissing him. And with her eyes on me, moaning and whimpering and writhing, my dick starts to harden. It’s painful, the way it presses into the zipper of my jeans. She knows exactly what she’s doing.

When Savannah unbuckles Paul’s belt, I’ve had enough, and I grab the first thing I can find—a framed picture on the wall—and toss it to the floor with a loud crash. Everyone looks toward the sound, including Paul, and the director yells cut. I don’t take my eyes off Savannah.

“Apologies,” I say loudly, but my feet are already moving toward the brat sitting on my deck railing. The closer I get, the wider her eyes grow, until I’m wrapping my hand around her arm and pulling her off the railing. “I need a word with Ms. Loveless.”

The director yells something, but I’m already heading back through the sliding glass doors.

“I’ll be just a minute,” Savannah calls over her shoulder, and I don’t release her arm until we’re through the house, down the hall, and in the soundproofed music studio.

“What the fuck was that?” My voice comes out like growl, low and possessive and fucking feral. Savannah doesn’t so much as flinch at my tone. If anything, she stands taller.

“Acting,” she says flippantly with a raise of her eyebrow.

“Bullshit.”

“So now you’re saying I can’t act?”

“I’m saying you did that to fuck with me.”

“Oh, get over yourself. I was doing my job.”

“You know damn well you didn’t do that for your job.” I take a step closer. I breathe in her scent. She smells sweet, like peaches and cream, and I inhale deeply, filling my lungs with her. “You know damn well you played it up to get under my skin. To get back at me for earlier. For the other night.”

“And why would I do that, Levi? Hm? You don’t care. It will never work. Your life and mine, remember? What the fuck does it matter?”

“It matters. It matters that you’re driving me insane and you’re doing it on purpose. You’ve never learned your lesson.”

She drags her eyes over me suggestively, taunting me with her hands on her hips like she’s unaffected. But I can see her chest rising and falling rapidly. I can see her jaw working as she clenches her teeth. She’s affected. Just like me. She’s always gotten a kick out of driving me mad.

“And are you going to teach me a lesson, Daddy? Hm? Just how are you planning to do that? You going to punish me? Put me in time out? Ground me? Spank me?”

I take another step closer, so we’re nearly chest to chest, and my eyes drop to her lips. When she licks them with that perfect pink tongue, making them glisten, I have to force myself to bring my eyes back to hers.

“You’ve always been a brat, Savannah. Too wild for your own good. I think you’d benefit from a little discipline, but it’s not your ass I’m interested in spanking.”

That does it. Her lips part on a gasp. Her pupils dilate. Her chest and cheeks turn pink.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Do you crave that discipline?”

I drag my knuckles up her arm, over her collarbone, then wrap my hand around the side of her neck so I can feel her pulse.

“Would you let me spank your pussy, Savannah? How hard?”

She whimpers, and I don’t bother hiding my smirk. I rub my thumb over her lip. It’s still wet from her tongue, and I want to taste it. I want to suck the taste of her off my thumb. Off her lips.

“I think you would. I think you’re already wet just thinking about it. Can you picture it? Me spanking your pussy. Would you let me fuck you raw after?”

“Fuck,” she gasps, her eyes clenching shut. She’s practically panting.

“That’s what I thought.” I drop my hand and step back. “Think about that during your next sex scene, Rockstar. Maybe you’ll be more convincing next time.”

I turn and walk out, my dick rock hard and my heart threatening to break ribs. Just before the door shuts behind me, I hear her release a frustrated scream, and then the click of the door brings silence.

Calmly, I walk up the stairs to my room, then lock the door. I don’t even make it to the bed. I strip off my jeans and underwear and take my cock in my hand, hissing when I squeeze then stroke. I’m leaking from the tip. It won’t take long. All I have to do is think of Savannah. Of spanking that pretty pussy like I’d promised. Of hitting her clit just right, just enough to make her cry out in pleasure.

I don’t know which of us would like it more, and it’s her name on my lips when I spill my release into my hand.

* * *

“Filming is cancelled for today,” the PA says. Dakota, I think her name is.

It’s pouring outside, so I’m not surprised. It’s a hot, humid rainstorm. All dark clouds and lightning. It’s a fucking Savannah storm. They couldn’t get a good shot if they tried, and it’s supposed to go all day.

“You moving to the studio?”

She shakes her head. “They’re giving everyone the day off since we’re a few days ahead of schedule. Just a few more scenes until we’re off to Portofino.”

The news pisses me off for reasons I refuse to admit. I nod at her then turn to leave.

“Hey, wait,” Dakota calls, and I turn back to face her. “Some of us are going on a float trip a few hours inland if you want to come. It’s out of the storm. More mountainy, less beachy. We’ve got tomorrow off, too, so we’re going to make a day of it.”

I shake my head no and turn once more to leave, then stop.

“Who all is going?” I ask without facing her.

“Oh, um, a few of the other PAs and tech guys. Two of your men. Dustin and Luke, I think. Sav and Paul, too.”

Sav and Paul. Mother fuck it.

“I’ll grab a suit,” I say, then head upstairs, leaving her standing in the doorway.

Everyone is standing under one of the equipment canopies in an attempt to stay dry, but the wind keeps kicking up and blowing the rain in sideways. I zero in on Sav’s silver head of hair, and walk straight to her.

“You’re riding with me,” I say into her ear.

Her shoulders jump, and she flips around to face me.

“You’re coming?” I raise a brow in response, and she rolls her eyes. “Where’s Boss?”

“With Sharon.”

I keep my face serious, and I don’t miss the way she flinches. I know this is hard for her. I knew it would be. It’s an obstacle we’ll have to figure out how to overcome, but it’s also something I don’t think I can compromise on. Sharon is important to Brynn. I can’t take that away from her.

Savannah’s composure slips for just a second, then the wall drops, and she appears unbothered. She’s not unbothered, but she’s a better actress than she realizes. She shrugs and looks away, checking her nails dismissively.

“I’m not riding with you.”

“You are.”

“No, I’m riding with Dakota. She’s taking me to Walmart to get a swimsuit.”

I chuckle. “I don’t think they sell Gucci at Walmart.”

“Don’t be an asshole, Levi.”

I look over Savannah’s shoulder and find Dakota.

“Dakota,” I call, and she whips her attention to me. “You’re riding with me and Sav. Good?”

She grins immediately, which makes me grin and Savannah scoff.

“Yeah, definitely. Sounds great.”

Dakota punctuates her agreement with an enthusiastic thumbs up, and I give her a wink before looking back at Savannah. I keep my eyes firmly locked on hers, instead of letting them drop to her tank top and cut-off jean shorts like I want to. If she had the brown wig on, she’d look just like she did back in Miami when we were eighteen.

“It’s settled. You can have shotgun.”

I turn to walk away, but she grabs my bicep, halting me, and I look back over my shoulder at her.

“What the hell are you playing at?”

I hold her eyes for a moment, swirling storm gray and flashing with irritation. I force a smile and reach my hand up, grabbing hers and gently removing it from my bicep.

“Going on a float trip, Savannah. Having fun. Lighten up, would you?”

I hear her huff as I walk toward her bodyguard.

“Sav’s riding with me,” I say to him as I walk past. “You can sit in the back seat with Dakota, or ride in the bed. I don’t care. But she’s coming with me.”

I climb into my truck and wait. I watch as everyone starts to pile into cars. It looks like there are three other vehicles, so we’ll have quite the party on this trip. I’m already dreading it. I flex my hands on the steering wheel just as Dakota and Red climb into the back seat. We wait in silence until Sav finally climbs up into the passenger seat.

“Buckle up,” I tell her, and she flips me off before doing what she’s told. “Good girl.”

Her irritated growl is enough to make me hard, and I feel a smirk curl my lips before I put the truck in drive and join our caravan of vehicles.

I follow everyone forty-five minutes inland to a small-town Walmart with Dakota talking Red’s ear off in the back seat. I don’t speak. Savannah doesn’t speak. Red barely speaks.

When we pull into the parking lot, the sky is already clearing with the distance from the coast. This store is never very busy, and today is no exception. I can tell by the way Savannah’s shoulders loosen that she’s grateful for that. Still, she stuffs her long silver hair up under a black baseball cap and slides on a pair of black wayfarer sunglasses. Her aviators are in my glove compartment. I should give them back—they’re twelve-hundred-dollar sunglasses, for fuck’s sake—but I can’t. Not just yet.

Once she’s satisfied with her “disguise,” Savannah is out the door without a word and slamming it shut behind her. I have to swallow back a laugh. It’s always her irritating the fuck out of me. It’s fun being on the other side for once.

Everyone from our group disperses with plans to grab snacks and beer to stock the cooler, sunscreen for once we’re out from under these storm clouds, and a few more beach towels. I follow Savannah and Dakota, trailing a few feet behind with Red as they head to the women’s clothing section.

Savannah’s face twists up as she surveys the selection, and I let out a laugh.

“Told you. No Gucci.” She ignores me, but Dakota laughs.

“I know what you’re thinking,” she says to Sav, and Sav raises an eyebrow.

“Try me.”

“You’re thinking that this is how the graphic tee business is still thriving.”

Savannah snorts a laugh and shrugs, then pulls a swimsuit off the rack.

“I was actually thinking that I’ve never seen so many variations of animal print on one article of clothing before.” She holds the hanger out and tilts her head to the side. “Is that cheetah, zebra, or tiger?”

Dakota laughs and digs through the rack, then pulls out a black one piece. It’s perfect for Savannah. Simple and sexy, with a low-cut back that will show off her tattoo.

“This is your size,” Dakota says to Sav, and just as Sav reaches out to take the suit, I snatch it from Dakota.

“This works. Let’s go.”

I don’t look behind me as I walk to the checkout and pay for the swimsuit. I know Savannah’s following me, though. I can hear her stomping and huffing like a child. When we reach the truck, I turn and toss the bathing suit at her. She squeaks and fumbles, catching it awkwardly against her chest.

“Real nice, asshole,” she grumbles, and I smirk.

“You’re welcome.”

As we’re climbing into the truck, the rest of our group comes out of the store and gets into their vehicles. We’re on the road within fifteen minutes, back on the interstate and heading west.

Savannah reaches up and turns on the radio, flipping stations until settling on something that plays alternative rock. She kicks off her sandals, props her feet on the dashboard, and rests her arm on the window ledge of the door. The tension slowly melts from her body with every song, and mine disappears with hers.

I sneak glances at her. Mouthing along to the words of whatever is playing on the radio. Gently tapping her toes against the windshield to the beat. She’s going to leave footprints up there, and I already know I will never wash them off. Footprints on my windshield. Footprints on my fucking soul.

Savannah Shaw is leaving her mark on my life in every single possible way.

I haven’t talked to her since our encounter in the music studio. Since I overstepped and made a scene. I’ve gone back and forth in the last week about whether or not I feel bad for what I’d done. For interrupting the shoot and saying what I said.

I don’t.

I don’t feel a single ounce of remorse. I’d do it again in a heartbeat.

When we stop for gas, I snag a candy bar before paying. Sav used to steal this same candy bar from the small grocery store in our hometown. Always two of them. One for me, and one for her, but she’d usually end up eating half of mine.

She’s standing next to the passenger side scrolling on her phone as I head back to my truck.

“Rockstar.”

When she looks up at me, I underhand her the candy bar, and she catches it with one hand. She looks at it, then at me with a raised brow. I can almost see the rest of the ice thawing. She wants to laugh, but she’s working so hard to keep her face blank. The corner of my mouth twitches with the need to smile, so I do. Just a little. I wink at her before climbing into the driver’s side.

I spend the last hour of the drive watching from the corner of my eye as she picks at the candy bar, eating it slowly. Her delicate jaw muscles working as she chews. Her fragile, soft throat contracting as she swallows. Her perfect pink tongue licking chocolate and caramel off her lips.

Dakota and Sav chat. Red joins in when addressed. I stay quiet, keeping my eyes on the road and my attention on Savannah. When she puts her thumb in her mouth, sucking off chocolate, my hands tighten on the steering wheel. I stop breathing long enough to hear her quiet giggle, and when I glance at her, she’s smirking at me.

It’s so unexpected that I don’t catch myself smiling until it’s too late. She bounces her eyebrows, and I shake my head slowly.

Brat, I mouth, and she shrugs with a grin before looking back out the window.

This trip might have been a bad idea.

We drop two of the vehicles downriver where we’ll end the float trip, and everyone piles into the other two vehicles for the drive back upriver to where we’ll begin.

We already unloaded our tubes and coolers, so there’s plenty of room for people in the bed of my truck. When I park, everyone climbs out, and Savannah snatches her swimsuit out of the grocery bag at her feet.

She looks at it and purses her lips.

“You can change in the truck,” I tell her. “I’ll stand guard.”

She side-eyes me and pops a brow.

“And if you peek, perv?”

I shrug and tap my temple.

“Don’t need to see it again. I’ve got it all up here in perfect detail.”

Her eyes widen, and I can tell she’s once again fighting a laugh. I am too. I didn’t lie, though. I see her body on the backs of my eyelids, permanently tattooed there for life. Every dip and curve and freckle. Technicolor and lifelike. Absolute torture.

“Hurry up, Rockstar. We don’t want to keep everyone waiting.”

I hop out and round the corner, standing with my back to the passenger side door. I’m parked on the edge of the gravel lot next to the bank of the river, so the other side of my truck faces nothing but trees. I stare down everyone who even glances in my direction, including Red. My neck heats as I feel the truck move slightly behind me as she shuffles out of her clothes and into her suit.

When she knocks softly on the passenger window, I step out of the way so she can climb out. I keep my eyes on hers. I don’t let them dip lower, but I can still see her subtle cleavage tempting me from the outskirts of my vision. She smiles and slaps a tube of sunscreen against my chest.

“Rub me down, would you?”

She’s trying to unsettle me in that way she does. Trying to get me off balance, tease me. Taunt me. It’s working.

I laugh softly, then grab her shoulders and turn her around so I’m looking at her back. I’ve been dying for a close look at this tattoo, anyway. This bathing suit is open to just above her ass, exposing the entire art piece to me, and as I squeeze sunscreen onto my hands, I can’t take my eyes off it.

Dahlia flowers, one red, one white, and one purple, decorate the middle of her back down her spine, and at the base, just above the slope of her ass, is a black dahlia. It’s stunning in the way they almost leap off her skin, appearing real and fresh. The photos I’d seen of this tattoo didn’t do it justice. I want to run my fingers over each petal, each stem.

I rub my palms together briefly, warming the sunscreen, and then I slowly smooth it down her back, right over each perfectly inked flower. She sucks in a breath as I use my thumbs to massage around her spine, my fingers pressing gently into the tight, tense muscles.

"Relax,” I say quietly. “Just relax.”

I feel her exhale slowly, and her body grows loose as I use my palms to rub up and down her back, gliding with the sunscreen, while working every muscle gently. I let my fingers slip just barely into the sides of her suit, grazing the covered skin with my fingertips. It’s 85 degrees out today, but she still gets goosebumps on her arms from my touch.

I move to her shoulders, massaging as I apply more sunscreen, and she hums in approval as my thumbs press firmly into the muscles of her neck.

“That good?” I ask, dipping my head low so I’m speaking into her hair.

“Mmmm, yes.”

I keep massaging, and she drops her chin to her chest, giving me access and surrendering control.

“Didn’t realize you were so tense,” I say, and she chuckles in response.

I move from her neck, back to her shoulders, then down her arms, taking the time to drag my hands over every inch of goosebump-covered skin.

“Ready?” someone shouts, and my head shoots toward the voice the same time Savannah jumps away from me.

Dustin. My nostrils flare as I stare at him, but his smile doesn’t slip.

“Got the tubes all set. We’re good to go.”

Savannah has already started walking toward the river, so I follow. There’s a cooler already stocked with drinks and shoved into a tube, and I reach for a beer just as Savannah reaches for a water. Our eyes meet and she gives me a small smile before pulling her water from the ice. I watch as she uncaps it and takes a drink, then I put my beer back and grab a water.

“You don’t have to do that for me,” Savannah says, grinning. “I’m around alcohol and drugs literally every day. I can handle you sipping on a can of shitty light beer.”

I uncap my water and take a drink, then shrug.

“I like water.”

I turn my attention to the bank where our group is picking out their tubes and readying to start our float down the river. The water is higher than usual and moving quicker than I remember.

“Has anyone done this here before, in this part of the river?” I address the group as a whole, and Luke speaks up.

“I have. We do it all the time.”

“This isn’t a little high? Fast?”

Luke laughs. “It’ll get a little choppy in parts because of all the rain, but you’ll be fine. Ain’t nobody died yet.”

“That’s reassuring,” Red says, and I nod in agreement.

Savannah sighs loudly, and when I glance in her direction, she’s got a hand propped on her hip and the hip popped out in a way that makes her look entirely too sexy. Her silver hair is piled on top of her head in a wild bun, pieces falling randomly around her face, and that black one-piece accentuates every single aspect of her body, while still keeping everything covered.

I take her in, head to toe, then back to her face. She smirks and a dark eyebrow raises up from her wayfarers. Before she even opens her mouth, I know it’s coming.

“Don’t be a weenie, Leviticus. It’s just a float trip. Have a little fun once in a while.”

The barks of shocked laughter that leave Luke and Dustin are almost enough to irritate me, but they don’t. Instead, I feel charged, my stomach flipping in that familiar way it always used to when Sav issued a challenge. I match her smirk, and my lips twitch at the corners, wanting to turn up higher. I don’t let them.

“Okay, brat. Let’s have some fun, then.”