by Elise Faber
“Yeah, I do.”
I grinned, tossed my knapsack in the back, dropped the rest of the way into my seat, locked up, and buckled in before turning on the car. “You going to open that?”
“You going to tell me what’s inside?”
“Nope.” I began backing out of the stall. “You still at Brooke’s?” I asked. “Or have you given in and booked yourself a hotel room?”
“Still at Brooke’s,” he grumbled. “But they’re having a date night in.” He made a vomiting sound.
“Is this your way of trying to finagle an invitation to my place?”
“Your porch is comfier.”
I snorted.
“What’s in the box, baby?”
The endearment and the soft tone make my heart skip a beat, filled me with warmth. “Two things.” I shrugged, affecting casual as I turned out of the driveway and began driving back to my place. “Well, three.”
“Three?”
I glanced over, saw his eyebrows had lifted.
“Yes, three.”
“Hmm.”
Sighing as I turned onto the street that would lead to my place, I demanded, “What? Are you waiting for an invitation to open it?”
“No,” he said. “I was waiting for your porch.” A beat. “And for your ass to be on that top step because I know the moment I open this, I’m going to want to kiss that gorgeous mouth, and I’d prefer to do it when you weren’t operating a motor vehicle.”
“I could pull over,” I pointed out.
“Then I couldn’t finagle an invitation into your house.”
Luckily, he said that at the same moment I’d pulled into the driveway, so I was able to do what I’d been craving since the moment I first saw him outside the bar.
I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him.
The box poked me in the chest, the gear shift in my thigh, the console in my stomach.
And I didn’t give one fuck.
Because Hayden’s mouth, his lips, his tongue and teeth and the way he didn’t hesitate to kiss me back, and how one hand gently cupped my cheek all the while . . . that’s what I gave fucks about.
So many fucks.
All the fucks.
Now if only I could get him to—
He pulled back, palm on my face, eyes hot. “Why are you smiling?”
“Because I really like kissing you.”
I leaned back, knowing that even though I wanted to keep kissing him, I wanted to continue it in a place where I wasn’t being jabbed in the thigh, in the stomach, in the chest more.
There were so many other places I’d rather be poked.
Heh.
I popped the handle and got out of the car, quite pleased with myself. At least until after I’d reached back in and grabbed my bag.
Because I might have been on top, having gotten the better of Hayden for a second, but he was a big, super, secret agent who had many skills to put to use. The first of which was snagging my backpack from my hand. The second was plucking my keys from my fingers. The third—
Well, I couldn’t complain about the third.
Because the third was him scooping me up, pinning me against the side of my car, and kissing me until I could hardly see straight.
“Legs around my waist, Rocky,” he ordered roughly when he released my mouth to trail his lips down my throat.
I had no problem following that particular order.
Especially when it brought my mouth close to his, close enough that I was able to steal his lips for another kiss.
Distantly, I heard the car door slam, the locks bleep as he hit the button on the key fob. But realistically, I didn’t hear anything.
Instead, I felt.
His mouth on mine. His strong arms, but his gentle hold. The cool air kissing heated skin. The shifts in my body weight as he carried me up the three steps to the porch. The slow slide as he lowered me down, every inch of my front rubbing against every inch of his until my feet hit the wood.
“I should open this,” he murmured, nuzzling at my throat, the cool silk of his hair brushing my skin. “Then let you get some rest.”
“Or,” I said, “you can open it inside.”
Sixteen
Hayden
“Rocky,” I began.
She snagged the keys from my hand, unlocked and opened the door. Then strolled inside, leaving it pushed wide.
What was I supposed to do?
I needed to close it.
Which I could do from the porch, but then it wouldn’t be locked, and I’d be right back at square one, and square one definitely wasn’t following the sexiest woman I’d ever laid eyes on into her place, the invitation from her tongue lingering in my ears, but the invitation from those swaying hips even more tempting.
All sleek female curves in one tiny package.
Small enough to pick up and pin against the car, against a wall. Tiny enough that I could kiss her as I carried her. Petite enough—
“You coming?”
Probably best she stopped me before I went any further down that particular thesaurus train of thought.
“No,” I said, crossing over the threshold, setting the box on the small table she had just inside the hall. “Not yet anyway.” I kicked the door shut, flicked the lock, and closed the distance between us. “But you’re about to.”
That line should have had me thrown out of the house.
Instead, she giggled and slipped her arms around my waist, rose up on tiptoe, and smirked. “What other bad pickup lines do you have for me?”
I swept her up into my arms. “The question is, what don’t I have for you.” I waggled my brows, loving the little titter from the tough as nails woman in front of me. Loving it so much that my cock, which had basically been steel from the moment her lips had met mine outside the car, hardened further, pressing painfully against my zipper, and I was reminded again how long it had been for me.
And how careful I needed to be so that I didn’t embarrass myself, didn’t disappoint her.
“Where’s your bedroom?” I asked.
“Aren’t you going to open your present?”
“I’m going to open something else.”
She smiled, rested her head against my collarbone. “Pun-tastic,” she murmured, “but . . . I’d really like you to open the present.”
The hint of uncertainty in her tone made me freeze then carry her to the couch.
“Okay, Rocky.” I set her down, grabbed the box then returned to her side, sitting next to her and tearing open the Christmas paper. Inside was—
Fuck.
My heart squeezed hard when I saw the first item, instantly recognizing it as a welcome mat.
Carefully, I unrolled it and snorted out a laugh when I saw what was painted on the front.
Get In, Loser
“I know you don’t have your place yet,” she whispered, “but I know it’s important for you to have your own home, and I wanted you to have something that could be just yours from the moment you walked in.”
I pressed a kiss to that sexy mouth. “It’s perfect and snarky and will remind me of you.”
Color painted itself in streaks across her cheeks. “I wanted that, too.” A beat. “Well, not to remind you of me by having you walk all over me, but because I—”
“I know, Rocky. Believe me, the last thing I want is to walk all over you.” The vulnerability in her eyes made my heart clench again.
“I’m scared I’ll start letting it happen,” she whispered. “Like how it used to be with my family.”
“Trust takes time to build,” I said.
Her expression cleared. “Yeah, it does.”
I bent a little so I could meet her eyes. “But we’re building it.”
Teeth pressing into her bottom lip, uncertainty creeping in, but then I watched her chin come up, her shoulders straighten. “Yes, we are.”
I tucked her hair behind her ear. “Glad you see things the right way.”
“The right way
?” An arch look.
“The right way being my way.”
She snorted. “Stop trying to make me mad enough so that I jump your bones again and open your other present.”
“Oh, there will be jumping,” I said.
“Out the window?” she asked sweetly.
I bopped her on the nose. “So long as it’s a first-story one.” I began unpeeling the tissue paper from the two cylindrical items in the box, grinned when I saw they were a pair of whiskey glasses.
“Happy housewarming,” she murmured.
I carefully set the items on the coffee table, turned back and tugged her close, beyond touched that she’d gotten me a present at all, let alone several thoughtful items for my house. “Thank you, Rocky.”
She shrugged. “It’s nothing.”
“Not to me,” I said firmly.
Hope in her eyes. “I really like you, Hayden,” she whispered.
My pulse picked up, so much affection for this woman in my bloodstream that I almost couldn’t bear it. “Well, I love you, Anabelle.”
Her breath caught. “Hay—”
Shit. I hadn’t meant to say that. Not yet, anyway. Fingers to her lips. “Don’t think about it.”
“Don’t”—she yanked her head back—“think about it? What’s wrong with you? How could I not—”
I kissed her.
She bit my bottom lip.
“Ow!”
Solemn brown eyes on mine. “Do you mean it?”
I nodded. “Yeah, Rocky. I’ve been gone for you for a while.”
“A while meaning the bare two weeks we’ve known each other?”
A shrug. “It’s a McAlister thing.”
“Insanity?”
“No.” I slipped my arms around her, tugged her close. “Knowing a wonderful thing when we lay eyes on it, falling hard and fast and forever.”
She released a shuddering breath. “I-I don’t know if I’m there yet.”
“That’s okay,” I said. “So long as you don’t run just because I am. You’re fucking incredible, Anabelle. That’s just fact. You’re funny and strong and smart and everything I could want. But . . . trust takes time. Relationships take time.” I chucked her under the chin. “I promise my next gift won’t be an engagement ring. Deal?”
Although, now I wasn’t sure the other gift I had planned for her would go over all that well.
Kind of too late for that thought though.
“Deal.” She swallowed hard then bit her lip again. “I do really like you,” she murmured. “You know that, right?”
“Yeah, babe. I do.” I freed that lip with a light brush of my thumb. “And it’s enough, Rocky. I don’t need anything more than time to keep building that trust. Hence the whole don’t think about it thing.”
Another deep breath trailed by a small smile. “Okay.” A beat paired with another slow inhale and exhale. Then, “Do you really like the presents?”
“I love them.”
A bigger smile, shoulders relaxing. “Good.”
“Why do you look like the cat ate the canary?”
She shrugged, nibbled at her bottom lip. “No reason.”
I tickled her ribs. “Do I need to resort to this again?”
“No.” She glared. “Plus, you’d better be careful, or I’ll use my claws to get you.” And with that, she tilted her head as though the hermit crab earrings were going to pinch me.
Laughing, I tucked her close, stealing a kiss, knowing I should get out of there and let her rest, that I’d thrown her a giant curveball and for all my talk of making her come and finding her bedroom, she needed more time. But . . . I just wanted a few more minutes with her.
“Hayden?”
“Hmm,” I said, running my fingers through her hair. “I know you need to sleep.”
“No.” I glanced down.
“I was wondering why you weren’t picking me up and carrying me down the hall.”
A smirk curved my mouth. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” A shrug. “You’re too big for me to carry.”
I chuckled. “You calling me fat?”
“Yup.”
Laughing, I scooped her up and started walking. There weren’t that many doors at the end of the hall. I could figure it out. “So long as it’s the P-H-A-T kind.”
“Oh boy.” She snorted. “I knew you wouldn’t disappoint.”
“With the bad jokes or because I’ve used my superb directional skills to deduce your bedroom is this way.” I nodded down the hall.
“Neither.” A careless shrug. “Both.” Fingers crawling down my chest, slipping over my abs, stopping an inch above the button of my cargos. “Guess again,” she purred, lips pressing to my throat, tongue darting out, a hot brand against my skin.
“My inability to guess what kind of movies you like?” I pushed open a door, saw it was the bathroom.
“Nope.” Another giggle that made me feel about ten feet tall. “Also, I don’t like movies.”
I froze, glanced down at her. “Like at all?”
She bit her lip, shy creeping into her eyes. “I never had anyone who I wanted to go with.”
“Well, that’s going to change,” I told her. “’Cause I just earned a permanent seat next to you.”
She lifted a brow. “Permanent?”
“Yup.” I shoved open another door, saw it was the bedroom, and thanked all the various gods in the universe.
“When you can’t even guess my favorite cocktail?”
I dumped her onto the bed. “I know it,” I admitted, having finally put the pieces together. No frou-frou stuff. Just— “Whiskey, on the rocks.”
She blinked then smiled. “Damn, I knew the glasses would give it away.”
“Gotta have good glasses to drink good whiskey.”
“True.”
I followed her down onto the mattress. “So,” I said, nudging her legs apart, positioning myself in between.
Laughter slid from her eyes, heat taking its place. “So,” she repeated, hands coming up to rest on my shoulders.
Bending, I ran my lips along her throat, pressed a kiss to her jaw.
“So . . . what’s your favorite color?”
Still as a statue,
Then she began giggling.
And I knew this was going to be the best night—er, morning—of my life.
Seventeen
Anabelle
I barely stopped giggling before his mouth was pressed to mine, his tongue delving deep.
Desire replaced amusement in an instant, and I wrapped my legs around him, fingers clenching on his shoulders to pull him down. I wanted to feel the weight of his body against mine, revel in all the hard parts of him pressing to my soft. I wanted—
“Skin,” I gasped when he kissed his way to my earlobe, tugged lightly with his teeth.
This was nice.
But I needed skin.
I slipped my fingers under the hem of his shirt, began tugging up, beyond thankful when Hayden reared back and wrenched it over his head. A second later, he was doing the same to my sweater, to the T-shirt I wore underneath.
But I was concentrating less on my body and much more on his.
Fuck, he was gorgeous. Strong, lean muscles lining his arms, his chest, faint squares on his abdomen, a light dusting of hair over his pecs.
My fingers itched to touch. Moisture pooled between my thighs.
A teasing caress over the tops of my breasts, tracing down and in between, dipping under the cotton of my bra.
Maybe once I would have felt self-conscious to just be me in the face of so much beauty, but that discomfort was negligible in this moment. All I had to do was look at Hayden, and I could see the desire on his face. Then there was the way he touched me, almost reverently, as though I were the most important thing in this moment.
And . . . I supposed I was.
Because, in this moment, he was equally important to me.
I ran my hands over his chest, palming the muscles, loving the slight
prickle of the hair there against my skin, loving even more that as I touched him, he touched me. Fingers down my back, palm cupping my ass, sliding up and in so he could flick open the button on my jeans.
I covered his hand with mine.
“No?” he asked.
“Only if you take off yours first.”
A grin, desire in those blue eyes, before he hopped off the bed and shucked his shoes, socks, and cargo pants.
I lifted my palm, face out when he moved to get back on the bed. “Wait.”
“Rocky?”
“Just wait.”
His expression gentled. “We don’t have to do this—”
“Shh.”
He stood there in all his sexy glory and I had to fight the urge to launch myself at him as I looked my fill.
A sigh.
My gaze drifted up his chest, met his. “You know, I don’t make everything a fight,” I murmured.
He took a step closer, and I could see the ridge of his erection cupped by the black cotton of his boxer briefs. “The current situation would state otherwise,” he said dryly.
“I have an ulterior motive,” I told him and made a circling motion with my finger. “Now spin.”
A snort, but he spun around in a circle.
“Good God, that ass,” I muttered. “The fates are just too cruel to give a man an ass like—ack!” I fought the urge to shut my eyes, instead drinking up every last inch of exposed skin when he dropped his boxer briefs to the carpet. “What are you doing?” I asked, eyes glued to his naked, gorgeous body.
“You’re waxing poetic about my ass,” he said, turning back around and putting one knee up on the bed. I figured I might as well give you the full view.”
And what a fucking view it was.
“Smart-ass,” I muttered.
He reached up and unzipped my pants, tugging them down my legs. Then he crawled up my body, pressed all that naked skin to mine. “Nice ass.” Except, his hand was cupping my butt, massaging the curves. Then in a moment almost too fast for my brain to process, he flipped me, so I was face down on the mattress.
“Really fucking nice ass,” he murmured, a palm on each cheek, kneading lightly through the simple cotton of my underwear. But even without fancy lingerie—side note: I needed to buy some—the sensation was incredible. Warm, rough hands on mine, massaging slow and deep, sending tendrils of pleasure weaving through me. And his words upped the ante. “You don’t know how many dreams I’ve had about this thing. Watching it bounce as you walked away from me, seeing it sway as you stretched up high for a bottle of booze.”