by S. L. Scott
Leaning to the side, I say, “Look at me.” She catches my eyes and waits. Rubbing my hand gingerly up her spine, I gently grasp her delicate neck. “We only do what you want to do, what you’re comfortable doing. If you want it slow, want to make love, then we go slow. You want me to fuck you hard, fast, and so deep until your orgasm bursts free, then I fuck you. You can trust me, Delilah. So tell me. How can I pleasure you?”
The tips of my fingers find stillness where her pulse was just beating rapidly. “Breathe. For me. That’s my only request,” I add.
She sucks in a jagged breath and swallows. “I want all of that with you.”
A slow smirk slides into place before I kiss her shoulder. “Good. I want all of that with you, too. How about we start with slow and steady right here.” I dip my hand between her legs and run my fingers through her slick silkiness. Her back bends and arches when her head drops down. “When you touch me, I lose myself. It’s good to be out of my mind and in your world for a little while.”
Moving to the side, I hear what she needs, her body speaking to me through every reaction. Lying on my back, I look at her, and she looks at me, a small smile appearing. “Don’t you want me like this?” she asks.
“Don’t you know, baby? I want you any way I can have you. Tell me what you want.”
“I want to see your face while you make love to me.”
I lift up and kiss her while slowly moving over her. When she’s lying on her back and tucked beneath me, I angle my middle. I could slide right in I’m so close. Her heat. Her sweet nectar. Fuck. I grab a condom and pull it on quickly before moving back into place. “I was just about here—”
“I know we decided slow and steady, but having you here again, feeling your body . . .” The smallest of lines form on the outside of her eyes as her happiness shines through. “I hope you don’t think I’m shallow, but I really like your muscles—your biceps, your abs, your . . .” Her breathing deepens and her eyes leave mine when she whispers, “Ass.”
“What was that?” I tilt her chin in my direction, and her gaze follows. “Did you say you like my ass?”
She seems to gather her courage, looking determined. “Yes, I did say I like your ass.”
“That has to be one of the hottest things I’ve ever heard.” I push in just enough to make her feel what’s to come. “I want you to grab it.”
Her eyebrows shoot up. “Huh?”
“You heard me. Grab my ass and squeeze to your heart’s content.”
“I bet you say that to all the girls you sleep with,” she smarts back, rolling her eyes.
“I don’t sleep with any girls.” I push in another inch or so.
A gasp escapes her, and she struggles to keep her eyes open, but she does it as if on a mission. “I know that’s a lie.”
“It’s more like let me call you an Uber.”
“Now that does not surp—Oh God, yes.”
Filling her to the hilt, I pause not for some grand effect but because she feels so damn good that I’m about to blow before I can make her come. Lowering my head, I whisper in her ear, “You are amazing.”
She whispers right back, “I’m not doing anything but lying here.”
I lift up to find her eyes. “You don’t get it, do you? It’s not about all the other stuff with us. It’s about being together, our physical and emotional connection. I’m glad I came back.”
Her eyes shine, a glassiness covering them as her expression softens. “I’m so glad you came back.” Caressing my cheeks, she adds, “Now please start moving.”
My body easily finds a rhythm with hers. Her eyelids close, and I lean down and kiss her sumptuous lips, parting them as my tongue meets hers, and everything deepens when I start thrusting. Just as she said earlier, it feels so good to lose myself in something bigger than my thoughts.
We hit that bliss together, our bodies wracked with pleasure and lust melding together. We lie on the bed, catching our breaths with my arm curled around her as she curls around me. This feels normal, as though we do this all the time. Nothing feels out of place. Nothing feels wrong or rushed.
Everything about being with her in this house feels how it should.
Everything about her feels right.
With the only girl I ever loved in my arms, my restless heart finds contentment.
Comfort.
Solace . . .
15
Delilah
I stare at the man beside me.
There’s not much light in the room, but there’s enough afternoon sunshine sneaking through the bent blinds for me to see the differences between the boy I once thought I’d spend my life with and the man sleeping next to me.
He’s restless.
Even behind closed lids, his eyes never seem to settle. With my hand on his chest, his heart beats fast even in slumber. There are small lines that remind me more of cat’s whiskers than crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes. They’re soft, but I see them digging in for the long haul. They look so much more distinguished on him than the ones settling in on my face from years of squinting in the sun.
Jason’s nose has a small bump that wasn’t there before. I like it. I’m tempted to run my finger over it and land on the lips that look like pillows where my mouth could rest easy. The stubble is thick, but not so thick that it’s a beard needing to be shaved. It’s hard to decide if I like this look or a clean-shaven face on him best. Both highlight the jaw that’s gotten sharper over the years.
I see the clouds of the design of his tattoo so much better in the soft light of the sun peeking into the room. The artwork of the tattoo is both beautiful and sad. I hope that was him then, and he can find happiness now because I sure do love the comfort of being in his arms again.
Too soon?
I’m not sure.
Although I want to enjoy this time with him, I slip into my usual routine and start to analyze the situation to death. Why did I walk away from this man? He’s never been anything but honest with me, so forthcoming with how he feels.
If given a real second chance, I won’t be that stupid again. I need to trust in the journey. I won’t deviate from this path if it feels this good to be with him.
“Hey,” I whisper.
As if he’s been awake the whole time, his eyes open, showing me those gorgeous brown eyes that always held too much emotion for him to hide from me. Despite his body’s restlessness, his soulful eyes are at peace as they stare into mine. His arm tightens around me, pulling me closer. “Hey,” he whispers, brushing some strands of my hair behind my ear. “Everything okay?”
Resting my chin on his chest, I look at him. “Everything’s good. Better than good.”
A languid smile moves into place and holds steady. “Guess we should get up. I slept harder than I thought I would for an afternoon nap.”
“I’m glad. You needed it.”
He bends his neck to the side, stretching it. “It’s this place.”
I don’t beat around the bush. Neither of us has time for that. “I like having you here.” He doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t need to. His fingers weave through my hair, and he holds the back of my head, looking at me, studying me before pulling me to him and kissing me.
Our bodies find their way together again, and we fill the afternoon with moans, expending our desire, and satiating our lust.
Left with smiles that feel shy, although I don’t know why, we take a shower and get dressed. Watching me as he puts his jeans on, he says, “I told Billy I’d fix your chicken coop.”
“Do you know how, city slicker?”
Laughing, he dips his feet into his shoes and winks. “I think I can manage, but I need to start tomorrow if that’s okay. I promised my mom I would change her oil today.”
“You don’t owe me anything, Jason. I can manage.”
Coming over to me, he rubs my arms. “I know you can, but I want to help. Is it okay for me to take that job off your hands? You have plenty to take care of yourself.”
He kisses my head. When we part, he asks, “Are you busy tonight?”
“No,” I reply, laughing lightly. “My schedule is pretty wide open most days.”
“Let me ask you something.”
Here it comes—the questions I’ve been happily avoiding. I lean against the oak dresser, needing to brace myself against something solid. “Okay.”
“Will you come to dinner tonight at my mom’s house?”
“Wait. What?”
His forehead crinkles from my response. “Dinner. You. Me. My mom. Will you join us?”
That’s not what I expected him to ask. I thought for sure he’d bring up Cole, but I’m so glad he doesn’t let him invade our time together. “Dinner?”
“You know,” he says, his hands motioning like charades as he feeds himself. “Food. Eating. Talking. That kind of thing.”
I smile. “I’d love to.”
A wide smile appears, but his eyes always hold a little mischievousness. “How’s seven?”
“Perfect. I’ll bring dessert.” I start out of the bedroom, wondering if I have all the ingredients I need to bake something delicious for them.
“I always loved your desserts.”
“Are we still talking about food?”
“Nope.”
I roll my eyes and head for the living room. “I’m not sure I can keep up with your appetite.”
“I’m insatiable because of you.”
Stopping in the hall, I turn around and press my hands against his chest. I rub lightly over the cotton of his shirt, wanting to feel his hard muscles through it . . . yeah, I do, and I’m not making any apologies for it. But are we just undeniable physical attraction? Chemistry ready to combust? I like talking to him, but he has so much locked inside still hidden from me. I have my own secrets, too. Is it rational to want more with him when he just returned to town? To me? “What are we doing, Jason?”
His smile turns light, and his eyes darken with the change in my tone. “We’re getting to know each other. Again. That’s all,” he says.
I nod, and then take a deep breath before exhaling. “I come with baggage I didn’t have last time around.”
“We all do.” When he kisses my cheek, his mouth lingers on my skin, sending goose bumps across my arms. “I lied earlier.”
“About?”
“When I said I rest better because there’s something about this place. I lied. It’s not the place.”
“What is it?”
He cups my face, and our lips meet, but he doesn’t kiss me. “It’s you. You give me the peace I’ve needed, and the emptiness inside isn’t so empty anymore.”
He fills the emptiness inside me as well. Our lips meet, and we kiss, exchanging the words that aren’t needed.
“I’ll see you tonight, Delilah.”
He walks around and right out my front door like it’s his own to return through. I lean against the frame and watch him through the screen door. He starts his truck and looks back at me, leaving me with a nod of his head and a smile on his face that feels genuine. Dirt fills the air behind his tires, and I watch that old beat-up pickup drive away, feeling anxious as the distance grows.
What are we really?
Are we playing a game, or is this real?
I miss him already, and it hasn’t been a minute since he left.
That feels pretty darn real, to my heart at least, but I shouldn’t overthink this. We need to happen naturally for it to turn into something more. More? Is that even something I should be considering? Cole will never let that happen. He’d rather see me dead than with someone else, least of all Jason Koster.
I can’t spend my life tiptoeing around Cole Cutler’s eggshell of an ego. We’re over. That’s been made clear—in court and out. It’s time I take my life back and start living again.
With more than four hours until I need to be at dinner, I wrap up some chores.
This goofy smile on my face might be the answer I’m looking for. I head out back and return to chopping the wood I’m going to need to store for winter. It’s backbreaking work, but I can’t afford the wood delivery service anymore. At least I no longer have to work out at the gym. The chores around here are enough to keep me in shape. And Jason seems to really like my body . . . perhaps more than before, which surprises me. I haven’t felt attractive . . . well, since Jason used to appreciate me—emotionally and physically.
After the wood’s chopped, I inspect the coop. I can easily fix this, but that Jason wants to help is so sweet, and I like him hanging around enough to let him take on this job. I hop on the ATV and drive around the fields to the two active ones. Paul oversees the plots with Billy, but he also lives on the acreage that bumps against the fields in a two-bedroom cottage my dad built when I was little. I used to dream of living in that little white house with its gingerbread trim and door.
Lorraine, his wife, takes care of the house, keeping it in shape despite time wanting to wear it down. She brings me food too often, but she knows how I love her cooking. She also says I’m too skinny. I’ll happily take her pralines to help “widen my hips to bear children,” as she puts it. They’re too delicious to pass up.
She’s watering the flowers out front when I drive up. “Hi, Delilah.”
“Hi, how are you today?”
“It’s a beautiful day,” she replies with a motherly smile on her face. “I saw a truck leaving the property earlier.”
Her mothering instincts go beyond a smile. I’ve known her since I was eight, so we’ve been through a lot of changes together through the years. I don’t have to say much. She’s happy to fill the air with her wisdom and observations, which have been comforting since I lost my mom and dad. “Your old boyfriend, the one I liked, used to drive a truck just like that.”
I take over the task. As the water sprinkles across the flower bed, I keep my tone level, careful not to give more away than I have a right to. “He still does.”
I don’t have to see her face to hear the joy in her voice. “It was a good visit?”
Looking at her, I see her hands clasped together in front of her chest.
“You don’t have to pretend. Tell me what you know.”
“Paul said the truck stayed overnight.”
I giggle, the usual burdens feeling lighter, almost effervescent today. “It did. Along with Jason.”
“Jason,” she says in such a dreamy way. “I always did like how he treated you.”
“Even in the end?”
“The end? Hmm. You weren’t one to reason with back then.”
I’ve yet to process what Jason said last night. I felt like a fool. No, more than that, I felt heartsick at what I must have put him through. How could he come back here and want to reconnect with me? He must have hated me, especially when he saw me with Cole at Red River.
Why? Why hadn’t I gone back to him and given him a chance to speak? He wasn’t a selfish man. He never had been. My assumptions were based on an insecurity that I placed on myself, not from his actions. Cole is to blame for his part; he was devious. But I fell for it. Naïve. My heart hurts thinking about what I did. God, how I hurt Jason. But here he is, despite the pain he’s felt, potentially offering us a second chance. He’s so much stronger than I ever was.
I set the empty can down and move to sit on her steps. Resting my arms on my knees, I stare ahead at the field that meets the end of her yard. When I glance over at her, I say, “He wasn’t going to break up with me. That’s what he told me.”
“I could have told you that, too.”
Softly laughing, I reply, “You probably did. I just wasn’t able to hear you through the noise in my head.”
“But y
ou hear him now?”
“I’m not sure.”
She sits next to me, wrapping me in a loving embrace. “Sometimes it’s not the loudest voice we hear, but the soft whisper our heart feels. Back then, the sting of perceived betrayal clouded your judgment and clogged your ears. Someone took advantage of that pain and twisted it for his own needs.”
Although I can’t remember exactly when Cole first talked to me about Jason leaving, I can recall some of what he’d said.
“I’m sure you know what guys are like, Delilah. He’s leaving this town—you, me, Billy—and moving on.” He reaches over and rubs my shoulder, consoling me. I’m not even sure what he’s talking about, which worries me more. Is Jason keeping secrets?
My hands tighten around the handles of my cheerleading bag, and I look toward the stadium tunnel that leads to the locker rooms. Jason is long gone, the coach calling him in to talk. Is it about leaving? Leaving school? Leaving me?
As I worry my lip, he continues, “He’s kept you on a string, someone to come back to when he wants you.” He runs his hands through his sweaty hair. When he looks back at me, it’s a look of excitement . . . like lust? Surely not. I’ve seen this look before but dismissed it as nothing since I’m with his best friend.
“I’m sick of the rumors I’ve heard about him when he’s visiting State’s campus. Rumors about him and other girls. You deserve better. Why do you put up with that?” he says.
I remember doubting Cole, thinking that wasn’t the Jason Koster I knew and loved. But each time Cole looked at me with sympathy and held me as if to comfort me, I started to believe him. But was it true?
No.
That wasn’t Jason at all. But somehow, I felt more confusion when I didn’t hear what Jason had to talk to the coach about, or why he suddenly had to stay after practice a few times for meetings.
Was Jason lying to me or waiting to tell me what he considered good news? I know now, but I wish I had known then.