by Mara Jacobs
She wound her arms around his neck, scooching over across the seat, wanting to touch him, to let the haze spread.
Seeming to know what she wanted—or wanting it himself—his hand slid from her hair, over her coat, lifting it up enough to curve a hand around her butt and nudge her body closer.
She’d made out with boys in cars before, but it’d been a while, and Sawyer’s truck was nothing like the cars the boys back in Farmington Hills drove.
And Sawyer Beck was in no way a boy.
As he continued to lift her to him, she touched the side of his face. He’d been clean-shaven when they’d met this morning, but now there was a tantalizing amount of stubble that she stroked.
“Jesus,” he mumbled, then kissed her more deeply as he pulled her on top of him while he edged his body to her side so that she’d be able to straddle him.
Breathing heavily, she broke away from the kiss, needing to see his face. The wind howled outside, and the whiteness of the snow seemed to give a glow to the truck’s cab.
His chest was heaving, and she put her hands on him there, pushing aside the lapels of his wool pea coat. It wasn’t enough, so she pushed the coat off him. He leaned forward enough so that she could drag it out from behind him and toss it on the seat next to them. Better. She smoothed her hands down his strong chest, then glanced at his face to find his green eyes on her. She inched closer to him on his lap, her full skirt rising along her thighs. Her tights and his khakis were the only things between them. His breathing had slowed now, but the rise and fall of his firm chest became deeper. The chambray of his shirt felt almost repulsive to her when his skin was just underneath. She started plucking at the buttons, almost in a fury to see his chest.
His movements were slower, more deliberate, as they eased her coat from her, tugging her hands away from his shirt momentarily, before he tossed her coat on top of his.
He began to unwind the scarf that she’d so laboriously configured this morning, using a picture from Pinterest as her guide.
“What the…?” He was tangled in the intricate design, yanking at the gossamer material.
“It doesn’t matter. Leave it,” she whispered, having his shirt finally undone. She yanked it free from his waistband and opened it wide. His chest was strong, developed, and covered lightly with hair that her fingers itched to touch. As she reached for his skin, her arms were pulled away by his peeling of her cardigan off her body, leaving her in only her camisole and bra. She wasn’t even sure where her sweater wound up. She certainly didn’t care.
Her hands ran over his chest, and she was delighted when he involuntarily flexed at her slightly colder touch. The muscle was strong and firm, and she leaned forward to nuzzle him. Breathing in the clean, fresh scent of him, she ran her cheek along his chest, up to his throat, then burrowed deeper. Her body was responding, coming out of its funk, and she reveled in the feelings that had been dormant for so long: desire, attraction, and, okay, horniness.
“Holy wah,” he said as she nipped his neck, then put her tongue on him. She smiled at the Yooperism that she hadn’t quite been able to add to her vocabulary, then returned to tasting his skin. She nibbled her way up, his hands pulling her body even closer, then clenching her butt as her mouth finally made its way to his.
Their kiss was hungrier now, with tongues tangling. The pressure was exquisite. She felt him slide her camisole and bra straps down her shoulders and was torn between leaving his mouth and wanting that mouth elsewhere. She moved away from him, giving him the room he’d need. The slide of her body along his erection had them both gasping.
“God, I feel like I’m in high school. I haven’t dry humped like this since then,” he said.
She smiled. “Do you want to stop?” She moved against him again and delighted in the flare she saw in his eyes.
“Hell no.” Her straps now dangled at her elbows, but her bra and camisole stayed in place, covering her. His hands skimmed up her arms and curved around her shoulders. “Deni,” he whispered, his eyes staring into hers.
She felt beautiful, desired. The fact that she felt anything so deeply after months of the fog would have been enough, but the penetration of his gaze helped. She moved her hands to his head, guiding him to her chest.
“Sawyer,” she said, also whispering, “I want—”
Three short raps on the window made her jump out of Sawyer’s embrace while frantically pulling up her bra straps. Trying to be gallant and shield her, Sawyer pushed her to the side, which made her nearly topple off the seat.
The snow had stopped blowing, and although the windows were pretty fogged up (no surprise!), she could see the blue jacket of a state policeman clearly enough.
“Jesus, I really am back in high school,” Sawyer mumbled as he too recognized the occupation of the man once again tapping on the truck window.
“License and registration,” the officer said, and Deni scooted out of the way as Sawyer reached across her and opened the glove box. His arm grazed her boobs, and she lamented the fact that in only a few moments she would have hand his hand and mouth on her. He must have been thinking the same thing, if she could read his frustrated groan. And the slamming of the glove box door after he’d pulled out an envelope. And his heavy sigh as he looked over at her—or her now-covered chest—after handing the envelope and his license over to the policeman.
She smiled, shrugged, and finished buttoning up her cardigan, which only made him sigh again.
“We just were trying to wait out the storm,” he said to the cop.
“Good way to do it,” the man answered.
“It was…”
It was hard to tell, but Deni swore she saw a small grin quickly squashed by the officer.
“Beck? From Calumet?” the cop asked Sawyer, holding up the license.
“Yep.”
“Any relation to Huck Beck?”
Deni watched as Sawyer’s shoulders tensed. “Yeeees…?” He seemed to prepare himself, like he wasn’t going to like what came next.
And what came next looked like the officer reaching for his gun. Deni almost dove to the footwell. But when his hand reappeared, the officer was holding open his own wallet and flipping through it, all while trying to balance Sawyer’s information. He pulled out two twenty-dollar bills and handed them to Sawyer.
“Give this to him the next time you see him, and tell him it’s from Bonehead.”
Deni leaned closer and peered at the officer’s nameplate over his badge. It did not say Officer Bonehead (nor did she expect it to).
“Um…yeah…okay,” Sawyer responded, taking the money from the other man’s hand. “I don’t see him much, though. You might be better off mailing it to him or something.”
“Nah. It’s already waited a few years. It can keep until you see him.”
“I have to pick up my dog from his place tonight. I’m not really expecting him to be there, so I’ll just leave it on his kitchen table with a note or something.”
“Great. Thanks.” He put his wallet away and then handed Sawyer back his information. He pulled back as Sawyer reached for his license. “If I run this through the system, am I going to find anything?”
“Nope. I’m clean as a whistle.”
The officer handed over the license, then chuckled. “And you’re sure you’re related to Huck Beck?”
“That’s what my mom tells me,” Sawyer answered as he put his license back in his wallet and then shoved it in his back pocket.
Nuts. She’d been moments away from having her hands all over those back pockets—and the divine butt they covered.
“We’re hearing the storm has blown to the east of us, missing the route you’re taking. And the plows are out right now in Iron Mountain, so you’re safe to get moving.” He gave Sawyer a pointed look to which Sawyer nodded his understanding. After the officer got back to his car, Sawyer waited a moment and then sighed and put the truck in gear.
“I guess he’s going to wait until we’re out of here.”
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“Oh,” she said, the disappointment in her voice a bit too obvious.
“Exactly. ‘Oh.’”
As they pulled out of the parking lot and onto the main road (freshly plowed, just as the cop had said, though they’d been too occupied to notice), Deni asked, “So, he was really going to trust you that you had no unpaid parking tickets or outstanding warrants or anything?”
He shrugged as he made the turn and started the last leg of their journey. “Yeah. I guess. I mean, he’ll probably run my name now, but…”
“You wouldn’t see that happen in Farmington Hills.”
“Nope. You gotta love da Yoop.” His Yooper accent was exaggerated and thick, and Deni smiled.
Realizing she couldn’t remember the last time a genuine smile crossed her face for something so tiny, she made up her mind that pursuing something physical with Sawyer Beck was exactly what she needed right now. It would be a distraction from her SAD and give her something else to think about so she wouldn’t get into the obsessive loops of late over insignificant things.
He made a turn, and she watched as his shoulder filled out his chambray shirt, the muscles on his forearm clenching where he’d rolled up his sleeve.
Okay, she might be trading in one obsessive loop for another—namely how hot Sawyer Beck was. But those kinds were ones she knew how to deal with. She had since she was thirteen and started noticing Jimmy Gaston’s chest in gym class.
And God, it felt good just thinking about how quickly she could get home and get Sawyer Beck in her bed rather than how quickly she could get home and just go to bed.
He looked over at her as they stopped at a light in downtown Iron Mountain. He gave his head a tiny shake. He gazed at her mouth, and when she licked her lips he gave a soft chuckle.
She wanted to say something, but his eyes returned to the road and he started off again.
There were a lot of reasons not to start something. For starters, he was older than she was. Not crazy older, but older than she’d ever dated before. He was the owner of her company, if not her actual boss. And to top it all off, he was dealing with understandable residual grief from his wife’s death. Seemed like three big strikes.
But this wasn’t about dating Sawyer Beck. This was about feeling a flash of emotion—namely lust—for the first time in a long time, and it felt good. It felt right. Even if Sawyer was the wrong choice for this lust, she was going to act on it.
She spent the next two hours trying to remember what state her house was in and if her sheets were relatively clean. She knew the bed wasn’t made but was hoping desire-induced neediness would make that point moot.
She didn’t even think an invitation would be necessary—not if the bulge of his that she’d felt beneath her was any indication. No. He’d be following her home for sure to finish what they’d started.
Still, just so there’d be no awkward “should I or shouldn’t I” on his part, as they pulled into the Summers and Beck parking lot and he parked next to her snow-covered car she said, “Will you follow me to my house?”
He grinned and said, “Absolutely. Give me your keys, and I’ll get your car warm for you.”
She dug the keys out of her bag and handed them to him. He left the warmth of the truck cab to start up her Subaru.
She watched as he turned on the car and then remerged with her heavy-duty snow brush to clean off the inches of heavy white stuff that had fallen throughout the day.
She’d had gentlemanly boyfriends before. They’d held doors for her, held her coat for her, things like that.
But it was amazing the lump that rose to her throat as she watched Sawyer clean off her car as the heater warmed up the inside.
When he got to the front passenger side, he stilled as he cleared it off. For a moment, Deni wondered if he’d wrenched a muscle or something. And then selfishly wondered if it would hamper his performance. Ha! It felt so good to have her body sparking again, to be thinking thoughts about performance and orgasms and Sawyer’s hot, sweaty body heaving over her.
She hadn’t had sex in a long time, and even the desire to…take things into her own hand…had completely disappeared since the blanket of numbness had wrapped itself around her.
She squirmed on the seat. Oh yes, the sparks were there and were ready to be ignited.
Sawyer rose from leaning over the windshield, and he seemed to be okay, although he was walking slowly back to the truck. There wasn’t quite the spring in his step as when he’d left it.
“Are you okay?” she asked as he got into his seat and shut the door.
“No. Well, yeah. I’m fine.” He was staring straight ahead at the building. Then he turned to look at her and said, “I’m not going to follow you home.”
“Oh,” she said. She wanted to come up with some alternate plan about her following him, leaving her car here, or, hell, just peeling their clothes off in the warm truck and finishing what they’d started in a different parking lot.
But logistics weren’t the problem. It was most likely being back at the office. He must have seen the building with his name on it as he brushed off her car and realized what a bad move this was, business-wise.
Which was exactly what she’d told him the first time, when he’d brushed it off as easily as if it were snow on a windshield.
But that wasn’t something she was going to throw in his face now. And she certainly wasn’t going to try to convince him otherwise. If he thought it’d be a problem because he owned the company, she was going to respect that.
Even if the spark that had been humming through her body had just extinguished, and the heaviness seemed to envelope her once again. Like a lead blanket was being pulled around her, her arms were almost too heavy to even open the door. She wondered if she’d even be able to drive herself home.
“I’ll follow you home, but just to make sure you get in okay. I think it’s better if—”
She raised her hand (hey, her arms did work!) to stop him. “Not necessary. This is Hancock. I’m fine.” He made to argue, but she quickly said, “I’ll just see you at work on Monday?” Then added, “If you’re going to be in on Monday? If I’m still on the project?”
He looked confused. “Of course you’re still on the project.” Then he seemed to get it. “Oh. In case you don’t want to be?”
This was her chance to gracefully exit this project. One that really held no appeal to her whatsoever as an engineer. “No. I still want to work on it” were the words that came out of her mouth, surprising herself and apparently Sawyer, if his expression was any indication.
He quickly recovered. “Good. Good. I’m really glad.” He started to reach out to her but dropped his hand on the seat between them. “Monday, then. Why don’t we plan on meeting at the site around ten?”
“Sounds good.”
“Dress warmly. The wind can be a bitch on the hill.”
“Will do.” She sat for a moment more. She was waiting, but not really sure what she was waiting for. She looked at him once more and saw a look of regret that should have taken some of the sting out of going home alone. But it didn’t.
“Bye,” she said as she climbed out of his truck. She though she heard him answer her as she shut the door.
Her Subaru was toasty when she entered it; he’d turned the heat up full blast. Thoughtful.
She drove away from him toward her house where she knew she’d crawl into bed as soon as she could.
Nuts.
Chapter Ten
I call architecture frozen music.
~ Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
Damn it. Sawyer watched as the little Subaru made its way out of the parking lot and toward the bridge. He sat for a while longer. From where he was parked, he could see her car cross the bridge. At Bob’s Mobil, she turned toward the houses of East End.
He was tempted to throw the truck in gear, try to catch up to her, and then troll the three or four streets of East End looking for her car. But he didn’t. Instead, he slowly left the
parking lot and headed toward Tech to the part of town, where Huck lived, to pick up Lucy.
He’d fully intended on going home with Deni. His imagination had run wild for the two hours after they’d left that lot in Iron Mountain. He’d almost reached for her several times but thought that touching her might not be the best move with her being nervous about the roads. Because once he touched her, he’d want to keep on touching her, and they’d end up in a ditch for sure.
And she’d invited him to follow her home, which was all the encouragement he’d needed, until… Damn, he never should have brushed off her car. He hadn’t noticed the mittens sitting on her passenger seat when he’d hopped in, started it, and turned the heater up. But as he cleared the snow from her windshield, he’d seen them sitting on the seat. Bright, multi-colored wool mittens that sent him spiraling back to Molly’s death. She’d had on a pair just like them when she’d been in the car accident that claimed her life.
Guilt and grief bubbled up inside him, pushing out the past two hours and all his thoughts of Deni naked.
God, Molly would have been right about the age Deni was now when she’d died. Which just slammed home how young Deni was. Whatever thoughts he still had of sleeping with her tonight blew away like the snow from her windshield.
When he got to Huck’s house, he parked in front, noting the drive had been plowed and the sidewalk shoveled. Maybe he’d be able to give Huck his money from that cop in person.
But no, unsurprisingly, Huck was nowhere to be found, though Lucy’s water bowl seemed to have been refilled. He let Lucy out into Huck’s fenced backyard and wrote his brother a note explaining the forty dollars and thanking him for keeping an eye on his dog.
At least he thought it was his brother who’d refilled the water bowl. With Huck, though, you never really knew.
After Lucy had done her business, he loaded her up in the truck and made the drive home.
Deni turned around as she heard barking to see Sawyer’s dog dashing through the snow toward her. She bent down to receive the yellow lab’s affection, grateful to have a moment before Sawyer was upon her. She’d come with Charlie and Mac and was taking in the site as they set up surveying equipment. They’d only get preliminary specs due to all the snow, but they’d be able to cross-check them against the set Petey Ryan had provided. Besides, if they could make this project work—and after what the men in Green Bay had told them, she wasn’t sure they could—they wouldn’t be breaking ground until the snow melted anyway. And in the Copper Country, that could be as late as mid-May.