The Garden (Lavender Shores Book 2)

by Rosalind Abel

  I kissed him as I came. Our tongues met as I panted out my release, and I wished there was no condom between us. That my orgasm would’ve filled him. Become part of him.

  And then it was over.

  Orgasm gone. Kiss broken—the kiss and the moment.

  I pulled out of him, removed and tied off the condom, and suddenly felt lonelier than I had in a long, long time. Which said something. Loneliness was a good friend of mine.

  Not noticing, Walden moved his hand to his cock.

  Shit. I’d gotten so caught up, I’d forgotten.

  I was a lot of things, an ass included, but I didn’t leave a guy hanging. “What do you need?”

  He grinned up at me. “I’m close. After that, very close. Just kiss me.”

  Of all the things he could’ve asked. I couldn’t do it again. Not again.

  It would hurt.

  I lay next to him, pressing the length of my body to his, and propped up on my side enough to lower my head and kiss him. I did my best to make it deep and full like it had been moments before. To pour in emotion. But all I had left was cold loneliness.

  Maybe he didn’t feel it. Didn’t notice the change. Less than a minute later, Walden let out a cry into my mouth, and come splattered over his stomach, hitting my shoulder.

  He stroked a couple more times, then broke the kiss with a sigh. “Thank you.”

  This time, those words hurt.

  They never had before.

  He stifled a yawn, then studied me, maybe finally noticing I was a crazy person. Walden narrowed his eyes. “If you wanna take me back, you can. I don’t have to stay here.” He sounded sad. Tired and sad.

  And look at that; I’d passed my loneliness on to him. Always a prince of a guy, Bryant. Though the option sounded like a needed escape, the thought of him not being there made the darkness deeper. “No, I’d like you to stay. If that’s okay with you.”

  He smiled, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Yeah, I’d like that.” He yawned again.

  “I’ll bring you a towel.” I hurried to the bathroom, grabbed a hand towel, and brought it back. It was less than a minute, but he’d already fallen asleep.

  As I wiped the come from his chest and stomach, he woke again. “Oh, sorry.” He blinked like he’d been dreaming. “I think I’m a little drunk.”

  I couldn’t help but chuckle. “Lightweight.”

  He just nodded.

  “Here, scoot up and we’ll get you under the covers.”

  Walden did as directed. His head barely hit the pillow, and he was out. I pulled up the sheets and looked down at him, considering.

  Maybe that was all I’d felt. Drunk Walden giving off different pheromones or some shit. Or maybe I was more buzzed than I realized.

  That thought made me sad. That I’d imagined whatever I’d felt while inside him. For once I couldn’t hear Donovan’s voice in my head. I had no idea what he’d say about this.

  I left the bedroom and got ready for bed—shutting off the lights, brushing my teeth. I considered sleeping on the couch, but the thought brought a sting to my eyes. My God, I really was buzzed. Instead, I crawled into bed.

  For probably half an hour or more, I lay ramrod straight on my side of the mattress, thoughts and emotions raging, and fucking tears so close at hand I nearly got back up and gave an emergency call to Donovan. Instead, almost as a test, I rolled toward Walden, then scooted closer until I was pressed again him once more. I rested my head on the pillow next to his and placed my hand on his chest.

  He sighed in his sleep and cuddled closer.

  The loneliness didn’t leave, but the panic did. My brain went silent, blissfully silent. And though I knew his absence the next night probably guaranteed an actual emergency call, for the moment, I allowed myself to find comfort in his nearness and to pretend the things I’d felt as we’d kissed and fucked had been nothing more than side effects of drinking overly expensive scotch entirely too fast.

  I woke at sunrise, which was early, even for me. I hadn’t pulled the blackout blinds, and soft gold light filled the room. There hadn’t been much sleep. Fears and memories had raged through the first part of the night, reminding me why I shouldn’t do this, why I didn’t deserve moments like this. And that Walden had done nothing to deserve having someone like me at his side. I could only imagine what he’d say if he knew.

  Finally, around three in the morning, the darkness eased somewhat, probably more out of exhaustion than anything. I gave in to the fantasy, to the comfort of Walden’s warm body next to mine, again marveling that the relief was mostly because it was Walden, not simply because someone shared my bed. In those moments, I quit trying to understand the why and simply allowed myself to find some peace in the illusion.

  But with sunlight pouring over us, I studied him as he slept. His stubble, longer than it had been before, made him look older, shifting his handsome baby face into something a bit more rugged. I liked both looks. There was more blond in the loose curls around his face than I’d realized as well.

  I couldn’t believe he was there beside me, sharing my bed.

  He was so beautiful. A masculine cherub.

  That was beside the point, though. I’d had many beautiful men. Countless. A few more classically handsome than Walden, if I was being honest, though none had been this attractive to me.

  I didn’t know him. I had to keep telling myself that. And yet he elicited the same comforting response my family did, that Andrew’s family did. I felt completely safe and understood and accepted. There was a trick in there somewhere. Certainly of my mind’s making, not from any design Walden had crafted. He knew as little about me as I knew about him. It seemed, if I figured out why I felt the way I did with him, it would lose its power.

  Walden let out a long sigh and shifted slightly. I thought he was waking, but he didn’t. His mouth fell open in a way that made even the most beautiful people rather unattractive. It did the same to him, but I found it adorable.

  Fucking adorable.

  What the hell?

  I’d figured I’d wake him up with his cock in my mouth. Have a sweaty round of morning sex, and then I’d take him back to the spa. But lying there, watching him, I couldn’t bring myself to do it. The thought brought the lonely shadows from the night before tapping on my shoulder. They’d already been lingering at the corners of the room; I didn’t need them closer. No sex was worth that right now, not as suddenly fragile as I felt. Maybe if I woke him up with kisses. Maybe that would vanquish the shadows. His beautiful blue eyes would open, and Walden would really be there. He’d ask to stay another night, so we could spend the day together. And I wouldn’t have to miss him. If I just leaned over and kissed him….

  I slid out of bed. If I stayed beside him a second longer, I’d screw myself royally.

  Work. I’d work. The rough sketch of the bracelet-and-ring set was due next week. Maybe I’d get it done early.

  I paused at the doorway and looked back over Walden’s sleeping form, the curves of his muscles and cock so alluring under the sheets. And his stupid mouth hanging open in sleep. Ridiculously adorable.

  I shut the door, knowing there’d be no design able to distract me if I felt the call of his body from the next room.

  Ten

  Walden

  The smell of coffee woke me.

  It took me a moment to remember where I was, my brain trying to superimpose the room at the spa over this one. A clank of a dish from outside the closed door brought it back to me. All of it. Gilbert at the spa, him fucking me, partially waking up in the middle of the night and pulling him closer. Holy shit. I’d spent the night with Gilbert.

  Another clank, louder this time, and the scotch came back to me as well. I winced. The headache wasn’t horrible, but for sure noticeable. I could not have a hangover. Not after three shots of liquor. Another clank, another wince. It seemed I did have a hangover. A small one but there nonetheless. Small enough I wasn’t about to let Gilbert realize it was there.

>   Gilbert.

  I was worried about my hangover, and Gilbert was just on the other side of the door. I’d spent the night with Gilbert.

  In many ways, it had lived up to the few fantasies I’d indulged in. The man was a sex god, basically. He’d felt amazing in me. And his body, I mean, come on. That body was orgasm-worthy on its own. But something had been different from the first time. Gilbert had been different.

  The sex had been hot, but also… strange. The kisses on the earth-shattering side of things, which, my God, had been amazing. Kissing Gilbert was beyond what I’d hoped. I’d expected fireworks of the porn variety and had gotten fireworks of the Disney kind instead. Granted, the grown-up, naked, if cartoons did porn version, but still. Not at all what I’d envisioned with Gilbert Bryant.

  He’d almost felt fragile. In a different way than his wounded-bird quality indicated. I didn’t know what to do with that. I also wasn’t certain whether it made him more appealing or a bit more terrifying.

  And speaking of terrifying, Gilbert was still outside the bedroom door. At some point, we’d see each other again. What was I supposed to say? Thank you for a good fuck? I loved spending the night with you. I hope you didn’t notice me kiss your forehead as you slept, I promise I’m not crazy. I really want to spend another night with you, so yeah, maybe I am a bit crazy.

  And what did I wear? Did I walk out naked? I was certain part of staying over came with the price of a morning fuck. A price I’d like to pay about a thousand times over, but should I start it with showing off morning wood? Maybe just underwear? He seemed especially attracted to my chest, so it would probably be good to leave that bare.

  Ultimately, all the thinking just stressed me out and left me feeling insecure. And I was labeling Gilbert a wounded bird. I had no room to talk. I was basically the roadrunner after he finally got caught by the coyote. I decided to go halfway and pulled on my boxers and T-shirt. Sexy enough for easy access but covered enough to feel somewhat protected.

  After a stabilizing breath, I opened the bedroom door and stepped out. I’d chosen right. Gilbert was in the kitchen, his back to me, and he wore sweatpants and a tank top.

  Maybe feeling my gaze, he looked over his shoulder. His smile grew as he turned to face me. He looked nervous, but like he was glad to see me? I really needed to stop trying to read into every single expression he made.

  “Morning, sleepyhead. Hope I didn’t wake you with the noise.”

  “Nah, though the smell of coffee was too good to sleep through.” I glanced at the window. The day was bright. I realized I hadn’t even checked my cell. “What time is it?”

  “Almost nine. I hope you didn’t have something you wanted to get back to at the spa early this morning. You looked so peaceful sleeping, I didn’t want to wake you.” He walked over to the other counter and poured a mug of coffee.

  Right, back to the spa. “No, not at all. My friends aren’t coming until tomorrow, so no plans.” God, could I hint any less subtly?

  He walked over with the mug. “Oh, I didn’t know you had friends coming.”

  That threw me off for a second before I realized I’d told the lackluster Gilbert wannabe my schedule. “Yeah, some of my”—I nearly said teacher friends, but knew better than to mention that word—“friends from grad school are joining me. We’re going to spend the days skiing at Heavenly Mountain and the nights soaking up the hot springs.” Please ask me to change my plans. To cancel my friends and stay with you for the rest of the week. Cursing my pathetic desire, I took the mug from him. “Thanks.”

  “Of course. There’s cream and sugar on the counter, if you want.” He motioned back toward the kitchen. “So no plans today, huh?”

  My heart leaped. “Nope.”

  Gilbert walked back to the kitchen. Maybe he was considering asking me to stay, maybe he wasn’t. “Breakfast will be ready soon. Help yourself to the shower and stuff if you need. Got about ten minutes.”

  “You didn’t have to make breakfast.”

  He laughed. “Well, you may regret that I did. Andrew and his dad are the great cooks. I’m pretty sure I’m in the process of turning the bacon into bricks.”

  He could feed me pond scum and I’d be touched he made me breakfast. And rather confused by it. Gilbert didn’t seem the type to cook for a hookup. “In that case, how about I take a three-minute shower instead of ten. That will decrease the odds of burning breakfast.”

  “It won’t, actually. No matter what I cook, it goes from raw to burnt. There’s no in-between.” He grinned, though his expression was walled off. “Go shower. Your breakfast is doomed either way.”

  “All right, my coffee and I will be back shortly.” I retrieved my bag from beside the bed and then locked myself in the bathroom.

  Brushing my teeth made me feel a little more human, and the few sips of coffee mixed with the hot shower eased the baby headache. As the night before, I was getting mixed messages from Gilbert. He was making me breakfast, but there hadn’t been any flirting or touches or hints of sex later. Did he still see me as a hookup? Had I crossed into the friend zone? Was I overthinking coffee and burnt breakfast? Yeah, probably.

  After drying off, I put my boxers and T-shirt back on, grabbed my empty mug and left the bathroom.

  Gilbert had set the small table by the window overlooking the lake. “I was right, breakfast is burnt, but I’ve got some raspberry preserves, if you cover the bacon and eggs in that, you won’t notice.”

  I couldn’t suppress a shudder. “That sounds awful.”

  He shrugged. “Actually, it works pretty well. When you cook like me, you learn tricks to cover up what you’ve done.”

  “You really didn’t have to make me breakfast. I feel bad that you went to the trouble.”

  “I wanted to. It’s nice having—” A blush rose to his cheeks, the first I’d ever seen on him, and he gave a quick shake of his head. “Like I said, you won’t thank me after you’ve tasted it, but my mother is Southern. She drilled into me that you cook for guests. So, I cooked.”

  I was a guest. Okay, then. That could be a billion different things. I helped myself to another cup of coffee, more to give my hands something to do than anything else, and then sat at the table while Gilbert brought over the platter of eggs, bacon, and toast. Sure enough, all three were burnt. I grinned up at him, hoping he could hear the humor in my voice. “You weren’t kidding, were you?”

  “Nope.” He set down the platter and then twisted to grab a large glass jar off the counter. “Here’s the preserves. Robert made them… er…. Robert is Andrew’s dad.” Gilbert sat and reached out his hand, letting it hover in the air between us.

  I took it tentatively.

  “You wanna say grace, or me?”

  I nearly dropped his hand. “You want to pray?”

  He nodded seriously, then a smile broke through. “Damn, I really thought I could pull that off. I so wanted to see your reaction and hear what you’d pray about.” He chuckled. “Though, it’s probably good we didn’t try. I’m pretty certain if I prayed, lightning would be the only answer we got.”

  I snorted. “Yeah, you and me both.”

  Suddenly we were aware we were holding hands. Granted, awkwardly holding hands, but holding hands nonetheless. I started to pull away, but Gilbert gave a quick squeeze before letting go. “Thanks for staying last night.”

  For some reason my throat constricted, leaving me no other choice but to nod. I couldn’t deny I was feeling so much more for him than I should, than made any sense.

  Looking uncomfortable, Gilbert focused on his food. He didn’t taste it before lathering the bacon with preserves.

  I took a bite of mine, then followed suit.

  “Told ya.” Gilbert took a big mouthful of the bacon and gave a satisfied nod. “Robert knows what he’s doing.”

  Surprisingly the combo of burnt bacon and sweet raspberry was pretty good. Much better than anticipated. “Huh, you were right. Though I’m not sure I trust you on the eggs a
nd preserves.”

  “It’s not as good as the bacon, but it still helps.”

  Awkward silence fell, but it wasn’t tense. Nothing felt like we needed to rush through to get it over with. I simply didn’t know what to say. Gilbert didn’t seem to either.

  The eggs were terrible, with or without the preserves, so I stuffed them between two burnt pieces of toast.

  “Huh.” Gilbert copied and then nodded in approval. “Where were you years ago? You literally just changed my life.”

  And no, I wasn’t going to read into that. All he meant was that I’d upgraded disgusting eggs to tolerable. Not that he wanted me in his life. Even the fantasy of that flitting through my mind should’ve been enough to cause me to stab myself in the eye with a fork. “Sandwiches cure anything.”

  “Apparently.”

  We were talking about food. We had crazy sexual energy, and we were still there talking about food! This had to end. But I couldn’t figure out how to do it, other than standing up and stripping off my clothes. I considered that option, far more seriously than I should’ve. But doing so would’ve required another shot or two of scotch.

  “So, I was thinking.” Gilbert’s gaze focused on his sandwich, not darting toward me at all. “I got up early this morning to work on a design that’s due next week. I’m actually pretty close to getting it done. Do you mind if I wrap it up after breakfast? It should only take a half hour or so.”

  Seemed like a strange request, but it meant more time with him. Awkward or not, I didn’t care. “No, that sounds good. Like I said, there’s no plans for me to get back to. Take all the time you need.”

  “Yeah?” He glanced at me then. “I was also thinking, after I’m done with that, if you wanted to hang out for a while, we could….” He shrugged. “You know….”

  My God, he was nervous. I suppose that should’ve been obvious, but the idea of Gilbert being nervous about me was stupid. And kinda wonderful. “I’d like that, and my friends aren’t coming until around noon tomorrow. I’ve got all day.” Maybe I was pushing my luck, but I wanted to make it overtly clear I wanted as much of his time as he was willing to give.