by Joya Ryan
Hannah smiled. “Sounds like a good idea.”
Too bad she needed the money in a week. But maybe Hannah would enact permanent Yoga Jäger sessions once she owned the place. Especially since Roberta was the nicest woman in town, and also happened to have the biggest mouth. News, gossip, and every other topic imaginable that passed through town went through Roberta first. And she’d brought four women with her. So maybe this was a good idea long term.
Hannah just had to get to long term first.
“I’m glad you all came,” she said, patting Roberta’s shoulder. She turned her focus to Laura. “Well, I’ll be in the back if you need me.”
“Um, no way. You’re taking my class, too. Those pants are made for stretching, and that’s just what they’ll do.”
Hannah rolled her eyes. The tank and yoga pants were one thing, but stretching in public? Well, in her bar . . .
“Shoot me now,” Hannah mumbled. But she did appreciate her friend helping her, and this little event was bringing in the dough. A few more classes over the next week would get her around a thousand bucks. Four more to go.
“You can’t ditch out on class in your own bar,” Laura pressed.
“All right,” Hannah gave in.
“Here, I brought an extra mat for you,” Laura said, handing the rolled-up purple foam mat to Hannah.
“Fantastic.”
Hannah gripped the thing and headed to the opposite end of the bar. She was dead last behind everyone and right by the shadowy front-door corner. That way no one could really see her and she could make a quick break for it if she had to.
Because she didn’t exactly know what yoga was, since she’d never taken it. But she was pretty sure it had something to do with a dog or a pissed-off baby. Or was it a happy baby?
She shook her head and unrolled her mat, hoping the hour would pass quickly and she could get to her shot of Jäger.
Laura turned off the lights, leaving the place even darker, a soft glow from the candles the only illumination.
“Thank you, everyone, for coming,” Laura said, taking her place at the front of the room. “We’re going to start with some basic yoga moves today . . .” Her voice was in an oddly soft hippie tone; Hannah just shrugged and tried to follow along.
Hannah took a deep breath, trying to follow the flow of what everyone else seemed to be doing. On a heavy exhale, she bent over into whatever the hell a downward-facing dog was.
Nothing could have prepared Grant for what he walked in on.
His wife, bending over in tight pants.
The bar had been dark, almost glowing, so he’d opened the door quietly, and that’s when he’d seen the sign posted on the door.
YOGA AND JÄGER TODAY!
Smiling at his wife’s ingenuity, he walked quietly into the bar, noticing no one was facing him. Thankfully, Hannah was in the dark corner in the back of the group and stretching like he’d never seen a woman move before. Between the shadows and the low music and everyone facing forward, he sneaked behind Hannah as she went into downward-facing dog—and couldn’t help but put his hands on her hips.
Her breath hitched, but she didn’t pop up. She simply stayed in position and glanced behind her.
“Is that a banana in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?” she whispered.
Grant smiled. “All happiness, baby.”
He gripped her hips and rubbed against her a little. She didn’t seem to mind. In fact, her perfect ass pressed into his now growing erection.
“Every damn thing you do is sexy,” he said softly in her ear.
“Well, bending over is a little presumptuous.”
“Can I take you home and bend you over the couch again?” he asked.
On a deep breath, she moved and shifted her stance, trying to keep up with the flow of the group. Grant was sorry for the loss of her ass against him.
But she reached behind him and ran a hand over his denim-clad cock, and he had to stop himself from moaning.
“Is that your way of asking me on a date?” she said. “Couch banging?”
“That’s my way of asking you for anything you’ll give me,” he said honestly. Not caring how wrapped around her finger he was. He wanted her happy. For her to have everything she wanted. He also wanted her to want him.
Love him.
“Well, I think we can make something work,” she said. “But I have to stay here for a while. This stunt of Laura’s is bringing in extra money, so I have to pour Jäger shots after this class.”
Grant smiled. His wife was an entrepreneur, and it was a sexy side of her. Almost as sexy as her bending over in tight pants.
“Okay, I’ll see you later, then.”
“Going to stop into a bar twice in one day?” Hannah asked, glancing behind her again to meet Grant’s eyes. “Sounds like you have an addiction.”
“Absolutely I do,” he said.
And he did. Hannah was working late, then he’d be back to see her. “I’ll pick you up and give you a ride home.”
“That’s not necessary,” she said.
“I insist.”
With a final look at his beautiful wife bending over, he quietly let himself out and started counting the hours until he could have her all to himself. Preferably for an eternity.
“Are you sure this is safe?” Hannah asked, clutching Grant’s hand, arm, butt, and then his arm again . . . then back to his butt. She followed in his steps as they climbed up the jagged gray rocks alongside a flowing river.
“I’ll keep you safe, baby,” he said, glancing over his shoulder to toss her a wink and do a little grabbing of his own. Fire spread from her breasts to her toes as she continued to follow him up and up and up. The warm rock against her bare feet was soothing, despite the climb, and she liked how Grant kept glancing back extra-long at her body, which was on display in a red bikini top and a pair of cutoff shorts.
She wasn’t minding the view, either . . .
Grant’s perfect ass in a pair of blue swim trunks and tan skin pulled tight over chiseled shoulder muscles.
“I can feel you ogling me, Miss Hastings,” he said with a laugh in his voice.
“I’m not sorry,” she said.
“Neither am I.” He smiled back at her.
Hannah’s whole heart fluttered. In fact, it had been doing that same weird flutter thing for the past week. Ever since she’d met Grant. They’d been inseparable.
They’d docked in Jamaica an hour ago and had a whole day to explore before having to get back on the ship to hit the next destination. Nice thing about cruise ships—you could drink and have fun while sailing the sea, then have entire days to explore every port where they docked.
“This is incredible,” Hannah said, looking around as she hiked behind Grant along the river and up a mountain. The small group they’d been with had stopped their hike at the last jump point. This beautiful blue river cut through the mountain, stacking slow-flowing waterfalls on top of one another with deep pools at the bottom of each.
The sounds of “Woo-hoo!” and “Yeah!” were echoing from the others who’d decided to jump from one platform down. But Grant wanted to go just a little higher. One more waterfall up. One more pool.
“We’re here, baby.” He grabbed her hand and helped steady her as they made their way to the edge of the waterfall and looked down at the fifteen-foot drop into crystal-clear water.
She looked down, then out. She was standing in a place she’d never guessed she’d be. In the middle of the beautiful Jamaican countryside, at the edge of a waterfall, with the man she loved.
Her eyes snapped to Grant at the realization her brain kicked out.
“Something wrong?” he asked. His arm snaking around her waist, he looked down at her with concern in his eyes.
“Yeah . . . something is wrong . . . ,” she said. She looked into his dark eyes, the high Jamaican sun haloing him, and she couldn’t hold back everything her brain and her heart were screaming. “I love you,” she admitted
.
Grant just looked at her with such easy softness. As if he wasn’t surprised, but rather, grateful.
He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her softly on the lips.
“Hannah,” he whispered against her mouth. “I want you forever.”
A dose of heat and shock surged through her like the antidote to poison. She leaned back and looked him in the eyes. She opened her mouth to say, “What?” or “Are you serious?” but Grant just smiled.
With her face still in his hands, he repeated, “Forever.”
A sting hit behind her eyes. She’d never felt this kind of intensity before. The intensity of needing someone. Wanting to need someone.
“Yes,” she breathed.
He kissed her hard, and she smiled against his lips.
“Ready to jump?” he said, holding her hand, both of them facing the edge, the unknown, the beauty.
“With you?” She squeezed his hand. “Absolutely.”
With that, they jumped off the edge together.
Chapter Seven
Hannah pushed the shopping cart and glanced at Grant, walking next to her.
“You look like you’ve never gone grocery shopping before,” she said, watching him examine the off-brand box of macaroni and cheese for a weirdly long time.
“I live in New York, baby. I usually grab a quick bite out.”
“So you never cook?” she asked.
He shook his head. “I can’t remember the last time I cooked.”
She raised a brow and filed that fact away for later.
He looked good, tall and built with lean muscle, and even his dark blue jeans were made perfectly for his butt. She didn’t know if he was trying to dress a bit more casually for her or because he was in a small town, but she liked it. She also loved the blue suit pants he wore with a button-down. Okay, she loved everything he wore, because the man was sexy has hell.
“Something making your mouth water, baby?” he asked and winked at her.
Damn. He’d caught her ogling him. Again. She’d been doing it more and more since he’d been, well, in front of her. That’s the problem about Grant being around. She was starting to enjoy him.
“Well, I am hungry and you don’t cook, so you’re starting to look like a big pork chop.” She pushed her cart down the next aisle, slowly going through the frozen food selection.
“Well, I can’t have you hungry,” he said, coming up behind her and putting his arms around her waist. “I’m very hungry myself and have a taste for . . .” He dipped his hand into the front of her jeans.
“Grant,” she said in a hushed tone. His fingers toyed on the outside of her panties against her clit.
There was only one person at the other end of the aisle. Hannah kept walking and wiggled to try to get him to stop—to keep going? She couldn’t tell. Couldn’t think. She only felt his fingers. He kept his hands discreetly on her while walking behind her.
She was getting hot, bothered, and a whole lot of needy.
Something caught her eye in the frozen case, and she moved to open the door. Grant gently slipped his hand away from her as she got a small carton of vanilla ice cream out of the case.
“Dessert before dinner?” he asked. “I like where your mind is at.”
Hannah smiled, then caught of glimpse of something not as good as ice cream.
Her father.
He walked into the grocery store and headed her way.
“Hey, can you go get strawberries and whipped cream? We’ll make sundaes,” she said to Grant, guiding him down the other end of the aisle.
“Of course. I’ll meet you at the checkout.”
“Great,” she said. Once he rounded the corner, her father was five feet away.
“I saw your car in the parking lot,” he said.
Figured.
“What do you need?” she asked.
“Just a few bucks,” he said with no shame. They were well past small talk. A few years ago, he would’ve still tried to hide the fact he needed money by stalling for a sentence or two. Opening the request with phrases like “Weather was good today,” or “You still at Goonies?” Now, he got straight to the point, which Hannah appreciated on some level. No sense in trying to pretend there was more to their relationship than there was.
“For food?” she asked, knowing the answer. One of these days she was hoping her father would genuinely need something more than a few bucks for booze. Or to bail him out of whatever mess he was in because he bought booze with his bill money.
“Yes, I need cash for food,” he said. Lie. She could tell right away. Her father wasn’t exactly elusive when it came to his fibbing. And as always, he wanted cash. Not that Hannah was in the business of writing him checks, but the way he always said the word made every transaction send tremors up her spine.
She looked him in the eye, and he glanced away. He was struggling with his health. The yellow tint to his skin was an obvious sign, not to mention the smell of stale beer and tobacco always wafting off him. Some things never changed, and her father’s scent was one of them. He was thin, yet his belly protruded like he was a starving child—or a fifty-plus-year-old man who drank every meal.
“You really need to eat something,” she said. She grabbed the small bag of white potatoes and chicken strips she’d already paid for at the deli and handed it to him.
“Thanks,” he said, taking it and digging into it right away. “I still could use a few bucks.” She opened her mouth to tell him she wasn’t giving him money to spend on alcohol, but she saw Grant coming back, strawberries and whipped cream in hand.
Hannah quickly dug ten bucks out of her pocket and handed it to him. She wasn’t ready for Grant to meet her father, and she definitely wasn’t ready for a scene. Deep down, she knew that her father had no shame and even less pride. If he figured out Hannah was with Grant, he’d hit him up for money, too. And Grant, being the man he was, would give it in a heartbeat.
Nope, none of that was going to happen on her watch. There was no reason Grant needed to meet her dad ever. Hannah only saw him when he needed help or money or bail. And that was how it’d stay.
Silas put the piece of chicken in his mouth and grabbed the money Hannah offered. He didn’t say a word. Just continued to chew on another chicken strip and walked away. Toward the exit of the store.
Grant came up to her and put the items in the cart. “Starting to wonder where you were. Who was that?”
“No one,” Hannah said, and she honestly felt that way. Every time her father walked away, he left her feeling hollow. Which was strange, because there wasn’t much more space to void in her chest. It wasn’t that she didn’t have a heart—it had just been so beaten up and finally surrounded by steel that she barely felt it beat anymore. Until she was around Grant, that was.
“You okay?” Grant asked, searching her face.
“Yep, excited to get home and eat.” She started pushing her cart, and Grant was right there, his warm hand on the small of her back. And for the first time, she didn’t feel as ditched as she usually did whenever her father blew in and out of her life.
Something had shifted in Hannah at the store. But she wasn’t talking about it, which meant Grant would have to try to get some sort of information out of her without coming out and asking.
“Thank you for dinner,” he said.
She frowned. “We went to the grocery store only to order pizza.”
“Yeah, and it’s awesome. Grocery shopping is exhausting. I can’t imagine anyone preparing a meal after the effort it takes to acquire the food in the first place.”
She smiled and took another bite of pizza. The open box was in the middle of the living room coffee table, and Hannah sat next to Grant on the couch, her legs crossed.
“Now look who’s staring,” she said.
Grant just shrugged and took a bite of his pizza. “You’re nice to look at. I especially like these.” He tugged her pajama pants. The thin, soft material had pink cartoon moose on them.
Her white tank top was sexy, especially since she wasn’t wearing a bra.
“These are my comfy hang-out clothes.”
“Well, I’m in full support of them.”
She laughed. “How do you do that?”
“Do what?”
She put her pizza down and looked at him. “Make me feel pretty even in this.” She motioned to her outfit.
Wait, was she serious? Because the woman was gorgeous all the time. In any clothing. Though he preferred her in none. And she really didn’t feel pretty before?
Part of him wanted to feel good that he made her feel that way; the other part wanted to grill her on why the hell she didn’t feel beautiful all the time. It was so clear to him how incredible she was.
He ran his finger along her cheekbone and leaned in to kiss her softly.
Her eyelashes fluttered against his cheek, and he’d never loved the feeling of anything so much in his life.
She felt delicate. But he knew she was strong willed. In this moment, she was his.
She kissed him back, her sweet lips parting, and she slowly grabbed the hem of his T-shirt and lifted it up over his head. Her hands came down and ran the length of him. He loved the feel of her touch against his skin. Wanting him. Learning him.
He wanted to be everything she wanted.
Her lips grazed down his jaw to his neck, then down to his chest.
He wanted to tunnel his hands in her silky hair, but he didn’t want to dictate this moment. He wanted her to do whatever she wanted. And he was interested to see where she’d take this.
Her lips kissed along his nipple, and she was soft in every lick and sweep of her hands. It was driving him insane. He wanted more. Deeper, harder, rougher. To reach out and toss her over the couch and take her. To hug her close and wrap every inch of himself around her.
Make her take it.
Make her love it.
Make her love him.
Instead, he kept his willpower. Kept his hands to himself. Let her kiss him. Because the feeling of her mouth on his skin was incredible.
It wasn’t until he heard the jingle of his belt being unfastened that he realized she was trying to tug his pants off. He adjusted enough to let her have access. His jeans hit the floor, and he sat there in his boxer briefs, his woman kissing him.