Fine, that’s dramatic, but I still need to test the waters about how much to share, and when. Even if I’ve pushed Eric from the forefront of my mind, I still don’t want to meet his fate. “Have you started the hunt?”
“Yes.” Frustration laces her tone, but it’s chased by sadness. “It’s a nightmare. Nothing feels right, like it could be my home.”
“Where are you looking?”
Before she can answer, a clap of thunder echoes like Zeus himself is tossing bolts across the sky. The god, not my cat. We pick up the pace, walking faster around a bend in the trail. Those white clouds? They’re a wee bit grayer now.
Mia turns to meet my gaze. There’s a new vulnerability in her eyes, something I haven’t seen before. “I’ve been looking in a lot of places. Chelsea. Upper West Side. The Village. Hell’s Kitchen. Washington Heights.” Her voice is odd, but I can’t put my finger on why. It’s almost as if she’s saying these neighborhoods for the first time, as if she’s testing them out as words. Still, there’s no Battery Park City in her list.
Time to throw it out there in the mix. See if she bites. “I hear Battery Park City is nice,” I say with a wink.
She laughs, but it sounds forced as she marches onward. “That is a great area.”
And that response tells me bupkis.
She stuffs her hands in the pockets of her shorts, then takes them out, then jams them back in. “So . . .” Her voice trails off, so I try once more to cast a gentle line and see if she nibbles.
“I like Battery Park City a lot. Do you?”
“Sure.” Her tone is even, and I can’t read it. “I like it a lot. Definitely.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. It’s great,” she says, and my radar is picking up nothing. Zilch.
I reel in the line, and then toss it out once more in a new direction. “Where do you think you’d like to be?”
“Where do you think I should live?” The words tumble out in one fast breath, and I’m not sure where she’s coming from. She knows the city well, so I’ve no clue why she’s asking me where to live.
Maybe I can tease out the truth in the guise of humor. I inhale, exhale, and spit it out. “Well, besides the obvious answer that you should live with me, I’d say you’re an Upper East Side gal.”
She flinches and snaps her gaze at me. Her expression is deadly serious. Her voice is a whisper. “What did you say?”
I’ve never seen her eyes so intense, so quizzical, and all I can think is I’ve crossed a line. I’ve floated a trial balloon that she’s not ready for.
Time to reel it in before I drown. “Upper East Side,” I say, all casual and no-big-deal cool.
She furrows her brow. “That’s what you said?”
I work to sell the cover-up. “Yeah. Sure. That’s the obvious answer. That’s what I was saying. Upper East Side. Obvious answer.”
“Oh.” She shakes her head as if she’s ridding her ears of water. “I thought—”
“No. That’s what I said.” My answer is quick and clear.
“Okay, then.” She resumes her speedy pace.
Silence covers us for a minute, and once I’m sure I can open my mouth without saying something dumb that scares her the fuck away, I try again. “Anyway, you rattled off a ton of neighborhoods. What kind do you like best?”
She shrugs. “I guess it doesn’t matter. I’m even considering Hoboken.”
I scoff. “Hoboken? You can’t live in New Jersey.” Another clap of thunder echoes above us. Her shoulders tense. “We’re almost down.”
“I’m fine. I’m not scared of rain.”
“I know. But it’s still better to be out of the weather.”
“So, tell me about your disdain for Hoboken. Are you allergic to it?”
“It’s just too fucking far,” I say. Screw politeness.
“Too far?” She raises an eyebrow. “Does that mean you won’t come see me in Hoboken?”
I sigh heavily. “Mia, I was ready to fly clear across the country to see you. Obviously, I’d see you in Hoboken.”
“But it’s too far,” she says, imitating me, annoyance coloring her tone.
“It’s not too far. It’s fine. You should live where you want to live.”
“But ideally in a neighborhood more convenient for you?” she says, pointedly, as we round a switchback. I rub the back of my neck, trying to figure out why she’s suddenly so combative.
Frustration curls in my chest. The last thing I want is to argue with her over where she should live. “That’s not what I’m saying at all.”
She narrows her eyes, and in her won’t-back-down stance, I can tell in an instant why Mia runs her own company. She’s sweet and kind and savvy, but she also has a lion in her. Sometimes we all need to call on our inner lion. Looks like she’s dialing hers up right now. “Then what are you saying, Patrick? Because it’s not clear to me at all. It’s not obvious in the least.”
I take a calming breath, marching forward as we argue. I want to stay cool. Hell, I pride myself on being unflappable, but I also want to speak my mind, so I give it one more shot. “I’m saying that I would like you to be closer to me.”
“Oh. Is that where I should live? Closer to you? Is that the obvious answer?” she fires off at me, sketching air quotes as she spins around—
And stumbles on a rock. She wobbles, and I grab her arm, steadying her. Her breath rushes out in a worried stream. “Shit,” she mutters.
“Let’s just focus on getting down to the bottom of the trail before the rain starts,” I say in a cool tone.
We walk in silence along the trail. As the trees clear and we near the bottom, thunder booms again, and this time it’s followed by lightning.
Twenty seconds later, the skies unleash sheets of rain. We’re a hundred feet from the parking lot, and Mia takes off running. I run, too, and when we reach the rental SUV, I yank open her door. She looks like a drowned chipmunk. Her hair is matted to her face, and streaks of dirt run down her arms.
“Give me your pack,” I say, and when she hands it to me, I shut her door, toss the gear into the back as the water pelts me, and get in the car.
I’m soaked, too. All the way to the bone. I look at her. “I’m sorry, Mia.” I take her hand. Squeeze it. “I don’t want to fight with you. Ever.”
She gives a sigh, the relieved kind. “I’m sorry, too. I think I’m just on edge about the move. Which is crazy because I want to do it. Everything feels like it’s happening all at once. The company, the move, needing a new place.” She exhales and speaks softly. “And you. All these changes are coming at me at once.”
Foolishly, I hadn’t really thought about the fact that Mia is changing everything. Where her business is located. Where she lives. And who she’s with—switching from single to involved in the blink of an eye. I should give her the space she needs, rather than crowd her with all these feelings in my heart. “You have a lot on your plate.”
“I do, but I ordered this meal. I’m just trying to balance it all.”
“What can I do to make it easier for you?” Rain lashes the windshield, and I pull out of the lot at the trailhead.
She shoots me a small smile. “How about you take me to the nearest shower?”
“That I can do.”
The rain has other plans. The rain is biblical. The water hurls itself down from the sky. Heavy drops fling at the earth like they’re angry at the ground itself.
I focus on driving, slowly ambling along the winding road that takes us away from the trail, staring straight ahead as buckets of water pound the car, punctuated with the slap-swish of the wipers.
“This is bad,” Mia says. Understatement of the year.
“Yeah, a little more than a summer shower.”
I peer ahead. Water gushes over the road in torrents.
My phone buzzes. I glance quickly at the screen to find a flashing triangle.
Warning: Flash flood. Roads closed in the area.
“There’s no way to
get back to the inn right now,” I say heavily. “There’s one road out from this trail, and we’re on it.”
“How long does a flash flood last?”
“Not long, but it usually closes roads for several hours.”
She groans, and shoves her hands in her wet hair. She exhales, trying to calm herself, it seems. “Fine. It’s not the worst thing in the world. We’ll just park and wait it out in your car, right?”
I nearly say yes.
But I don’t.
Because the woman wants a shower.
The woman doesn’t want to wait in a parked car on the side of the road.
And hell if I’m going to be the schmuck who twiddles his thumbs. I’m the guy who gets shit done. Who gets out of jams. Who fixes the flat tire.
This is one hell of a flat tire in our day.
But I’m going to repair it.
I drum my fingers on the steering wheel. “So, I know a guy who has a cabin . . .”
27
After I make a call to Carlos, a twisty one-lane road leads up, up, and away from the submerged streets. Mia calls Lisa to let her know we’re stuck. From Mia’s half of the conversation, I gather that Lisa and the rest of the crew are already at the inn, and she’ll check them out and send them back to San Francisco.
Soon, we pull into the driveway of Carlos’s cabin on our side of the closed roads.
Heavy rain falls as we dart out of the car and jog to the front porch, where I track down the extra key he said was hidden beneath a bronze miniature Pegasus statue next to a potted fern. I unlock the door and push it open with a loud creak.
Inside, Mia breathes a deep sigh. “It’s dry,” she says with a wide smile.
“The one time I’m okay with you not being wet.” I point to the car. “I’ll go get your things. You get in your shower.”
“You’re my hero,” she says, and when I head back out into the rain, those words make me stand a little taller, walk a little prouder.
Sometimes the hero has to serve up a shower for his woman.
Even if she doesn’t want to live in the same place as him yet.
Time. There will be time for that. Time for us to navigate this new relationship road. As I open the back of the car, I remind myself that everything is new for us. We’ve only ever lived on opposite coasts, and figuring out how to be together will take some adjustments. If she needs to be across the river in Hoboken to make those adjustments, so be it.
I grab her bag, since she’ll have another change of clothes in it, and mine, too, then return through the rain to Carlos’s sweet digs. It’s more like a mountain home away from home, with soft, cushy furniture, a fully stocked kitchen and stainless-steel fridge, a spacious living room with high ceilings, and a fireplace that alone would make the winter trips worthwhile.
The cabin also has a shower.
A shower that’s running loud.
And hot.
Starring one very naked woman right now.
I remove my hiking boots and follow the sound of the running water, stripping off my wet, clingy shirt and shorts. The door is ajar, and already steam wafts out.
I knock, but it’s purely perfunctory. I’m going in without an invite.
In one quick whoosh, my boxer briefs are off, and I step into the rainfall shower with Mia.
28
Hot, soapy water slides down her breasts, slipping over her belly and gliding across the silver ring in her navel. Her wet hair is lathered thick with shampoo. A trickle of muddy water runs down the drain.
“Told you I was dirty,” she says with a wry grin.
I cup her cheek, bending to reach her as she rises on tiptoes. “But I already knew that.”
I slam my lips to hers, and we both groan. Her hands shoot to my pecs, slide over my shoulders, and loop around my neck. As for mine, I can’t keep them off her tits. I palm those gorgeous beauties as I kiss her hard and fearlessly. I kiss her so she knows how much I want her, how much I need her, and how much I expect her to be the only woman in my arms ever.
Mia dissolves against me, sliding closer, rubbing her hot little body against mine. Water sluices between us, slips down my nose, and glides over my chest.
This kiss is rough and hungry, our teeth clicking together, our lips bruised. She kisses me as fiercely as I kiss her, and I know—no, I believe—that the way we kiss says all the things we’re not saying.
I need you. I want you. You’re mine.
If she’s ready to take the next step now, or in six months, or in a year, I’ll be fine with it. And because I’m in love with her, I’m going to give her the time she needs. I’m going to be patient with her as she figures us out.
At last, I pull away, my breath coming in jagged pants. “Missed that. I missed that so fucking much.”
She tips up her chin. “I missed you.”
I arch a questioning brow as my lips quirk up. “Did you?”
“So much,” she murmurs, sliding her hand between my legs and grasping my dick. Her eyes light up with mischief. “Sometimes I think you don’t realize how much I like you, Patrick.”
I can’t help but smile. And I can’t help but groan as I thrust into her hand as the water streams over us. “Why don’t you show me?”
She grips me harder, her hand twisting around my dick as she strokes. “It feels like it’s been forever since we’ve touched, but it’s only been thirteen days. And if we were doing the long-distance thing, this is what it would be like.”
Desire rattles through my bones. “Like we’re going to explode?”
She shakes her head. “No. Like we don’t get enough of each other.”
“You know that’s how I feel. You know that, right?”
“I do.”
I shudder on an upstroke, and my brain threatens to short circuit from her touch. “Sometimes I don’t think you know how much you affect me.”
She brushes her lips to mine in the sweetest, most sensual kiss as she tugs harder. When she pulls away, she says, “Then show me how much I affect you.”
She lets go of my cock, spins me around so my back is to the tiled wall, and drops to her knees. Gripping my shaft again, she brings me to her mouth, her eyes sparkling with wild desire as she licks the head.
And I die. Because holy hell. This is heaven. This is another world. This is Mia, on her knees, sucking me off.
Sparks shoot through my body and ripple across my wet skin. As she draws me in deep, she keeps her eyes on me as if she’s saying watch me.
I grab her head, circling my hands around it. She hums on my dick, and the vibration spreads through my whole damn body. My legs shake, and I have a feeling this won’t go down in the record books as the longest blow job. Pleasure slams into me as she flicks her tongue over the head. The sensations are so intense it’s like an onslaught of euphoria. Shockwaves of desire rocket through me with her every touch.
“Mia,” I groan, my eyes floating closed.
She stops, and I fall from her mouth as she demands, “Watch me.”
I blink open my eyes and pull her closer. “Get back on me.”
She pumps her fist down my shaft, working me over, licking the tip.
“You’re going to kill me, aren’t you?”
She shakes her head, smiling wickedly. “No, but I want to blow your mind.” She toys with me using tight, teasing strokes.
“Take me in,” I tell her, my voice rough. “Please.”
“Are you sure?”
“Mia,” I say, as if in warning.
“Tell me what you want, Patrick.”
“You,” I groan, frustration and desire seeping into my voice in equal measure. “You, all the time. You, around the clock. You with me always. You. Fucking you. And right now, I want your lips on my dick.”
With a wildly satisfied grin, she gives me the relief I seek, wrapping her lips nice and tight around me. She takes me so deep I hit the back of her throat. “Christ, Mia. You know why this is so good?” I ask, as sheer bliss threatens to ob
literate my brain.
She shakes her head. I grip her tighter, my fingers digging through her hair as the water pounds us both.
“Because it’s you doing this to me,” I say, and her eyes blaze. “It’s you I’m looking at. It’s all you.”
One more suck. One more thrust into her throat. One more moment of holding her gaze. That’s all I can take. I don’t even try to fight it off. The orgasm rips through me as I come in her throat with a growl.
My climax erases the world, the cabin, the entire day. All I’m aware of is the intensity of the aftershocks as they spread to every molecule, until Mia stretches and rises, wedging her body against me.
I open my eyes and grasp her tight, hold her close. As I come down from the high, she takes the soap, rubs it on her hands, and washes my arms, my chest, my abs.
God, how I love her.
She runs a soapy fist down my dick, and it tickles.
I laugh.
I love her so fucking much.
I take the soap from her and turn her around, rinsing the remnants of shampoo from her hair, then spreading conditioner in, and washing her arms, legs, belly, and breasts. By the time I’m done washing off the conditioner, she has sparkly skin and probably the cleanest tits in the world.
I take her face in my hands and breathe out hard. She looks up at me, her eyes big and vulnerable. “Is that how I affect you?”
I swallow hard, shake my head.
A crease appears in her brow. “It’s not?”
I run my finger down the line in her forehead. “Sometimes, maybe most of the time, I don’t think you realize that I’m completely in love with you.”
She melts into my arms, her soft, naked body pressed to mine. Her lips part, but she says nothing, and I’m not sure why. But then, she turns the shower off, and a lone tear streaks from her eye.
29
“Are you sad?”
She shakes her head, and her smile is radiant. “No. I’m happy. I’m so happy because I’m so in love with you.”
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