Hard Wood

by Lauren Blakely

  And this—this feeling, like I can do anything, like the world is shaded with bright, bold colors, like I’m living inside a hit song I can’t stop singing along to—is happiness. It’s joy. It’s love, and my heart feels like it doesn’t even fit inside my chest anymore.

  “I’m crazy in love with you,” I say, and then, because it’s out there, I can’t stop. “I’m so wildly in love with you, Mia.”

  She loops her arms tighter around me. “I’m so crazy in love with you, but I thought you didn’t feel the same.”

  My jaw drops. “What?”

  She nods. “I thought it was one-sided.”

  “You thought I wasn’t into you?”

  “Well, I knew you liked me. I didn’t think you were in as deep as I was.”

  I grab her ass. “Mia Summers, if there’s one thing you can be certain of, it’s that I’m in so deep with you, it’s beyond over my head.”

  I grab a towel and dry her off.

  She shoots me a quizzical stare. “You’re not just saying that because you liked the blow job?”

  I scoff as I grab another towel and run it over my body. “Let me prove to you that this has never been just sex. It’ll never be just sex. I’ve always made love to you, and I’m going to do that right now. So you know how you affect me. So you understand when I say it’s you I want, you every day, I mean every single day and every damn night.”

  I hang up the towel, scoop her into my arms, and leave the steamy bathroom. I glance down the hall and make our way to one of the bedrooms. I kick open the door, and a king-size bed with a white cover awaits. I carry her, lower her onto it, and watch as she scoots up the bed to the pillows.

  I join her, grabbing her waist and flopping down on my back. “Come sit on my face.”

  She shudders. “Really?”

  “You say that like you think I don’t want to eat you right now.”

  “I thought you were going to make love to me.”

  “I am. First with my mouth. Then with my whole body.” I grab her hips, but I don’t need to convince her anymore. She crawls up me, and lowers herself to my face, and I kiss her wetness. I close my eyes, groaning instantly. The very second I taste that silky heat, I’m roaring inside.

  And she’s moaning.

  And rocking.

  And grinding.

  My Mia gets into it. Oh hell, does she get into it. It doesn’t take her long to find her rhythm. Grabbing the headboard, she circles her hips. I hold her tight, moving her across my mouth, flicking my tongue over her swollen flesh, rubbing my stubble all over her.

  She pants, and moans, and cries out.

  Then, she turns wild. She’s a woman possessed, riding my face, fucking my mouth, grinding and rocking until she shudders, and everything goes silent for one gloriously suspended moment when she doesn’t move.

  Then, her shoulders shake. Her belly tightens. Her thighs grip my head.

  And she is nothing but oh God, oh God, oh God, oh God.

  She comes on my lips, trembling against me. I keep my grip on her until her moans subside, then I gently move her off and slide her down the bed, flipping her onto her belly. She’s a warm, soft creature now, all blissed-out and sex-drunk.

  I yank up her hips, so she’s on all fours, resting on her elbows.

  “You’re going to make love to me like this?”

  I nod. “Let me show you how I can make your favorite position feel even better.”

  With her hips raised, I line up my cock at her entrance. Then I slide inside, and I groan. I shudder. It’s just so fucking intense. Her back bows, and she moans, then looks back at me.

  I thrust deep in her, her heat gripping me as her intense eyes stay on mine.

  When I’m all the way in, I band an arm around her waist, and tug her up so she’s kneeling with me. Her back is against my chest, her body so tight to mine.

  I raise one hand to her face, turning her so her lips meet mine. And we kiss, and we groan, and we fuck. She lifts her arms, wrapping them behind her, around the back of my head. My hand slinks between her legs, and she shivers against me.

  I show her how her favorite position can be even more intimate, how it can bring us even closer. I don’t stop kissing her, not when she cries out, not when her breath turns ragged, and not when she trembles.

  When she starts to fall away from me, I hold her even tighter, letting go of her lips at last so she can cry out her pleasure as she comes on me. And that’s all I need to join her on the other side of the cliff.

  30

  She traces lazy lines down my chest.

  I’m smiling.

  I don’t think I can stop.

  This woman. She does this to me.

  I dot a kiss to her forehead and tug her closer in the crook of my arm. “I want this every day. I meant what I said in the shower. I want you every day.”

  “Me, too.”

  I stroke a hand through her still-damp hair. “I’m so happy you’re coming to New York, Mia. You have to know, it’s my greatest dream come true. You and me together in the same zip code.” I’m not worried anymore about saying too much. This cabin unlocked my heart, and my mouth right along with it. I need her to know she’s everything to me. Patience is great and all, but sometimes you have to unleash the truth.

  She turns and levels me with her gaze. “Remember at your place when you asked if you were part of my decision?”

  I nod.

  She nods, too. “You are.”

  And that organ in my chest is hula-hooping right now. I can’t hold back any longer. My plan to take some time has gone up in smoke. See you later, patience. I run the backs of my fingers over her cheek. “I don’t want you to move to Hoboken. Or Chelsea, or the Upper East Side.”

  She arches a brow. “Oh, you don’t? Why’s that?”

  Nerves swoop down, but just as quickly, they fly away. “I would think the obvious answer is”—I let those words from earlier linger before I give them a whole new meaning—“that I want you to move in with me.”

  She gasps, and her eyes widen. “You do?” She speaks in a hushed whisper.

  “Yes. I want to go to bed with you, and I want to wake up with you. I want to make you grilled cheese sandwiches for lunch on a lazy Saturday afternoon and then curl up with you on the couch and not watch sports since we’ll be too busy getting naked. I want to say goodbye to you when you leave for work in the morning, and I want to text you during the day asking if I can bring you home anything. I want to share a closet with you and watch you rub that coconut lotion on your legs in the morning after you get out of the shower, and then pick up the towel you used and send it to the laundry with mine.”

  Her eyes shine with tears, and her lips quiver with happiness. “I don’t really understand how you made damp towels sound romantic, but somehow, you did.”

  I run my thumb over her top lip. “I know your fears. I know your hopes and dreams. I know your heart. I love you. Will you live with me? Will you make my home yours, too, and let me love you every single day?”

  All the hope in the world hangs in the balance, suspended in this brief moment before she answers. But I don’t let myself worry, nor do I fear that I’m scaring her away. Because when you know you’re madly in love with someone, you don’t want to keep it to yourself any longer. I need her to know she means everything to me.

  She nods, and a tear slides down her cheek. She inches closer, dusting my lips with the sweetest kiss any woman has given any man. “I’ve wanted you to ask me since the day I told you.”

  I blink. “What?”

  “When I told you I was moving to New York. And you asked if it was because of us.”

  I shoot her a look. “You said, ‘It’s not as if I expect you to ask me to move in and marry you.’”

  She smiles. “I know what I said. I also know what I meant.”

  I laugh. “Woman, if you wanted to live with me, you should have said something. I’m not a mind reader.”

  Her fingers travel up m
y belly. “I think I needed you to come to it on your own terms.” She winks. “I would think that’s obvious.”

  “Feel free to hit me over the head with this obvious stuff, Mia. Want to know why?”

  She smirks. “Why?”

  I tap my chest. “Because I’m normal. Remember? And that means sometimes—hell, maybe a lot of the time—I’m going to need some help decoding the secret language of women.”

  “Fair enough,” she concedes, then she nudges my shoulder. “But there was no way I was going to tell you that day that I wanted all of you. Hello? That’s a recipe for scaring a guy away.”

  I bring her closer in my arms and kiss her forehead. “I was afraid I’d scare you away if I told you then that I wanted you with me.”

  “You wanted the same thing then, too?”

  I shrug happily. “I think so. Yeah, the idea was just starting to form, but this trip with you solidified it.”

  She hums a note of approval. “So, my corporate retreat was good for you, too . . .” She sounds quite pleased with herself.

  “Yes, Mia. The guide learned something, too.”

  She climbs on top of me, laying her naked body on mine, propping her chin in her hands, and looking at me. “So all the wilderness made you realize you wanted me?”

  “It did.”

  “You’re so outdoorsy,” she says with a laugh.

  I wiggle an eyebrow. “Turns out you are, too.”

  “Hmm. Maybe I am.”

  “You are,” I say firmly.

  A smile crosses her lips. “Fine, you’re right. I’m into this whole nature thing with you. And I still want to do it in a tent.”

  “Don’t even worry about that, Mia. That can happen anytime. Tonight, if you want.”

  Naughtiness twinkles in her eyes, then she sighs happily and inches forward to kiss me. “I wanted to tell you in your tent the other night how I felt.”

  “I wanted to hear it.”

  “But I also didn’t want to say anything sooner because this is all kind of new for me.”

  I furrow my brow. “What do you mean?”

  “I’ve never really been in love before. Not like this, where I can feel it everywhere.”

  I feel like Zeus on catnip. This woman makes me so high, makes me feel so good. “You’ve never felt like this?”

  She shakes her head. “Have you?”

  I shake mine, too. “No. I feel like you’re a part of me.”

  She brings her lips to mine. “I am.” Then she kisses me, and it’s so tender, so gentle, I swear I’m floating.

  When we separate, she speaks first. “It’s different between us, you know that, right?” The look in her eyes is intense and meaningful.

  “How are we different?”

  “I think you were worried the same thing would happen, but this isn’t the same. What I feel for you has never been the same as anything else. The reason I held back for so long was I was worried you didn’t feel the same way about me.”

  I scoff. “As if that’s possible.”

  She taps her fingers on my chest. “And I was concerned that if it was just a short-term thing for you, that you and Max would have a falling out. I didn’t want that to happen to him again.”

  And with brilliant clarity, I can see her warning to me was never a warning about her heart. It was because she loves that big lug of a brother like crazy.

  I run my hand up her arm. “Max and I won’t have a falling out, because I’m not letting you go,” I say, finally telling her what I wanted to say many nights ago.

  It’s funny, in a way, that so much of falling madly in love comes down to when you find the guts to speak your whole truth. But men and women aren’t always ready to bare their souls. Instead, we sidestep the hard stuff, we avoid tough conversations. That’s human nature – we can’t always solve every problem when it happens, even if we want to. Sometimes we don’t yet have the tools, or the guts. We have to hike through the woods, march up the hills, climb over rocks, before we come out on the other side.

  That’s where I am now. That’s where we are. Finally saying what we’ve both wanted to say for a long time. The best part is learning she’s wanted the same things all along.

  When she pulls back, a thoughtful look passes over her eyes. “I should tell Max I’m moving into the building. I should also tell him not to worry that he’ll lose you as a friend, since I have you wrapped around my finger.” Her eyes twinkle as she holds up her pinkie.

  “Definitely tell him you’re moving in with me. But I did let him know we were seeing each other. I actually told him the night you left New York.”

  She laughs. “Did he freak out?”

  I shake my head. “Not entirely. But I think he’ll be happier now, especially since he’ll be able to see more of you this way.”

  “That makes me happy, too.”

  “I suppose I’ll need to break the news to Zeus that he won’t have me to himself much longer,” I tease.

  “Oh, sweetie. I think the cat already knows.”

  “You do?”

  “I bet that cat knows everything.”

  “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

  Her stomach rumbles, and I rub my hand on it. “Hey, hungry monkey, I mentioned grilled cheese sandwiches earlier, and I bet you like them.”

  Her hazel eyes turn to saucers. “I love them.”

  I smack her ass. “I had a feeling you would. Carlos told me he had groceries sent earlier this week since he’d been planning to come up, but he didn’t make it. I bet I can find all the fixings for a sandwich for you.”

  Fifteen minutes later, I serve her a deliciously gooey Gouda cheese on sourdough, and she tells me it’s the best thing she’s ever had. I think she might be exaggerating, but I don’t care. I eat up her compliment as I grill a sandwich for myself.

  As I cook, she clears her throat and adopts an overly professional tone. “By the way, even though the trip has ended and all, I suppose I should officially fire you.”

  I look at her over my shoulder as I flip the sandwich. “And I’ve never been so happy to be sacked.”

  When mine is done, I stand across from her at the counter and take a bite of my sandwich. “Damn, I sure can make a mean grilled cheese.”

  “Sandwich master. I’ll add that to your list of attributes.” She puts her sandwich down. “Hey, what do I call you now? Are you my roomie? My boyfriend? My lover? My trail guide? A god in bed?”

  I point in the air, as if I’m selecting that option. “Last one. Clearly.”

  She rolls her eyes. “Seriously.”

  “You want to know what to label us?”

  “I do work in the beauty business. We label everything. So, what are you?”

  I lean across the counter, brush a crumb from her lips, and press a soft kiss to her mouth. “Yours.”

  31

  The next twenty-one days pass in a flurry and slog. The days are fast, filled with details and arrangements, but the nights are slow, marked by longing.

  I count down the hours until I can spend them with her.

  We talk and text and Skype, and the Skype sessions are both fantastic and completely unsatisfying, since I want to be the one giving her the orgasms, not her vibrator. But hey, at least it’s something.

  I learn even more about Mia during those three weeks before she moves. One night on the phone, she warns me that she has a thing for blankets, and loves to snuggle under many soft, fleecy ones at bedtime. I tell her I’m all for a top sheet and leaving the windows open. She shudders and says brrr.

  “I’ll change my habits for you,” I tell her.

  “Or we’ll compromise.”

  “That works, too.”

  “But I might have bought a new adorable fleece blanket for the couch that I couldn’t resist. It should arrive in two days. I hope you don’t mind.”

  I smile. “Mia, you can decorate your house however you want.”

  “Great. I have some posters of Chris Hemsworth as Thor arriving
the day after.”

  “Except that way.”

  I learn, too, that she likes to sleep in on weekends, but she also wants to go for runs and bike rides with me. I’m an early riser, so I tell her I’ll go solo on Saturdays and later in the day with her on Sundays.

  “Or we can just have sex all morning on weekends,” she offers.

  “That works for me. In fact, you can consider me a yes anytime you want to fuck.”

  She laughs. “Good to know. Oh, and I think I feel the same way, too.”

  “Think? You think?”

  “Well, you’re kind of well-endowed, Patrick. A girl sometimes needs a break so she can walk straight.”

  And that goes down as my favorite compliment ever, even more than the grilled cheese.

  Obviously.

  We make plans, too. Dates we want to go on in Manhattan. I tell her I’m taking her to the Brooklyn Botanic Gardens, and to Governors Island, and to any bath and beauty shop she wants.

  “Stop being so perfect. You’re making me look bad,” she teases.

  I laugh. “I’m not perfect. Just normal.”

  “As a thank you for being so normal, I’ll take you on a date to REI.”

  “Don’t get me excited.”

  “And we’ll go back to the trail in Cold Spring.”

  “Now I’m even more excited.”

  “And I’ll walk your cat with you any time you want.”

  “Mia,” I chide. “He’s our cat now.”

  The other plan we make is for me to help her move. She’s hired a company to transport some boxes and a few items of furniture, and I offer to join her in San Francisco to help handle that before we fly to New York together.

  “You’d do that for me?”

  “Mia, you’re moving your company and yourself across the country. I’ll take a few days off to help you move. It’s what any good god in bed would do.”

  Soon, but not soon enough, I’ve crossed off twenty days on the calendar. On the twenty-first day, I wake up early, harness my cat, and take him to one of my favorite trails outside Manhattan. That’s when I realize how right Mia was about cats.