I’m standing here pondering all of this, when faint yelping reaches my own ears. A bomb would make a ticking noise, not a noise like I just heard. I think. That’s my assessment anyway, so I inch closer to the mystery package.
“Mom, this is probably just from you. What’d you do, finally find a replacement for that Furby I had to leave behind as a child?” I admonish as it makes a funny noise again, hoping it’s just some elaborate surprise she’s planned.
“NO Valley, it’s not. I swear. Be careful, you don’t know who it’s from. Maybe we should call the Police and have them check it out, just to be safe,” Mom whispers, looking around on high alert now.
“Yeah, that wouldn’t cause a lot of attention,” I snort.
This package wasn’t here when I went to bed last night. Whoever left it, either did so in the middle of the night, or sometime while we were eating breakfast.
“Did you put anything in the car this morning?” I ask her.
“Yes, while you were asleep. It wasn’t here then,” she confirms my suspicions.
At this point curiosity is overriding my sense of survival, so I inch closer to the package to inspect it more thoroughly. First, I pick up the bouquet which from what I’m able to see in the dim lighting, mainly consists of red roses and sunflowers, with some other flowers mixed in that I’m unable to identify off the top of my head. Pulling the bouquet up to my nose, I inhale a sweet scent that reminds me of summertime. The bouquet seems innocent enough…
“To hell with it,” I exclaim, “I’m opening the box.”
Ripping off all the wrapping paper, a cardboard box is revealed with little holes pierced throughout. The top of it isn’t taped up, but rather, the flaps are folded securely over each. Slowly pulling them apart, I whisper up a silent prayer that Mom and I aren’t about to be blown to bits.
An envelope is taped to the underside of one of the flaps, I’d rather discover what’s inside first. If it were a bomb, it would have probably been set up to explode when I pulled the flaps open anyway.
At least, that’s how it goes in the movies.
The sun has just barely begun to make its appearance on the horizon, the environment around me still painted in shadows and darkness…from what I can make out, the box is way bigger than whatever it’s being used to conceal. Taking a step back, I reach inside the front door to flip on the porch light.
“What is it?” my mom whispers.
“I don’t know yet,” I whisper back.
Another small little noise trickles out of the bottom of the box, and the box jiggles back and forth slightly as I walk back up to it. This time when I peer inside, I come face to face with a set of pleading, precious eyes.
I can only think of one person who would have sent this. Diving into the box head first, I scoop up the little puppy, cradling its downy fur against me securely. And oh my gosh, it’s my first case of insta-love.
“Who sent that? We can’t have pets here Valley. They were very clear about that when I signed the lease,” Mom exclaims, panicked.
Comforting the sweet little doll-puppy as I reach for the envelope, I rip it open with my index finger and slide out a piece of notebook paper with a penned note.
Sloane,
I hope you get everything you wish for on your birthday. This little girl is for you. Don’t worry. I’ve got it all figured out (mostly). Whenever you need, she can stay over at my place. Yeah, I know… I said I didn’t want another dog, but you’ll have primary custody so to speak.
I know you said it wouldn’t be fair to the animal, moving around and possibly having to leave it behind. This way she’s also used to me and won’t feel abandoned if things don’t work out and you’re unable to take her with you to your next destination. You even get to choose the name, just PLEASE don’t make it something super girly like Princess Frou Frou. Also, don’t worry about the “No Pets” clause. It’s been amended. Since I’m managing the rental properties for Dad, I get to make these sorts of decisions.
-Gray
P.S. Please text me to let me know you received your gift and aren’t considering sending her back to the pound (which is where I found her by the way). If you don’t text, I’ll be heading back over at 7 a.m. to check on her.
Smiling, I fold the piece of paper back up, and place it back into the envelope.
“I don’t think she’s going to be a problem. Gray, Lyra’s older brother, he’s the one who delivered her here,” I inform my mom, unable to contain my delight. Not only was I given the best gift ever, but I’ve also acquired Gray’s number, which may be the second-best gift I’ve received today. I glance over to my mother, who’s now studying me intently.
“What?” I ask, “is this okay with you?” I hope she agrees, because I won’t take no for an answer regardless, and agreement would certainly make things more cordial in our home. She scoffs as her eyes land on the little ball of fur resting in my arms..
“As if I could tell you no on your birthday. You’ve always wanted one, and it looks like the stars are aligning for you, for once,” she champions. “I’ve got to get going now, love you honey,” she says, climbing into the SUV. I wave goodbye as she backs out of the driveway.
Once she’s out of sight, I save Gray’s number, opening up the texting app and tapping out a quick message.
My fingers hover over the send button, still unsure of my next play.
If I don’t send it, does that mean he’ll stay true to his word and show up to my house?
I could thank him personally, plus, I’ve come to realize the times when we’re alone, are the times he opens up to me more. I think I’ve made my decision. I recede back into the house, bringing my flowers with me so that I can place them in water, my new puppy sound asleep in my arms.
Chapter Fourteen
I’ve literally just finished putting the final touches on my make-up, when the crunching of gravel and low hum of an engine broadcasts Gray’s arrival. Today I’ve opted to go for the dressy/casual look since it’s my birthday and the day of the Fall Festival. I’m donning some skinny jeans, knee high dress boots, and a tight-fitting, off-the-shoulder blouse that skims just above where my cleavage would show. Sexy yet classy. I took the flat iron to my hair, then left it alone to do whatever it wanted. Lucky for me, it wanted to look smooth and polished. Smiling to myself, I pick up my new addition and bring her along to see her… Dad? Hmm… I’m not particularly sure how to refer to him during this whole co-puppying scheme.
Peeking through the curtains, I spot the Wrangler just as the driver’s door thuds closed. I skip over to the front entranceway, but wait on his knock because that would be weird otherwise. It would be obvious I set him up to come over if he realized I was just standing here, impatiently awaiting his arrival.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
I count to 10 in my head before opening up.
Nearly blinded by both the sunlight and his beauty, I flash him my most dazzling smile, the one I keep on reserve for rare occasions. Like now, when our mish-mashed, irregular “family” unit is united for the first time.
“So, you did get her after all,” he muses.
“Yes. And my flowers, which were very beautiful by the way. No one’s ever gotten me flowers before. Thank you, Gray,” I shyly admit.
“Are you okay with all of this?” he questions, motioning to the little dog in my arms, his usual confidence replaced with a hint of vulnerability.
“I’m more than okay with it. I’m really excited. Don’t tell my mom this because it’ll hurt her feelings, but this gift you’ve given me is more meaningful than any of the material things she gave me today. This sweet little gal is my favorite out of everything,” I openly admit, leaning down to place the dog into the crate by the door. She whimpers for about two seconds before making herself comfy, and falling back asleep.
Before I can really think about what I’m doing, or the possible consequences, I wrap my arms tightly around Gray’s torso, laying my face against his chest. Overcome with s
o many emotions, and sheer happiness, I can’t really help myself. He listened to my story about my childhood, actually listened, and more importantly he retained the information. He understood how important this would be to me, bending the rules and making the necessary arrangements to make it happen.
Every birthday and Christmas as a girl, this is what I requested, and every birthday and Christmas passed without my wish coming true. Eventually, I learned to ask for things that were actually obtainable, but that didn’t mean I stopped hoping.
My arms squeeze his middle as I breathe in the scent of him. Every time he’s near, I can’t help but have that reaction, like I’m sampling different scents on the candle aisle of the grocery store. And every time, it’s something different. He’s freshly showered, the fragrance of body-wash still clinging to him mixed with his own scent.
My ear is planted so firmly to his chest, close enough to his heart that the rapid beats pulse against my ear, a loud and steady staccato. I tip my head back to say thank you once more. I know I’ve already said it, but words are just words. They can be empty and without value or merit. As I think of the sense of unease he just exhibited, the worry that he may have given me something I may not want or appreciate, an overwhelming need to reassure him stirs inside me.
“Gray, you’ll never understand how much this means to me. The flowers were surprise enough, but getting me the one thing I’ve always wanted but have never gotten, that’s just… you’re amazing,” I disclose, barely above a whisper.
Staring into his eyes, my memory is wiped clean. It’s easy to forget who I am, what I’ve been through, and focus solely on him and this moment. Getting over his initial shock of my unexpected contact, his hands find their way to my waist, the movement of them settling there exposing a strip of skin on my hip and lower back. His calloused finger traces random pictures on my skin, causing an involuntary shudder to erupt.
My stomach transforms to a helix, taut with anticipation as I press my trembling palm against the center of his chest, angling my head further back. I practically melt on the spot when he pulls me even closer to him. Still engaging in our silent stare-down and never breaking eye contact, his head begins to dip a little lower. Indecision dances in his eyes like shadows, his expression torn as he hesitates just before our lips meet. I understand this sentiment, as the same conflict is warring within my own self. Still, we remain locked in place.
I can feel the current between us shifting as if he’s resolved to be a gentleman and is about to step away from me, so I react. Taking the palm that is currently on his chest, I grasp the fabric tightly in my fist, yanking him down to me the rest of the way.
Our lips collide.
Any reservations are obliterated with that first contact. His nails slowly graze my bare skin, one hand sliding up my back while the other cradles my face. Leaning further into his palm, I barely register when he kicks the door shut behind us. He kisses me with a hunger that I never knew existed, and I match him with the same fervor.
Nip for nip.
Breath for breath.
What begins as slow and languorous quickly escalates to a tempo verging on the edge of delirium. His fingers wind into the strands of my hair, giving a firm squeeze at the roots, the slight tinge of pain only intensifying my desperation. Somehow, I end up pinned to the wall while hands roam down my body, grazing my hips, and seeking my backside. Settling there, he coaxes me closer to him. Going with what feels natural, I raise my left knee up beside his hip, hooking my heel on his lower back.
I’m desperate. And right now, too close isn’t a phrase I understand. Skimming the back of my other thigh, he grips it firmly, lifting me completely off the ground and using the wall to help hold me there. My ankles hook securely behind him. Even through our clothes, I can feel the unmistakable length of him as it presses insistently against my core.
Being the virgin I am, I should be fearful, shy from my lack of inexperience, but that’s not what’s happening. I’m emboldened, empowered. His unrelenting and determined skills are like that of a ballroom master, all I have to do is follow his lead. It’s sensory overload as he breaks free from my lips to trail a hot line of kisses to the base of my throat and back up, the stubble of his chin grazing my skin and leaving a searing path in its wake.
He’s everywhere, overwhelming me as I taste the cinnamon on his tongue. As I breathe in his clean, masculine scent.
I feel him and not just his touch on my skin, but his intentions, his essence. He is noble. Kind. Loyal.
Our gazes slam together again, my grays and his pale browns, and I find myself wishing I could swim into the golden pools and live there forever.
I slide one arm up the nape of his neck to his hairline, my nails lightly scraping across his scalp. This time when he kisses me, I teasingly nip and suck on his bottom lip, eliciting a guttural growl from the base of his throat. Pinning some of my weight against the wall, one hand climbs up my shirt, finding its way to my breast.
Using his palm, he gently cups the weight of it and I silently thank myself for choosing my black lace bra today over my usual sports bra. The thin material only amplifies the sensation once he begins tracing the outline of my pebbled tips as they prick with the tingling of arousal. He has me desperate as fuck, suffering from the lack of skin-to-skin contact.
“Touch me,” I whisper against his lips like I’m saying a prayer and he’s the deity receiving it.
Just like that, he stops everything, resting his forehead against mine, hand retreating as he lowers my legs back to the ground.
What? No.
“Fuck,” he murmurs, sounding anguished. “Fuck, what am I doing?” he repeats to himself out loud. “Sloane, I’m so sorry,” he apologizes, taking a step back from me, and instantly my elated mood plummets. I don’t want him to be sorry. What I want is for him to enjoy what just took place between us as much as I did. I can’t form any words, because I’m hurt and stunned. “I never should have taken advantage of you like that.”
Taken advantage of ME? Was I not the one who forced his lips to mine?
“Gray…” I shake my head, “you didn’t do anything wrong. There was nothing wrong with what we did,” I attempt to reason.
“But there was Sloane. I shouldn’t have behaved so recklessly with you. I’m the adult here,” he argues.
“And I’m an adult too. Legally. It’s my birthday,” I remind him.
“Just because you’re 18 doesn’t make you an adult. I’m way older than you,” he pauses, and I make a show of holding up my fingers and counting mentally.
Yeah, he’s only six years older.
I stop him there.
“Six years, Gray? Psh, that’s a big whopping difference,” I reply, my voice laced with the same irritation that’s rapidly growing through my veins. “And you’re wrong about something else too… I made my own decision, it was as much my doing as it was yours. Hell, it was probably more my doing. I chose to participate without your influence. Well, I might have been influenced a little by you but can you really blame me… It’s you,” I attempt to tease.
“What’s that supposed to mean, it’s you?” he asks curiously. I’ve hooked him now, and I know he’s at least a little interested in me. The hurdle however, is his guilt over the tiny age gap and his sister.
“Oh, just… nothing,” I egg him on, for my own experimental purposes, of course.
“No, I want to know what you mean. Is ‘it’s you’ supposed to be a bad thing?” he asks.
I sigh, acting like it’s such a big deal to give in, knowing damn good and well I was going to tell him anyway.
“I never said that it was bad…” I reply, letting my words hang in the air for a moment so that he’s unsure of whether or not he’ll get an answer. “I just mean exactly what I said. It’s you. How could I not behave that way when given the opportunity? I mean, to be honest I’ve NEVER behaved that way before in my life. I’m not some harlot that tries to jump on and make out with just any guy out there.<
br />
But you’re like, the epitome of the phrase “sexiest man alive,” at least in my book anyways. Not just your looks, but your character. The way you are, how you carry yourself, how you treat others, how you take care of your family, and how you make me feel safe. It’s like you’ve just been placed in my life to tempt me,” I openly and honestly declare.
He mumbles something under his breath that sounds very similar to “I know the feeling.” Shoving his hands in his pockets, he exhales a shaky breath, brow furrowed in contemplation.
“Sloane, I can admit that you’re fucking beautiful, and if I told you I wasn’t attracted to you, I’d be lying and you would know it, you experienced the proof of that so I won’t try to use that as an excuse. But you and me,” he motions back and forth between us, “it can’t happen. It WON’T happen. You’re my little sisters best friend, and to be honest, I can’t mess that up because she doesn’t have any other ones.
“Even if that weren’t the case, I’m six years your senior. Maybe six isn’t a very big deal to you, and in a few years it probably wouldn’t bother me either. Fact of the matter is, you’re still in high school and I’m the guy who’s family are the town outcasts. I’m trying to mend the Knightley name, and once everyone finds out about you and me hooking up, and believe me they will because this is a small town, that would just be pouring fuel onto an already blazing fire. Hell, it’d be like throwing a whole canister of gasoline in and making it explode. I’m trying to protect my sister in every decision I make, and in this decision, I’m trying to protect you to,” he exerts forcefully before adding, “and, I’m sorry this took place on your birthday. I feel like a real piece of shit.”
I shake my head. “Please don’t say that. You’re completely right. I just got caught up in the emotions of someone other than my mother caring about my birthday. I kind of took you by surprise, not the other way around. I’ll control my emotions better in the future,” I lie, giving him an apologetic smile.
Love on the Run Page 16