Falling in Love: A Secret Baby Romance (Rockford Falls Romance)

by Natasha L. Black

  14

  Drew

  Son of a bitch, this was taking forever!

  Normally my work soothed me. It was completely absorbing, and my mind was captivated by the way the pieces fit together, with how to identify and fix the problem. Not today.

  It’d been two days since I’d kissed Michelle. It was driving me to mad distraction. Everything I did seemed annoying, and everything took at least twice as long as it usually would. It was frustrating. I couldn’t concentrate. Unless for some reason, I needed to concentrate on replaying that kiss in my mind constantly. If that was useful, I’d be a natural at it. But that wasn’t going to fix the Blazer I was working on. And I wasn’t going to increase the usual labor charge on the repair just because my brain was working at half speed.

  “You okay?” John asked.

  “What? Why? I’m fine.”

  “Maybe because you dropped that wrench three times in the last half hour. You sure you’re all right?”

  “Yeah, I’ve just got something I need to take care of. Can you close up tonight?”

  “Not a problem,” John said, “you go get yourself sorted out before you start costing yourself money,” he chuckled.

  I fumbled my way through until about four o’clock. Then I took off. I was driving to the library when I saw the bank of clouds to the west turning darker. I turned on the radio. A weather alert interrupted the country song. Severe storms were moving quickly into the area. Residents were advised to head indoors and shelter until the weather passed. I pulled over to use my phone. I called John and told him to close up early and head home. The storm was supposed to hit in about twenty minutes, and that would give him time to reach his house and shut the windows and everything. I didn’t want him stuck in the garage when the storm rolled in. The building itself was cinderblock and sheet metal, but there were too many windows on all sides to be safe in a pop up storm, especially the kind that flung tree limbs around and shattered glass.

  I called my parents quickly, and got my mom on the second ring.

  “Go down the basement,” I said. “Did you hear the storm warnings?”

  “No, I’ve been out pulling weeds in the flower bed, Drew. Your dad’s on the mower trying to get the grass cut before rain blows in.”

  “There’s warnings on the radio. By the time the town turns on the sirens, it could be too late. Get Dad off the mower, tell him to leave the damn thing in the yard. I’ll put it up later. Both of you go inside and get down the basement. No bringing in your ferns or looking for the damn cat. Just get downstairs, Mom.”

  “Cool your jets, Drew,” she said. “You know darn well your daddy won’t leave the mower out—somebody could swipe it.”

  “Anyone who steals a seven-year-old riding mower during a summer storm is too stupid to get very far with it,” I said. “Please, listen to me. The sky and the wind—you know this is gonna be bad. Just go inside. Wave him in. Take off your shirt if you can’t get his attention. That’ll make him run inside with you,” I said.

  “I’ll wash your mouth out when I see you, boy,” she laughed.

  “Go down the basement. Wait for the all clear sirens.”

  “Are you inside?”

  “I’m driving.”

  “So who’s calling the kettle black? Car’s the stupidest place to be in a storm. Go lay down in a ditch and kiss your butt goodbye.”

  “I think I’ll find someplace to go inside, Mom, but thanks for that image.”

  “That’d get you on the front page of the paper,” she chuckled.

  “You are a mess. Go down the basement!” I said, “Love you!”

  Watching the sky and hoping my parents listened to me, I swung into the parking lot. But I was out of luck if I thought I could wait out the thunderstorm in the nonfiction section. The place was locked up tight.

  When I pulled in to the library, the lights were off and the closed sign was on the door. I glanced at the clock, and then I turned the radio back on. The announcer was telling everyone in the listening area to find shelter immediately. I knew from living here all my life that a summer storm could roll in fast and be incredibly dangerous. I wasn’t going to make the mistake of not taking the warning seriously. Since the library was locked up, I couldn’t wait it out in there. My place was too far. The wind was already whipping the trees around the library, the green leaves showing their silver underbellies, turned inside out by the gale.

  Michelle lived nearby—definitely closer than I did. I made the snap decision to head to her place, since I had driven to the library to see her anyway. The streets were basically empty so I ran the stop signs and got there in no time. I was relieved to see her car already in the driveway. The sky had darkened, a deep purpled gray that was uncanny. Leaves and small limbs were whipping through the air. I got out of my truck just as the sky opened up. I ran to the porch, but I was drenched to the skin by the time I got there. I knocked on the door, rang the doorbell. All I could hear were the storm sirens going off downtown.

  I rang the doorbell again, looking around. Did I know anybody else on this street well enough to ask to wait inside? Mildred Conners was probably out at her daughter’s in Colorado this time of year to miss the heat of summer, but if I needed to I could probably break into the house and explain later. I was debating the wisdom of breaking and entering when I heard footsteps inside the house. She was coming to see who was at the door. For a second, I felt like I wasn’t ready for the full impact of seeing her up close and in person again. As soon as I laid eyes on her familiar face, pretty and worried, the blonde hair down and full lips parted, I felt the impact of her beauty. I felt the powerful urge to pull her to me, to crush her against my wet shirt and tell her I was glad she was home, she was safe. That she was smarter than me, cause I’d driven around making calls and hunting for her while the sirens went off. That the only place I wanted to be was with her.

  “Looks like you lost half that old oak tree,” I said, indicating the massive limb that had fallen. Trying not to wonder why I said something that stupid when I showed up at her door in a dangerous storm.

  Michelle stared for a second, and my eyes dropped to her bare feet, toenails painted neon pink. She didn’t even glance at the tree, just took in my face, my drenched clothing and hair. She registered the sound of the sirens and grabbed me by the front of the shirt, yanking me inside and slamming the door. When I felt her warm fingers close around the fabric of my chilled, clinging shirt, a jolt ran through me. In an instant, she’d dragged me out of the driving rain and cold wind and into the stillness of her foyer.

  15

  Michelle

  Drew on my doorstep? In a raging thunderstorm? Talking about a tree limb? It was surreal and weird. I didn’t want to hang out and watch the storm rip the yard apart. I half expected to see a cow pinwheel by like in Twister. It was a ferocious storm and I wanted to go back down the basement.

  I acted on instinct.

  Dragging him in out of the storm made sense. Kissing him would have been a problem, so I restrained myself, stepping back awkwardly as he dripped a puddle on the wood floor. It was awkward and I wasn’t sure what to say other than, what the hell? Which seemed rude and pointless.

  “Basement,” I said, and led him around behind the stairway and opened the door. The light flickered when I flipped it on but then the glow held steady. I led him downstairs and went straight to my laundry room and grabbed a towel.

  “Here,” I said, tossing it to him. He wiped his face, shoved back the hair that was dripping in his eyes. He rubbed the already soaked towel over his neck and tried to dry off his arms.

  Wet clothes were plastered to him like a second skin. Did I stop and ogle the ridges of muscle visible through the clinging material? Yes, I did. I was only human.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked, because I had to say something that wasn’t about his body.

  “I wanted to see you. I wanted to see if you were okay after the other night. It seemed like it hit you pretty hard w
hen I told you. I kissed you. I wasn’t sure how you felt about that,” he said. “I went to the library looking for you, but it was closed up. The storm was about to hit, so I came here and hoped you’d let me in.”

  I had to give him credit for being honest and thorough now. He could’ve said he wanted a library book or something. Or that he was in the neighborhood.

  I nodded. “You’re freezing, aren’t you?” I asked.

  “Pretty much, yeah. Thanks for the towel. It did the best it could under the circumstances,” he said, holding out the saturated towel to me.

  “Okay, take off your clothes. I can throw them in the dryer for you.”

  “The power’s gonna go off any minute,” he said.

  “I have a generator. We’re fine. Clothes,” I said decisively.

  I went and grabbed a big bath towel off a basket of clothes I hadn’t folded yet and passed it to him. Then I turned around to act polite and pretend I didn’t want to watch him undress. I mean, I would probably drop dead or be traumatized for life at this point if I saw him naked. It was bad enough seeing him in a wet shirt. The wet shirt made it obvious that he was the kind of lean and fit that made women buy naughty calendars or keep secret Pinterest boards named NSFW. His shoulders and biceps alone could make me moan if I looked too closely.

  I could hear the soggy sounds of him stripping off wet fabric and dropping his clothes on the floor with a splat. I knew his skin would be cold to the touch from the soaking rain. It was all I could do not to spin around and go to him, run my warm hands all over his bare chest. I was biting my lip under the strain. I should think about… if the basement was getting damp. Did I need a dehumidifier? A tsump pump? I wasn’t sure what that was, but it rhymed and sounded important. I tried to concentrate on potential basement waterproofing issues, but it was no good. I could smell the musky cologne on his wet skin, and it made my mouth go dry.

  We were alone together, stranded in a bad storm, and he was taking off his clothes. It was the kind of scenario I would’ve dreamed up in a fantasy about Drew, where we were thrown together by circumstances and had to talk out our differences. Except in the fantasy, we wouldn’t have been talking. Especially if he wasn’t wearing anything but a towel, for goodness’ sake.

  Maybe this was an opportunity for us to get closure, I thought rationally.

  Or maybe my entire brain would explode from seeing him in just a towel because I turned around. I should not have turned around. I should have calmly lived the remainder of my natural life with my back to him, facing a wall in my basement and trying to regulate my breathing so I didn’t act like a horny idiot.

  Instead, I turned around. I didn’t even try to take his wet clothes like I’d planned to. I just stood there and ran my eyes all over him. He had been lean and muscled at nineteen, but now he had a man’s body, thicker, stronger and dominating. I made myself come unstuck from the spot and gather his clothes. I shoved them in the dryer and started it. The reassuring hum of the dryer helped drown out the thrashing of branches against the house upstairs and the driving rain.

  Drew had the yellow towel slung low around his hips, his glossy black hair still dripping. I got a hand towel off the same basket and crossed over to him, ready to offer it to him to dry off his hair. Just then, a huge boom of thunder shook the house.

  “Shit!” I said, grabbing at his arm.

  Before I could register what I’d done, he had me in his arms. His cool skin was under my cheek, my arms around his torso. My palms loved feeling his bare back, the subtle shift of muscle under my fingers as he adjusted his hold on me.

  “I’ve got you,” he said.

  My heart was pounding so hard I couldn’t even say anything for a second. I looked up at him, into those depthless dark eyes and felt like I was finally home.

  “I’m not okay,” I said.

  “I’ve got you,” he repeated, “It’s okay, Chel.”

  “No, I mean, you said you wanted to see how I was. I’m not okay after that. After finding out that you lied about why you dumped me. All those years, I believed you got tired of me. Do you know what that felt like? After I trusted you and after everything I thought we were to each other?” I said. I hated saying it, but I needed him to know how much he had hurt me.

  “Jesus, Chel,” he pulled me in tight and kissed my temple. “Bored with you? I would’ve given my right arm to be the kind of guy you deserved. But I’m me and you’re you, and I didn’t want you to feel like you were stuck here because of me.”

  “You don’t get to decide how I feel about anything! I felt like I’d lost the only thing I ever counted on or believed in. And I ended up back here anyway! You didn’t set me on some path to greatness where I’d marry a damn Kennedy or something. You just pushed me away because you wanted to control me. You broke my heart, Drew! It was so long before I could even look at another guy. Do you know it was two and a half years before I slept with anyone else? And I cried. I cried because I felt like I was cheating on you. When you probably took somebody home the night of my graduation to get the boring taste of me out of your mouth!” My voice broke.

  His mouth was on mine, parting my lips, grinding, his tongue in my mouth. Drew took my breath away with a passionate, punishing kiss. My breasts were pressed flat against his bare chest, my nipples hardening. His hands on my back gripped the fabric of my dress. I was kissing him back, my tongue warring with his, tears in my eyes. He nipped at my lips, softened the kiss, licked and tasted me, soothed me. His kiss grew decadent and sensuous, seducing me. When he caught my top lip between his and then licked it, I gasped.

  “You were the only one that mattered. The one I compared everybody else to, and I’ve never dated anybody else more than two or three months. Because I don’t feel what I felt when I was with you, that you knew me and accepted me, that you depended on me to be there for you. I failed you, failed us both. I missed my chance with you, and all this time, I’ve regretted it. I need you to know that. I was wrong, and I’ve paid for it every damn day I woke up without you.”

  My hand curved around the back of his neck and I pulled his head down to kiss me. My lips were parted before his mouth touched mine, and the fire between us flared to life.

  The storm raged outside, and the sound of the dryer tumbled along, but all I heard was Drew’s heartbeat and mine. He unbuttoned my dress and pulled it off of me. I reached down to loosen his towel, but it was already gone, probably from the way I had ground my body against his when he kissed me. I shivered at the touch of his bare legs, his stomach against mine, the kiss of moisture from the head of his cock brushing against my belly. He was so big and hard for me already. I pulled away from his kiss to look at him.

  “The years have been kind to you,” I teased, looking him up and down.

  “You were perfect then and you’re more perfect now. And you’re still mine, Chel. I’ve never wanted anything the way I want you,” he said raggedly, his mouth on my neck.

  He walked me over to the couch against the wall and pulled me into his lap.

  Drew’s wet hair was silk between my fingers, and the scrape of his stubble was lush and filthy against my breasts as he sucked first one nipple and then the other. My breath hissed through gritted teeth as I arched back over his arm, body pulsing already from the lewd way he took as much of my breast in his mouth as he could, sucking, taking long, hard pulls with his mouth and tongue, sending a gush of moisture between my legs with every suck. Before I knew it, I was coming, a flash of sensation bright and fierce as I jerked in his arms.

  “Shh,” he soothed, “Come here,” he held me for a moment against his chest, my wet, tingling nipples rasped by the coarse hair on his chest. It was titillating, extending the throb of pleasure in my body.

  Drew’s hand headed south, and his palm was on my mound, pressing, giving me the pressure I liked right where I liked it. How had that never changed? He knew what felt good to me after all this time. Then his long, rough fingers worked between the folds of my sex, strokin
g, rubbing my wetness around and making me shiver. I was so sensitive, so swollen from arousal that he slid in easily when he penetrated me. I drew him in, muscles gripping the invasion and rocking against it. He speared me with a second finger, stretching me, rubbing me, curling his fingers in that come hither way that made me crazy. Drew pumped his fingers inside me. I bucked hard against his hand, getting the angle I needed, the right kind of friction to make the light splinter off in my vision as passion overtook my body. My frame shook and pleasure ripped a scream from my throat. I came, shuddering in his lap. I was moaning, crying out as the last tremors rippled through me, making my legs jerk and tears slip down my cheeks.

  “That’s right. Come here, Chel, I’ve got you,” he said, his voice a low rumble at my temple as he kissed my face and pulled me to him. Drew held me as my ragged breathing slowly returned to normal and I pushed my hair out of my eyes. I reveled in the film of sweat on his skin, the scent of arousal between us. It was earthy and real and right.

  “No one else has ever made me feel this good,” I whispered against his throat, my tongue darting out to taste the salt of his skin.

  I rose up on my knees and took his cock in my hand, stroking it. He was easily the biggest I’d ever had, not just the first. I ached now, my sex clenching eagerly in anticipation. Drew leaned forward and kissed the tip of my chin, my cheek, the corner of my mouth. His kisses were so sensual, so intimate that my eyes fluttered shut, a lump in my throat that was emotion and longing and joy. For a few moments, he was going to be all mine again. We’d join together, mating as we had the very first time. It was a wild, possessive feeling, wanting him like this.

  “Drew,” I said, stroking his thick cock. “I want you so much. I thought this urge would go away. The other night at the bar, when I bumped into you—"