Pop The Clutch: A Second Gear Romance

by Kristin Harte

  Thank God he’d planned it.

  Easton slid his hands right to my hips and pulled me close, manhandling me in a way that was both forceful and easy. A way that made my heart beat a little harder, a little faster. I moaned and deepened the kiss, needing more of him. Wanting so much. When the contact simply wasn’t enough, I threw caution to the wind and my leg over his lap. Straddling him. Pressing myself against where he was already hard. Shivering at how needy I felt already.

  His kiss became rougher, more urgent, even as his hands skated along my sides and up to my breasts in the gentlest way. The juxtaposition, the sweetness under the desire, had me desperate for more. Every roll of my hips brought another sigh, every time he nipped my bottom lip or sucked it between his teeth another groan. Soaking wet and practically panting, I arched into his touch, wishing for more, hoping he’d take the hint and—

  “Yes, more,” I said as he grabbed my breasts over my clothes. Heat and need exploded within me, my nipples tingling as he teased them with his thumb. I hadn’t had a dry-hump session in years, hadn’t remembered how good they could be. Easton hadn’t even gotten his hands in my pants, and I was already so close. So wet for him. So ready to let go and just come.

  I dropped my head onto his shoulder and rocked my hips, craving so much more. Desperate to just give in and get what I needed. Ready to give him things I probably shouldn’t. Chasing that high I knew we both needed. Both craved.

  With a sudden groan, Easton thrust up harder, lifting me with the strength behind the move. There was no denying how good that felt, how the move made goose bumps appear on my arms. Our bodies were completely connected, nothing but fabric in our way. He was hard and hot, pressing into where I was already so wet, so wanting. A shiver made its way up my spine as he rubbed against me in one long, slow press. So good, so much, so fucking wet. I dropped my head back and pressed my breasts into his hands, wanting more. Needing the feel of his hands on me, the sensation of his skin on mine, the pinch of his thumbs teasing my nipples again. He didn’t disappoint. Easton took my position as an invitation and nuzzled into my neck, biting softly, still rocking his hips and making me want to scream. Want to cry. Want to tell him not to stop.

  But when Dolly brushed against my leg and let out a loud meow, my brain and my body stopped working in tandem.

  “Shit,” Easton said, growling slightly, breaking his rhythm and looking over the edge of the couch toward the orange fluff ball. “Sorry—she can be a pest.”

  That pest sauntered to the couch across from us and hopped up, making herself comfortable. Watching me. Bringing the reality of the moment back into crystal-clear focus.

  “Easton.” I dropped my head to his shoulder, something dark and heavy forming in my gut. Something almost fear-like, but not quite. He didn’t push me, though, didn’t try to keep going. Instead, he edged back against the couch and slid his hands to my ribs.

  “We can stop. I didn’t bring you here for this.”

  His whispers made me shiver. His voice so deep, so rough on my ears. I shook my head because my body didn’t want him to stop, but my thoughts had already scattered, and my brain would win this one. “I know. And it’s not that I don’t want you, because I do. So badly. I’m just not quite ready for—”

  His lips found mine again, a soft kiss that made me sigh and sink into him.

  “No explanation needed,” he whispered, letting his hands wander along my sides and over my chest. He teased me through the fabric, rubbing gently over my nipples on each pass. Seemingly unable to stop, not that I tried to pull away or anything. “Though you’re going to have to climb off my lap if you want me to actually be able to think.”

  I laughed, my face warm as I kissed him one more time. “Understood.”

  But we didn’t untangle from one another. Instead, I stayed in his lap, kissing him with soft presses of my lips to his. He continued to tease and torment my breasts, rubbing and squeezing and pinching in a way that made me need once more. That brought about a slower heat this time, a campfire as compared to an inferno.

  “I thought we were stopping,” I finally said, giving his bottom lip a nip for good measure.

  He made a sound like a growl and pulled his hands from my breasts, the move slow. Almost reluctant. “We are. I promise.”

  I giggled and rolled across his lap one more time. “Okay. Done.”

  “Tease.” He grinned as he sat back against the couch, working his way into the corner with a remote in hand. “Come here.”

  I crawled in between his legs, leaning into his chest when I fell along him. With little more than a couple of wiggles, I found the perfect nook to snuggle against, the perfect spot along his muscled chest to lay my head and relax. Even Dolly seemed to agree as she hurried over to join us on the couch.

  “Thanks,” I whispered to him as I stroked the orange fur of his cat.

  He leaned down and kissed the top of my head before clicking through the different menus on the screen. “For what?”

  “For being you.” I pointed to a picture as it came up on the TV. “I’ve heard good things about that one but haven’t had the time to watch it. Have you ever seen it?”

  “Nope. But tonight seems like a good night to give it a shot.”

  “A first for both of us.” I curled deeper into his embrace as the movie began to play, Dolly a warm, soft weight against me.

  Easton wrapped his arms around me, reaching down to rub Dolly’s head. “Sounds perfect.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  VIOLET

  “Get out, Violet.” Grandma heaved again, her entire body tensing with the strain of trying to empty her stomach when there was nothing left.

  “Not happening. You held my hair back a time or two when I was sick. It’s my turn.” I pressed the wet washcloth to the back of her neck and bit back my instinctual response to empty my own stomach.

  Grandma’s entire body sagged. Again. “Violet, please.”

  “No,” I snapped, rubbing her back to soothe my harsh tone. “I’m not leaving you alone right now, so you just concentrate on trying to feel better.”

  “This isn’t how I wanted to spend my Thursday night.”

  “I know, but this is what we have to deal with. It’ll pass.” I handed her a glass of water, praying like hell she could keep the liquid down. She took it without argument, sipping delicately until the water was halfway gone. Four ounces, maybe. Not great, but better than nothing. I had to keep her hydrated. That was what the nurse had said when this bout of vomiting had gotten so much worse than all the days before.

  Grandma moaned as she handed me back the glass. “You shouldn’t have to take care of me.”

  “You’d do it for me.”

  She turned her head, watery green eyes meeting mine. “Yeah, I would.”

  And she had. Numerous times. This was nothing in return. “Then we’re even.”

  A knock at the door made my own stomach plummet, and a look to my phone screen to check the time had me cursing. Dahlia had booked a private lesson over an hour away, so it was just Grandma and me. I’d planned to go out with Easton tonight anyway since my grandma seemed to be doing okay, but then she’d gotten sick. And she’d stayed sick all evening, which pretty much killed any plans I’d had for leaving. Too bad I’d forgotten to tell the person I had plans with.

  The doorbell rang a second time before I could even figure out how to handle the mess.

  “Just go, Violet.” Grandma waved her hand as she started taking deep breaths, obviously still feeling sick.

  “And leave you here to puke all alone? Never.”

  She chuckled, sounding almost exhausted. “Masochist!”

  “Totally,” I whispered as I headed for the front door, wondering how much Easton was going to be mad at me for canceling our date so late. I should have called or texted, but I’d been hoping since the first moment Grandma had started throwing up that she’d magically feel better. Now he was here, on my porch, and there was no way we were going out
. I couldn’t leave her alone like this.

  Easton smiled when I opened the door, but his brow furrowed as he looked me over. “Interesting outfit choice.”

  I rolled my eyes and stepped back to let him in, tugging at the torn, ten-year-old concert tank I wore over my yoga capris. “What? You mean dinner wasn’t someplace casual?”

  He raised his eyebrows, not needing to say a word. And I… Well, I felt worse than I probably looked. He looked good. Better than good. Dressed up, cleaned up, still a little dirty in all the right ways good. Way better than just friends should be. My libido was going to kick my butt when I told him he had to go home alone.

  But Grandma dumped cold water right over any thought of how good Easton looked. “Violet? I’m tired.”

  I moved without thought, forgetting Easton and hurrying toward the weak voice coming from the hallway.

  “Let me help you.” I grabbed Grandma’s arm, holding her up. Shit, she felt so small, so cold.

  “I’m sure Dahlia will be back soon. Why don’t you—”

  I groaned as her eyes became unfocused, as her face went pale, then green. Holding her up, I tried to hurry her back into the bathroom, but it was too late. The water she’d drunk ended up all over the wood floor, splattering the walls and her housecoat. I hopped back a step to miss being hit, not that it did much good.

  “I’m sorry,” she said as she coughed. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry. I just want you to feel better.” I pulled her toward the bathroom, doing my best not to step in the sick. Even managing to holler over my shoulder, “Easton, I can’t go out tonight. I’m sorry. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  I shut the bathroom door behind us and helped Grandma back to the floor.

  “No,” she said, her voice weak. “You should go.”

  “Not happening.”

  “Vi—”

  “Not happening. Next subject.”

  She sighed. “God, you’re stubborn.”

  I smiled, remembering all the times she’d called me that over the years. Remembering how Easton had called me the same. “Yeah, because you taught me how to be. So, buck up, lady. We’re in this together tonight.”

  Fifteen minutes and two bouts of dry heaving later, I finally walked out of the bathroom with my arm firmly wrapped around her waist.

  Easton stepped into the hallway from the opposite end. “Everything okay, ladies?”

  If my face didn’t let him know how shocked I was to see him, I was sure my words did. “What are you doing here?”

  He shrugged. “I thought I could help.”

  I gaped at him. I hadn’t expected him to stay, especially after he’d watched Grandma throw up all over the floor. But he had, which left me with a conundrum—I had no idea what to say to him. I simply stood there and stared until Grandma squeezed my arm.

  “Violet, honey, help me to bed. I’m really tired.”

  “Of course.” I jumped and turned her toward her door.

  Before I could walk her to her room, Easton stepped in, holding my gaze as he reached slowly for Grandma’s arm. “I can help you, Ms. Foster.”

  “That’d be nice, Easton.” Grandma patted his arm, her head bowed and her voice quiet. “I’m a little too tired tonight to do much more than shuffle.”

  I let Easton lead her down the hall. A handful of steps in, Grandma slumped, her knees buckling. Like some sort of superhero, Easton swooped in and picked her up, carrying her the rest of the way with ease.

  “Which room?” he asked when he came to the three doors at the end of the hall.

  “On the right.”

  He walked purposefully into Grandma’s room and waited by the side of the bed. I rushed behind him, turning down the covers as quickly as I could. There was such care in his hold on her, such concern on his face. If I hadn’t been so worried about her not feeling well, I probably would have had a serious case of the swoons. But vomit and fear really didn’t make for a romantic moment.

  Once we had Grandma situated, Easton followed me back down the hallway toward the living room. “Think she’ll be okay?”

  “I hope so.”

  “Is it the chemo, or something else?”

  “Chemo. It’s…horrible.”

  Easton stopped me, tugged on my elbow until I turned his way, and then kept tugging. “I’m sorry, Violet. That can’t be easy to watch.”

  I curled into his arms, needing him more than I was ready to admit. Relishing the comfort his embrace offered. I’d felt so alone dealing with Grandma being sick. He’d saved me from that. Without being asked. “I can’t believe you stayed.”

  “You looked like you needed some help.” He pulled me closer, surrounding me with his warmth and his scent, giving me my first chance to relax in hours.

  As he rocked me slightly from side to side, I caught a glimpse of the spot where, not long before, Grandma had gotten sick in the hall. My heart swelled and my eyes burned with tears I wouldn’t let fall. I had to pull out of his hold, to move away from him, before I lost control and sobbed.

  “You cleaned up.”

  “Seemed like the right thing to do,” he said, reaching to run a hand over his neck. Making me realize he was no longer wearing the nice dress shirt he’d arrived in, just a white T-shirt he must have had underneath it. Still gorgeous, still looking like my hero for the night. Maybe even more so.

  “Thank you.” I rose onto the balls of my feet to place a kiss on his cheek.

  His hand landed on my hip, soft, not holding me in place. Just touching. “You’re welcome.”

  We stood that way for a few long, comforting minutes. Not speaking, simply existing in the same space. And it was exactly what I needed to settle down from the anxious hours I’d spent taking care of my grandma. I didn’t want flowery declarations or promises thrown my way. Easton had supported me with his actions, not his words. Something that I’d never realized was so special and rare until that moment.

  But all good things had to come to an end…especially when you smelled like vomit. “I should probably grab a bucket or something for her, just in case.”

  “Yeah, sounds good.” He frowned. “I can throw the towels I cleaned with in the wash.”

  “That’d probably be best. C’mon, everything’s in the basement.”

  Easton helped me collect buckets, toss the towels into the washer, and get a glass of water for Grandma, then followed me back to her room.

  “I’m sorry I ruined your night,” she mumbled as I set everything around her so she wouldn’t have to get out of bed.

  “Stop apologizing. You didn’t ruin anything. Right, Easton?”

  “No, ma’am. Not a thing.”

  “Nice boy,” Grandma mumbled. “Much better choice than that asshole Jace.”

  I chanced a glance at the man himself, fighting back a smile. Easton was very focused on the floor, refusing to look my way. At some point, we were going to have to talk about my past. The very thought made my stomach flip, though. I’d have to tell him about…everything. Jace, the video, college, the jobs, the men. No way did I want to have to do that. Easton would never look at me the same. He was a nice boy, and I…

  I was Cowgirl Vee. And unfortunately, I always would be. But tonight wasn’t the time, and this wasn’t the place.

  “So,” Easton said once we were back in the living room, leaning against the wall in some sort of super sexy and yet casually cool pose. How did he pull that off?

  “So.” I rocked on my heels, likely looking less cool and definitely not sexy. “I really need to take a shower.”

  His eyes darted down. Taking me in. I couldn’t even imagine what he saw. Raggedy tank top, no bra, black yoga tights, vomit on my feet. I was most certainly a mess.

  “Yeah, uh. I can see that.” But then he smiled. “Though if you wanted to put that shirt back on, I wouldn’t object.”

  I glanced down, surprised. This old shirt was so thin, so threadbare. But it was a favorite. “Why do you—” And then I saw the
way my nipples were silhouetted under the fabric, the hard peaks trying to poke through, surrounded by the shadow of the darker skin around them. I crossed my arms and gave him the closest thing to a glare I could imagine. “Are you trying to sneak a peek at my breasts? That’s not very friend-like.”

  “There’s no sneaking, really. They’re right—” he pointed and circled his finger “—there for all the world to see.”

  I faked a solid glower. “Bastard.”

  “I can’t help but stare. You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

  My breath caught. Who talked like that? Especially to someone with vomit on their feet? Easton did, of course. And I was helpless against his charm. A fact that was becoming more and more apparent with every second we spent together. This was dangerous territory—an introduction into a space of feeling and emotion. And though my head was screaming at me to back up, to run away, the rest of me wasn’t so sure if that was the best idea.

  And for once, I told my mind to shut up for a few hours. “Would you like to stay for a while?”

  He grinned all slow and sly. “Really?”

  “Yeah. I mean, I’m not inviting you into the shower with me, but we could hang out once I’m done. If you’d like.” I wanted him to stay, wanted to spend more time with him. That thought was scary and made my stomach drop as if I were on a roller coaster, but it was honest. Terrifying, but honest.

  “I’d like very much.” Easton pulled me into his arms, wrapping me in a hug and pressing his lips to my forehead. “Go wash up and put some clothes on. I’ll order us a pizza.”

  “Okay. Thanks.” I stayed still, though. Stayed close to him. I wasn’t ready to let go just yet. “I’m sorry I ruined—”

  He placed a finger over my lips, the warmth of his skin sending a single shiver up my back. “You ruined nothing. Family comes first. Now, go. I want you cleaned and…at least partially dressed in ten minutes.”