by M. Mabie
She looked up at me through her thick lashes and said, “Maybe we should go to your place?”
God, that sounded like a good idea. She looked so damn good sitting there in my passenger seat.
To hell with it.
“Are you sure?” Things wouldn’t get out of hand. I wouldn’t let them—if it was within my power, which I wasn’t so sure about. My fear was I wouldn’t have much control when push actually came to shove.
We pulled into my drive and I turned off the lights. I decided to leave my keys in the ignition, knowing I’d be taking her home in a while.
Hannah opened her door and walked to the deck, then waited for me.
She was stunning in the moonlight, her hair moving with the breeze. Her lips still a little red from our kiss in the alley.
One part of my brain told me that this was all new, and to take my time. I’d only lived in Wynne for a few weeks. It was a little soon to be jumping into a serious relationship with someone new, especially after Rachelle.
The other part of my brain was screaming, this feels so right! She was so unlike anyone I knew. We never ran out of things to talk about.
She was actually interested in me. Me.
Not how much money I made.
Not my practice.
Not who I knew at the golf club.
And, although I was still learning about her, I doubted she’d ever be one to concern herself with petty things like that.
Hannah O’Fallon had her own things, and she didn’t need mine. She made her own way.
The Hannah way.
For the record, Hannah fit her perfectly. Judging by the way she looked at me when I said it, she liked hearing it just as much as I liked saying it.
“Coffee?” she asked, taking the hand I offered her. I’d never really been a hand holding kind of guy; hers just fit so nicely in mine. As tough as she tried to be, her hands were the exact opposite of that day-to-day tough exterior. Her fingers were long and thin, her palms soft and warm. Her nails were bare, trim, and glossy.
“Do you want me to make you some?”
“It kind of sounds good.”
I’d be up all night if I drank coffee at midnight. The thought that she wanted me up all night caused a twitch in my jeans. Maybe I was reading more into it than I should have, but coffee or not, what I wanted to do to her would take hours and no doubt the sun would be coming up long before I was finished.
But not that night.
I’d slept with Rachelle on our first date. We’d been around each other, running in the same circle, but it was our first night out alone. When she invited me up, I didn’t really think things were going to progress like they did. Honestly, I thought we would casually date for a while. Maybe.
That whole relationship was doomed from the beginning.
I didn’t want that to happen with this one.
It wasn’t about being sad or missing Rachelle. It was more about feeling like every year I spent looking and waiting for the right one to come along, was inevitably one year without what I wanted.
A real home. Roots. A family to call my own.
Yet, all of that was way too soon to think about. It was too soon to let myself think about making a life with this crazy, beautiful, complicated woman.
It was too soon to admit I hoped she liked me back.
Too soon to want to skip the fucking coffee and lead her to my bedroom. To strip her naked. To lay her on my bed. To kiss every inch of her until she was pink and flushed.
Too soon to show her how I felt.
But it wasn’t too soon to excuse myself to the bathroom to catch my breath and get some clarity. I was really fucking aroused by all of those thoughts.
She walked straight to the coffee maker and since she knew where all of my kitchen things were, she easily found the coffee packs and started a cup.
“I’ll be right back,” I said and excused myself.
Was she sending me signals, or did I just want signals? It was possible she wanted the same thing I did, or maybe I just liked everything about her and I got to see a lot more of her tonight. She’d opened up more to me than before.
Whatever it was, it was potent, and as I leaned over the counter in the bathroom and tried to get a grip, I reminded myself to slow the fuck down.
I didn’t want to be the first man in history to chase a girl away with commitment. However, even if I didn’t say it, I could be committed to her, and the beginning of that commitment meant I wasn’t going to treat this like a one-night stand. The thought of even being able to refer to it as such would tarnish it.
When I walked back down the stairs, I noticed her through the screen door, leaning over the rail on my deck and looking out into the field that butted up to my property. She was holding a cup of coffee and I saw that she’d fixed me one and left it on the island.
I picked it up and took a sip, enjoying the view before she knew I was watching. Her head tilted one way then the other, like she was having a debate with herself. I didn’t know what her points and counterpoints were, but I hoped they had everything to do with me.
Placing her cup on the rail, she shrugged out of the jacket and her bare shoulders were just too tempting, so I placed my coffee on the island and went to her. The sound of the screen door caused her to turn her head, and she smiled when she met my eyes.
Before I could talk myself out of it, my lips were on her skin from behind. I swept her hair to the side for a better vantage point and my eyes shut, inhaling a perfect Hannah-filled breath. Rightness mixed with her sweetness and something else that was more innocent than not.
Moving with my touch, she rolled her head as I claimed her warm flesh. One shoulder to her neck, to the other side, and suddenly I was under her spell.
She moaned and turned in my arms as I kissed just behind her ear. I think she liked being kissed there; always reacting the most when I hit that spot, a small shiver jetting through her.
I wanted to know everything she liked. I’d commit to memory every sound with every spot and, one day soon, I’d play her body like a guitar. Repeating my favorite chords over and over.
Chapter Fifteen
Hannah
He kissed me breathless on the porch and my coffee cup fell off after he lifted me up in his arms so that our mouths met, my tiptoes barely sliding across the wood boards. I liked the feeling of being wrapped up in him, but it left me no room to explore on my own.
I lightly kicked my feet a little, and without words, he set me down, which allowed my hands to roam his chest. Something I noticed I was always attracted to.
Like they had any claim to it, or invitation, my fingers ran up his shirt, causing his stomach to ripple with the sensation of my cool touch.
My fingers wandered around his back as he deepened the kiss and I almost abandoned my pilgrimage, losing my train of thought. Soon we were turning toward his door, lips locked, hands pawing each other.
The counter on the island met my ass, and the screen door slammed in our haste not to close it. I heard thunder, which didn’t surprise me since I’d seen flashes of lightning while Vaughn had been upstairs.
“You taste so good,” he said against my mouth.
I didn’t know what to say, so I just kissed him harder. Holding the sides of his head against me as he lifted me to sit on the granite, which he claimed to hate.
My legs wrapped around him and he pulled my ass to the edge so that he could press against me. I was wild and reckless and my want for him changed to necessity.
My body dared me to lean back and see where that move would get me. Half of me wanted to slow down and act like I wasn’t a lustful girl who’d never been kissed like that.
Regardless, I was and I hadn’t.
The other half of me wanted to fuck him right there in his kitchen with the same amount of heat and humidity that hung in the early summer air. As the sky lit up with electricity and the promise of the first thunderstorm this year, I warred with myself.
I was easy.
&nb
sp; If you define easy as a woman who usually only found herself with a man when she wanted one. Therefore, every man I’d ever been with hadn’t had to exert much effort. If they were cute, looked like a normal guy and were nice, on one of those nights, I was pretty much a sure thing. Few and far between as those nights were, I didn’t want this night to be like that. I wanted something different.
I’d been in similar situations, although none of them ever felt like Vaughn did, pressing against me in his kitchen after our first date.
None had been that potent.
That powerful.
That right.
So I needed to slow down.
I didn’t want to be easy with him. I wanted more than just a one-night stand. I wanted another date, and possibly a third. I wanted to know about his family and ask him about three hundred thousand more questions.
Seriously though, the chances of that happening, if I gave the milk away for free this time, were slim. He wasn’t the kind of guy who’d want some town Mutt, some easy chick. He’d likely want a lady, and I wanted to be someone he’d be interested in.
I wanted to be Hannah. For him.
The wind picked up and the unlatched door slammed again, knocking me out of the moment just enough to break the kiss.
“We need to slow down.”
No more were the words out of my mouth and he pulled himself up, giving me space, holding himself just above me.
“I’m sorry,” he apologized, but he didn’t look that guilty. “I lost myself there for a minute.”
He placed his forehead to my chest and chuckled, trying to catch his breath. I was chasing mine too.
“So did I.”
He moved his face to look up at me, his chin perched on my cleavage. It was a funny sight.
“You’re a really good kisser,” I admitted, licking my numb lips.
“Well, I know a lot about mouths. You could say I have a doctorate in them.”
I giggled and watched his head bounce between my boobs, which only made me laugh harder. I wondered how many chins I had from his point of view. “You look funny down there.”
His eyes jagged right then left, noticing where he was.
“I like it here,” he teased, then placed a kiss on my neck and lifted both of us up.
“I think it’s going to storm and it’s getting late.” I hated the thought of leaving, but I knew if I didn’t get out of that house sooner than later I’d be naked from another kiss like that.
As he stepped back, I hopped down and tried to fix the tube top, which had surprisingly stayed mostly in place.
He had touched me, but he never tried to get under my clothes. I, on the other hand, had had my hands up his shirt and down the back of his pants, not far enough to get a real grab, but far enough to know that his ass was firm as hell. No wonder his pants always looked so good. That ass was no illusion.
I hated feeling like I was being a tease, but the truth of it was, I didn’t even have a condom with me. Yeah, he was a guy and probably had one, but these days most girls were on the pill ... and the whole I didn’t want to be an easy slut thing.
When you only have sex once or twice a year, you don’t really need a prescription contraceptive anyway. I’d always had condoms with me when I went out on a mission. On those nights when the loneliness took over, I knew what I was looking for and where to find it, but I still always protected myself.
Even if I had been on the pill, my behavior, sleeping with people I didn’t really know that well, really did warrant their use.
I’d never picked up anyone who looked dodgy, but let’s face it: most guys who go to a girl’s cabin after the bar aren’t angels.
We walked back outside and as I picked up Sunny’s jacket off the porch, thinking about that, I absentmindedly said, “I don’t have any condoms anyway.” There was no warning, even to me. The words just fell out.
He stopped in his tracks and he grinned salaciously.
“Neither do I.”
“Well, Dr. Kissylips, I suppose it’s good we’re calling it a night then.” I wanted him to know that, although it wasn’t the right night for it, I was positively interested in knowing all of the other things he knew about mouths and what his could do.
“Think your dad is asleep?” he asked.
I hadn’t even thought about him since the bar. What kind of daughter was I?
“Shit. My dad,” I said as I picked up speed and hurried to his vehicle. I thought about how nice it was not getting into my truck alone. I’d still get one last kiss before our first date ended. I hoped.
He trailed behind me, and soon we were pulling out of his drive and headed toward my house, just as the first raindrops began pouring from the sky.
My father was going to have one hell of a hangover; he usually didn’t drink to that point. I hoped that Dean got him the pain reliever and something to drink like I’d asked him to.
Then, just like that, my brain shifted gears. Back to what just happened.
One thing was sure, I’d been able to pull back that first night, but I didn’t feel like I could hold out much longer.
I didn’t know what his plans were for the next day, but I hoped they included me.
As if he was reading my mind, he asked, “What are you doing tomorrow?”
A little creepy, but I liked it and answered with, “Get out of my head.”
He looked at me, and, from the light of the dashboard, I saw he had a smile that reached ear to ear.
“What? You want to do something?”
My mind raced with what that something might be. I’d be perfectly fine going out to the cabin and just chilling there, but that seemed kind of forward. Ladies didn’t invite guys out to their bachelorette pad for fishing and a run around the bases.
Turns out, I was new at being a lady, so despite myself, I asked anyway.
“I was thinking about getting the boat out, if the weather is good. Maybe troll around and fish for a while. Test out a few new lures. Do you want to go?”
“I was hoping you’d say something like that. I had a really good time tonight, Hannah.”
And there it was again.
My name.
It was weird. Hannah had always been my name, but it felt foreign and familiar all at the same time when he said it. He’d never called me Mutt.
I wondered how long it would have taken him to get to Hannah, had I not broken down and told him after Randy, the town dick, had earned the business end of Vaughn’s fist.
I knew I’d always be Mutt, and there wasn’t a whole lot I could do about it, but at least there was one person who saw me as Hannah. And, if I had to choose, I was glad it was him.
“I had a good night, too,” I said as he pulled onto the gravel lane at my house. The rain was beating down so hard at that point I knew for sure I’d be soaked by the time I reached my door.
“So you think you like me a tiny bit more than just a little yet?”
I laughed. He had to know better. My hard-to-get game wasn’t that strong.
“I don’t know. What do you think?”
“What do I think?” He repeated while putting the SUV in park, after pulling as close to my front door as he could get it, driving up in our grass. That alone made me warm on the inside.
“I think you looked so good tonight that I couldn’t keep my eyes off you. I think every time you laugh a timer starts, and I tick down the seconds until I hear it again. I think that I’m going to need a serious cold shower when I get home. I think I’m really glad, regardless of how I got it, that I know your name now. I think it suits you—if I didn’t tell you that already. I think that I like that granite in my kitchen more than I did before. I think I miss that van,” he said, looking in the back of the Escalade, which was a whole hell of a lot nicer than Dad’s old Astro van. “There’s a lot more open space in the back of that classic. And let’s see ... I think there are too many hours in between now and tomorrow.”
My mouth watered, wanting to taste hi
s lips, as he grew closer. Lips that were saying some of the most simply perfect things. He adjusted so that he could get closer, apparently I was frozen in place, and I appreciated his struggle, liking that he did something about it when he couldn’t reach me.
I wasn’t sure if I knew how it felt to fall in love, but if it was anything like that moment, I’d been a wise fool to wait that long. At the same time, I’d been so blind, believing I didn’t care about having someone all my own, and I was loving the discovery. Glad that I’d waited for something better than a town leftover. Because I was so pleased in that moment to be there—with him. It was almost validation that good things do come to those who wait, and maybe that was just what I’d been doing all along.
He went on. “I think kissing you is better each time. I think your eyes look even prettier when I’m this close. I think I could go on, but I’d rather you kiss me goodnight.”
I didn’t care anymore if the things he said sounded cheesy. It’s not cheesy when it’s real.
I leaned closer, the only inch he gave me, and traded it in for his mouth on mine. It was a good trade.
This kiss was slower and it made my neck weak and my shoulders slump forward into it. Leisurely, he proved that although our previous kisses—like pushing the throttle forward on my boat, wind rushing through my hair—were exhilarating, slowly floating along in the warm sun felt just as nice.
For unrushed minutes we floated together, the rain pounding down on the roof, me in his passenger seat, dressed up like a woman on a mission, praying that it wasn’t all too good to be true.
⟡⟡⟡
When I finally went inside, I saw my dad in his recliner, snoring like a bear, and a can of soda next to his chair. I grabbed the blanket off the couch and covered him up.
He blinked a few times, still drunk and more than half asleep.
“I miss you so much, Katie,” he said, his voice lenient and sad.
“Good night, Dad,” I said and kissed his forehead. He must have been pretty drunk to call me by my mother’s name. I couldn’t imagine how much he missed her, or even why he’d still be thinking about her after what she’d done.
I wished he’d move on and find someone who’d love him like he deserved. It killed me to think that he’d be lonely forever.
