Chasing Rhodes (Rock Falls #1)

by Anne Jolin

He’s still inside me, half collapsed on my back and looking at me in the mirror. “Please come home with me tonight, Hannah.”

  I don’t know if it’s because he just fucked me to within an inch of my life or if it’s because he said please, but I answer him. “Okay, Greyson. Take me home.”

  I TEXT THE girls to let them know that I’m leaving and likely won’t be back tonight. I don’t bother to tell them in person out of respect for Jackson. Broken up or not, he shouldn’t have to watch me leave with another man looking thoroughly fucked.

  Greyson leads me to coat check so I can retrieve my jacket and we start heading for the parking lot, his hand placed again at the small of my back. God, I fucking love when he does that. We have almost reached his truck when it occurs to me that he plans on driving us home.

  “I’m not getting in that”—I wave towards the truck—“with you if you’ve been drinking,” I state. Our small town has lost too many young people to drinking and driving and I don’t intend on adding myself to that list.

  He pulls me into his side and kisses my temple. “I wasn’t drinking tonight, sweetheart. I would never put you in danger.”

  I pull away to look in his eyes. They aren’t glassy and his breath doesn’t smell like alcohol. Satisfied that he’s telling the truth, I let him help me into the passenger’s side of his monstrous truck. His large hands linger on my thighs before he closes the door and runs around to get in his side. The muscles in his arm flex as he starts the truck and it roars to life. This truck is sexy as hell. Sexier than Clifford. That’s for damn sure, I think to myself, running my hands along the black, leather interior. The truck’s cold air intake purrs when he punches the gas and I feel it rumble through my chest. Well that thing they say about guys and big trucks certainly isn’t true. I’ve just witnessed firsthand what he’s packing in his jeans, and it isn’t small. In fact, I’m certain I’ll be feeling the effects of our bathroom rendezvous tomorrow.

  As he steers the truck onto the main road, we settle into a comfortable silence. His right hand is resting on my thigh and his eyes are trained on the icy road. I’m letting the last hour of the night play back in my head. I never expected he’d be at the bar tonight. I know it’s a small town, and Bill’s is a locals-only type of bar, but something about him seemed too mysterious to be hanging out there. That and I haven’t seen him there before.

  “Do you have a tracking device on me or something?” I giggle. I giggled. Thanks for that, tequila. I wasn’t really going for the ‘schoolgirl’ vibe, but okay then.

  He takes his eyes off the road long enough to send me a panty-dropping smile and I have to consciously stop myself from swooning. He really is a beautiful specimen. He lets a slow chuckle out. “I was at the bar with a friend of mine from work. It was a long rotation,” he says, and the warmth in his eyes is momentarily replaced by something else. Sadness maybe? I can’t be sure.

  I’m still feeling a little forward, the effects of my buddy Mr. Jose Cuervo not having quite worn off yet, so curiosity gets the better of me and I blurt out my question. “What rotation? What do you do for work? Why did it feel long?” I literally have to put my hand over my mouth to stop the verbal vomit from coming out. Way to go, Hannah. Just hit the sex god with twenty questions all at once. That won’t freak him out. Ugh.

  I visibly relax when he answers my question without hesitation, not seeming to mind my line of questions. “I’m a paramedic. We work four on four off, and we lost someone today.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” I whisper. Why do I have to be so nosy? Beth must be rubbing off on me.

  “Don’t be sorry. I love my job. Days like today are hard, but we have more good days than bad up here.” He smiles at me again. “It makes me happy you want to know things about me.”

  I blush and return his smile with one of my own but don’t say anything else. I’m not really sure what to say. I couldn’t imagine what it would be like to watch someone die.

  We pull up to his townhome, and now that I’m not hightailing it out of here like a two-bit ho, I take the time to look it over. It’s a two-story, log-and-rock townhouse with a large, forest-green door and white twinkle lights following the line of the roof. It’s stunning. Most of the homes in Rock Falls have that log-cabin look, but his is exceptionally beautiful, and the twinkle lights make me think there’s a side of him I haven’t seen yet. I find myself hoping he shows me that side one day.

  Greyson helps me out of the truck and presses me against it. The look in his eyes is so intense that it makes my heart do funny things. I’ve barely known him a week, but he has a pull over me that’s all consuming. He literally steals my breath and makes it impossible to focus on anything else.

  Cupping my face in his hands, he brushes my bottom lip with his thumb. “I’m going to kiss you now, sweetheart,” he says before his mouth captures mine in a slow kiss.

  Despite having had some of the hottest sex of my life with this man, we haven’t really kissed yet. It might be too soon to tell—it could be the buzz talking, although I don’t think so—but this kind of feels like that ‘can’t eat, can’t sleep, reach for the stars, World Series’ kind of kiss. The one the Olsen Twins were talking about. There I go with another movie reference. Oops. It’s a good thing his body is pressing mine against the truck, because my knees are literally getting weak. This slow love is so different from the demanding one at the bar. He breaks our kiss, resting his forehead on mine, and I wrap my arms around his waist. I’m not sure how long we stand like that for but it feels incredibly peaceful. A while later he pulls away, lacing his fingers through mine and leads me into the house.

  He settles me onto the large sectional couch in the living room and goes to get me a glass of water. “Do you like City and Colour?” he asks.

  I nod my head. I’ve heard of the Canadian band before but don’t know the songs very well. He attaches his iPhone to the stereo system and soon soft melodies are floating through the air. It’s raw, angst ridden, and beautiful. He sits down beside me and he pulls me into his lap. I rest my head on his shoulder as he starts to strum his fingers on my bare knee to the music. It seems like a habit he’s not even sure he’s doing, and it’s adorable. I get that flutter in my heart again as I soak up his simple embrace.

  “Do you like it?”

  “It’s beautiful,” I answer honestly, sitting up to look him in the eye. “Do you play?”

  “A little,” he says, running his hand up and down my back. “I love music.”

  “Hmm,” I murmur absentmindedly.

  “I want to know you, Hannah. Tell me something.” He kisses my forehead and I smile. This side of him is entirely too cute.

  “What do you want to know?” I ask.

  “Everything. Tell me five things about yourself most people wouldn’t know.”

  I smile nervously under his stare, but I feel compelled to answer him honestly. “I love terrible shark movies. You know, the kind that are completely unrealistic and ridiculous? Well, I love them. I hate tomatoes. I get way too attached to fictional characters so I avoid sad movies and books like the plague. I’m scared of being home alone, and I don’t drink coffee. You go.”

  “I haven’t cried since I was twelve. I wear long johns almost all year round. I’m ridiculously good at math. I’m shy, and I missed you this week.”

  “You wear long johns all year round? Even in the summer? Don’t you get hot?” I ask him. I’m one hundred percent curious now, and I’m also avoiding his statement about missing me.

  He laughs, and it’s a beautiful sound. “I do, but for some reason, I wear them anyway. Did you miss me?”

  “That is just insanity. I don’t know how you do it. I get hot even in a dress during the summers here.” I give him my best shocked face and he smiles, waiting for me to answer his question.

  We sit in silence for a while because I’m not sure what to say. This apparently happens a lot to me around this gorgeous man. He literally stuns me into stupidity. I’m too embarrassed t
o say that I missed him because I don’t even know him. The first twelve hours I knew him, I didn’t even know his name. It’s absurd to miss someone you just met. Isn’t it?

  “I don’t even know you, Greyson,” I say softly.

  “I’m going to do my best to change that, sweetheart.” He gives me a soft, slow kiss on my lips. “What’s your biggest fear, Hannah?”

  The question is a hard one, and it catches me off guard. I think about it for a moment before I’m instantly sure of my answer. “That, if the time comes for me to change my life, I won’t be brave enough to do it. Yours?”

  His expression darkens, but he answers quickly. “That I will end up like my father.”

  I want to ask him what he means by that, but I don’t want to push. Instead, I reach up, placing my palms on either side of his face, and kiss him. His tongue licks the seam of my lips and I part them willingly. Our kiss quickly goes from slow and passionate to eager and restless. I move to straddle him on the couch, my dress riding up my thighs as his hands grab on to my ass. I don’t know how it’s possible to want him again so soon, but my body is humming with need like I haven’t been touched in days.

  He tangles my hair in one hand and tugs it gently to one side, exposing my neck. I moan quietly as his tongue darts out to lick underneath my ear and he sucks on the sensitive skin there. This man knows exactly what he’s doing. I run my hands up the ridges of his muscular chest to his shoulders, using them as leverage to grind myself against him. He growls and tugs my hair a little harder. The closer he gets to my heaving chest, the harder I rub myself on him. He tugs the top of my dress down, taking turns pinching and rolling my nipples with his free hand.

  “Aaah. That feels so good!” I cry out as he bites down on my nipple, licking it after to soothe the burn. I’m already soaked, and without any panties on, I’m dripping onto his jeans. No one has ever made me feel this way. My skin is burning up like I have a fever. This time is just as hot as our earlier encounter, but much less frenzied. He is still rough and controlling, but he’s going slower, savoring my body. He seems to know exactly what I want when I want it.

  He abandons his grip in my hair to grab both my breasts and push them together. I take the opportunity to lean forward, softly biting down on his earlobe then kissing and sucking my way down his throat. He groans and grabs my face, smashing his lips on mine. I tug the hem of his shirt up, and he breaks our kiss long enough to pull it over his head. I run my hands over the tattoos dancing across his chest, bend over and flick his nipple with my tongue. I am completely drunk with lust. His hands have moved back to my hips, and we’re kissing feverishly, our bare chests rubbing together. I moan into his mouth at the sensation of my nipples dragging across his chest. I can feel his impressive cock in his jeans, pressing against the zipper, and I’m overwhelmed with the urge to taste him. I start to slide down his body, but he stops me.

  “Not tonight.” His words make me whimper in protest. “Tonight, I’m going to taste that sweet pussy. You’re going to come with my head between your legs, screaming my name.” He stands with me still in his lap and his hands gripping my ass as he stalks down the hall and into his bedroom.

  He makes love to me. It is still rough and everything Greyson, but it isn’t fucking. It is more—I can feel it. I come three times before I finally succumb to sleep.

  I AWAKE SLOWLY, stretching out my muscles. They are sore in the most glorious way. My head is lying on top of Greyson’s lion tattoo, my left hand spread across his heart. Our legs are intertwined and his large hand is resting on my back, just above my naked ass. He is still asleep, chest rising and falling evenly. He looks incredibly peaceful. My sleeping lion. I smile to myself, tracing the lines of his chest piece with my index finger. I kiss his chest, and move to get off the bed.

  His grip tightens around my waist and his voice, still rough with sleep, fills the room. “Not again, sweetheart. I’m not letting you leave me again.” He is worried I am going to bolt. Fair enough considering I flew out of here like a bat out of hell last time.

  “I’m just going to the bathroom, handsome. I’m not leaving,” I coo reassuringly.

  He smiles and drifts back to sleep, happy with my answer.

  I climb off the bed and pad out of the bedroom. The bathroom can’t be that hard to find, can it? Maybe I should have asked him where it is. I make my way down the hall, and after accidently stumbling into what I assume is an office, I locate the bathroom and take care of business. I take my time walking back down the hall to the bedroom, noticing that there are very few photos on the wall. Most seem to be of himself with an older woman, his mother presumably, but no siblings and none of his father. Interesting. I think, remembering his comment from last night. I slip back into the bedroom, careful not to wake him and snuggle back into his chest. He’s a good cuddler too. I wonder if there’s anything that takes place in a bedroom that he’s not good at. After warming back up under the covers, I drift off to sleep again.

  I wake up sometime in the late morning to Greyson tickling my back. I don’t know about the rest of the female population, but waking up on top of a hot-as-sin man while he tickles up and down your back is a hell of a way to wake up.

  “Good morning, sweetheart. How are you feeling?”

  I do a quick inventory of how I’m feeling. No headache. No feeling like the room is spinning. I feel pretty damn good actually. Maybe a little sore but damn good. “I feel much better than the last time I woke up here.”

  He smirks at me and kisses the top of my head. I decide to come clean and tell him that I don’t remember anything from that night. If this, whatever it is, ends up having a future, I’d rather just tell him now. I tuck my face further into his chest and murmur softly, “I feel so slutty. I never do this. I’m not this person. I don’t have one-night stands. I don’t even remember our first night together.” I feel his entire body tense underneath me and I instantly regret saying something.

  “I didn’t realize you had so much to drink last night,” he clips out in a harsh tone. What the hell?

  “Uhm. I didn’t…” I say hesitantly, keeping my face turned down.

  “You just said you didn’t remember our first time, Hannah. You obviously drank too much if you can’t remember what happened last night.”

  Did he fall and hit his pretty head on the pavement? Maybe he doesn’t remember last weekend either? My brain instantly switches to panic mode. Self-preservation. The last thing I need is another guy with mood swings who can’t remember what he does, especially if he doesn’t really drink.

  “I think I should go,.” I say, moving off the bed to find my dress. God, this is so embarrassing. I was just trying to be honest with him in case this was going anywhere, and now I’m doing the walk of shame from the same house two weekends in a row. Maybe I am a slut.

  He’s sitting on the bed, and this time, he looks far from amused while he watches me search for my clothes. He runs his hands across his shaved head and down over his face. He looks like he’s in pain. He’s really starting to piss me off. I’m not the one who took home some drunk girl who could probably barely walk and took advantage of her, and in that moment, I decide to tell him exactly that. Serves him right for staring at me like I just peed in his Cheerios.

  “What?” I snap. “What’s the big deal if I don’t remember last weekend? I’m not the one who took advantage of some wasted girl at the bar. That was you. So why don’t you direct your judgment inward, asshole.”

  I’ve really lost it now. My temper’s flaring, and I just want to kick him in the shins. Stupid sexy asshole. That’s what I get for deciding to try this whole ‘fly by the seat of your pants’ lifestyle. Stupid, Hannah. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

  I’m still giving myself another mental ass-kicking when I notice him smiling at me. “What the hell are you smiling at me for? You can take that sexy grin and go straight to hell with it, Hunnam.”

  His smile only gets bigger, and I’m almost about to find something to throw a
t him when he finally speaks. “You think we had sex last Saturday?”

  “Well, duh. I woke up sans clothing with a naked”—I wave my arms in his direction—“you. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to put two and two together. Listen, we don’t have to make this weird. I’m just going to get my things and go. I’m not good at this whole ‘thanks for the shag’ thing. I’ve never done it before. Let’s just stop with the sarcasm, okay?” I’m still frantically tearing apart his room, butt naked, when he comes up behind me, lifts me over his shoulder fireman style, and drops me on the bed. “What the fuck!”

  “Calm down, sweetheart.” Calm down my ass. I’m not one for being manhandled... Okay, well, maybe I liked it when it was foreplay, but right now, it’s just grinding my gears. “Stop. I can see your wheels turning. I will hold you down if I have to, Hannah. Calm down.”

  I sit up in a huff and cross my arms, trying to cover my breasts. I’m suddenly aware that I am very, very naked still. I snottily raise my eyebrows and wait for him to get whatever ‘morning after’ speech he’s about to make over with.

  “I feel like there’s been a very serious misunderstanding here, sweetheart.” He smirks at me again. Jackass. “We absolutely did not sleep together last Saturday.”

  I imagine the look on my face in this moment would be rather priceless. If I weren’t so stunned, I’m sure I would find it hilarious. “I’m sorry. What did you just say?”

  “We. Did. Not. Sleep. Together. Last. Weekend,” he says. “You were wasted at the bar, your friends were long gone, and I was not about to let some dickwad take you home, so I did. We got here. You stripped off all your clothes and climbed into bed. End of story.”

  I threw the pillow at this head. “Do you think maybe you could have told me that before I acted like an absolute lunatic in your bedroom? Good God. This is so embarrassing.” I groan and do a face-plant into my hands.

  “You’re pretty cute when you’re pissed.” He comes over to me, pulls my hands away from my face, and kisses both of my palms before pushing me down and lying on top of me. I’m still reeling when he tickles my sides and I screech. “Don’t think I missed the part where you called me Hunnam, sweetheart. We’re going to talk about that later.” He kisses under my ear and tickles me again.