by LK Farlow
“You’re so damn beautiful,” he tells me as he drops to his knees, peeling my panties down my legs along the way.
My body is taut with anticipation, more than ready for his next move. More than ready to feel him exactly where I ache for him. But instead, he presses a chaste kiss to my left hipbone before rising back to his full height.
With precise movements, he unhooks my bra, sliding the straps down my arms. He removes it and my gloves simultaneously, leaving me stark naked in front of him.
My first instinct is to cover myself, but I fight it, standing tall and proud, letting him look his fill. The fire in his eyes is enough to warm me all over. Silently, he moves toward me. He trails his fingers down each arm, starting at my shoulders before taking my hands in his.
“I want you so much. So. Damn. Much.” His words are husky and filled with a longing that matches my own.
“Then have me,” I whimper as he brings my arms around his waist and presses his lips into mine again.
This time, our kiss is controlled, with Drake setting the tempo. He nips at my lower lip and licks away the sting, his tongue slowly tasting mine. “Not yet, Azalea. Not yet.”
I keen toward him, following his lips with mine as he pulls away. “Why?” I whine, sounding weak and needy—which is exactly what I am for this man.
“Because it’s not time yet.” Holding my shoulders, he steps an arm’s length back from me.
“When? When will it be time?” I ask, borderline begging.
“You’ll know. Now, go take a bath and warm up, and I’ll tend to the fire and start reheating the soup.”
I do as he tells me, not because I’m feeling particularly obedient but because I want to show him that I really do get it, and that I’m okay with things being more than physical between us. It’s one thing for me to say it, another for me to show it.
Twenty minutes later, I’m still soaking in the bath, watching through the huge picture window as the sun begins to dip below the horizon. I’m so mesmerized by the beauty of the landscape and the feel of the hot water licking at my skin that I don’t hear Drake as he enters the bathroom.
“Warm enough yet?” he asks. I jolt at his words, sending water sloshing over the side of the tub.
“You have to stop sneaking up on me, Drake.”
“I wasn’t sneaking. You were just distracted. For real, though, are you warm enough?”
“I am. How long until the soup is ready?” I ask, watching on in delight as he begins shedding his clothes.
“I’ve got it simmering. Should only need about another twenty minutes.”
“Yeah, okay. Great.” I trip over my words, distracted by all the skin on display as Drake stands there in his boxer briefs. “Sounds good. Perfect.”
“Little Bit, you’re babbling.” He moves to get a towel and holds it out to me.
Using my big toe, I pop the drain and stand from the water. His eyes rake over my body like hot coals, but he makes no move to touch me other than wrapping me in the towel and offering me his hand to step over the side of the tub.
“I’m gonna rinse off while you get dressed, and then we can eat. I might even have a surprise for you.”
“I hate surprises,” I deadpan.
“Well aware, but this one is different.”
Rolling my eyes, I leave the bathroom without another word. We’ll see if I like this surprise or not soon enough.
34
Azalea
I’m in the kitchen spooning our soup into bowls when Drake strolls in and plops himself down into a chair at the table.
Placing our bowls on the table, I slide into the chair next to him. “So, about this surprise.”
“Nope,” he drawls, popping the P. “Not gonna tell you. So, hush up and eat.” I purse my lips and glare at him, but he just laughs. “You keep sticking that lip out at me, and I’m gonna bite it.”
“You say that like it’s a threat,” I smart back to him, hoping he’ll take the bait. Because why wouldn’t I want his lips on mine?
“Not happenin’, Bit. Eat up.”
Ugh. “Fine.” We lapse into a comfortable silence, the kind that speaks to two people so familiar with each other that words aren’t always needed. The kind that’s a prelude to what’s to come.
Once we’re both full and happy, I clear away our bowls while Drake goes to set up my surprise. The fact that it needs setting up really piques my interest, and I’m half-tempted to peek, but I know that will upset him. Lord knows, I’ve done enough of that, and I’m not looking to do any more.
With nothing to do but wait, I reclaim my seat at the table and tap out a message to Myla Rose, checking on how things are going at home. She replies instantly, filling me in on everyone. And I do mean everyone.
She brags on Brody, telling me how he’s able to lift his head and hold it up during tummy time and that he smiles a big gummy smile at the sound of her voice.
She tells me that Cash scored a new carpentry contract with a bed and breakfast in town that wants to order a new desk for the check-in area.
She tells me that Seraphine’s been busy spending time with her dad as his health continues declining. This bit of news hurts my heart, seeing as how her dad is all she really has, other than Magnolia.
She also tells me that Simon offered to give Magnolia driving lessons, but she’s yet to take him up on them. This tidbit may be the most interesting of all.
I text her back, thanking her for the update, and let her know that things are going well here and that we should be home sometime tomorrow.
Just as I set my phone down onto the table, Drake calls my name from somewhere in the house. I head in the general direction and find him hovering just outside the back door with a thick plaid blanket in his arms. “C’mon out here. I got a fire goin’, and this”—he nods to the blanket—“will keep us warm.”
I follow him out onto the deck, and he leads me over to the small fire pit. “I thought we could make s’mores.” He sounds unsure of himself, and it pinches at my heart.
Wordlessly, I take the blanket from him and lower myself down onto the cushion on the boards. I drape the blanket over myself and gesture for him to join me. “You’re right. I love it.”
He glances upward and mouths out what looks like “Thank God” before settling himself down next to me.
After we’ve gorged on more s’mores than any human should eat, we lie back and look at the stars. The view is truly amazing without the lights of the city dulling the shine of the night sky. We spend an hour or two pointing out what we think are constellations, but mostly, I think we’re just making up our own, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Being here with him is magical, a second chance I’m not sure I fully deserve, but one I’m certainly not going to waste.
“So, what’s next?” I ask Drake once we’re back inside, cozied up on the couch together.
“We can either go into town and watch the fireworks, or we can stay home and watch them from here.”
For me, it’s a no-brainer. Here, he’s all mine. I don’t have to share him. “Here. Let’s stay here.”
“I was hoping you’d say that.” We kill time talking about everything and nothing all at once. And when we tire of talking with words, we let our bodies speak for us.
“Do you think it’ll always be like this?” I ask him, kissing my way across his throat.
“With you? Always.” He winds my hair in his fist and tugs my face up to his before bringing his lips down on mine.
We spend what feels like hours relearning every part of one another, shedding our clothes along the way until we’re skin-to-skin.
“It’s almost midnight,” Drake rasps against my skin.
“So, it is,” I whisper, straddling his thighs with mine. I hover above him, our bodies lined up in all the right ways. “I’ve missed this—us,” I tell him as I kiss my way up his chest.
“Me too, Bit. So damn much.” He trails the tips of his rough fingers up and down
the column of my spine, his touch featherlight.
“I get it now—you know that, right? Being like this with you has always been amazing, but it’s not everything. It’s an added benefit that comes along with owning your heart.”
Slowly, he drags his fingers from my back to the edge of my breasts, torturing me. Teasing me. “That’s right. It’s eleven fifty-nine,” he tells me, his voice low and rough in my ear.
Laying my lips against his cheek, I begin counting down. “Five . . . four . . . three . . . two . . .”
Together, we whisper, “One,” and as the fireworks explode over the lake, I sink down onto him, reveling in the way we fit together like two pieces of a puzzle.
“Oh, God,” I moan as he grips my ass while I move my hips in tight circles. “So good. I . . .” I pause, realizing the weight of this moment. While I’ve told him I loved him, I’ve never said it with him moving inside me. “I love you, Drake.”
He lets out an almost primal growl, flipping us so that he’s in control. “Say it again,” he demands, driving into me.
“I love you.” I pant the words, barely able to think past the pleasure he’s bringing me.
“That’s right. Only me. Now and forever.”
“Only you,” I promise him. “Always—” My words fall away as I fall apart beneath him, and I swear, as he follows behind me, I hear him murmur, “Happy New Year, Little Bit.”
35
Drake
We’re four weeks into the new year and things are fucking amazing. If I’m not working on the farm, I’m with Azalea. We split our time between friends, families, and alone time—my favorite. Even better, Azalea and her girls breezed past the drama with Kelly and Kasey and easily accepted them into their fold, claiming the more the merrier.
And I’m not gonna lie, it’s awesome getting to hang with all of my friends at the same time, not having to pick and choose. Hell, sometimes, when the girls get together at an event and they get to talking, I’ll catch them all looking over at me, looking guilty as hell, like they’re all sharing secrets about me.
I. Love. It.
Life is good, and come Valentine’s Day, it’s only gonna get better.
“Y’all doing anything for the fourteenth?” I ask Cash, laid back in Simon’s recliner.
“Think we’re gonna stay at the house with Brody and chill. He’s been extra clingy lately.” He twists toward me from his spot on the couch. “What about y’all?”
“We’ve got plans. Azalea doesn’t know it yet, but we definitely have plans.”
“Oh, yeah? What?” Cash asks as he pops a cocktail weenie into his mouth.
“You let me worry about that, brother.”
Cash goes to respond, but Simon walks in, two beers in his right hand and a Coke in his left. “Y’all gonna sit around and gossip all day, or are we gonna watch some football?”
Cash rolls his eyes, because he couldn’t give two shits that it’s Super Bowl Sunday. He’s just here to chill, and probably for the food. “Yeah, yeah, shut it.”
“I’m for real, though. Y’all’re sitting around like a bunch of girls yappin’ about your V-Day plans. Hell, listening to you two, you’d think the girls were here already.”
Smirking, I cut my eyes to him. “Just you wait. One day, you’ll be just as damn sappy. You know what they say, ‘The bigger they are, the harder they fall.’”
He snorts out a laugh, not taking my words to heart. But I mean every single one. I know Simon keeps his feelings under lock and key, but I also know he feels ten times bigger than the rest of us.
We’re thirty minutes from kick-off when Myla Rose and Brody arrive, Azalea in tow. Cash stands and heads straight for his wife and son while I let Azzy come to me.
“Where’s Magnolia?” Simon asks just as the sickening sound of metal crushing metal ricochets through the house. “The hell was that?” Simon jumps up from the couch, rushing toward the front porch, all of us hot on his heels.
Flinging open the front door, he finds Seraphine on the other side, her eyes frantic. “Simon!” Her voice is high and panicked. “Oh–oh my God. Help! I called 9-1-1, but I need . . . She’s stuck. It was an accident . . .” Seraphine’s words are barely coherent through all of her distress.
“What? What was an accident?” Simon steps around Seraphine, pausing at the top step of his porch before taking off at a full run toward the side of the yard where he parks his truck.
“Stay here!” I tell the rest of our group as I take off after him, shocked as shit when I find Magnolia’s rusty little Honda crushed up like a soda can, the tailgate of Simon’s truck wrapped around it like a bow. “What the hell? Is she okay?”
“I don’t know! I can’t get her door open,” Simon yells, yanking on the crippled metal with all his might.
Seraphine approaches us cautiously. “I followed her here, since she’s not the best driver. I’m not sure what happened. It’s almost like she missed the brake and hit the gas instead and lost control. Is she okay?”
“I–I don’t know.” Simon sounds utterly defeated.
Two seconds later, the sound of sirens fills the air and Simon’s yard is littered with emergency vehicles.
I stand helplessly with Seraphine and Simon while the emergency workers cut away the door to Magnolia’s car. We look on with bated breath as they help her from the car, loading her directly onto a backboard. “I–I’m fine,” she croaks out.
At the sound of her voice, it’s like an invisible thread snaps, and Simon rushes to her side. “Bet you wish you’d taken me up on those driving lessons, huh, Goldilocks?”
Magnolia tries to smile at him, but it comes out as more of a grimace. “A–are you m–mad at me?” she asks, tears streaking down her face.
“No. Never,” he tells her, gently brushing her hair back from her forehead.
“Sir, we’ve gotta get her loaded up. You’re welcome to follow us.” The three of us watch as they load Magnolia into the back of the ambulance, Seraphine’s face a mask of worry and Simon’s jaw clenching in anger.
“Jesus Christ,” Simon mutters, rubbing his hands over his face. “Drive me?”
Seraphine nods, and Simon looks to me. “Take care of shit here and lock up?”
“You know it, brother. Get outta here.” Simon and Seraphine load up into her RAV4 as I head back to the porch.
The minute Azalea sees me, she takes off at a sprint. “What happened? The police officers wouldn’t let us leave the porch. Is Magnolia okay?”
Wrapping her in my arms, I drop a kiss to the top of her head. “Take a breath, Little Bit, and I’ll tell y’all what I know.” Together, we walk back to the porch, and I gesture for everyone to follow me inside.
“What in the hell happened?” Cash asks, pacing the length of Simon’s living room.
I catch them up on what Seraphine told us, and without anyone asking if I need a hand, they all spring into action, helping me clean up, the Super Bowl long-forgotten, and once Simon’s house is spotless, I pull out my phone and dial him up.
“Hey,” he answers after a few rings, sounding weary.
“How is she? Want us to come up?”
“Banged up, a few cuts and bruises, a possible concussion. They’ll be discharging her in a little while. Y’all just go on home. She’s resting, and I kind of want to be alone.”
“I hear ya. I’ll tell everyone. You send Seraphine home too?”
“I did. I’ll update y’all tomorrow.”
“All right, let me know if y’all need anything before then.” Simon promises he will, and we end the call.
“Simon says they’ll discharge her in a bit and that she’s resting. He also asked us to stay home. So . . .”
Myla Rose walks over with a sleeping Brody and presses a quick kiss to my cheek. “Keep us in the loop, D.” Cash follows behind her, offering a handshake on his way past, a somber look on his face.
“My place or yours?” Azalea asks, resting her head on my shoulder, as if she can sense
I need the contact.
“Yours is closer. I’ll follow you there.”
36
Azalea
It’s been ten days since Magnolia’s accident, and while her physical injuries were minimal, it seemed to have a huge emotional impact on her. Myla Rose and I told her to take as much time as she needed in getting back to work, and we truly meant it.
The only down side is how busy I am tending to both my clients and hers. In the short amount of time she’s been here, she’s built herself up quite a following, and most days, I’m working from eight in the morning until nine at night.
It feels like the only time I see Drake is for a quick dinner before I crash into bed each night, and I miss him like no other. Luckily, he made sure well in advance that I would be off no later than four today for whatever Valentine’s Day surprise he has up his sleeve for me.
I’ve been an anxious mess over it. Because while I generally hate surprises, he’s never let me down with one of his.
“Do you know what he has planned?” Myla Rose asks as she wraps my hair around the barrel of her curling iron.
“Not a clue. It’s killin’ me!”
“Hmm. Something tells me you’ll like it.”
“Wait a damn minute! Do you know?” I glare at her reflection in the mirror.
“Ma-a-aybe,” she singsongs, drawing the word out.
“You little—”
“Oh, hush up, AzzyJo,” Seraphine hollers from the reception desk. “You’re gonna love it.”
“You all know? Jesus. Who doesn’t know?”
Seraphine and Myla Rose exchange knowing glances before Myla smirks at me. “You.”
“Ugh. Whatever. Finish my hair, hooker. I need to get home and put on my face.”
