***
As he sat through the morning, propped up against the headboard of her bed and watched her sleep nestled in his arms, Hoss had steadily reminded himself he needed to slow this thing between them down, whatever it was. Being fascinated by her was something he could do, but the insane way his hands had itched to get on her skin today wasn’t him. He was the easygoing guy, not an obsessed man who would take advantage of a woman.
When he walked back into her bedroom to find her naked except for her tiny, white panties, he had to dig deep to find that guy. Had to rein himself in, let the good guy take over again, because the man who walked in to see her like that wanted to touch her, taste her, tame her…love her. It was a damn good thing he had already taken off his cut and folded it on her dresser, because if it had taken a moment longer to strip off his shirt and pull it over her head, hiding her form, he didn’t know if he could have controlled himself.
Now, watching as she slowly woke, stretching and sighing, twisting sensuously around in the bed right beside him, he was questioning his decision. Because, really, she was too damn appealing, and as he told Fury, the sweet wrapped up in the beautiful was something he found himself wanting more than he would ever have believed possible. He liked every side of Hope he had encountered so far, whether she was awake and sassy, tired and sweet, or brave and defiant, and he suspected he would be willing to take her however he could find her.
Lying beside him, her eyes flew open at his greeting and she stared up at him in confusion, and then her gaze darted to the other bed in the room. Yeah, I need to call Myron and Jase about a three-bedroom again, he thought, already beginning to discount the idea of slowing things down. “He’s watching cartoons on the DVR, sweetheart.” Gaze back on him, her chin dipped until she saw the unfamiliar t-shirt covering her, and those damn eyes came back to him. She lifted one hand to the neckline of the shirt, tugging it out slightly to glance inside, and then he had her wide eyes looking back up at him as she tucked it close to her chest.
“Ask your question, sweetheart,” he urged, watching as her eyes traced his bare torso, her gaze pausing on his chest, then his shoulders, then up to his face. He waited patiently, but when it was clear her mouth was not opening anytime soon, he shook his head. “You were sleeping when I came back in, and I didn’t want to go digging through your drawers. So I put my shirt on you, baby.”
“Oh,” she said, lips shaping the sound quietly. She lifted her head, preparatory to moving away from him, and he cupped his hand around her shoulder, holding her in place. Fingertips firmly stroking up and down the back of her neck, he grinned when she rewarded him with a small groan, closing her eyes and stretching her muscles.
“You sore, baby?” He continued the massage, enjoying the play of muscles and heat underneath his hand. He groaned silently when she bowed her neck a little more, the pressure from her head too near his rapidly thickening cock. Bastard, slow it down, remember? The thought had barely flashed through his head when he felt the hand she had shoved underneath his leg curl up and around high on the inside of his thigh. Fucking shit. Closing his eyes, he blocked out the sight of her lying beside him, covered by his soft, clinging tee. He had to distract himself. “When do you work again?”
“Tomorrow morning,” she whispered. “Unless Alyssa is sick again and they need me to cover her shift. Today, I have shopping to do, plus laundry and stuff, and then it’ll be back to the diner in the morning at five.”
“You were exhausted when you got home,” he said quietly. He had watched as she drove into the parking lot last night, her gaze skipping past him as she backed into her parking spot. Dead on her feet, she hadn’t even been able to stay awake long enough to change clothes. As far as he knew, she was only working the diner, and he could manage things for her there so she would have more time off if he needed to. He wanted her rested and sweet, and wanted her to have time for him, because the more he saw of her, the more he wanted with her. Fuck slow.
“Yeah,” she yawned, covering her mouth with one hand. “Thank you for helping me out earlier and with Sammy. Sorry you got saddled with my snorefest. It is probably not what you had planned when you came by to see Mercy. Did you talk to her this morning? Is she up yet?”
“Baby,” he said. “You were out of it, weren’t you? Told you earlier I didn’t come by to see her.” He saw the confusion on her face and grinned down at her. “I gotta head out for a little while, take care of a couple of errands, but I’ll be back this afternoon. Make sure you’re home by three, okay?” He reached down, and lifting her head off his leg, shoved a pillow underneath it and rolled, moving to the edge of the bed. He stood and then bent over, letting his lips brush the top of her head. “See you in a bit, baby.”
***
She was standing in the freezer section of the grocery store and knew there was a big smile on her face, and she found, at this moment, she simply didn’t care if she had a goofy look on her face. Or who might see her smiling like a loon at the frozen foods arrayed in colorful and tidy rows on shelves behind the glass. She was grocery shopping, because they didn’t have much in the way of groceries in the house. Both she and Mercy had been working odd and long hours, which did not leave a lot of time for doing things like shopping. Sleep had been more critical, most days.
She was also grocery shopping alone, which was—while she loved Sammy with every fiber of her being—a joy in and of itself. That was because Sammy did not like shopping and evidenced this with each forced moment by sighing and asking every couple of minutes if they could be done yet. Right now, instead of shopping, he was at the apartment with Mercy, who he had rooked into watching cartoons with him.
Solo shopping was not why she wore the happy expression while standing in the frozen food section, positioned midway down the aisle between the two banks of freezers. That would have to do with what she held in her hand more than anything else did.
She glanced down at the list, and her smile grew. Tacked onto the end of today’s list were three items. You could tell they were tacked on, because the handwriting didn’t match the rest of the list, where there were already two different samples. Her writing filled most of the space, where neat letters and shorthand notes abounded. She had written things like T.P., and yogo, can g. beans, and bread. The second sample, which was large and uneven, with big, loopy letters, had inserted first the name of a sugary cereal, and then a demand for cookies.
The notes inscribed in the final handwriting sample were sausage pizza, corndogs, and o. rings. Written with strong strokes, the bold, blue ink lay on the paper in fat lines, spelling out sausage pizza, which had been underlined once, corndogs, bearing doubles lines of ink beneath them, and also carrying the extra emphasis of an exclamation mark, but the o. rings was what had pulled the smile to her face. O. rings was not only underlined and marked, but also had four precisely drawn arrows pointing towards it, the arrows of varying lengths so they fit neatly alongside each other.
Someone liked onion rings. A lot. Hope suspected Sammy had enlisted the help of one easy-going Hossman to provide purchasing power for the final three items, because they were some of Sammy’s favorite foods. While she had placed cereal in her cart, it was a far different brand from the dessert masquerading as breakfast food he had wanted, and she had bypassed the cookies altogether. This was behavior Sammy could predict, because it was normal for her. She suspected he knew if she thought Hoss wanted these final three things, she would be more likely to buy them.
Glancing down at the list again, she then transferred her gaze to the cart, laden with food. On top of the mounded pile in the basket was proof of Sammy’s manipulative success, with two boxes of bake-at-home pizza, a decent sized package of corndogs such as you would buy at the county fair, and an extra-large plastic bag of onion rings.
She glanced at the time on her phone, pushing the cart to the register. It was nearly three, and she still had to make one more stop before heading home.
Forty-five minutes later, she
saw Hoss’ bike was back in the lot as she parked and, glancing around, noticed Mercy’s car was gone. Because of that, she wasn’t surprised to find Hoss in the living room when she let herself in, arms laden with bags, the plastic handles cutting into her wrists.
“Sam, let’s help your momma bring in the groceries,” he said when his gaze landed on her and she smiled. “You help her unload this batch; I’ll go see what else she has in the car.”
“Mooom.” Sammy was clearly annoyed when he turned to see her struggling with the door. “You’re supposed to come get me to help.” He leapt to his feet, sprinting across the room to take three of the bags from her arm. He was right; it was their normal deal, but she had been distracted by the sight of Hoss’ bike sitting there, gleaming chrome pipes and what looked like a fresh wax job on the tank and fenders.
She had squatted next to the last sack of groceries and was tossing canned goods one slow arc at a time to Sammy. He would right the cans and place them on the shelves of the pantry. The doorbell rang and he reached up, grabbing the last can out of the air, and turned to run towards the door, can in hand, yelling, “I’ll get it.”
From directly behind her, she heard Hoss say, “You and me, Hope? We’re going for a ride. That’ll be Lucia, the daughter of one of my brothers. I think you’ve met Bear, yeah?” She twisted her head to look at him, wondering what he meant by going for a ride. Instead of asking him, she nodded, because she had met Bear. His wife was Eddie, the woman who had helped her make huge inroads with the school on Sammy’s behalf. She was working alongside Hope to get everything straightened out so he could start school with his age group in a couple of weeks. Citing exigent circumstances and providing testing results to show he would be able to do the appropriate grade-level work, Eddie was confident things were going to be okay. Lucia was Eddie and Bear’s adopted daughter, and the girl had recently moved to a spot high on her roster of trusted babysitters. Hearing Sammy’s happy shout, she knew Luce must have brought her younger brothers with her, Mickey and Roddy.
“Miguel,” she heard Lucia call, and Hope turned to see the three boys race into the living room, throwing themselves on the furniture as Sammy grabbed the TV remote. “Zapatas del sofas, nino. Feet on the floor, or shoes off. Miguel, Roderigo, what do you say to Sammy’s mama?”
“Hola, Miss Hope,” came in a disjointed chorus from the two boys, and she grinned.
“Hola, chicos. How are my favorite boys today?” She walked to the couch and tousled their dark, thick hair, drawing smiles from both boys. “What are you doing here, Luce?”
Lucia looked at her with a frown and Hope turned as she felt a large hand settle on her hip in a clearly possessive hold. Her breath hitched at the warm touch, but she didn’t say anything. Looking up at Hoss, who was standing close behind her, she raised an eyebrow questioningly. He laughed and told her, “She’s babysitting, so you and me can go for a ride.”
“A ride?” Her teeth worried at the inside of her cheek. Did he mean on his motorcycle? She remembered the black and chrome monster she had seen outside and shivered.
“Yeah, it’s too pretty a day to spend inside. I wanna show you the world from the back of my bike, baby.” His voice was quiet; he had leaned close and was speaking so near her ear the heat from his breath drifted across her skin. “Come on a ride with me, Hope. Let me introduce you to the wind.”
“Okay,” she whispered, and when he smiled in response, that brittle tightening in her chest happened again, not quite pain, it was more like anticipation. She loved seeing that look on his face, as if she had handed him the world in a word. “I’ve never ridden on a motorcycle before,” she warned him, and her words earned her another smile.
“Was counting on that, baby,” he said.
“Have fun,” Lucia called from her perch on the living room floor. “I got this under control, Hope. You go and have fun. Hoss will take care of you.”
At his recommendation, she grabbed a jacket and met him at the door, turning to see Sammy already so engrossed in the show on the TV he only waved a hand absently when she called goodbye. Outside, Hoss patiently explained the things she needed to know about the bike. Putting her hair up into a tight ponytail, she placed one foot on the peg he folded down for her and swung her leg over the bike behind him. She was attempting to leave a polite distance between them when his hands wrapped around her calves, and with a jerk, pulled her butt forward, tugging her in tightly against him. Feeling the heat of his body through her jeans, she tried to squirm backwards, but his hands held her firmly in place.
His voice held a hint of laughter as he said, “Hope, you gotta be still, baby. Your ass needs to be up here, so you can reach to wrap your arms around me to hold on. Give it a minute; get comfortable.” One hand released her leg, but the other continued to stroke slowly up and down her calf. She jerked when the bike started, the roar surprising her nearly as much as the vibration and movement underneath her butt.
This was kind of scary, but also kind of cool, and when he tilted back to talk to her again, his body pressing tight against hers, she thought it was also very sexy. “Lean up, baby. Grab hold of my waist. I’m gonna go slow and easy, but you need to hold on.”
Intrigued, she nodded and bent forward at the waist, pressing her chest into his back and tentatively sliding her arms around him. His hand left her leg and she felt his glove-covered palm wrap around her hand and give it a squeeze then both of his hands were on the grips. He did something with one foot, tilting the bike scarily over to the right-hand side for a moment before they began gliding smoothly forward.
Within minutes, they had rounded a half-dozen frightening corners and then were on a county highway, headed out of town. After a few miles, she found the steady thrumming under her butt was calming, and the confident way Hoss handled himself and the bike had her relaxing, leaning into and resting against him in a way she hadn’t let herself earlier.
Propping her chin on his shoulder as best she could, she watched the highway in front of them, ducking behind him when the wind began to bite. Looking out at the fields slipping by, the motion mesmerized her, and she was startled when a bike moved up beside them on the left. Hoss tensed for a moment, but then she felt him relax and wave at the other rider. Looking closer, she saw the same kind of patches on his jacket, knowing he must be a member of the Rebel Wayfarers.
She expected Hoss to slow and pull over, maybe stop and have a chat, but instead, the two men rode on nearly side-by-side for about thirty miles. Then the other rider scooted up beside them and gestured. Hoss waved at him again as the man fell behind, changing trajectory to move to a turn lane, pulling onto a smaller country road. Twisting slightly, she watched as the other rider accelerated up that road, the two men separating companionably without ever having spoken a word. Relaxing into Hoss again, she leaned her cheek against his back, once more mindlessly watching the scenery fly by, feeling the ends of her ponytail fluttering and whipping across the back of her neck.
Some time later, she felt a change in the bike’s movement and sat up, looking over Hoss’ shoulder again to see him pulling into a small park. She grinned, because the sight of the well-kept park confined in the middle of still-tall cornfields was strange. Scanning the lot, she saw they were the only vehicle there. She sat up straight, leaning slightly away from Hoss as he steered towards a cluster of picnic tables near what she hoped was a bathroom. He backed into a parking space and then killed the bike, holding it steady between his legs after he flipped down the kickstand. Reaching back with one hand, he called, “Step off, baby.”
She laughed to find her legs unsteady, her throat tightening when he gave her another one of those broad grins. He kept a hand on her arm while he leaned the bike, swinging his leg over and propping his butt on the seat, pushing his sunglasses up on top of his head. Tugging her to stand in between his legs, he asked, “You okay now, Hope?” She nodded and tried to step back, but his hands on her hips held her in place as she shrugged off her jacket, putti
ng it on the small passenger seat. Eyes level with hers, his gaze was searching when he asked, “Did you like the ride, baby?”
She couldn’t have stopped the grin that spread across her face if she had wanted to, and when he gave her another one of those smiles in response, she was oh-so glad she hadn’t tried. “Yeah,” she breathed, her throat feeling tight. “That was incredible, Hoss. I didn’t have any idea it would be like that.”
He gave a squeeze with his hands then nodded and released her. “I bet you don’t even know it yet, but you’ll need to hit the washroom.” Standing, he turned her and walked with her towards the building. “It’s usually pretty clean, but give me a holler if there are any critters inside.”
Walking back out, she was wiping her palms dry against the fabric of her jeans when she saw him lounging on top of one of the picnic tables. He had laid back flat, legs dangling over the edge, and seemed to be staring up at the blue sky. When he heard her footsteps, he sat up in one smooth movement, and the heat in his gaze took her breath. She stepped off the walkway towards the table and stopped after a couple of strides, suddenly unsure of herself. Wordlessly, he held out a hand, staring at her, and without giving herself time to think, she took those last few steps to place her hand in his, moving to him when he tugged her forward.
Eyes open, she was staring at his chest, reading the patches on his vest, when his fingers caught under her chin, lifting her face up. She had a moment to feel the sweep of his thumb over her lips before he covered her mouth with his. He wound his other hand around her ponytail, tugging her head backwards and deepening the kiss.
Without conscious thought, she found her hands resting on either side of his waist, fingers digging and twisting into his tee. Her breath was coming in heaving gasps when he pulled back, resting his forehead against hers. She had only a moment to think, What an amazing kiss, before he kissed her again, this time his tongue licking along the seam of her lips, probing and teasing. He murmured against her, “Open for me, baby.” When she did, granting him access, he groaned and his tongue swept against hers, possessing her.
Hoss (Rebel Wayfarers MC Book 7) Page 13
