by J. S. Scott
For a while, he’d thought that his unquenchable craving was due the fact that, ever since middle school, Bobby had had a serious thing for Sophie Hunter. Even during elementary school, he’d always thought she was cute. Whenever she’d come over to Bobby’s house with her brother, Nick, who was best friends with Jason, he remembered that she’d follow him around, talking nonstop about girl stuff. She’d tell him about a new dress she’d just gotten, some drama that had been going on with the girls at their school, or what grade she’d received on her spelling test. He’d loved hearing her ramble on and on. Not because he cared about what she was saying because he usually wasn’t even paying attention. No, Bobby remembered, even when he was as young as ten years old, loving the sound of Sophie’s voice.
And not just her voice—he also loved her larger-than-life facial expressions. Everything Sophie was feeling was displayed on her face. Maybe he’d been drawn to her like a moth to a flame because, although Bobby felt things deeply, he’d never been good at expressing himself. If self-expression were an Olympic sport, Sophie would have walked away with the gold, hands down, even when she was eight.
But then, when Bobby was in eighth grade and Sophie had started sixth, everything had changed. He stopped just enjoying the time he’d spent around her and started looking forward to it and even being disappointed if a day went by when he hadn’t seen her smile, heard her laugh, watched her brow furrow in concentration, or smelled the sweet scent that was uniquely Sophie. He’d thought about her constantly. Sophie Hunter had consumed Bobby’s thoughts every second of every minute of every day since he was thirteen years old.
Unfortunately, it had taken him over a decade to act on those feelings. Part of that was because, even though Bobby had never been at a loss for female companionship, he had never really been the pursuer. Since he could remember, girls had just always been available and more than willing to do whatever Bobby had wanted. He still attributed a lot of that to the trail his four older brothers had blazed by making the Sloan name legendary by the time he’d made it to kindergarten. Seth was the mysterious, brooding, strong, silent one. Riley was the wild bad boy. Jason was the town’s Romeo, or Casanova, depending on who you asked, and Alex was the charismatic playboy. Following that lineup had been a panty-dropping no-brainer.
He’d gotten the distinct feeling that all the girls he’d ‘dated’ in middle school and high school had cast him in whatever role they’d wanted him to be. They hadn’t seen him or wanted to be with him. They’d just been happy to be with a Sloan brother, and because Bobby was quiet, it had made it easy for those girls to invent what or who he was. Which had been fine with Bobby as a teenager. He hadn’t wanted them to see the real him. And he’d still gotten laid. A lot. And he never had to let anyone in. His role in those girls’ lives had had a lot more to do with them than it ever had with him.
Every girl except Sophie. From the time she’d started following him around in overalls and pigtails, when she’d look at him, he’d felt like she saw him. Which had naturally scared the shit out of him.
Bobby’s phone dinged with a text that read, ‘Almost ready.’
His lips turned up at the corners in amusement. Sophie’s text might have seemed like just a friendly update, but Bobby knew better. That was her version of a ‘do not disturb’ sign. Under normal circumstances, her warning would have been a necessary evil. Usually, he would be heading into their house any second to expedite their departure. Not tonight.
No. Tonight, Bobby would wait, semi-patiently, for his wife. The alternative being his going into that house and delaying their trip by at least a few hours.
Chapter Four
After fifteen minutes of waiting, Bobby was just getting out of the SUV, thinking maybe he should stretch his legs in the hope that some of the blood that had rushed to his midsection would disperse, when the door leading into the house opened and a flash of blonde hair, shimmering in the overhead light, fanned out as Sophie appeared for a moment. She made brief eye contact but then turned around and bent over at the waist to pick up the overnight bag she’d set down beside her. The innocent movement caused her ass to shoot up in the air on display and forced a whole heap of not-so-innocent thoughts to begin racing through Bobby’s head. Her ass was round and firm, causing Bobby to instantly swell beneath the zipper of his jeans as his mouth watered.
After stepping out of the driver’s side of the car, Bobby met Sophie at the garage door that led into their house in two long strides. His fingers wrapped around the handle of her bag and he pulled it away from her, careful not to let his hand graze hers. If he felt her soft, smooth skin, he knew the tiny thread of control he was exercising would snap and he’d push her up against the wall and take her. Hard.
Seeming to be completely unaware of his hormonal war raging just below the surface, Sophie smiled as explanations began pouring out of her mouth. “Thanks, baby. Sorry I’m late. I’ve had the craziest day. It just got away from me. Have you ever had one of those days where you’re focused on your work and you think a half hour, maybe an hour has passed, but you notice the time and several hours have flown by? That was my day. Before I knew it…”
The sound of Sophie’s voice warmed him from the inside out, spreading through his veins like a shot of whiskey on a cold, snowy day. He was only half listening as he moved to the back of the SUV, popped open the tailgate, and set Sophie’s deep-purple overnight bag beside his plain, black one. It wasn’t that he was intentionally ignoring her because he didn’t care about what she was saying or because he thought what she was saying was boring. In fact, it wasn’t even something he consciously did. It just happened whenever she started one of her long-winded speeches. It had been that way since they were kids. Bobby instantly relaxed at the sound of her voice.
Once he had closed the tailgate, he walked to the passenger side door, maintaining ironclad control as he lifted the handle and held the door open for Sophie to step up. Taking her hand, he helped her, his eyes immediately traveling to the slope of her slender calf, the dip of her ankle, and the sexy line of her foot in her black high heels. Desire poured over him and his hands twitched at the need to touch her soft skin. Her sweet, fresh scent of coconut and vanilla wafted through the air as her silky hair lightly brushed against his forearm.
Bobby clenched his jaw as he reminded himself that, in just a few hours, he would be able to touch that soft hair, tangle his fingers through it, and fist his hands around it. He fisted his hands as he made his way back to his side of the truck. He could practically feel her smooth strands on his palms.
Blood was pounding in his head from pent-up arousal as he settled into the driver’s seat and started the engine. When he did, he heard Sophie’s voice stop. A small twinge of panic gripped his chest, but luckily, Bobby was a pro. He hadn’t heard anything Sophie had just said, but he had noticed that her tone had gone up an octave before she’d grown quiet. Best guess was that she wanted him to agree with her. Since he didn’t have any idea what he would be agreeing to, Bobby decided to go with his good ol’ faithful.
“Mmm hmm.”
Sophie’s hands flew up and her face grew animated once again as she said, “I know, right?! Can you believe that?”
Score one for ol’ faithful. Bobby felt his lips twitch. He’d picked up quite a few handy go-to tools since he and Sophie had gotten married, but that one was by far the one he got the most mileage out of. Bobby looked over his shoulder as he began pulling out of the garage. The minutes until he could get Sophie alone in their hotel room were ticking in his head like a bomb that was going to go off. Which was exactly what he felt like.
Time was such a funny thing. It could drag on and on, endlessly, speed by in a flash, or slip through your fingers like sand. The years he’d spent pining after Sophie had seemed to drag on forever, but the years he’d spent with her were passing at warp speed.
Convinced that she and Bobby were on the same page from his generic response, Sophie continued passionately. “I mean
, I totally understand the need for security and the last thing that I would ever want to be is a pain in the ass, but there was just no way that I was going to get strip-searched by some greasy—”
White-hot fury consumed Bobby. Without any premeditation, his foot slammed on the brake as he whipped his head around. “Someone tried to strip-search you?” He didn’t raise his voice. In fact, it was totally calm. Deadly calm.
Sophie’s brows drew together in confusion as she shook her head slightly. “No. Lydia, the woman on the plane this morning, said that happened to her.”
“Oh, right.” He nodded as he continued down their driveway and turned onto the street, bracing himself for the lecture he was sure was coming about how he wasn’t listening. Which was totally fair—he hadn’t been listening.
Instead of calling him on it, Sophie surprised him by turning back in her seat and going on with her story. “So yeah… I just thought that was crazy. And I meant to get caught up on all my work on the flight, but instead, I spent the entire time talking to Lydia…”
Bobby glanced over at Sophie as they pulled up to the stoplight. She was now telling him about the morning meeting with vendors in Chicago that she and Amber had gone to, which was why he hadn’t been the one to pick her up from the airport. He studied her profile for a moment and noticed that something was definitely off with her. She seemed distracted and anxious. If he didn’t know any better, he would say she was nervous.
“Are you okay?” Concern filled Bobby’s baritone voice. The light had turned green, but there were no cars behind him on the frontage road, so he stayed put.
“What?” Sophie spun her head towards him, a defensive spark in her eye.
“You seem…amped up.” Bobby, sensing that he needed to tread lightly in the emotional landmine he’d just stepped onto, was careful not to use any negative words like distracted, anxious, or nervous even though those definitely more accurately described her demeanor.
“I’m just excited to be getting away.” Sophie shrugged, her tone reading much closer to irritated than excited.
Before he had a chance to follow up with another question, he saw lights in his rearview and checked to make sure the light hadn’t turned red before proceeding and then turning onto the on-ramp to the highway.
Sophie continued describing her day, and Bobby made sure not to let his mind wander. Something was off with his wife and she obviously was not going to offer up any explanations, so he needed any clue he could get. Unfortunately, after twenty minutes, the only thing he’d been able to deduct was that something was definitely off. Which was exactly where he had started.
Yes, Sophie loved to talk, but she was usually very engaged in what she was saying. Now, it seemed like she was verbally running on a talking treadmill and she couldn’t get off.
Hmm. Get off. That gave him an idea.
* * * *
Sophie knew she needed to calm down. Take a breath. Just be quiet. But all she could seem to do was talk incessantly. No matter how many times she told herself to zip it, hush, and shut up, words just kept pouring out of her mouth like water from a dam that had burst. Honestly, she had no flippin’ idea if she was even making sense.
When Bobby had asked if someone had tried to strip-search her, she had to do a Google search in her mind to figure out what in the world he could have been talking about. Then she remembered Lydia and her conversation with her on the plane and realized she must have been talking about that.
Her mind felt completely disconnected from the rest of her body. It was like she was talking on autopilot. She wished she would shut up on autopilot, but apparently, her off switch was on the fritz. From the second she’d stepped out into the garage and saw Bobby getting out of the SUV, her heart had been racing like Road Runner and her mind had been screaming a continuous chorus of, I’m pregnant! I’m pregnant! I’m pregnant! Maybe she kept talking because she was afraid that, if she stopped, Bobby would be able to hear her inner thoughts. He did have an uncanny ability to read Sophie’s mind.
Hey, that was an idea. She’d been trying to figure out a way to break the news to her husband, the one who had specifically stated on their first date that he never wanted children, that she was knocked up. She was with child. There was a bun in her oven. Maybe, if she just sat quietly, he’d read her mind and figure it out all on his own. He would take care of breaking the news all by himself.
“Sophie?” Bobby’s voice cut through her mind’s borderline-manic state.
“What?” she asked, wincing at the fact that she’d snapped at him once again as nerves started bubbling up at why he said her name so sternly.
Had she just said what she’d been thinking out loud?
Did he know she was pregnant?
Maybe she’d just told him without even meaning to…
“Did you get my text?” he asked in a tone that made her feel like he might be repeating himself.
Obviously, she hadn’t been following along, too busy dealing with her merry-go-round of crazy thoughts that was circling around in the funhouse she called her mind. Knowing that, in her current state, she didn’t have a great shot at figuring out the puzzle that was this conversation, she decided to ask Vanna for a vowel.
“What text?”
Bobby’s eyes shifted briefly to Sophie before returning his attention to the road and the look she saw in his baby blues caused every cell in her body to come alive with sensation.
“Oh,” she half-gasped, half-whispered.
In that split-second glance, the primal, hungry glint in Bobby’s gaze had made it crystal clear exactly what text he was referring to. It had to do with a certain undergarment that he’d requested she not wear. Now, her heart was beating rapidly for an entirely different—much more fun!—reason. Her mind went blank as all thoughts of anything other than the fact that she was in fact panty-less fled from her consciousness as she answered quietly, “Yes.”
Sophie stared at her husband’s strong profile. The only signs that he had heard were the slight flare of his nostrils and his jaw setting as it tightened. As she licked her lips with anticipation as to what action her response would garner, the rest of the world disappeared and she waited, captivated by Bobby’s mere presence. He held himself with quiet control, which was probably one of, if not the sexiest things in the world.
Seconds ticked by and, still, Bobby had not responded. Sophie shifted in her seat, the leather squeaking beneath the small patch of skin that was bare between her skirt and the back of her knee. Her eyes traveled below his square jawline, down his neck, and across his broad shoulder. She continued her visual journey down the curve of his rounded shoulder over his muscled bicep, the cotton of his shirt stretched taut against the bulge that resided on his upper arm at all times, even when he was totally relaxed and not flexing. The thudding of her heart steadily continued to increase in frequency and force as her body responded to what she was seeing.
Sophie’s eyes drifted farther down Bobby’s arm. She took in the sprinkling of black hairs on his sculpted forearms as her gaze flitted over the defined, muscled line that ran from his elbow to his thick wrists. Mmm. Those wrists had always been a serious turn-on to her.
She’d first noticed them when she started sixth grade at Great Oaks Middle School. When her locker had gotten jammed during the second week in school, Bobby had happened to be passing by. Sophie remembered that she’d given him a sheepish smile—feeling more than a little embarrassed that he’d witnessed her cursing like a sailor because her books were being held prisoner by a stupid metal box that was jammed. Without saying a word, he stopped directly behind Sophie and reached around her, his arms encasing her. Then he pulled the lock up in one swift, jerking movement, freeing the latch and causing the door to swing open. He hadn’t removed his arms for several heart-stopping, breath-catching beats. They had remained in their encompassing position. If she’d had a magic spell she could have cast to freeze time in that moment, she would have happily cast it without any concern
for what the repercussions would have been. She’d wanted that moment, that feeling of total safety and heightened excitement, to last forever.
Luckily, Sophie wasn’t a princess in one of the fairytales she’d always loved to read, because if she were, that would have been the moment she would have given up her voice to the sea witch or taken the apple from the woman with the large nose. Instead of freezing time, the moment passed with Bobby releasing his arms and her spinning around to face him to find that he was already walking away. In the moment it was happening, all she was able to register was how good it had felt to be surrounded by such a strong presence, which, even at the young age of thirteen, Bobby already possessed.
But as soon as the initial shock of the experience wore off, she couldn’t get his thick wrists, which her eyes had been glued to while he’d freed the lock, out of her mind. They made her feel things that, up until that point in her eleven years, she’d never felt. For weeks—months, even—every time the image of his solid wrists popped into her head, Sophie’s stomach did flips, her skin would break out in goose bumps, and a fluttering tingle would erupt low in her belly. Thinking back now, she realized that those were all signs of arousal, but at the time, she hadn’t known what in the heck was going on in her prepubescent body. All she’d known was that she’d liked how thinking about that particular part of Bobby’s anatomy had made her feel.
Now, all these years later, those wrists still held the same power over her. Maybe it was because they were the first things that had ever given her any sexual feelings. Maybe it was just because they were hot as sin. Or maybe it was because she now knew the amount of sheer pleasure the large, talented hands that were attached to said wrists could bring her. Speaking of hands, Sophie noticed that Bobby’s long fingers opened and closed, flexing around the steering wheel, causing the ripple of veins that ran across the back of Bobby’s hand to pop out.
