Hotshot and Hospitality by Nora Everly
Chapter 18
Molly
“My day was hectic and busy and my feet still hurt from running around. And yours?” An exhilarated rush ran through me. I felt like I’d just taken a huge step forward. I hadn’t been one hundred percent honest with him yet. Meaning, I hadn’t confessed that I wanted to date him for real but was too scared to do it. I figured ninety percent honesty would be good enough until I got braver as long as I stayed honest with myself, like Jordan said.
“Better now that you’re here with me. And I have a fix for your feet too. Everett and I just put an old copper claw-foot tub in the bathroom. It’ll stay hot for hours. I could run you a bath? My mother brought by a bottle of lavender bath oil from the Hills’ farm stand. It hasn’t helped me sleep but it feels nice after a hard day.”
“That sounds wonderful.” I enjoyed picturing him naked in a tub of hot water, so much so that I shivered against him and wondered if it was too soon to ask him to get in there with me.
“Are you cold?” He rubbed his hand up and down my arm to warm me up.
“No, I’m fine. You’re like my own personal space heater. And I would love a bath. I only have a shower at my place. I can only take a bath if we have a vacancy at the inn.” I felt the rumble of his chuckle in his chest. Being close to him like this was almost too much to handle. His body was hard with muscle and he smelled so good.
“You got it.”
“What about you? You worked hard all day. Do you need a bath too?” What are you doing? Don’t invite him into your bubble bath fantasy! It’s too soon! RETREAT!
“I had a shower right before you got here, remember?”
“Of course. How could I forget that towel?” My only problem with the towel had been that it had never fallen off. But it had been low enough to give me a clear view of the gorgeous V that led down to the good stuff. So, I guess the towel and I were on good terms.
“Do you want to watch a movie and eat pie after your bath? Are you staying tonight?” He poked my side to give me a little tickle as he teased, just like he used to do when we were kids. Actually, that’s not right; when we were kids, he would hold me down and tickle me until I squirmed. He only quit doing it after I peed my pants and kneed him in the balls by accident. Good times.
“Hmm, I dunno. Like a sleepover? Or an overnight un-date?” I poked him back, but unfortunately, he wasn’t ticklish. He was hard as a rock and it made me want to feel up his abs.
“Let’s mix it up and see? I would never have expectations of you. I’ll let you know that up front, right now.” He was earnest. He didn’t need to explain himself; I knew him enough to trust him with my body. He would never take advantage of me or pressure me. But it was still great that he said it anyway.
“Thank you, I appreciate that. And I would never have expectations of you either. You can give it up whenever you’re ready, hotshot.”
He laughed so hard it almost rocked us out of the hammock. But he managed to swoop both arms around me and rock us back to center in a last-second save. “Oh god! Holy shit, Molly. I almost forgot about the crazy stuff that always comes out of your mouth.”
A smile flickered across my face at his laughter. “I am unable to censor myself. It is a huge character flaw,” I confessed.
“Hell no, it’s the best thing about you. What you see is what you get. I love it—always have.”
Good thing it was dark because I was blushing something fierce. Sometimes the bravado of my words didn’t reflect the way I felt on the inside. In other words, I often wrote checks my butt simply could not cash. “Well, I’m glad to hear that. Some would consider it my worst quality,” I joked.
“Some are just boring assholes. Fuck ’em.” He hugged me close and kissed the top of my head. I hugged him back and held on. I was suddenly emotional because of how good he had made me feel, not physically, but about myself as a person. Okay, not only about myself as a person. It felt pretty awesome to be wrapped up in his big arms like this and pressed up against all those muscles. I kind of never wanted to get up. He smelled good from his shower and he felt strong and solid against me. There were ten different kinds of feels coursing through my body right now and each one had its own sub-list of minor feels just waiting to be categorized and sorted into something that made sense. Ugh! I was like a periodic table of feelings or a horny science project.
I wasn’t even scared of the Yeti or the rodents of unusual size who were probably lurking beyond his little backyard picket fence. Aliens hadn’t crossed my mind even once. I felt safe with Garrett. I’d never felt safe like this with any other man before. Not once in my whole, entire dating life. Maybe this un-dating thing had merit; maybe he could be my non-boyfriend next.
“Should we go in?” I asked, finally breaking out of my thoughts.
“I don’t want to move. You feel too good in my arms.” He propped himself on an elbow to watch my face as he traced a fingertip down my hairline, ghosting across my chin to end up pressed gently against my lower lip. I pressed my lips together in a kiss and his eyes heated, blazing into mine with an intent I wanted to explore.
The starlit halo in the trees and the lights shining from his deck were our only illumination. His brown eyes glowed gold, while his straight nose and the sharply defined angle of his jawline were cast in a fascinating mixture of shadow and light. He was so beautiful; more beautiful than any man I’d ever seen. I reached up to brush the hair back from his face and he turned his lips into my palm to place a kiss there.
He wanted to kiss my mouth; I could tell. His lips had parted, and his gaze was unwavering and hot as he studied my face.
Did he wonder if I would let him?
No longer did I want to avoid his kiss, to avoid temptation. I wanted his mouth on mine, his hands on my skin. Everything about him was perfect, especially the way he made me feel. My heart raced as out of control as my thoughts, while wonderful ripples of desire spread through my body. “Garrett?”
“God, Molly. How I want you . . .” The words were a tortured groan. It was truth mixed with a warning.
My eyes drifted closed as the sensations he caused in my body gradually overwhelmed me. “I want you too,” I whispered. “Please—”
His head lowered but stopped before our lips could touch. My eyes flew open. “Are you saying you want me to kiss you?” he asked, breath against my lips, eyes locked to mine.
“Yes. Kiss me, Gar—" His mouth slamming against mine stole my remaining words. Rough at first, a declaration of intent. Then gentle as our lips and tongues swirled together, melty hot like a gooey caramel sundae and just as delicious.
This was everything a kiss should feel like: consuming, powerful, essential. I wanted nothing else because right now I had it all. His hands cupped my face as he pulled out of our kiss, thumbs stroking my cheeks as he held my gaze. “We’re moving fast. Do you want me to stop?” he ground out. His jaw clenched as he held himself back, hovering above me as the hammock swayed side to side and the night breeze tickled my skin.
I shook my head. “No stopping.” Nudging him to his back, I took over the kiss. His response was immediate and glorious acquiescence. He relaxed beneath me and let me kiss him how I liked, slow and deep, soft and wet. This was finally my chance to take what I had wanted from him ever since I knew what a kiss could be. Somewhere in the back of my mind I had always known my feelings were more than what I had ever been willing to admit.
His hand traced circles up my thigh as he moved over me again, pushing my dress up on the way. With a shift of my hips, I turned to my back and slid my bent knee up his leg as he pulled me up with his hand at my bottom. The undeniable rhythm of his hips as he pressed his hard length between my legs rocked the hammock, teasing what was to come and I could not wait.
“This is where we start. Secret or not, you’re mine now,” he whisper-growled in my ear, then gently bit the lobe below my hearing aid, leaving no doubt in my mind he wanted his meaning to be clear.
Unfortunately, his urgent kisses, searching fingers, and my enthusiastic response to all of it did not belong in a hammock and I squealed when it suddenly rocked sharply to the side. Valiantly, he tried rocking in the other direction to counterbalance, but it was no use. It had swung too far, and we tumbled to the ground.
Unlike the morning we woke up together, I was right on top of him. There was no big spoon, little spoon, or spoon rest. He was like a solid-wood cutting board underneath me. Both hard as in a sexy, muscular hunk of man and, also, hard. The wood analogy was apt, and I was about to freak out because it felt plentiful between my legs. I wanted a heaping serving of what he was cooking up in his jeans and I wanted it real bad. I slid up and down once, rubbing myself against him to try it out. He groaned and grabbed my hips to still them.
“God, Molly, are you okay?” His hands were everywhere, running up and down my body as he checked for injuries. Upon first thought, falling out of a hammock would not seem like a romantic thing to do, but Garrett made it so. “Are you hurt?”
“No, I landed on you. I mean, you aren’t soft by any stretch of the imagination, but you’re probably much more comfortable than the ground. Are you okay?” He chuckled, grabbed my ass, shifted to his knees, then stood up. Holy hotness, he just picked me right up off the ground. I wrapped my legs around his upper abs as he bounced me higher and wrapped an arm beneath my bottom to hold me. I had never liked being short, but right now I could see the smoking hot potential of it.
He grinned as he walked us across the yard, stopping to set me on the deck’s wide, flat railing. With a hard press of his body to mine, he wrapped me in his arms and kissed me. “We can stop anytime,” he murmured against my lips.
“Or you could take me to bed . . .” He drew back with a smile, shifting my hair over my shoulder and placing a kiss on my nose.
His hands ran down my legs, dusting them off and brushing dirt from the hem of my dress. “Or I could run you that bath?” His head dipped to mine; our foreheads touched, and his sideways grin was full of wicked promises. “I’ll wash the forest off your knees for you.”
“I might have gotten forest in other places too,” I whispered, and pulled him in to steal another kiss.
“Well, I promise to be thorough. It was my fault we fell out.” Suddenly, instead of imagining us together, naked and slippery in his bathtub, I flashed back to age five, the two of us in bathing suits, sitting side by side in Becky Lee’s tub as she washed mud out of our hair. We had wanted to look like those stupid Troll dolls.
Garrett and I, despite the distance between us at times, had bypassed the “getting to know you” relationship phase and slid straight into the “shared memories, intimacy, and inside jokes” phase. We had history together, lots of it. We had a vibe, a dynamic. Our past threaded through every word we said to each other. But even with all the history between us, this still felt new. He was a good kisser. I didn’t know that before. He liked to bake pie and drink wine in his hammock—also new information. I froze as I stared off into the forest, contemplating all I could lose when I screwed this up.
“What’s wrong?” It was beginning to freak me out how well he could read me.
“Huh? Nothing,” I lied. Sometimes memories were the worst form of torture, even the good ones.
“Bull crap. How can you be so impulsive and scared at the same time? Like your heart is being held back by—what are you afraid of, Molly? What scares you? Tell me, baby, please. Let me in, just a little bit—”
“I can’t. I’m not even sure what it is.” Another lie.
The heat went out of his eyes, replaced with the warmth of understanding. “Do you trust me?”
I tightened my arms around his neck and pulled him close. “Of course. You know I do.” That was the truth.
He pulled away and took my hands, kissing the back of each one as he stepped back. “You trust me because of our history together,” he deduced. He was far more insightful in matters of the heart than I had ever been.
“Yeah . . .” My whispered answer was another truth.
“But you’re not ready to trust me with this yet.” His palm pressed against my chest, above my heart.
“I—”
“You don’t have to answer. We’re not in the same place right now and it’s okay. I can wait.”
“I—” Don’t know if I’ll ever be ready but I want to be.
“Shh. I’ll run the bath, and while you’re in there, I’ll make dinner. Let’s agree right now that we won’t tell Leo we didn’t eat his soufflé,” he joked, lightening the mood and lightening my heart, which had become heavy and burdened with my stupid fears.
Hands at my waist, he lifted me from the deck rail to set me gently on the ground. He kissed my forehead before bending low to nuzzle my neck. “Let’s go inside. Let me take care of you, Molly.” His voice was a rumbly whisper against my skin that filled me with both comfort and lust. Garrett put me at ease, he had snuck up on me in ways my ex-Chrises never could. It was disconcerting and awesome, but I couldn’t let myself go enough to decide which side to go with, or even how to cope with my feelings.