13. Chapter 13
Chapter 13
I’m still blown away by the date Ian planned for us.
No. Not a date. We’re just two friends hanging out.
I’m speechless really. I can’t remember the last time someone planned an entire day just for me. I can’t believe he found out what my favorite coffee is. I’m sure if I called Lucas right now and asked him what my favorite coffee is, he wouldn’t be able to tell me. Yet Ian found out, and he let me blast Britney Spears and The Spice Girls in his truck.
Before my mind can wander back to Lucas, Ian interrupts my thoughts and says, “So, we crossed horseback riding off your list. You went line dancing and hiking, what else is on this bucket list of yours?”
“Ummmm, finish my book, go to an MLB game, and have a Girls Beach Vacay—which you are sponsoring by the way, by lending us your beach house,” I say, giving him a smirk. “And, get a tattoo.”
“That sounds like a pretty tame, but very obtainable list,” he comments.
“That’s me. Tame and boring,” I say, turning to look out the window of the truck as he drives me back to Levi’s place.
“I highly doubt that. You seem like a little sassy and sarcastic thing under all that shyness.”
I used to be , I think to myself. Summer and I were always getting into trouble and pushing limits, whether it was sneaking out or daring each other to jump into the lake from various heights, but that all ended somewhere along the way when I met and married Lucas.
But that’s all about to change , I think to myself, as my mind wanders to what Lacey and Ellie added to my Bucket List. More specifically, how Ian has a truck . . . and how sex in a truck was somehow added to the list. If the way my body reacts to him simply looking at me is to be covered in head-to-toe goose bumps, I can only imagine how it would feel to have him caress me with his fingertips instead of just trailing his eyes down my body. Just the thought of his hands on me has me shifting in my seat, trying to find friction.
No, Hannah! You are not thinking about having sex with Ian in his truck. Or sex with Ian, period. The guy is twenty-three years old for God’s sake.
Exactly, he still has the stamina to go all night long, the little devil on my shoulder encourages, making me shiver slightly.
Shaking those thoughts out of my head, I reiterate to myself that I need to focus on me before I even consider jumping into a new relationship. I am in no way thinking about anything with anyone. I mean, I’m still haunted by my ex-husband.
I’ll admit, there’s nothing wrong with a little imagination and wishful thinking, but even I know that starting anything romantic right now wouldn’t be my best move.
But he did bring you a picnic and your favorite coffee, and had a hair tie for you, knowing your hair would be all over your face during the horseback ride , the voice keeps encouraging.
“And what has you blushing there, Hannah?” Ian asks, interrupting my thoughts.
“Nothing,” I hastily answer, making him laugh.
“Now I have to know—you answered that a little too quickly, and you just keep getting redder and redder.”
“Nope. Not telling you,” I say, trying to sound stern, but failing miserably.
“Come on, tell me,” he begs again. “Tell me, and I’ll stop at Starbucks right by Levi’s on my way to drop you off and get you another iced latte.”
“It’s nothing,” I say again.
“Fine, don't tell me,” he says. “I thought we were friends after today, but I see that the thought was only one-sided. Break my heart why don’t you,” he continues, trying to sound serious but failing miserably.
“Fine,” I give in, with an exaggerated eye roll, making him laugh. “Those things I told you about are mostly the things I put on the list, but Lacy and Ellie—mostly Lacey—added other things to the list.” As the last words leave my mouth I feel my face getting hotter, but not because of what’s on the list, but because all I can picture is the man beside me helping me accomplish everything on that list.
Jesus—Lacey is right, I do need to get laid. Or maybe I’ll just take out my trusty old B.O.B. tonight. Yeah, that’s what I’ll do, and I won’t be thinking of Ian as I take out all my pent-up sexual frustration on B.O.B.
Yeah that’s what you think sweetheart, the little voice inside my head says . . .
“With the way you’re blushing again, I have to know what’s on that list,” he says as we pull into Levi’s driveway.
“Well, thanks for the afternoon. I had a lot of fun. I’ll see you around,” I spit out a mile a minute as I unclip my seat belt and unlatch the passenger door.
“Not so quick there,” Ian says as he grabs my arm, laughing. “With the look on your face and the fire my question lit under you, I can only assume it’s something of the R-rated nature, knowing Lacey.”
“No, it’s not,” I lie, feeling my face get hotter, if that’s even possible, which just makes him laugh even more. Taking my chance, I push open the door and jump out saying “thanks” one last time.
Before I can get to the front door, Ian rolls down his window and yells, “I will find out what is on that list, Hannah!”
“No you won’t!” I yell back, laughing as I open the front door, only to find Levi standing there with a worried look on his face.
“So, how was your date?” he asks.
“It wasn’t a date, but it was fun. I forgot how nice it was to relax and have fun. Plus, he had my favorite coffee waiting for me in the truck. How cute is that?”
“So, are you going on a second date?”
“Levi, that wasn’t a date. I doubt he’s gonna want to hang out with me one-on-one again, but I’m sure I’ll see him around since he is your best friend,” I say, giving him a look that hopefully says back off. “Anyway, how was your day? Hang out with Lacey any?” I continue, trying to change the subject.
Unfortunately, he doesn’t get the memo and follows me into the kitchen. “If that wasn’t a date why are you blushing so hard and trying to change the subject?”
“Levi, first off, I’m a grown woman, I can blush if I want to. And secondly, I’m twenty-nine. That wasn’t a date. He’s twenty-three. He’s young, rich, and yes he’s attractive, but I highly, highly doubt he wants to date a twenty-nine-year-old when he could have any little puck bunny he wants. He just sees me as his best friend’s down-on-her-luck roommate. Trust me. I remember what it was like to be twenty-three and free. I’ll admit, six years isn’t much, but early twenties and late twenties are lightyears apart,” I say with finality as I make my way to my room dismissing the conversation.
“You couldn’t be more wrong,” he says after me.
Pretending I didn’t hear him, I make my way to my bedroom, and take off my clothes to get into a nice hot shower to try to relax my muscles. Ian was right, I will be sore tomorrow.
Raising my arms up to slip out of my t-shirt, a groan leaves my mouth. I just got home and I’m already sore. Tomorrow is going to be a long day. But that’s the excuse I need to stay home in my sweat pants and work on my book. My characters and chapters are all planned out, so I can actually start writing. Yes, that’s what I’ll do tomorrow, spend the day relaxing and writing.
Finally getting under the hot spray of the shower after adding a eucalyptus steamer to really get my muscles to relax, my mind wanders back to what Levi said: You couldn’t be more wrong.
What did he mean by that? Does Ian think that was a date? Did he say anything about me to Levi? That wasn’t a date. He didn’t ask you out on a date, Hannah, he was just being nice.
I wouldn’t mind going out on a date with him, I think as I lather up my hair, but I shouldn’t. I need to be securely put together before risking getting my heart broken again.
Who wouldn’t want to go out with a guy like that , I think to myself. I let my mind wander back to the deep V I saw peeking out from under his shirt as he saddled up the horses and the way his eyes darkened as he placed the cowboy hat on my head. It’s more than just the way he looks though. It’s the way he clearly loves and adores his little sister. It’s the way he found out my favorite coffee. It’s the way he asked Lacey to show us the constellations while sitting by the campfire, knowing she loves nothing more than talking about stars. It’s the way he always makes everyone around him feel seen. It’s also the big-dick energy he gives off, he walks with such confidence and purpose that I can’t seem to ever keep my eyes off of him when we’re in the same room.
And I’m pretty sure I caught him staring at my ass when we walked along the creek where we had lunch. Not that I minded. I know I did my fair share of looking, that’s for sure.
But who wouldn’t, the guy looks like sex on legs, and you just know he knows what he’s doing between the sheets. I bet he’s a giver , I think to myself as I let my fingertips brush lower and lower. Just thinking about him has me all hot and bothered and he’s not even here; he hasn’t even made a move on me really. Other than light, friendly, touches, he hasn’t touched me or shown me any kind of attention other than platonic attention.
Against my better judgement I let my fingers move even lower, feeling just how worked up the simple thought of him has gotten me. I picture him in the shower with me, on his knees, as I circle my clit, imagining it’s his tongue. Moaning as I slump against the cool shower wall, I keep teasing myself, imagining his fingers and mouth all over me in the shower, knowing his touch would be soft but dominating. As my other hand creeps up to pull at my nipple, I pinch my clit imagining his lips suctioning around it, instantly making me come so hard I see stars.
“Jesus Christ,” I whisper a few minutes after. I can’t remember ever coming so hard . . . and I was by myself.
Laughing to myself as I shake my head, I wash off and shut off the water. If it was that good by myself, imagine how good it would be with him actually in the shower on his knees for me.
“Not gonna happen,” I whisper, almost sad that it would never be an actual outcome. Because like it or not, I am attracted to the guy, who wouldn’t be? But I’m old enough and have lived enough to know that guys like him don’t go for girls like me. Never have and never will.
Looking at myself in the mirror, I tell myself, “That was a one time slip. You’re never doing that while thinking of him again.”
Later that night as I lie in bed reading, my phone buzzes on my bedside table. Looking at the time on my kindle I noticed it’s almost 10 p.m. Who the hell is texting me at ten on a Tuesday?
Grabbing my phone, I see it’s an unknown number.
Unknown :
Hey, it’s Ian.
Not the name I wanna see after reading a particularly good good-girl scene. Doesn’t matter, you’re not having a shower repeat , I tell myself as my phone vibrates with another text.
Ian :
I got your number from Lacey. Hope that’s okay.
Me:
Hi, yeah, that’s fine.
Ian :
Okay, cool. So whatcha up to?
Giggling as if this is the first time I’ve ever gotten a text from a boy, I take a picture of my kindle and glass of wine and send it to him.
My phone beeps with another text—a picture of his feet up on his coffee table, beer in hand, and something on the TV.
Before I can respond, he sends another text.
Ian:
I think I can help you out with your list.
Me:
Can you now?
Ian:
Well as you’ve probably noticed, I have more than one tattoo.
Me:
That is true.
Ian:
What kind of tattoo do you want? I can get in touch with my artist and ask if it’s something they can do.
Me:
Don’t laugh, it’s pretty girly.
I open my photo app to send him a few of the ideas I like.
Ian:
Flowers aren’t girly.
He sends a photo of his chest, which has a flower design on the right peck.
Dear lord. This guy puts Dash Hunter and Rhys Larsen to shame. I’ve seen him without a shirt before at the cabin, but I didn’t let myself stare, well not too much, but now all bets are off.
Before I can form a cohesive response to his text, he sends me another one. Looking at the time stamp, I notice I’ve been staring for four minutes. Four minutes , I think to myself as I feel myself turning red. This guy has me blushing more than I have ever blushed in my entire life. Shaking my head, I opened his last text.
Ian:
Where were you thinking of getting it?
Me:
I’m not sure. Either my arm or ribs.
Ian:
I’d say it depends how big you want it.
Me:
Ummm . . . not too too big so maybe the inside of my bicep.
Ian:
That’s a painful spot but would look hot as hell.
Oh my god! Is he flirting with me? I think to myself all giddy.
Me:
I can deal with a little pain ;).
Dear Lord, the wine has gone to my head. I don’t flirt with men I’m just getting to know. I don’t flirt, period. Yet, with Ian, it just comes naturally. Everything seems to come naturally with him. He has a way of making me feel calm, yet confident.