Chapter 17
ALEX
DrunkenPoet: Sometimes I imagine your hand at the back of my neck.
IndexEcho: Holding you down or pulling you closer?
DrunkenPoet: Either? Both.
_____________________
I asked Will Wascomb if we could go to the high school football game as our date. There were several reasons for this, not the least of which was that I felt like maybe that would be the least likely scenario where we’d end up making out at the end.
But also, my friend Maddox’s little sister was being presented on the homecoming court, which meant a bunch of us Marians had agreed to go cheer for her.
Several years ago, when Maya and Maddox’s parents had passed away in an accident, my cousin Rosie had been Maya’s emotional support person.
They’d become close when Rosie had done some babysitting for Maya, but now they were more like family.
Which meant Maya was an honorary Marian and would get the largest cheer squad in Legacy.
And I would have an excuse not to have to sit directly across from my date and exchange awkward small talk. My hope was to get past the awkward small-talk phase while watching Legacy High’s team crush the Columbus Cougars.
“You a big football fan?” Will asked, handing me a coffee and a hot dog before taking the seat next to me on the bleachers. I’d brought a thick wool throw to cushion the seat and also keep the metal from freezing our asses off.
“No. Definitely not,” I admitted before launching into the explanation of why we were there. “So I appreciate you agreeing to come with me. What about you? Are you a fan?”
He shook his head. “Oh, god no. Hate football. Mostly because my brother played, and he and his friends were complete jerks to me and my friends. We were more of the beach volleyball type. I grew up in Santa Cruz, and my friends and I played all the time.”
“You’re kidding! I’m from Napa. And I played beach volleyball also, but not at home. I played with my cousins whenever I visited them in South Carolina.”
We talked about California and volleyball, exchanging several war stories while the Lumberjacks ran for thirty yards, threw a ten-yard pass, and finally made it into the end zone.
Will turned out to know quite a lot of the locals, considering he’d lived there less than six months. Every time someone stopped to say hello, I couldn’t help but look around in case our local fire chief had decided to come.
But of course, he wasn’t there. Most likely, he was enjoying a night off, cleaning his dryer’s lint trap and triple-checking the functionality of his smoke detectors.
“What about you?” Will asked with a playful grin. “Any other hobbies besides beach volleyball with cousins?”
“I like poetry,” I confessed. “If I hadn’t been studying wine and business in college, I would have taken more poetry classes.”
“Like writing it?”
“Oh, no. God, no. I suck at writing it. I love reading it, though. My family makes fun of me for it.” I didn’t add the part about them making fun of me because I was usually drunk when I began spouting it. Otherwise, it was more of a silent, solo hobby.
“That’s not very nice of them. Do you get along with your family?”
I heard my sister snort from somewhere behind me.
“Not really. They’re awful people. Ugly, too. And mean. Especially Ella.”
Will’s mouth opened in surprise, so I thumbed over my shoulder and mouthed, “Sibling spy.”
He glanced behind us and smirked. “Ah. I have three of those. You’re lucky you only have two.”
As I began to explain that my sister Mattie was getting married next month, I realized this was nice. Easy. Will was a good guy, just like Ella and Hazel had said. And we seemed to have plenty in common.
While he sat there telling me about his brother the commercial real estate agent, his sister the mechanic, and his sister the wedding planner, I even thought about how well he’d get along with the rest of my family.
At no point did I consider what he was like in bed…
At least, until he tried to kiss me after the game in the dark parking lot, and I jerked back.
“Oh,” he said, stepping away. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…”
I reached for his hand. “No, it’s not your fault. I just… I’m… I’m sorry. Can we… take it a little slow?”
Ugh, how virginal did I sound right now? And it wasn’t even because I really wanted to take it slow. I just… didn’t want to fuck up what I had going with Kincaid.
Will’s expression was one of kindness and understanding, not judgment. “Of course we can. I’d really like to see you again, and I definitely don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”
“Thanks.” I stepped forward and hugged him briefly, pulling back and shooting him a smile of appreciation.
“Text me tomorrow?” he asked, his smile turning flirty again.
“Definitely.”
I hopped in my car and headed home. Halfway home, my phone buzzed with a text, but I assumed it was either a thanks from Will or a nosy inquiry from Ella.
Either way, there was no rush to check it.
Which was why I ended up in the back lot of Timber before I realized Kincaid had been the one texting me.
Lord High Sheriff of Fire Safety
I’m home for the night if you need any coaching.
My stomach tightened with hot need. Fuck.
ETA ASAP
I took a few minutes to race upstairs and shower thoroughly, throwing on clean clothes that didn’t smell like hot dogs and popcorn.
During the drive to Kincaid’s place, all I could do was chastise myself for leading Will on. I was a selfish human being because if I had to choose between Will Wascomb and Judd Kincaid when deciding who to lose my virginity to…
There was seriously no fucking choice whatsoever. Even Jesus would choose Judd Kincaid. I was pretty sure, at least.
When I got to his house, I was already half-hard. I hadn’t spared a single thought about why the man had texted me for sex on a Friday night when he knew I was going out with someone else. Nor had I considered how desperate and rude it made me look that I was taking him up on it.
No. All of my thoughts had been more along the lines of holy shit. Oh, fuck yeah. And a lot of mental images of our local fire chief naked and hard. Which had essentially cut off all other thoughts for good.
The door was unlocked, so I let myself in and caught him pouring wine into two glasses at the kitchen counter.
“Serving wine to a vintner,” I teased. “Brave choice.”
Kincaid was wearing old jeans and a white long-sleeve T-shirt that said “South Philly Smoke Eaters” in red print on the back.
“Beartooth Market hardly has the biggest selection.”
I stepped forward and took the offered glass. “You know I can get whatever you need. It never occurred to me you liked wine.”
He held up the bottle of white. “Josh and I go way back.”
The wine was a Josh Cellars Sauvignon Blanc from a particularly great year. “You did good, actually. I’m impressed.”
He shrugged. “I didn’t used to be a wine drinker, but I evolved.”
The bottle was half-empty. I was curious about whether he’d opened it tonight and already downed half of it or kept it in his fridge for a glass every now and then.
“How was the game?” Kincaid asked, corking the bottle and leaning over to put it in the fridge. My eyes went straight to his ass in those jeans.
“We won. It wasn’t a trouncing, but it wasn’t a nail-biter either. Pretty sure it was Tavo’s first in-person game, and I think he’s a convert.” I grinned. “I saw him enjoying himself with his friends.”
Kincaid frowned. “Speaking of Tavo, I don’t suppose you’re ready to tell me—”
“Ah ah. We weren’t actually speaking of Tavo, and we won’t be speaking about him,” I said with finality. “We were talking about the game. Cord McMasters was crowned homecoming king. I’m sure you’ll hear about it at the station.”
He reached for his wineglass. “Cody has a brother named Cord?”
“Nephew,” I said. “Cody is the youngest of, like, six. Cord is one of ten nieces and nephews, but he’s definitely Cody’s favorite. He’ll be bragging about him for weeks now. I’d put money on it.”
“He a football player?” Kincaid began. Then he quickly shook his head.
“You know what, I don’t give a shit about football.
Tell me about Will.” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before opening them and piercing me with a stare.
“Actually, I don’t give a shit about him either. Take your clothes off.”
My heart thundered, and my breathing shallowed. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” He tilted his head toward his bedroom. “In there. Let’s go.”
I loved the gruff quality of his voice, the way he didn’t make the words pretty or soft for me. I was here for sex, and there was no need to pretend otherwise.
And I wanted it so fucking badly.
I took a large gulp of wine as I moved toward the bedroom. When I entered his space, I quickly set the glass down and kicked off my shoes. There was already a wet spot on the front of my clean underwear, and I knew he’d be able to see it unless I was quick about taking off my pants.
“Stop.”
I glanced up. Kincaid was leaning lazily against the edge of his doorframe with the wineglass against his lips.
“You wanted lessons, Marian. And tonight’s lesson is about making it last.”
I bit back a groan. “I think tonight’s lesson should be about quickies.”
His rumbled laugh made me grin. “That right? You feeling some kind of way right now?”
I ran a hand over the cock strangled in my own jeans and nodded. Kincaid’s eyes darkened.
“Seduction is like building a fire, Alex,” he began. “Start with the kindling.”
While I was a virgin, I wasn’t an idiot.
“Hm. Like this?” I asked, pulling up my shirt slowly, swaying my hips languidly, and turning in a circle.
When my back was to him, I pulled my shirt the rest of the way off and blew out a breath to let the waistband of my jeans fall lower on my hips.
“Mm.” His voice took on a delicious grumble. “That’ll do just fine.”
I pressed my hand to the center of my chest and continued spinning, dragging my fingers down my stomach slow enough to make my nipples harden. Kincaid’s eyes were riveted.