Chapter Twelve
Light shone through Faith’s bedroom window, spilling gold across the floor, while a soft breeze brought with it the smell of honeysuckle.
Long curtains swayed like fans, moving the scent around the room, and she rolled over, no doubt a silly smile on her face as she blushed and thought back to the night before.
Holy. Fucking. Hell.
“God,” she whispered to herself and slammed her eyes shut. She burrowed deep into her pillow, embarrassed. Elated. Confused. It was silly. She was alone. Gus couldn’t see, so why was she acting like a complete idiot?
You know why, she chided herself.
Gus David had done all of the things she’d only ever read about to her with his tongue, and then he’d kissed her so deeply she could taste herself on his lips. It had been the hottest experience of her life.
Then he’d left, disappearing into the night like a secret lothario and she would have paid a fortune for him to come back to her. For him to do all those things again. But she didn’t know how to ask for the things she wanted. At least, not yet.
“Oh boy,” she muttered.
She was in trouble.
A smile tugged at her, and she bit her bottom lip, her mind flooding with images and words and desire as she thought back to the night before.
Just tell me when, he’d said.
Faith groaned and reached between her legs, eyes closed as she remembered.
“When.”
His touch was soft at first, his fingers gently moving her legs apart so he had room.
It was hard for Faith to let go. To let this man, she’d only known a short time get this close to the pieces of her she’d never shared before.
Declan had never ventured this far south, and she’d never asked him to.
With Declan, she’d been a participant but never one to explore. To ask. To want more.
Gus’s breath was hot against her skin, and her first instinct was to look away, but he wouldn’t let her.
“Watch me,” he commanded, hands on her thighs, a wicked smile on his face. Then he lowered himself, and she held her breath, shivering in anticipation and fear and—
Holy. Hell.
The feel of his hot, wet mouth on her down there was unlike anything she’d felt before.
Gus didn’t go softly. He didn’t advance at a slow pace.
This guy wasn’t playing around. He plunged forward, using his tongue, his fingers, and his teeth to bring her to the brink in less time than it took for him to undress her.
And then he did it again. He spoke words.
Said dirty things that made her blush and squirm and buck and yield.
He used his finger in some magical maneuver that saw her nearly break in two, finding some sweet spot deep inside her body that electrified as it pulled back like an elastic band stretched thin .
. . and then when she thought she was going to pass out, it let go.
She cried out so loud that Taco whined and retreated to her bedroom.
Her hands found themselves deep into the thick waves on Gus’s head, and she held him there, moving against him as he continued to kiss and tug and nip and caress.
Until the band that had shattered inside her began to build again.
Faith felt as if there was an electric current inside her, balled up ready to explode.
And explode it did.
Three more times.
When he was done with her, Gus slowly kissed his way back up her body and claimed her mouth in the kind of kiss a girl dreamed of.
It was gentle. Urgent. Soothing. Possessive.
It was everything. Big. Overwhelming. And when it finally ended, she was as pliant as a rag doll; embarrassed at the tears pooling in the corners of her eyes.
He didn’t say a word. Gus picked her up and carried her into the bedroom where she assumed they were going to have sex in the traditional sense.
She was excited by the thought because if he could bring her to the brink with his mouth and make her explode, what kind of mayhem could he elicit when he was inside her?
But Gus surprised her. He laid her on the bed. Made no effort to hide the massive erection visible in his jeans. He dropped one last kiss to her face and stepped back, a slight wince marring his perfect face.
“What are you . . .” she began, but her vocal cords didn’t seem to be working. She cleared her throat and took a moment. “What are you doing?”
“We’re going to take this slow.”
“But you, we . . .” She managed to say before a wicked smile took her breath away.
He looked down at the bulge between his legs and shrugged. “I’m a big boy. I’ll handle this on my own. But you, sweetness, you need a good night’s sleep because I’ll be back for you tomorrow morning around nine.”
“Back?” she asked, propping herself up onto her elbows as she felt a new wave of heat rush across her cheeks.
“Wear something suitable for a bike.”
“I don’t understand.”
“We’re going on a road trip.”
“On a bike?”
“It has a motor.” He flashed that grin again and it damn near took her breath away. He looked younger. Lighter somehow.
“So . . . a date,” she’d replied with more cheek than she thought she had.
Gus winked. “Call it whatever you like.”
He left her alone and she fell back onto the bed, reaching for the covers. She didn’t think about a date. She didn’t think about tomorrow. Or the fact that she’d just done all the things she’d heard about but had never tried.
All that she could think about was . . .
“I just had my first orgasm.” Hearing the words out loud made her wince, then smile. Then, bury her head in her pillow and scream.
She’d slept like a baby and now that it was morning, Faith finally thought of the other things. His mouth had been relentless — his fingers magical. And she’d had not one. Not two. Not even three. But four orgasms.
“Oh my God,” she murmured as she crawled out of bed and giggled.
Faith walked across the room and peeked outside, a light smile on her face.
The sun was already high, and slivers of fog clung to the trees at the back of the yard.
The birds sang and a few moments later, Mr. Pine’s lawn mower fired up in the yard next door.
She knew that in the next half an hour, Billy the paper boy would toss a copy of the Fire Lake Reformer onto the front yard and that Candy would read it front page to back, then leave it on the table in the foyer.
Faith shook her head slowly. Imagine a place that still had a daily paper.
Heck, she’d only ever read news on her phone or watched it online.
But there was something soothing and simplistic about holding a paper in your hand, about enjoying it over coffee and the morning sun.
It was much more relaxing to read the real deal than hover over a phone or tablet.
Things were so much simpler in Fire Lake. It was a far cry from the world she’d grown up in. A world of gated communities, yachts, money, country clubs, and island vacations.
Faith knew more than anyone that money didn’t buy happiness.
It helped to ease financial strain of course, but that was about it.
In fact, it was her experience that folks with more money than they needed were the most unhappy.
And they were desperate to appear as if they didn’t have a care in the world.
As if the life they led was one everyone aspired to.
She thought of her mother and Faith’s early glow evaporated like air from a balloon.
She backed away from the window and slipped into the T-shirt and boxers she’d worn the night before, then crossed the room to the small closet.
Inside, there at the back, tucked between an old sweatshirt and a pair of jeans, was a small box.
She grabbed it and then padded into the kitchen, where she placed the box on the counter before starting her coffee machine.
She glanced at the clock and noted the time of 7 a.m. While the coffee brewed, Faith took Taco out to the backyard.
The house was silent, and she wondered if Gus was awake, starting his morning like she was, or fast asleep.
She wondered what he looked like in bed.
Then, she blushed when those thoughts led to memories of how he’d looked with his mouth on her body.
She really needed to get her shit together and stop acting like a goofy fifteen-year-old who’d just been kissed for the first time.
Once Taco was done and she’d tossed his bag in the trash, she headed back to her apartment.
The welcoming smell of coffee filled her nose, and Faith quickly filled Taco’s food and water bowls before grabbing a cup of java and sitting at the small table.
From there she slowly sipped the strong brew and stared at the little box on the counter.
She had another cup and finished it.
By now, it was nearly eight, and she needed to shower, but after she rinsed her mug and put it away, she grabbed up the box and sat back down.
There were crescent-shaped indents in the palms of her hands when she finally opened it and took out the cell phone. Faith ran her hands over the smooth screen and, with her heart in her throat, powered it up and waited.
But nothing happened.
“Jesus,” she muttered. The damn thing was dead.
Maybe it was a sign. Maybe she should just leave well enough alone. But moments later Faith found herself in her bedroom, rummaging through her backpack until she found the cord she needed.
Then with a small sigh, she plugged it into the outlet by her bed and hopped into the shower. She decided she wouldn’t think about the phone or what it represented. She had other things to do.
Faith was going to shave the things that needed shaving. She was going to spread more body butter than she needed on her legs and arms and, well, everywhere so that she was as smooth and soft as she could be.