Chapter 16
After a week out of town,Koen returns on Valentine’s Day. We’re five weeks into this relationship, and my sex drive rivals any man’s. With some extra lip gloss, rosewater body spray, and a red V-neck sweater and dark jeans, I meet him for dinner at his place.
However, there are two vehicles in his driveway that are not his. The open blinds on the main floor give me a clear view of his kitchen. I recognize Herb, but not the other guy or the woman.
When I knock on the glass door, all heads turn. Koen heads in my direction just as I open it.
“You don’t have to knock.” He hugs me and drops a quick kiss on my lips. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”
With a stiff smile, I nod. “Thanks,” I mumble. “Uh …” I glance past him.
“Listen,” he says, keeping his back to everyone gathered around his kitchen island. “I didn’t know they were going to show up.”
“They as in?”
“My family. They arrived ten minutes ago with food and cake. I knew you were already on your way, so I didn’t want to scare you off by giving you a heads-up.”
“Wow. Your family goes all out for Valentine’s Day?”
“No. It’s my grandpa’s birthday. He’s eighty-nine today. I’m sorry. I’ll make this up to you.”
I shake my head. “Make what up? I adore your grandpa.”
Koen sighs with a smile. “Thank you. Let me introduce you to my family.” He takes my hand and pulls me toward the kitchen. “Hey, everyone, this is Scottie. She works at Drummond’s, Grandpa’s favorite store.”
“Happy birthday, Herb.” I rest my hand on his shoulder.
“Thank you, young lady,” he replies, perched at the counter while arranging cheese on a cracker.
“Scottie, this is my mom, Shelly, and my brother, Kaleb.”
“Hi.” I hold up my hand in a friendly wave as they greet me.
Kaleb’s gaze drops a few inches.
Shit.
My V-Day sweater is not only red for the occasion but also thin and almost sheer from the loose knitting. And … I’m not wearing a bra or underwear, for that matter. I saw the evening going in a different direction, and I dressed for not wearing my clothes.
“How long have you worked at Drummond’s?” Shelly asks, sipping a bottle of green tea with one hand while tucking her flaxen curls behind her ear with her other.
I melt from her smile that’s as genuine and unpretentious as her pink pilled button-down and relaxed jeans on her curvy body.
“Ten years. I love Austin, the neighborhood, and the people who shop there.” I wink at Herb.
Again, when I glance at Kaleb, I catch him staring at my chest. I turn toward Koen. “I need to go upstairs for a minute,” I whisper, offering him a tight grin.
He narrows his eyes before nodding.
“I uh … need to make a quick call,” I tell his family. “So I’m going to run upstairs for just a few minutes if you’ll excuse me.”
I don’t wait for an answer before hightailing it up the stairs. After turning on the light in his closet, I riffle through his clothes.
“Forgot your phone,” Koen says.
I glance over my shoulder while he holds up my phone.
“Is there something I can help you find?”
“You don’t happen to have a bra, do you?”
He squints with a headshake. “Did yours break?”
“No …” I say slowly, eyes wide. “I thought it would be just the two of us, and it’s fine that it’s not, but I wore the bare minimum.” I lift my sweater.
Koen’s eyes flare, lips part.
I lower my sweater. “Your brother keeps staring at my chest. I’m sure it’s because he can easily see my nipples, which means your mom can too. This isn’t the first impression I want to have on her.”
Koen slides the pocket door shut behind him and steps toward me.
“What are you doing?”
“Did you miss me?”
With a nervous laugh, I avert my gaze. “Stop.”
“Because I missed you.” He takes a step closer.
I have nowhere to go with a full-length mirror at my back.
“Lift your sweater again.” He wets his lips.
Again, I return a shaky chuckle. “Your family is downstairs. You’re teasing me. That’s not nice.”
“Why would I tease you? If I’m teasing you, then I’m torturing myself. Want me to make you come?”
“Stop. It.” I press my lips together to keep from grinning.
“Lift your sweater.”
He could lift it, pull it over my head … rip it off my body if he wanted. But this is a game.
Do I want to play this game? Is this the time to play games?
Of course not.
But the way he says, “Lift your sweater,” in a deep voice, has the same effect as “Spread your legs.”
Sometimes, living in the moment isn’t the responsible decision. Now is an example of that. Yet, I really love to seize the moment.
I pull my sweater up past my breasts.
Koen palms both breasts, keeping his eyes on me while he ducks his head to flick my nipple with his tongue and suck it.
I hiss, feeling a jolt of pleasure shoot between my legs.
He does this over and over, gazing at me the whole time. I begin to squirm, hands in his hair, heart racing.
His fingers work the button to my jeans and slide down the zipper. “Fuck me …” He moans and drops to his knees as he discovers my lack of underwear.
When my jeans hit my ankles, I step out of them. “Koen!” I yell while his mouth dives, eager and hungry, between my legs.
While my knees fight to keep from buckling, I wrestle with my sweater to shrug it off. Koen unfastens his jeans and strokes himself several times before standing and discarding his shirt.
With his jeans and briefs barely past his butt, he lifts me and presses my back to the wardrobe door. I bite his shoulder and pinch my eyes shut to keep from making any more noise while he relentlessly pumps into me.
Embarrassment awaits us downstairs when we’re done, but I don’t care because I’m too busy reveling in the moment. I’ve missed him and this so much. There’s nothing better than being so horny that your mind loses all ability to make rational decisions. Wanting (needing) this orgasm trumps everything.
“I love … you … Scottie Rucker. So … fucking … much.”
I open my eyes and press my hands to his cheeks so he looks at me. But he doesn’t stop moving, and my need to orgasm doesn’t lose momentum.
I grin.
He grins.
We release, kissing hard to mute the moans until he drops his head to my shoulder, breathless.
“I love you, Koen Sikes.” My fingers tease the nape of his neck. “My heart is all-in.”
After we put ourselves together, including his black tee that I have to shove way down into my jeans, we head down the stairs hand-in-hand.
“Gettin’er done, son. Good for you.” A man in a cowboy hat chuckles, lifting a beer bottle toward us. He wrinkles his veiny nose and sniffles before taking a long swig and wiping his mouth with his denim shirt sleeve.
Shelly cringes, eyeing Herb, who smacks his hand on the barstool beside him. “Have a seat and leave him alone, Russ,” Herb says.
Kaleb’s jaw clenches while he glares at his dad, but Koen just leads me to the other side of the island and hands me a plate. “Dad, this is my girlfriend, Scottie.”
His dad leans over the island, letting his shirt fall into the dip while offering me his hand. “I’m Russ. Nice to meet such a pretty little thing.”
I glance at Shelly, but she keeps her head bowed.
“Nice to meet you,” I say, shaking it.
“Bout time you got back on the horse,” Russ says. “Maybe you can keep this one if you stay sober. Ain’t that right, honey.” He eyes Shelly, but she slides a chip into her mouth and ignores him.
“Why don’t I drive you home, Dad?” Kaleb suggests, tossing his empty plate into the garbage.
“I just got here. We haven’t even cut the cake.”
“You’re right.” Herb slides the round cake with chocolate frosting toward him and cuts a piece with a flimsy plastic knife. Then, he deposits it onto Russ’s plate and hands him a fork. “Eat up, son.”
After I absentmindedly fill my plate with food, Koen steps behind me, arm around my waist, hand splayed on my stomach, and walks us backward until he’s leaning against the opposite counter, sipping water while I pop grapes into my mouth.
This is the most awkward situation I’ve been in since … well, maybe ever.
Russ eats his cake and drinks his beer while everyone watches in silence.
When he finishes the last bite, Kaleb snatches the plate and empty bottle and drops them in the trash. “Let’s go, Pops.” Kaleb not so gently grabs Russ’s arms and forces him off the stool. “Can you take Grandpa home?” he asks Shelly.
She gives him a sad smile and nods while sliding her plate away from her and dusting off her hands.
Still, Koen says nothing.
As Kaleb and Russ head toward the white Toyota 4Runner, Herb slips on his gray cardigan, and Shelly tidies up the food. “Will you and Scottie eat this if I leave it here?” she asks.
“Sure,” Koen says calmly as if nothing has happened.
“I’m sor—” she starts to apologize.
“Don’t.” Koen releases me and steps toward his mom, hugging her. “Don’t ever apologize.”
She releases him and finds a more believable smile for me. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Scottie. I hope next time we can chat more.”
“Nice meeting you as well.”
“All right, boy, take care of that girl.” Herb winks at us.
“Happy birthday, Grandpa.” Koen hugs him, and I smile when Herb gives me his conspiratorial grin.
After the door closes, and it’s just us, Koen turns, sliding his hands into his front pockets. “My dad’s an alcoholic.”
“Yeah? Well, you were quite patient with him compared to your brother.”
His gaze drops to his feet. “Kaleb’s never had an issue with alcohol. I have.”
“Is your dad’s drinking the reason why your parents got divorced?”
“Yes.”
I set my plate aside.
He shakes his head in regret. “I will never drink a drop of alcohol. I need you to know that. I was him. I was my dad. The fucking life of the party who had to be escorted out before I further embarrassed myself. And I’ll never go back.”
I resist the urge to hug him. Given the words exchanged upstairs earlier, this is a conversation we need to have.
“How did your drinking get out of control?”
His forehead wrinkles, but he doesn’t bring his gaze to mine. “I got too far into a relationship that wasn’t right, but I felt like a dick trying to get out of it, so I … coped.”
“Well,” I laugh despite nothing being funny, “I feel like we’re in a relationship. And it’s starting to feel serious.”
This brings his gaze to mine. “I won’t let it go too far unless I know it’s right.”
“What was wrong with the last one? If I can ask.”
His lips twist, gaze intensifying. “I thought love was enough, but then I realized she had a different view of married life.” He grunts a laugh, slowly shaking his head. “She didn’t want kids, and instead of walking away, I thought I could drink my way through it, and then I wouldn’t have to disappoint anyone. Turns out, I disappointed everyone.” Finally, he looks at me. “Do you want kids?”
I shrug. “I don’t not want them. I haven’t needed to give it much thought.” That’s not entirely true. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not a planner or overachiever. I live in the moment.”
“I’m not asking you to have my babies; I’m just …” He eyes me as if expecting me to finish his thought.
I don’t finish it. There’s no need. Instead, I push off the counter and slide my arms around his waist, tucking my hands into his back pockets and squeezing his ass until he relinquishes a grin.
“I have an idea.”
He presses his lips to the top of my head. “Hmm?”
“Do you have a tent?”
“Of course.”
“Great. Let’s set it up in the backyard, open the top flap, and stare at the stars.”
Koen chuckles. “You want to stargaze with me?”
“I do.”
He eyes me with wonder, the good kind, where I can imagine great possibilities running amuck in his mind. And I know this because it’s how I look at him.