Chapter 28
HANNAH
Iswing slowly back and forth, letting my bare feet drag through the grass. Dusk is slowly appearing behind the trees and clouds as I wait for Thomas to finish his chores for the day.
It’s hot today, over eighty-five degrees, and humid again. The air doesn’t cool down in the evening’s here like it does in Minnesota.
It’s been six days since the night I took my anxiety medication and slept through the night for the first time since being here, and since then, we’ve been busy.
Thomas has all but turned into a full-fledged farmer with Ron, waking up early to help him with the morning chores, and helping him with little things throughout the day.
Meanwhile, I’ve been spending my days with Dottie. She’s taught me how to cook a lot in her kitchen, as well as shown me how to master some sweet treats. I haven’t gone into town with her yet. I’m not sure if we are supposed to, so I figure it’s best to stay back and play it safe.
I’ve been sleeping better, too. I’m not sure if it’s the medication that I’ve been taking, or the fact that I’ve fallen asleep in Thomas’s arms every night, but I’m sleeping, and no longer plagued by the constant anxiety and worry over falling asleep at night.
It’s still there, but the medication and Thomas help quiet some of the noise.
Every morning when I wake in his arms, it helps me put in perspective how real he is.
He cares for me, that much is apparent. I care for him too, and I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t been feeling more and more heat rising between us, in a good way.
It all feels a little too good to be true, especially since our so-called engagement is fake. It doesn’t feel fake in those moments.
He’s so good looking, I have to remind myself that he has said he’s attracted to me.
It can be hard, especially for someone who’s never been on the receiving end of this type of affection before, but I’m starting to crave his kisses, his touches, to the point where I am ready for more, but I don’t know how to take that step.
Even thinking about him, how it might feel to have him hovering over me as he’s inside of me, his hands on my bare skin, sends a tingle of pleasure right to my pounding core.
How do I show him I’m ready? That I want to slowly take another step?
By now, he’s surely figured out I’m a virgin, even though it’s never been blatantly said.
But with my admission of his lips being the first to kiss me, as well as my telling him he took me on my first date and that I’m not good with people, he must know.
Do I take the first step? Can I take the first step? I’ve felt his hardness against my back and my stomach every morning we’ve woken up, and seen the way his eyes linger on my body and my face. There’s a lustful heat in his eyes in every gaze and longing look.
The pond in front of me glistens in the sunlight, the water shimmering as the soft wind moves it. The sound of crunching footsteps pulls me out of my thoughts as I turn in the swing to find Arson ambling up to me, Thomas a few steps behind him.
Sunlight seeps through the trees behind him, making him glow with an ethereal look. There’s dirt on his arms from a hard day's work, and his hair is tousled and mussed.
“Hard day?” I ask as he approaches, sitting on the empty swing beside me.
“Not bad, just hot,” he says, swinging toward me. He reaches out with one hand, the other holding onto the rope as he cups my cheek, kissing me sweetly. “How was your day, freckles?”
My belly flips as he moves his hand from my cheek, sliding down my neck and my arm, to finally rest on my thigh, his thumb stroking my bare skin.
God, his touches are enough to drive me wild.
I clear my throat, feeling the burn of my neck and cheeks. “It was good. Dottie taught me how to make homemade chicken pot pie. There’s some inside waiting to be heated up for dinner.”
“That sounds amazing,” he says.
“It’s really good.”
“Ron was telling me that their son is coming to visit in a few weeks,” Thomas tells me.
“That will be nice,” I reply, but my gut churns inside. More people to try and interact with.
“Mhmm,” Thomas says, but I get the feeling he isn’t really focused on a conversation as he eyes me closely.
His hand has moved up toward the apex of my thighs, grazing the hem of my shorts.
I’m wearing denim overalls and an orange tank top underneath.
I glance down to watch his hand as he grips my thigh, squeezing gently, making goosebumps prick across my skin.
A simple touch is enough to make my core clench and heat burn low in my belly.
Thomas leans forward in the swing, taking my face in his other hand and kissing me.
His lips expertly trace the curve of my bottom lip, teasing it open and deftly swooping his tongue inside.
I let him take the lead, as always, as I lose myself in his kiss.
When he pulls away, I have to hold back my whimper of want at the loss of his taste, his warmth.
Thomas chuckles softly. “There, did I get you to stop thinking for a minute?”
I pull further away from him, quirking my brow as I work to steady my breathing. “What do you mean?”
“The moment I mentioned the Graffs having a visitor, you shut down. I’ve learned that when I kiss you, your brain shuts off. Did it help?”
I swallow, my throat suddenly dry. “Yeah, it did.”
Thomas leans forward, kissing me once more, chaste and quick.
“Good. Now, why does the Graff’s son coming stress you out?”
I shrug, not really wanting to dive into it.
“Hannah, you can tell me. That’s what I’m here for. I want to be your sounding board, your person, someone you can lean on.”
I turn my eyes to the pond in front of us, watching the glistening water as I try to form words. “It sounds stupid.”
“No, it doesn’t. Whatever it is, I’m sure it doesn’t.”
“I told you that meeting new people is hard for me.”
Thomas nods, taking my hand and urging me on.
I take a deep breath. “When I meet new people, my brain tells me that they are picking apart every piece of me. I overthink literally every aspect of an interaction. From the way my voice sounds, to the way I say a word, or the way I walk when I’m throwing something in the trash. It’s exhausting.”
He squeezes my palm, showing me he’s listening.
I’m distracted for a brief moment when a dragonfly buzzes into my line of sight, landing on a nearby rock.
Thomas glances over, his eyes widening as he takes it in.
He looks back at me after a moment, his eyes full of some emotion that I can’t place.
When he doesn’t say anything, I continue.
“It’s so frustrating overthinking everything. I wish I could be normal, but I can’t.”
“Normal is boring,” Thomas says. “You’re doing amazing with Ron and Dottie. They love you, but I can understand that it’s hard when you have these things running through your mind. Is there something that I can do to help you in this?”
I shake my head. “You’re doing it. I like having someone by my side, even though my therapist wants me to do things on my own.
A year ago, I couldn’t even go into a coffee shop to pick up an order on my own.
Now, I can sit and read a book for an hour and not freak out.
There’s still the constant noise in my head that people think I’m weird for reading a book alone in public, or what I’m eating or drinking is too many calories, but it’s progress.
Miles and my therapist have helped me a lot. ”
“Miles, like your partner at work, Miles?”
“Yep. When you are stuck in an ambulance for twelve-hour shifts with someone as kind and talkative as him, they help you break down your boundaries.”
Thomas chuckles. “Yeah, that sounds like him.”
“I always forget that you went to high school with him. Well him and my sister.” I glance down at where his hand is on my thigh. “Are you sure it’s not weird for you that you went to high school with my sister and we’re… y’know?”
“Engaged?” Thomas supplies.
Heat flushes my cheeks. “We aren’t really engaged, but you know what I mean.”
“For all intents and purposes we are,” Thomas says, offering me a wink. I can’t stop the smile that crosses my face. “But to answer your question, no. Our age difference, or the fact that I went to high school with your sister, doesn’t bother me. Does it bother you?”
I shake my head rapidly. “No, not at all.”
“Good,” he replies. “Because age is just a number, baby.” He raises his brow, and his dimples pop with his cheeky, gap-toothed grin. Every time he calls me baby, a butterfly flies in my stomach, tickling my insides.
I can’t stop the laugh that slips out. “That was horrible,” I giggle. The dragonfly that was in view on the rock the entire time flies away, leaving our gazes following after it for only a moment.
“What can I say? I’m a charmer,” he replies, looking back at me. “But really, it doesn’t bother me. I like you for who you are. You’re beautiful, kind, and a damn good kisser.”
I swear, my skin is going to burn off with how hot it flames. “I am not,” I counter.
“Yes, you are.”
“Stop lying.”
Thomas inhales sharply. “I’m not! Saying you’re a bad kisser would be like saying you have ugly eyes.
A lie. Anyone can see that. The blue is so bright it’s almost iridescent, with a hint of gold around your pupils.
Though, I wouldn’t want anyone else to kiss you to prove my point.
I’ll keep you to myself, thank you very much. ”
With that, he takes my lips in a bruising kiss, this one different from any of our other kisses. This one is passionate, his lips roughly moving with mine as he tries to prove his point.
He leans his swing forward, one hand on my thigh, moving to rest on the base of my neck above my breasts.
I’m sure he can feel the heavy pounding of my heart and the heat of my skin, but I don’t care.
I’m learning his touches, learning the way he moves and breathes, letting each new thing I learn engrave itself in my brain.
I let myself lean into the kiss, trying to do something I never thought I would. Take the lead. Only instead of meeting his lips, I feel the moment we lose balance. His swing shifts abruptly, causing us to pull apart and him to flail, arm waving as he tries to catch his balance.
Laughter bursts from my chest as I open my eyes and see him, eyes wide as he leans back, his fingers white-knuckling the ropes connected to the tree. His blue eyes are wide as he looks at me. “On second thought, maybe we should go inside if we’re going to get lost in each other.”
Heat burns inside as his words hit me. He wants to get lost in each other?
Does that mean what I think it does? Thomas stands from the swing, holding out his hand to me.
Heat burns in his gaze as he rakes his eyes up and down my body.
When I stand, he pulls me into him, his arms wrapping around my waist, fingertips caressing the top of my ass.
If a simple graze of his fingers over my jeans-covered butt sends a zing of excitement through me, what will I do when his bare hands are all over my body?
“Let’s go inside. I’m starving,” Thomas says, squeezing my hips. I don’t miss the double entendre in his words as he slides his hands around my belly to take my hand.
Arson follows us, and with each step we take closer to the cottage, my heart pounds harder and harder.
When we get inside, Thomas groans at the scent of the chicken pot pie. “Fuck, that smells incredible. Did you eat already?”
“I did. It’s pretty good.”
“Can I eat and take a shower? Then, what do you think about watching a movie?” Thomas asks, gesturing to the couch.
“Sounds great,” I say, my voice cracking on the second word.
Thomas smiles, and I know he can see right through me. I want something to happen tonight. I don’t know how to act around him, how to show him I’m ready, yet still terrified all at once.
“Great,” he replies, heading to the table to dish up.
This gives me a little time to prepare. Or panic. Or both? Oh god. I point to the bathroom, already feeling the heat in my cheeks. “I’m going to shower if that’s okay? I’ll be out by the time you’re done eating.”
“No rush,” he says, waving me off as he sits down at the kitchen table.
I stride into the bathroom, closing the door behind me and locking it. Once I’m behind the closed door, I really feel the panic creeping in. I lean forward on the counter, taking deep, long breaths.
I can do this. I want to do this. I’ve wanted this connection with someone for years now, so why am I freaking out?
Oh, right. Because it’s Thomas Freaking Cunningham, the man who I never thought would ever go for me, and now I’m fake engaged to him in the middle of nowhere in a cute cottage and about to let him touch me in ways I’ve never been touched before. Right. That.
I take one calming breath, and turn on the shower. This will help me chill out, and then I’ll be fresh and clean. Yes, okay, this I can do.
I let the water heat up, and shed my clothing, climbing into the hot spray and letting it calm me.
Once I’ve shaved and washed up, I get out, towel-drying my hair and braiding it before putting lotion all over my skin and wrapping myself in the robe I left in here. I open the bathroom door, and Thomas is sitting at the kitchen table still, plate empty, with Arson at his side.
“It’s all yours,” I say, gesturing to the bathroom, and heading to the stairs. Once the door clicks shut behind him, I let myself breathe.