12. Sweet Cream & Questions #2
I bump her shoulder. "Noted. I'll put you in charge of the deer perimeter. You know local wildlife better than anyone in the county."
Jessie goes still. The quiet stretches between us. My heart hammers against my ribs, bracing for the walls to slam shut, waiting for her to remind me she won't be here in spring.
Instead, she lets out a slow breath. Shifting her weight, she leans flush against my side, resting her head against my shoulder.
A surge of relief hits my chest. I wrap my arm around her waist, pulling her tight against my ribs. I press my face into her dark hair, breathing in the vanilla scent of her quiet trust.
The modern cabin sits a few miles up the dirt access road from our picnic spot at the creek. Reserving the property for the weekend guarantees her an escape from the prying eyes of the locals and the stress of the clinic. We both need a night away from the town limits to decompress in privacy.
I grab the heavy cooler from the truck bed and carry it up the wooden steps.
I punch a short code into the keypad. The lock flashes a bright green.
Pushing the heavy front door open grants us access to the front room.
Duke bounds inside, his nails clicking against the hardwood floor. I haul the cooler over the threshold.
Setting the cooler on the granite kitchen counter frees my hands. I pour a scoop of kibble into a travel bowl for Duke and fill a second dish with water. The retriever gets right to work on his dinner.
Leading Jessie down the short hallway, we step into the spacious master bedroom. I hit a wall switch near the door. A luxury gas fireplace ignites in the corner, casting a warm, flickering glow over the king-size bed and the plush rugs.
Leaving her to explore the room, I head back to the kitchen.
I dig into the cooler, grabbing two glasses and a chilled bottle of white wine.
I also grab a small plastic container of chocolate-covered strawberries and a can of whipped cream.
I carry the stash back to the bedroom and set everything on the small wooden table near the fire.
Jessie sits on the edge of the mattress, watching me with curious dark eyes.
I pop the lid off the strawberries, pick a ripe one by the green stem, and step between her knees.
I hold the chocolate-covered fruit to her lips.
She parts her mouth and takes a bite. A drop of dark chocolate smears across her bottom lip.
She swipes it away with her tongue, maintaining direct eye contact. A satisfied hum vibrates in her throat.
"I brought a game." I pull a deck of prompt cards from my back pocket and toss them onto the mattress next to her. "We take turns drawing a card and asking a question. You answer, or you strip one piece of clothing. One article at a time."
Jessie finishes the strawberry, licking a spot of chocolate from her thumb. "I bet I clean you out in ten minutes. Mechanics play ruthless poker."
"We'll see." I sit beside her, grabbing the deck. I draw the top card. "I go first. What ranks as the most illegal thing you ever pulled off?"
Jessie rests her chin on her hand, raising a skeptical eyebrow. "You wear a badge. Confessing a felony to a cop sounds like a trap."
"The badge stays in the truck." I lean closer, crowding her space a fraction to show my hand. "Out here, we operate on total honesty. You give me the truth, or you take something off."
She studies my expression. A wicked spark lights up her dark eyes. "I picked the padlock on a junkyard gate, stole an abused pitbull chained to an engine block, and drove him across state lines to a rescue."
A rush of intense pride hits my chest. "You make a damn good menace. I love it."
She draws the next card, her eyes scanning the text. Her gaze darkens, flicking up to meet mine. "Tell me your dirtiest fantasy."
I lean closer, crowding her space. "Taking you right here in front of this fire. Tasting sweet cream off your skin while I bury myself inside you, keeping you pinned to this mattress all night."
Her breath hitches. The scent of toasted sugar and vanilla spikes in the warm room, flooding my senses.
"My turn." I pull the third card, ready to turn the tables. "What ranks as your favorite childhood cartoon?"
Jessie smirks. She breaks eye contact, grabs the zipper of her light jacket, and pulls it down. "Pass."
"You pass on a cartoon question?" A rough chuckle escapes my throat. "Don't tell me you harbor a secret obsession with a yellow sponge."
"I never watched them." She shrugs one shoulder.
"I saw them in passing, but I never sat down to enjoy one.
Foster homes had strict rules around the television.
The older kids always wanted to pick different stuff, and they hogged the remote anyway.
I never cared for TV or movies as a kid.
I preferred spending my free time outside or hiding with a book. "
"No Saturday morning shows at all?"
"None." She pulls the jacket off her arms, tossing the fabric onto the floor. "I prefer speeding this game up anyway. Besides, as an adult, podcasts hold my attention much better. True crime and mechanic shows keep me entertained on the road."
"A true crime podcast nerd." I toss the rest of the deck onto the nightstand, my blood running hot. "Makes sense."
"Cheater. Draw your card, Alpha."
She grabs the next prompt from the pile. "What constitutes your biggest regret?"
"Pass." I grab the hem of my t-shirt, ripping the cotton over my head. I toss the shirt aside, exposing my bare chest to the heat of the fire.