Chapter 25
TWENTY-FIVE
Juniper
I haven’t heard from Fisher for three days. He’s been in New York City the entire time. And it’s not like we’re dating. I didn’t expect him to call. Or even text. Except… I miss him.
He’s supposed to be back today. But maybe he won’t come back. Maybe that will be that and I’ll never see him again. I huddle under my blanket, despite the heat. I just can’t get warm, but I can’t bear being inside because it’s too stuffy.
Riley is over at my parents’, batch cooking. Hopefully she’ll bring some home with her. Our freezer could do with a restock.
My phone buzzes on the table beside me and my stomach lurches. Is it stupid to hope that’s a text from Fisher?
I scoop up my phone and see Mom appear on the screen.
Riley wants to stay over. That okay?
It’s nice she’s having fun. I love the bond Riley has with her grandparents. I’m lucky they’re both alive, and they’ve been so supportive of me and Riley.
I reply that of course it’s fine, and I slide the phone back onto the table. Evenings on my own don’t happen very often. It’s precious free time that I should be reveling in.
My phone buzzes again and I stand the butterflies down. It’s probably just Mom asking if she has to wash Riley’s hair. I open the message.
It’s from Bill, Riley’s dad, confirming the date when he’s going to be coming to Star Falls next month.
As I’m staring at his text, wondering if he’ll actually make it this time, another text comes through telling me he’s leaving a day earlier than we’d discussed because of a ballet recital for his youngest daughter.
Typical. Riley definitely comes bottom of his list these days.
As I’m mentally handing my ex his ass, headlights illuminate the porch.
My breath catches in my chest. I can’t make out who it is right away. And then the headlights go dark and I can see that it’s Byron’s truck.
It’s Fisher.
I stand, fighting the urge to toss off my blanket and run to him. I want to feel his arms around me. I want to smell that expensive whatever-it-is he wears. I’ve missed him. It’s been three goddamn days and I’ve missed him.
“Hey,” he calls as he gets out of the truck, like he just saw me yesterday.
I can’t help but smile. He’s had his hair cut and he looks younger than he did before. He pushes his hand through the side of his hair like he’s self-conscious or something. I can’t believe Fisher could ever be self-conscious. He’s the most confident man I’ve ever met.
“Hey, stranger,” I call back. “You had your hair cut. What else is new?”
He bounds up the stairs and heads right to me. “Fuck, Juniper, it’s good to see you.”
My stomach tilts at his words.
I’ve missed you, I think.
He lifts me up, and I wrap my legs around his waist.
“What’s new?” he asks. “Tell me everything I missed.”
I tip my head back and laugh. “Nothing’s new. We’re in Star Falls, remember?”
He laughs. “You know, I thought the same about New York when I went back. It’s exactly the same as it was when I left.
” Our eyes lock, and instantly I’m weak for him.
I don’t know how a man managed to go from perfect stranger to making me weak just looking at me in a few short weeks.
But Fisher’s managed it. “Kiss me,” he says.
I slide down from his arms, take his face in my hands, and stand on tiptoes. “There’s nothing I want to do more.”
He presses his lips to mine and my entire body buzzes, like it’s being woken from a deep sleep. He pulls me against him so there’s no space between my body and his.
He’s hard, and the thought that he wants me makes my knees weaken. Makes my heart weaken.
He pulls back. “You okay?”
He must feel how much I’ve missed him. I’m not okay that he’s been gone but I’m better now that he’s here.
I shake my head. “Come inside and… come inside me.”
He groans. “Juniper. I don’t want to wake Riley and—”
I place a finger over his lips. “She’s at my parents’ for the night. My mom just messaged to ask me if it was okay.”
“I really like your mom,” he says, stepping so close to me, sweeping his lips over mine.
“Let’s go inside,” I say. As much as I loved it down by the falls, I want to see him in my bed.
He scoops me up and takes me inside.
“I don’t even know where you sleep,” he says.
“The door next to Riley’s.”
He kicks my bedroom door open and puts me down softly on my feet. His fingers go straight to the buttons of my blouse.
“I’ve been thinking about this for so long,” Fisher whispers, pressing a kiss between my breasts.
He pushes my shirt off my shoulders and kneels at my feet, unbuttoning my jeans and lifting each leg to take them off.
He presses a kiss just above my knee, and I shiver.
When he sweeps his hands down my thighs, my back arches.
He’s barely touched me and all my nerve endings are standing to attention, waiting for what’s next, wanting more but knowing more will be too much.
He hooks his thumbs into the sides of my underwear and pulls them down.
He groans at the sight of my bare pussy—like it’s the most erotic thing he’s ever seen.
Fisher being turned on by me makes me feel like a goddess.
If I can turn on a man like Fisher, anything is possible.
My nipples stand to attention, scraping the lace of my bra and desperate for his touch.
He places kisses over my lower belly, from one hip to the other, teasing me, making me wait. It’s delicious torture. I push my hands through his hair, needing to feel him, wanting more of him.
He pulls away and maneuvers me so I’m lying on my back on the bed, my ass on the edge of the mattress.
“I’ve dreamed about this. Two nights in New York and all I’ve thought about is how you taste.”
I sigh. Could that even be true? Is it possible that he’s thought of me as often as I’ve thought about him? I’ve been counting down the hours until he was back here. It’s terrifying to think how it’s going to feel when he’s gone for good. I don’t know how I’ll cope.
But I can’t think about that now.
Fisher’s tongue slides down my folds. He flicks and presses, circles and coaxes me into a frenzy.
I can’t take any more but I never want it to stop. I never want to stop feeling this.
Wetness pools between my thighs, and if I wasn’t so worked up, I’d be embarrassed about how responsive my body is to him. But there’s no room in my brain for embarrassment. There’s too much else in my body to feel. And it’s all pleasure.
All of a sudden, his fingers slide over my breasts as his tongue works my clit, and I arch my back.
“Fisher!” I scream.
He stills, and I feel the loss of his tongue. “You know the rule,” he growls. “No coming without my permission.”
The tone of his voice is almost enough to push me over the edge. Fisher is such an affable, easygoing guy. But in bed?
In bed, he’s in charge.
“Fisher,” I whimper.
“You taste so good,” he says. His fingers start to move again, moving in circles over me.
My breathing comes in short, sharp bursts and I grip the sheets, trying to hold on. I don’t want to disappoint him.
“Please, Fisher. Please can I come?”
He groans. “Open your eyes. Let me see you.”
I do what he says, desperate to please him. He gazes at me like I’m the most beautiful, sexy woman he’s ever seen.
With a small nod, he says, “Now come.”
His thumb circling my clit and our eyes locked, I break into pieces, my entire body floating up, up, up.
He looks at me with such reverence, like he’s never seen anything so spectacular.
“Fisher,” I say on a sigh.
He rearranges me on the bed and rolls on a condom.
“I have to be inside you,” he grunts. “I’ve waited too long.”
He kneels between my legs. My entire body is floppy, exhausted with the effort of orgasm. But as soon as I feel his crown at my entrance, my body comes alive again. I don’t know how it’s possible.
“Jesus, you’re so wet,” he grunts.
“I want you,” I whisper. “All the time.” It’s a confession I never thought I’d make. I want the same as he does—to keep this light and airy, but something about him makes me want to tell him the truth. Like the secret’s too big to keep to myself.
“I want you all the time, too.” He ends on a gasp as he slides into me.
He’s so big, and I’m so full, but when he’s inside me like this, I feel complete, like he’s the key to my lock.
“Is it too much?” he asks.
“You will never be too much,” I say. It’s exactly enough. He’s exactly enough.
His eyes flutter shut as he begins to move over me. The tendons in his neck tighten and I trace them with my fingers.
I widen my legs, wanting him deeper, more. Wanting him to be part of me. “You’re so incredible,” I whisper, sliding my fingers into his hair. He catches my arms and pushes them over my head.
“I’m going to come if you touch me,” he says, his fingers tightening around my wrists as he thrusts into me.
He dips and presses a kiss to my lips. His forehead is sheened with sweat, and I know it’s all the effort it’s taking him not to come.
Inside me.
I groan at the thought of him being so worked up that just touching him will send him over the edge. This beautiful man who’s surrounded by beautiful, glossy women in New York is fucking me. Is so worked up that he can’t handle me touching him without coming.
I do that to him.
The thought sends a pulse through my entire body and Fisher cries out.
“I’m going to come,” I say, breathlessly. My body is tightening in that familiar way that it does with Fisher. Like I’m being wound over and over and I’m about to snap.
“No!” he bellows. His thrusts grow sharper, needier, less controlled. He must be so close, but he’s not willing to let go. Why?
“Fisher!” I call out. “Please. Please. Please let me come.”
“Come,” he bellows. “Come now!”
The coil snaps and I dissolve under him. He thrusts up and I feel his orgasm blend into mine.
He collapses over me, and I want him to stay there forever.