Chapter 18
Winnie
The second I unlock my front door and step inside, Buttermilk starts thumping his back leg.
I move quickly to his pen to unlatch the gate and he barrels toward Lucky like a fuzzy cannonball.
He circles his ankles once before pausing dramatically in front of the man—sniffs his shoe—and promptly drops a load of pellets right on top of it.
Because they’re dry and round, most of them roll right off onto the floor.
“Oh my God,” I groan, mortified. “Buttermilk, no. Not the shoes.”
Lucky looks down, blinking. “Did he just…?”
“Poop? On your shoe? Yes.” I scoop the rabbit into my arms, where he has the audacity to look smug. “Sometimes he likes to assert dominance over men who are interested in me.”
Lucky grins. “If this is a dominance thing, I have questions about your ex.”
That makes me laugh. I carry Buttermilk back to his corner pen and lock him in. “Bad, bad rabbit,” I scold gently. “You’re in time-out.”
His nose twitches as we stare at each other and I’m the first to look away. Lucky already has a paper towel to scoop up the little nuggets.
“No!” I exclaim in horror. “You don’t have to do that.”
“I don’t mind,” he says, depositing the poop and paper towel into the garbage can.
I grimace. “But no one should have to pick up poop when they’re a guest in someone’s home.”
Lucky laughs. “I said I don’t mind.”
I huff out a breath, blowing a lock of hair away from my face. “Welcome to my very normal, very unglamorous life,” I say.
“You know I like it,” he replies, still grinning. “Or else I wouldn’t be here.”
I point down the hall. “I’m going to change real quick. While this dress was completely suitable for a fancy dinner, it is not built for relaxing and I’m tired of sucking in my stomach.”
Lucky snorts and waves me off. “Go. Get comfy. I’ll look for a movie.”
In my bedroom, I peel off the dress and decide to remove my makeup.
That’s not necessarily a comfort issue and if I’m honest, it might be more of a test. I made the comment about sucking in my stomach without much thought—that’s just how comfortable he makes me feel.
But it was his reaction that got me thinking.
I figure he could have gone a few ways. He could have said, “What are you talking about… your body is perfect.”
I’m glad he didn’t do that because my body is most definitely not perfect and that would have been a lie.
Instead, he laughed at my self-deprecation and made no move to reassure me as a woman. That tells me he understands I’m secure in myself.
Now, the question is, does he really appreciate me for me, or does he prefer the glammed-up Winnie?
As I wash my face clean and apply moisturizer, I determine it really doesn’t matter how he reacts, as long as he’s genuine when he does.
And so far, Lucky has been beyond real in all he’s said and done.
I pull my hair into a loose bun. I slip into my favorite joggers and a fluffy cardigan with that freshly laundered smell, then turn toward my bedroom door.
I pause, look in the mirror over my dresser.
The girl staring back at me looks like me again—not the glammed-up version I played tonight, but the actual me. Barefaced.
A little flushed.
Nervous as hell.
I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. I tell my reflection, “You got this. No matter what happens tonight, you got this.”
Back in the living room, Lucky’s crouched by the bookshelf, inspecting the photo of Sadie in pigtails and a glittery purple dress, holding a science fair trophy like it’s an Oscar.
He points at the photo. “I assume that’s Sadie,” he says, straightening.
“Little cutie that she is,” I quip, walking toward the kitchen to start the kettle.
Lucky turns and does a double take when he sees me. “You washed your face.”
I touch my cheek, suddenly self-conscious. “Yeah. I just…” The words falter and I’m not sure why. Only twenty seconds ago I was empowered in my fresh-faced nature. “It’s what I do when I get ready for bed.”
His gaze intensifies and he walks toward me slowly. “You’re ready for bed, are you?”
I’m hypnotized by his aquamarine eyes. “Yes…” Then I realize the innuendo.
“I mean… no, not right this second. It’s just…
I always wash my face, all right? Not a big deal.
Women wash their faces, you know.” The babbling intensifies.
When his lips twitch, I know I should stop but I can’t seem to.
“Good skin care is highly underrated. Men should be more cognizant of it too, but there’s this stereotype that you can’t be a real man and have a good skin care routine at the same time. In fact, I just read an article—”
Lucky grabs my shoulders and hauls me in, crushing his mouth to mine in a searing, sinfully hot kiss that curls my toes. It’s all lips and teeth and tongue and I get swallowed whole in the sensations. I’m falling, leaning into him, wanting to melt and then… his mouth is gone.
My lips are cold, alone and abandoned. He’s holding me upright, peering at me when my eyes flutter open. “Now we know,” he says with a grin.
“Now we know what?” I mumble.
“That a kiss can get you to stop talking.”
“Sorry,” I say, touching my lips with my fingertips. “And thank you… I couldn’t seem to stop the words from coming out. But I stand by what I said about skin care.”
Lucky laughs—deep, rich. “You’re beautiful, Win. I liked the bombshell Winnie.” His gaze rakes up and down my body. “But I like this more.”
My heart stutters. “Barefaced and cardigan’d?”
He lifts a hand, tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “Exactly that.”
The space between us narrows.
And I feel it—that shift.
Because I don’t know a man has ever been more genuine with me in my life. It’s not something I’m guessing at. I feel it with him. I measure it by the way he looks me straight in the eye and by the unyielding tone of his voice.
He likes me for me.
“Can I admit something?” I ask.
He nods, his expression open and accepting.
“I’m nervous,” I say, focused on his chest. “Not because I don’t want to be… close to you. But because I do.”
His hand moves to my chin and he forces my gaze up. “You don’t have to be anything tonight but exactly who you are. I don’t expect anything, Win.”
But I do.
Not because I owe him anything. Not because he’s waiting for it.
But because I want this—with him.
“I know and I appreciate you being so clear about that.”
And then… I go to my tiptoes, one hand on his chest, and kiss him. Not so sweetly he doesn’t understand my intent, but not deeply either.
Just one kiss—that’s all I need. To prove this pull between us should not be dismissed. To confirm that what I’m craving isn’t one-sided.
The world narrows, goes quiet, and his gaze stays fixed on mine. His face is unreadable, and a creeping doubt slips in—maybe I’ve misread everything. Maybe this move was a mistake.
I start to shift back, second-guessing myself, but his hand curls around my nape, holding me steady.
Not rough, but absolute, and a rush shoots down my spine.
Not fear or uncertainty.
Pure electricity.
Lucky’s eyes flick down to my mouth, then back up—warm, devastating. Then he kisses me, and everything inside me lights up. His hands cradle my face as he steps in close, all heat and power pressing against me, sinking into my skin.
There’s no pause as his mouth claims mine, tongue sliding in like he already knows I’ll meet him halfway.
He’s confident, unhurried, like he’s got nothing to prove but wants to prove it all the same.
I press into him, feeling the solid warmth of his body, the way his hands brace at my waist before gliding up my back.
Something primal tears loose from my chest—a sound I didn’t know I could make, all hunger and need.
Lucky answers with a low groan into my mouth, one arm locking around my waist to pull me flush against him, hips pressed tight to mine.
And, oh God. The hard length of him against me makes my legs go weak, heat blooming low and fast.
I break the kiss, breathless and certain, and there’s no question what I want tonight. Desire crashes over me, sharp and consuming, and I need him to know I want him just as fiercely. “Will you stay the night?” I ask.
Lucky’s body jerks slightly, his eyes searching mine. “Are you sure?”
Before I commit, I do a mental review of the bra and underwear I put on after my shower, and they’re sexy enough. Not Victoria’s Secret level, but not granny panties either.
I nod, biting into my lower lip. I slide a hand between our bodies, gripping him through the fabric.
Lucky groans against my lips, hips surging into my touch. “Jesus Christ, Winnie. I dare you to do that again.”
My laugh is husky as I take the dare, tightening my hold and stroking him through his pants as his mouth drops to my neck.
When his teeth graze my skin, a shiver ripples through me, and then his lips trail up to my ear. “Couch or bedroom?”
“Bedroom,” I gasp as he nips at the sensitive lobe.
It happens so fast. I’m swept into his arms and he carries me to my bed, lays me on it and follows right behind.
Lucky’s blue eyes catch mine for a breath, then drift to my mouth, like he’s deciding exactly how he wants to devour me.
And then he does—his lips and tongue claim me so completely I hardly register the way he parts my thighs, sliding in close.
I don’t hesitate. I tilt my hips, open for him, and hook my legs around his, utterly unashamed.
He kisses me like he owns me—deep, unrelenting—as his hips grind hard against my center and his hands fumble with need, tugging at our clothes. My fingers slip under his shirt, skimming the muscles along his back.
Without pulling away from my mouth, he reaches down and unties my joggers with one hand.
What really stuns me is how smoothly his hand slips into my panties, his fingertip landing right on my clit with a slow, deliberate stroke.
My body jolts, hips thrusting instinctively, a gasp tearing from my mouth into his.