Chapter 17
17
ZARA
I look out the window at the forest in front of me, seeing birds flying in and out of the trees while the sun tries to peek out from the gray sky today. It looks like it’s going to storm, but it still looks so peaceful. I take a sip of my coffee and fold my legs under me, thinking about how much fun I had yesterday. Was I nervous to meet Colson? One thousand percent. Did I fall in love with him in less than two hours? Also, one thousand percent.
Then standing with them and decorating their tree while he pointed out all the decorations they’d gotten over the years. I came right home and ordered five ornaments for myself that will make me remember this Christmas. Although I don’t think I’ll ever forget this particular one, but I wanted the keepsakes anyway. They drove me home to ensure I was safe, and I quickly kissed Gabriel before he had to go back home and be a dad. I can see from the day I spent with them that he loves every second of it. I’m finishing my coffee when there is a knock on the door. Putting the mug down, I walk to the front door, opening and seeing him standing there wearing jeans and his jacket. The smile fills my face until my cheeks hurt. His hair looks like he just ran his hands through it. “Well, good morning, Cowboy,” I greet right before he steps into the house, wraps his arm around my waist, and pulls me to him. “This is a nice surprise.”
“You really need to give me your phone number,” he mumbles right before he kisses the ever-loving shit out of me. My legs wrap around his waist as he does it. It is the kiss I didn’t know I needed this morning. It’s the kiss I didn’t know I wanted this morning. It is the kiss I don’t know how I’ll forget once I leave. I wrap one arm around his shoulder as I reach up to hold his cheek. Our tongues play the tango as he turns and pushes me against the door. “I don’t have that much time. I have to get to the barn,” he says when he finally lets my mouth go.
“How much time you got?” I ask him breathlessly. “Can you fuck fast?”
He groans before turning back and walking to the stairs. The minute he gets to the top, it’s full steam ahead. Each of us trying to get the other person naked until he’s falling onto me on the side of the bed. I shimmy my way to the middle, and in two moves, his mouth is between my legs, but not for long. Enough time for me to close my eyes and move my fingers into his hair. Enough time for me to want more of him. Enough time to get me wet because he’s then on his knees, his cock in his hand, rubbing up and down my slit before ramming into me. My back arches off the bed, and he arches his back, shoving his cock deeper into me. “Fuck, that’s good.” I lift my legs to his sides. “Now fuck me, Cowboy,” I urge him as he leans down on his elbows, his mouth claiming me as he fucks me hard, fast, and wild. I don’t think I’ve ever had sex like this before. Actually, I haven’t. I’ve come at least three times by the time he’s telling me he’s close. “My mouth,” I groan, “I want you in my mouth.”
“Then sit up,” he orders me, “and spread your legs so I can fuck my fingers into you while I fuck your face.” I sit up and grab his cock in my hand, swallowing as much as I can. “Open that throat for me.” He moves his hips, hissing when I take him deeper than I ever have. His fingers slide past my clit and then into me. “That’s my girl,” he mumbles as he pinches one of my nipples before moving his hand into my hair to grip it. “I’m going to fuck your mouth now.” I moan as his finger slides over my G-spot. “And you’re going to take it the way I want you to take it.” I close my eyes as he thrusts more into my mouth. “Going to paint your mouth with my cum and watch you swallow every drop.” His thumb moves side to side on my clit. “Look at you”—my eyes open to look up at him—“choking on my cock like a good girl.” The need to take him all the way to the root is so strong, but I know I will literally choke. “That’s it, Sweetheart.” He thrusts his hips forward. “Take it,” he demands between clenched teeth before he throws his head back and groans, shooting right down my throat. My hand moves up and down, helping squeeze all of his cum out for him, taking it all. I feel the power in me that I made him lose control this way. I’m the one who did that. There is no second-guessing when it’s with us. He knows how much I like his cock, and I know how much he loves either my mouth or my pussy. Both sides mean I win.
His hips move slower as he slips his fingers out of me, and then his cock plops out of my mouth. “Fuck, I thought I was going to die,” he admits to me, bending to kiss my lips. “I have never come so hard in my life.”
I smile and flip my hair over my shoulder. “I’ll take that compliment.” I lean forward to kiss his hip. “It wasn’t bad for me either.”
He laughs, and I get the flutters in my chest. “Not too bad, I thought you were going to strangle my dick.” He gets off the bed, holding out a hand for me, and I climb out of bed with him. “Now let’s get cleaned up so I can start my day.” He slaps my ass, pushing me out the door. I bend down to collect my clothing as I walk to the bathroom and turn on the sink before grabbing two washcloths. We both take care of ourselves, and when we walk back down the stairs, we are both dressed again.
I stop in front of the door, getting on my tippy-toes. “What are you doing for dinner?” he asks me.
“Not sure, why?”
“I don’t have Colson,” he starts, “and the bar is closed today, so how about we have dinner together?”
“Yeah, why don’t you come over, and I’ll cook you dinner?” The minute I say the words, my head laughs at me, and before I can take them back, he’s kissing me and leaving.
“I’ll come by when I’m done,” he throws over his shoulder. “What time do you finish working?”
“Around four-ish,” I say, thinking I might have to be done at noon so I can run out and grab food since I have yet to make it to the grocery store.
“I’ll be here then.” He winks at me. “Have a good day, Sweetheart.”
“You too, Cowboy.” I hold up my hand. “If you see Fireball, tell her I said hello.”
He chuckles. “Will do.”
I close the door and put my head against it before rushing to my phone and checking to see it is 4:00 a.m. in LA, so I can’t call Zoey. Instead, I call Sofia, who answers the phone in a whisper, “Hello.”
“Hey,” I say, closing my eyes, “I need you to tell me the simplest recipe to cook.”
“What?” she gasps. “Why?”
“Gabriel asked what I was doing for dinner, and I was like ‘do you want to have dinner’ and invited him over.” She groans. “And we both know cooking is not my strong point.”
“What the hell were you thinking?”
“I don’t know,” I admit, walking over to the table and opening my laptop. “It was in the moment.”
“Good God, please don’t burn down my house. It was my great-grandfather’s.”
“I’m not going to burn down your house,” I retort, looking around, “but where do you keep the fire extinguishers?”
She laughs at me, and by the end of the conversation, we’ve decided to make a one-pan baking sheet dish. It takes me one hour of scrolling on the internet before I come to the easiest recipe. I make my list and rush out to the grocery store by three. It amazes me that people are having full-blown conversations with each other in the middle of the aisles as if no one is around. Everyone seems to know everyone, and everyone looks at you like an outsider if they don’t know you. I buy way too much food, three bottles of wine, and also a case of beer even though I don’t drink beer. I have to wonder if Gabriel does.
When I get home and unload the groceries, putting everything away, I grab my laptop and bring it to the kitchen counter. Going step by fucking step, after I’ve cut the veggies, I toss them in olive oil, coating them. I then grab some potatoes, dice them, and also coat them, putting them in the middle, with the chicken at the end of the pan. “You got this,” I say, placing it in the oven and grabbing the bottle of wine before starting the timer for one hour, just to be sure.
I sit down, looking out the back window, and enjoy my wine. I put my head down and close my eyes for a minute. The sound of knocking wakes me up, and I blink my eyes open, seeing the air is a bit foggy. It takes my nose and then my head a second to process the smoke. “Oh my God.” I rush off the couch toward the kitchen, the smoke coming out of the sides. My whole body goes on alert, and my hands start to shake because I expect to find flames coming out of the oven. I look around the kitchen for a red fire extinguisher but don’t find it anywhere. I’m about to freak out.
“What the hell is going on?” Gabriel says from the doorway as I look around for a glove to take the baking sheet out of the oven. “What’s burning?”
I finally find the dishrag and grab the pan out of the oven, almost burning my hand when I drop it on the top of the stove. The veggies look like they are ash, the potatoes look like they are ready, and the chicken looks like it’s charred.
The smoke detector blares, and I look up at the ceiling. “Of course this would happen,” I grumble, running to it with the rag in my hand and fanning it to get it to stop. Gabriel walks to the front door and opens it, then goes to the back door and opens it. “I knew this was a bad idea,” I tell him. “I knew it, but I did it anyway.” I look over seeing him smiling at me. “Don’t laugh, I almost burned down the house,” I hiss at him, “because I wanted to make you dinner.” The smoke alarm finally stops ringing, so I can stop waving my hands in front of it.
“You did all this for me?” he asks, and I look at him. He’s wearing the same thing he wore this morning, but he’s just got dirt all over him. I can even see some dust on his face. “You didn’t have to do all this.”
“Yeah.” I roll my eyes. “But I did.” I walk over to the stove and take in the baking sheet. “And well, all of it is wasted.”
“How long did you have it in the oven?” he asks me, coming over and looking down at what would have been our dinner.
“An hour,” I tell him. “I figured I could get a head start and then just leave it to warm.”
“How high was the oven set to?”
“It said three seventy-five for forty-five minutes, but I was like let’s put it to four hundred to be safe.”
“Oh, it’s safe, all right.” He tries not to laugh. “What else did you buy for dinner?”
I look up at him and smirk. “Whipped cream and some chocolate sauce.”
“Meh.” He shrugs. “Who needs chicken anyway?” There in the middle of the kitchen where I just burned our dinner, and he didn’t freak out, I laugh like I’ve never laughed before. He grabs me around my waist and pulls me toward the stairs. “But first I need a shower.”