8. Willow
8
WILLOW
I haven’t had this much fun writing in years, even with my head feeling like it’s stuffed full of old socks after the party last night. I squirm in my chair, feet tucked under my butt. There’s a dull throb behind my left eye, and I've had to pee for the last half hour, but the words are flowing and I refuse to stand up and break the spell. My heroine Rachael has gotten lost on the wrong side of town, and the only ones around to help her are the three hot but suspicious men that moved in next door.
In my first draft the three men had only been one guy, and I’d been planning on revealing that he was really an undercover police officer, but… It’s fiction, right? Why not just let bad boys be bad?
Right?
Hopefully Colleen agrees, because my muse is set on a very specific path right now.
Outside in my backyard, a shirtless Skyhigh is taking measurements of the garden. He showed up about ten minutes ago and it’s getting harder and harder to focus. My eyes keep sliding over to the window when I need to concentrate on Rachael getting shoved up against a wall and kissed until she can’t think, let alone resist. My cheeks flush as I write and rewrite the scene. This is the point where old Willow would have let the curtains close and left everything up to the readers’ imagination, but this is new Willow and new Willow has to figure out how to get filthy without dying of embarrassment.
She could feel his— what? Cock? Noooo, too much. Steely hard satin length— gag, too flowery. Penis— absolutely not.
I snap my laptop shut and push away from my desk. As soon as I stand up, every single part of my body screams for attention at the same time. I rush to the bathroom, feet full of pins and needles, and grab a painkiller when I’m done, re-filling my water bottle on the way back to my desk.
The spare bedroom that I use for an office has a good view of the whole yard, and I sip my water while I watch Skyhigh poke around. The sun has just come around the side of the house, dappling the ground as the light filters through the old maple trees that dominate my yard. Watching safely from a distance, I can stare as much as I want, and one thing is clear, he’s very easy on the eyes. Clearly he works out, but not in a bulky musclehead way, just… a classically gorgeous body. His jeans hug his butt like they’re suffering from separation anxiety. I wet my lips.
Should I offer him something to drink? After crashing their party last night and some of the things I saw and did, offering him a cup of coffee or a soda should be easy. But do I just pretend the last thing I said to them was that I didn’t think sex was all that? And that I don’t remember them offering to show me I’m wrong?
I squeeze my eyes shut and whimper in utter mortification.
Pull yourself together, Willow. You’re both grown adults. Just go ask if he wants something.
Like me.
No! To drink. Yeah, to drink.
The backdoor rattles when it swings closed behind me. Skyhigh looks up. As soon as he sees me, his face lights up, that sexy smile of his spreading like I just made his day. When's the last time someone looked at me like that?
He raises a hand and waves. “Morning. How's your head? Feeling okay?”
“A little mushy, but other than that I'm fine, thanks. What are you doing? I didn’t know you were going to start already.” I tug on the bottom of my t-shirt. Should I have changed? I’m so used to walking around in my usual work uniform of athleisure that it didn’t even occur to me. I’m not even wearing shoes. I dig my toes into the grass self-consciously.
“Just taking some measurements. You said you wanted to clear out a couple beds and I was thinking it would be best to get some lumber to raise them up a little and create a border so it wouldn’t be a pain in the ass to mow.” He types some notes into his phone and slides it into his pocket.
“I think there are some boards in the shed, actually. I’ve been meaning to go through everything, but there’s enough to do inside the house where it isn’t full of bugs and spider webs. Here, I’ll show you.” I pick my way across the lawn carefully. The back half of the yard I’ve let grow wild, aside from cutting a path to be able to get to the mower and tools.
“Was surprised to see you at the party last night,” he says softly from behind me. “I didn’t think it would be your sort of scene.”
“You think you know my scene?”
His laugh is low and sexy. “Let’s see. You’re smart, pretty and an author, living in this place on your own. I bet you graduated at the top of your class and went to some fancy liberal arts college.”
“Uh, that’s very flattering, but no and no.” I pull the useless rusted lock off the shed. It’s really only there to keep the doors from swinging open. “See? Up there under the ceiling there’s a bunch of old lumber and stuff.”
A warm hand lands on my hip. “Hm, when Dragon and Blackout are back from gate duty we can go through this and see if there’s anything usable.”
“Sure, whatever’s in here is up for grabs.”
He’s standing so close it’s hard to think, and I move too quickly, catching my foot on a paint can. I reach out, grabbing for him to steady myself as he moves to catch me. We crash awkwardly together and I end up pulling him over with me. A strong arm goes around my waist, pulling me close to his chest, and he catches us both with his other hand, slamming it right into the wall full of random tools and odds and ends that my grandparents collected over the years.
“Shit!” He bites out, grimacing and pulling his hand to himself after we’re standing again.
“Let me see!” I grab his hand and yank it to me, turning his palm my way and prying his fingers open to reveal a nasty gash.
He sucks air through his teeth, hissing. “It’s fine. I’ll clean it up when I get back.”
“Come on.” Getting a grip on his wrist, at least as far around it as I can reach, I pull him towards the house.
“It’s just a cut, Willow. Doesn’t even need sewing up.”
“Yeah, yeah. You’re a big tough man. I’m very impressed.” I roll my eyes. “I have a sink and first aid stuff right here. Don’t be stubborn.”
He chuckles, but lets me lead him. “If you want to play doctor, I don’t mind. I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.” Inside, he seems more curious about the house than with his bleeding hand. “Have you changed anything since you moved in? Or is this all your grandmother’s stuff still?”
“What? You don’t think I picked out the chicken wallpaper border myself?” I leave him on a chair in the kitchen while I go to get supplies from the bathroom. “Do you want a dinosaur bandage, or pink hearts?”
“You know. I think it’s stopped bleeding already,” he calls out.
“Pick!”
After a moment of thought, he rumbles back, “Dinosaurs.” He sounds so certain I can't help chuckle at it. Typical boy.
I pull over a chair and scoot it up until my knees are right between his and his hand is in my lap. He sucks in sharp air again when I wipe a washcloth over the cut but doesn’t complain. I don’t see anything nasty in there, and it isn’t very deep, so I spray it down with antiseptic and wipe off the excess moisture before applying the bandage.
“I could do this myself, you know,” he says softly.
“It's easier with two hands.” I turn his hand over in mine, letting my fingers play over the backs of his knuckles. There’s dried blood between his fingers. “How did you manage that?” I clean his whole hand with the washcloth, frowning when it takes work to remove it all.
“Don’t know.” He gently pulls his hand back and hooks his index finger under my chin, making me look up at him. Despite his rough hands, it's a soft touch. It leaves me looking right into the blue pools of his eyes, so easy to drown in. His lips quirk into a mischievous crooked smile.
A thick, liquid heat settles between my thighs as last night makes a triumphant return in my mind.
“There she is,” he says, his deep voice raising goosebumps down my arms. “The girl from last night.” He leans in, not letting me lower my chin, so that our lips can't be more than an inch or two apart. I swallow hard, nervous, but not wanting him to pull away.
“I… I don’t know what you mean.”
“Yeah you do.” His breath is hot against my cheek. Everywhere we touch is burning up.
If I don't stop this now, what am I agreeing to? A kiss? Something more?
I don’t even try to get away.
With a soft, victorious chuckle, he tilts my head up just a little more before slanting his lips across mine. They're soft, much softer than I remembered, a stark contrast to his calloused fingers and the rasp of his beard. His tongue teases my mouth open as he slides his hand along my jaw and to the nape of my neck where he cups the back of my head and pulls me into him.
I’m lost. No one has ever kissed me like this, possessive, taking ownership in a way that makes me want to be owned, even if it's only for as long as the kiss lasts. Closing my eyes tightly, I meet his tongue with mine, loving how we playfully chase each other. The give and take of our mouths as we learn each other until I’m dizzy and pull back, gripping his thighs to steady myself.
His blue eyes are dark and stormy, and there’s a hungry look on his face, like he’s imagining what I’d look like naked and spread out on the table for him to play with. Or maybe that’s just what I’m imagining. I touch my fingers to my mouth, savoring the lingering sensation of his lips while I stare at him wide-eyed and breathing heavily.
What are we doing? Do I have a crush on the criminals next door?
“Consider that lesson number one,” he says with a smirk.
I pull my hands away and stand up. “I’m a grown woman. I don’t need lessons.” Turning away, I open the cupboard next to the fridge and reach for a glass. “Do you want water or anything? I meant to ask earlier.”
Skyhigh follows me, his chest right against my back. “I think you do.” He plucks the glass from my hand and puts it back. “Maybe I was wrong and you don’t have a fancy degree, but I know for damn sure that you are too smart and too curious not to wonder if I was right last night.”
“About what?”
“About us being able to show you that you’ve been missing the fuck out on the type of sex you deserve. The kind people write about in books.”
“I—” What’s stopping me? It's not like I’m betraying anyone. Not only am I single, I hardly even know anyone around here. The only thing keeping me from grabbing life by the balls—literally—is some messed up fear of being judged.
A knock on the window saves me from having to make any decisions here and now. We both turn to see Blackout looking in, and Dragon checking out the yard. He looks curious, but not enough to make me think he saw me about to crawl right into Skyhigh’s lap.
“Just think about it, Willow. Real hard.” His voice drops lower, and turns raspier. “It’ll be quieter at the club tonight. We can come by and pick you up, show you around without all the distraction.”
“Maybe, I’m not sure.”
He cocks his head and raises an eyebrow at me. “You got plans?”
“No, I just?—”
“Then we’ll see you about eight.” He winks, and then he's out the backdoor, leaving me breathless, confused and horny.
“What just happened?” I ask the empty kitchen.