CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE SAWYER #3
Cookies in hand, we turn off the main lights and head into her bedroom.
The first time I saw her bedroom, I was surprised by the lack of personalization.
There’s a picture of her and her dads on her dresser, along with a picture of her and Jaz on the Harry Balls Trail—in a very off-putting frame that has fake blood dribbled over it.
But that’s about it, minus a few of her toiletries and devices, as if she’s kept it the same guest room that Grandma Joan must have set up years ago.
“Now that you’ve fully consumed the cookie, what’s your final verdict?” I ask.
She licks the cinnamon sugar off her fingers—the way she sucks her finger in front of me doesn’t go unseen. “Oh my. Really freaking good.” Her finger pops out of her mouth, and my legs shiver from the thought of her mouth somewhere else.
I clear my throat. “Not better than Grandma Joan’s, though.”
“A close second.” She winks and takes a seat in the corner armchair, near where my bag is. She toes it. “Stay for a while.”
“I will.” I take a seat on her bed, facing her. “Just wanted to make those cookies before you got back.”
“It was very sweet of you. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. So, everyone checked in and good?”
“Besides one person. A Margaret O’Hare. She called and said she won’t be here until tomorrow.
Other than that, everyone’s in their cabins—well, some of them were down by the horseshoe pits, but yes, they’re all good, and they have my number if they need anything.
” Her eyes water up, and she shakes her head in what I assume is disbelief.
“I can’t believe we have a full house. I can’t remember the last time we had to light up the No Vacancy sign.
And the guests are already tagging us in pictures.
” A tear falls down her cheek, and I stand from the bed.
Lifting her from the chair, I take a seat so she’s on my lap and I can hold her close.
“We did it,” she whispers. “Thank you, Sawyer. I’m sure you know by now how much this means to me. ”
“I do.” I press my hand to her cheek so I can bring her close and press a kiss to her forehead. “I’m proud of you. People look for leaders to guide them through the dark. You lit a light, and people followed. You are incredible, Fallon.”
She leans back to look me in the eyes. “I could not have done it without you.” I wipe away her tear and push a stray piece of hair behind her ear.
“This, you and me, it feels like we were meant to be all this time, but for some reason, in order for us to become a we , there were obstacles we had to face first. Like I had to be with Peter to understand the feeling of true love.”
“And I had to be run over by Simon and Annalisa to comprehend the ideal of true loyalty, friendship, and the love of a pure woman.”
She smirks. “Well, I’m anything but pure.”
I chuckle. “I’m gathering that. But you know what I mean.”
“I do.” She leans in and presses a kiss to my lips. “I’m going to go check on Sully and then get ready for bed. Why don’t you use the bathroom first, and I’ll be in right after you?”
“Sounds good.”
I press another kiss to her lips and lightly smack her ass as she gets off me. Her look of utter surprise makes me laugh out loud. “I’m anything but pure as well.”
“Apparently,” she says, rubbing her butt as she leaves the bedroom.
I lean down to my bag and unzip it. On top, I have a pair of shorts to wear to bed, my toothbrush, and deodorant. Simple. I grab all three things and take them to the bathroom, which is just off the main living space. I quietly close the door behind me and set my things down on the counter.
Sully’s bedroom—the master—has a quaint adjoining bathroom that I was able to use last time, so this is my first time in this bathroom, and I have to say... we’re going to need to make some updates. Hell, we’ll need to make some updates to this entire living space.
Maybe that will be my next project. These dingy oak cabinets could use a face-lift, the yellowing counter is anything but appealing, and don’t get me started on the tile.
After a long day of working, Fallon deserves a place to relax, a sanctuary, and even though I know she probably wants to respect her grandparents and preserve what they built together, I think we could update some things, make the residence match the aesthetic of the cabins. At least in here.
I take care of my business, going to the bathroom, brushing my teeth, and, of course, reapplying deodorant—can’t smell for my girl—and then I head out just as I see Fallon quietly shutting Sully’s door.
“He all set?” I whisper, just in case he’s trying to sleep.
She nods. “Yeah, he just lay down. He told me to tell the man in the kitchen thanks for the cookies.”
I chuckle. “Well, he’s more than welcome. I’m going to put those last ones on the cooling rack in the container, and then I’ll meet you in the bedroom.”
“Sounds good.” She walks into the bathroom, but I snag her hand and place a quick kiss on her lips, making her giggle with my fumbled attempt. “Not much finesse there, Sawyer.”
“Let’s ignore that happened.”
We part ways, and I go to the kitchen, where I put away the remaining cookies in the container and rinse down the cooling racks, and then I head back into the bedroom.
I stare down at the bed—it’s a double bed, not even a queen, which means we’ll be on top of each other.
No complaining here. What side is hers, though?
I examine the nightstands, and when I see her phone cord on the right-hand side, I know I’ll be on the left.
Since her phone is on the dresser, I plug it in for her, and then I’m setting up my phone on my side just as the bedroom door opens. I turn around, and I’m nearly knocked back into the wall from the sight in front of me.
Fallon shuts the door but remains in front of it, a huge smile on her face.
“What, uh... what are you wearing?” I ask her as I take her in.
If she says “pajamas,” there’s no way I’m going to be able to sleep in this small bed with her every night and not touch her. Because... fuck .
She’s wearing a white silk top that barely touches the top of her thighs. Thin straps wrap around her delicate shoulders, and her hard nipples are pushing against the thin fabric of her top. And from what I can tell, she’s wearing a matching thong to go with the ensemble.
“Oh, you know, just what I wear every night,” she says, moving toward her side of the bed. “You plugged in my phone. Thank you.”
I don’t answer. I just stand there, stunned. “Uh, you didn’t wear that when I was staying in Sully’s room.”
“Oh, really.” She taps her chin. “Maybe I was being respectful of having a guest in the house.” She flips the bedding down and climbs in. When I still don’t move, she asks, “Are you going to lie down?”
I scratch the back of my head while I stare down at her. “You know, might be best if I go sleep on the couch.”
“Oh my God, Sawyer, don’t be ridiculous. Just lie down.”
I still don’t move.
“Are you really going to act like that? Do you need me to change?”
I mean, yeah... that would make things easier.
But I’d never make her do that because I have self-control.
I can do this. So what, she’s wearing a white silky top that fits her body perfectly and makes her look incredible.
Sure, do I want to touch her? Drag my hands over her breasts?
Tear her thong down and find out what she tastes like?
Yeah... but do I have self-control? Of course.
You must be thinking, Why are you holding back? Because... I think I’ve convinced myself I need more time. More time to dig deep into our connection.
Or maybe... fuck, maybe I’m just nervous because I truly love this woman and I’m waiting on the perfect moment.
“No, sorry. Just, uh... surprised.” I climb into bed carefully, trying not to take up too much space. She flips off the light at her nightstand, blanketing us in darkness, the moon providing the only light in the room.
Her back is turned toward me as I lay there on my back, stiff as a board, staring up at the ceiling. See, I can do this. I can be a gentleman and keep my hands to myself.
“Are you going to spoon me?” she asks.
No.
That would require touching.
“Do you want me to spoon you?”
She chuckles. “I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t.”
True, very true.
Okay, so spooning can be simple—just put an arm over her.
I twist my body on the bed so I’m facing her back and drape my arm over her side. Not her ass, not her breasts, but her waist. A neutral zone. Mind you, my arm isn’t curled around her stomach, nor is it romantically involved with her body at all. Just propped up on her side, dangling at the wrist.
“This is you spooning?” she asks.
“Is it not to your satisfaction?” I ask, my voice cracking with nerves.
“No.” And then, to my despair, she throws—yes, throws—her body into mine, her ass lining up with my crotch, back to my chest, and her arm curls around mine, making me grip her tightly.
Lord, please fucking help me here, because Christ does she feel so good against me. Warm, soft, smells like a goddamn dream. And when she presses my hand to her stomach, I nearly choke out a plea, begging her to move away.
I want to take it slow with her. I mean that.
I know we said “I love you,” but I still have this notion in the back of my head that if I go at a snail’s pace with her, then we’ll be able to build and build on our foundation, so when we do start to have sex, it doesn’t cloud the connection we’re forming.
But she’s making it hard—legitimately... she’s making me hard.
“There,” she says. “Was that so difficult?”
Yes.
Very.
When she notices just how stiff my body is still, she shimmies against me. “Loosen up, Sawyer, please.”
Fuck, don’t shimmy. Don’t move. Just that slight movement sent a bolt of desire straight to my cock.
“I am loose,” I lie.