Chapter 24
“Everyone Knows The Christmas Lobster”
“Here, see if these fit.” Greyson handed Wren a pair of ski pants that buckled at the chest. “They belonged to Logan.”
Pulling the water-resistant material to her nose, she breathed in the scent of cedar and old fabric softener. “How old are they?”
“Probably twenty years. You might want to shake them out to make sure there aren’t any mice living in the legs.”
She dropped the pants immediately and jumped back. “Greyson!”
He laughed and kissed her head, his lips lingering against her hair. After last night, everything had changed. Even the smallest touches now carried new meaning.
“Just kidding. If anything, there would be spiders.”
Snatching the snow pants, she marched down the hall and threw them in the dryer. “There. The high heat will kill any stowaways.”
Greyson gasped dramatically. “What would Bodhi say?”
She playfully gave him the finger and disappeared into the bedroom to finish dressing.
Today brought the official Larry the Lobstah lobster trap tree lighting ceremony, one that the Hawthornes had participated in for decades. This would be Wren’s first time seeing it from his perspective on the water, and the first time he’d have someone who mattered beside him.
He recalled all the times he’d pulled that old boat into harbor with his dad, each time his eyes searching the wharf for any sign of her. Now, she’d be right by his side.
“Will Mayor Locke be there?” She hopped awkwardly out of his room into a pair of his hunting socks, the thick wool bunching around her ankles.
“Of course. He’s Santa.”
She stood and chewed her lip the way she often did when nervous. “He’ll wonder why I’m with you.”
“Let him.”
He saw no point in pussy footing around the truth now. But Wren had been conditioned to keep her private life private in order to protect herself and Bodhi.
“Maybe I should stay back with everyone else at the wharf.”
Disappointment crashed through his good mood like a rogue wave. “Why?”
Fidgeting, she avoided his eyes. “I don’t know. People will talk. They’ll wonder why I’m on the boat with you.”
“You’re not a kid anymore, Wren. We aren’t doing anything wrong.”
“I know. I just can’t escape this feeling like something bad might happen if I let too many outsiders in.”
That fear came from years of protecting her father. For too long, she’d been forced to be the adult, shielding him from scrutiny to keep their family intact and avoid the foster care system that threatened to tear them apart.
Greyson closed the distance and hugged her tight, his arms wrapping around her like a fortress. “Hey.” He pressed a kiss to her head. “What did I tell you? I’ll always protect you. Nothing bad is going to happen.”
She sighed against his chest. “Even from Lady Lovewatch? Do you know she wrote about me last week? I despise being the center of town gossip.”
“I don’t know why you read that drivel. Lady Lovewatch is a lonely spinster with nothing better to do.”
“If she even is a lady. I always thought that pseudonym served as a cover. She’s probably some big burly dude hiding in a shed, eating cheese puffs and extracting his revenge for all the parties he didn’t get invited to.”
“Whoever it is, they’re no concern of ours. Besides, we’ve got nothing to hide.”
Going to check on the snow pants, she pulled them out of the dryer, the fabric warm and charged with crackling static electricity. He didn’t understand her sudden tension.
“Why are you afraid of what people might think?”
She shook out the pants and shrugged. “I just don’t want anything to ruin what we have.”
He took her arm and pulled her close, the warmth from the dryer still clinging to her skin as he brushed a soft kiss on her lips. “As long as we’re open and honest with each other, nothing can break us. Understand?”
Nodding, she softened under his touch. “Yes.”
“Good. Now, kiss me like you mean it.” She dropped the ski pants, and looped her arms around his neck as he lifted her to sit on the dryer. The warm metal buzzed beneath her as the residual heat from the cycle seeped through her jeans.
The kiss went from slow and drugging to ravenous in two seconds flat.
Hungry gasps and greedy hands undid all the layers they spent the last twenty minutes putting on. The scent of fabric softener and detergent surrounded them as she playfully licked at his mouth for more.
He unbuckled his belt with practiced efficiency. “Such a tease.” Scooting her closer to the edge, he wedged her panties aside and aligned himself. The moment he pulled her onto him, penetrating her deeply, she gasped. “Feel that?” he whispered against her ear, his breath hot against her neck.
“Mm-hmm.”
He rotated his hips, the movement sending sparks up his spine. He wanted to show her all the amazing things her body could experience. Gently, he traced his fingertips up her thigh. “Still sore?”
“A little, but it’s okay.” Her muscles had yet to recover from last night, and he’d had her more times than he could count.
“We’ll take it slow.” Gripping her ass, he pulled her down on his hard length with each languid thrust.
She bit his ear. “What if I want it hard and fast?”
His cock pulsed inside of her and he growled. “Ask and you shall receive.” Drawing back, he thrust deep.
The dryer banged into the wall, and the washer shook as spare change and laundry cups fell to the floor with metallic clatters.
The machine’s vibration amplified every thrust, creating a rhythm that matched their desperate need.
Angling back against a folded pile of towels, she braced her hands against the shelves and walls as he fucked her into the laundry closet.
Fast and dirty, exactly as she requested.
Her nails scratched down his arms and his breath quickened.
Every muscle in his body twitched and flexed in euphoric bliss.
The small space trapped their sounds—her gasps, his groans, the rhythmic banging of the machines against the wall.
Their eyes met the moment he lost control, a thousand treasured secrets passing between them as they voraciously licked and bit at each other, needing to get as close as possible.
His release rushed out of him and he pumped his hips hard as he grasped her breasts.
He couldn’t get enough of her mouth. Starved for every inch of her, he panted, dragging his hand down to her ass as he squeezed hard enough to leave a mark.
She was an incredibly quick learner and he was a very happy teacher.
He grunted with one more flex of his hips then slowly pulled away, breaking the kiss as they both panted. Her hair was a mess, and her cheeks were flushed. A quarter stuck to her arm, and the laundry detergent had spilled across the floor in a blue puddle.
“Shit.”
“I’ll get a mop.”
Greyson helped her down, and she swayed, a little off balance. She giggled as she wobbled down the hall, completely naked aside from her thick wool socks, her skin still flushed from their encounter.
“Careful.”
She returned a moment later with the mop, still gloriously bare. “Give me that.”
Rat peeked out of the bedroom to see if the noisy part was over and Wren scooped him up, her breasts pressing against his soft fur. There really was nothing sexier than seeing a naked Wren nuzzle his kitten.
When he cleaned up the mess, he closed the laundry closet. “I hate to rush you, but we’ve gotta get moving.”
Once dressed again, they secured Rat in the spare room with his litter box and some toys, then finished bundling up against the December cold.
“Do you have sunglasses? The wind off the coast will make your eyes tear.”
The thirty-minute entrance into the harbor on the vintage boat was something Greyson’s family orchestrated every year. He wanted a flawless trip since it was Wren’s first big voyage with him as the acting captain.
She slipped on a pair of aviators. “Think I’ll be warm enough?”
Even bundled up like an arctic explorer, she was freaking adorable. “You’ll easily be the hottest woman in Hideaway.”
She laughed and tossed him his keys. “Let’s go.”
Cruising through several stop signs and yellow traffic lights, Greyson made it to the fishery on time.
Wren bounced nervously on the front seat of his truck where the makeshift cat bed for Rat usually sat.
He didn’t understand why she was nervous, but he figured it just had to play itself out for her to see there was nothing to worry about.
The moment they got to the docks, her worry was distracted by the blustery winds rushing off the waves. It was too damn cold to think, let alone stress about anything other than delivering Larry the Lobstah to the harbor and getting the hell back on land—preferably some place warm.
The bitter wind cut across the bay in sharp slices, gnawing at their exposed skin and rattling the frost-covered rigging like bones in a barrel.
A boat in December waters might be unusual, but the Hawthorne fleet was not for pleasure cruises.
These ships were industrial machines, meant for the toughest seas on earth.
“Wait.” He tugged Wren’s jacket tighter, inspecting that she was fully covered, his hands lingering possessively on the zipper. “Ready?”
He was excited to show her this side of his world, the maritime heritage that ran in his blood like saltwater. “Show me how it’s done, my rugged mountain fisherman.”
He kissed her but forced himself to cut it short. The temptation to take her again was real but he had a commitment to meet. “Your ass is mine the second we get home.”
“Silly man, I’m always yours.”
He growled like a caveman and took her gloved hand in his, tugging her toward the docks. His heavy footfalls clunked against the planks as he led the way to the antique ship, Sable Rose.