Chapter 12 #2
“Yes,” I tell him simply, my voice rough from barely using it all night. Linden’s gray eyes are fixed on my hand, and I’m unsure if he heard me at all. But when he lifts his head again, his gaze locking with mine, I can see a storm brewing in them.
“We also have bees,” he continues, his voice dropping to a whisper. “For honey. And a cherry orchard. How’s that for a conversation topic?”
I smile, my hand slowly inching higher, wandering from his knee to his thigh. “Oh, you should totally tell me all about that.”
I don’t know who moves first—maybe we both do, meeting halfway over the fries and our drinks. We halt a mere fraction of an inch apart, his hot breath ghosting over my skin when he asks, “In private?”
“Did you park outside?” I murmur, my lips touching his with every syllable.
“Yeah,” he breathes. “At the very end of the lot.”
“Good. Let’s go then.”
But we don’t go. Instead, I lean into him, closing the last distance as I press my mouth against his.
Darkness has fallen over Bonham by the time we leave the Badger’s Den.
Two streetlights illuminate the parking lot as we make our way to the very end.
Unlike Owen and Noah, neither of us is intoxicated, so there’s no reason to steady Linden.
Instead, he has his hand wrapped around mine, leading me to his truck in the dimly lit corner of the parking lot.
Silence spreads between us, both of us hesitant to speak first and ruin the moment.
There’s no need for words anyway—the soft tunes of the jukebox have followed us out here, mixed with muffled voices and occasional laughter from inside the bar.
“So…” Linden starts as we reach his truck, darting a look at me over his shoulder. His lips are red and puffy from how he kissed me earlier—greedy but slow, like the way you devour a cookie after dipping it in warm milk.
“So,” he repeats, but I have him by the collar of his shirt before he can continue.
His eyes widen when I press him against the side of his truck, a gasp coming out of his mouth before I can smother it with my own.
I still find salt on his lips from the fries, can still taste a hint of ketchup on his tongue.
Linden’s arms wrap around my neck, and I wedge a knee between his legs, trying to pin him against the cool metal.
We’re impossibly close, chests pressed together, hips meeting, and I can feel his hardness against my thigh.
The realization makes my cheeks burn, not from shame, but the act has something forbidden in it, like I’ve overstepped a boundary, like eyes lingering too long on a teammate in the locker room, a friendly slap on the butt given too gently.
It’s nothing I’ve ever done before, yet I carry these unspoken rules inside of me.
But there’s no pushback. Instead, Linden grinds against me, a soft moan traveling from his mouth directly into mine, vibrating there, echoing inside my core. He must have done it without realizing because the next second, he freezes, his eyes snapping open as he leans back.
“I’m sorry,” he breathes, and I laugh, because wasn’t this the whole point of our endeavor?
“Offside?” I ask, just to make sure he’s still on board.
“No fucking way,” he huffs, already leaning in again, then stopping himself at the last second, blond eyebrows knotting together. “Unless you…”
“I’m good,” I promise, squeezing his upper thigh as I say it. “But we probably should get into the truck before someone calls the cops on us right when I’m about to stick my hands into your pants.”
“True,” Linden hums. “I guess Noah and Owen benefited from some creative leeway.”
“You recognized it?” I laugh, slightly embarrassed, even when that’s stupid.
It was his idea to use that book as an instruction manual.
Yet it somehow bothers me that he could think I faked all of it.
I really liked our conversation back in the bar.
I’ve learned more about him in the past hour than over the past year!
“Ah, you know, I only read it about ten times or so.” He winks, then beeps his truck open, nodding to the backseat. “Let’s get in there. More room, less obvious.”
“Smart.” I whistle as I climb into the backseat. He reversed right next to a van, which will hopefully obscure us from plain view. It’s not totally safe, but a risk I’m willing to take since leaving would probably break our momentum and make this awkward again.
“Thank God you're driving such a monster truck.” I laugh when he climbs into the backseat after me. We struggle a little at first until I manage to pull him into my lap and pull the door shut behind us.
“Well, I knew it would come in handy one day when I was going to pull a big linebacker,” he jokes, his hands hovering before settling on my shoulders. They’re warm, and the pressure is just the right amount to be reassuring.
“You’re lucky I’m a tight end then,” I correct him with a wide grin, “because you wouldn’t be able to fit one of our linebackers in here.”
“A bit too much information for the first date,” he quips back, and it takes me a moment to catch on.
“Linden George Woodrow.” I gasp, deploying the middle name I learned just minutes ago. “Was that a sex joke? And delivered without blushing?!”
He does blush now, accompanied by a soft groan, yet he doesn’t resist when I pull him closer.
“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, leaning his forehead against mine. “I’m fucking nervous.”
“I know.” I chuckle, my hand reaching up to brush over his cheek.
It’s soft and clean-shaven, a hint of his shampoo reaching me when I lean in.
A subtle flowery note that conjures up images of endless fields dotted with wildflowers, none of that harsh stuff that causes your eyes to water in the locker room.
“I’m fucking nervous, too,” I admit against his lips as we melt into another kiss. It’s safe ground by now, since we’ve done this several times.
While our tongues play with each other, my hands wander along his sides, slipping under his oversized shirt. I rest them on his hips, right above the waistband of his jeans, but when he leans into the touch, I take it as permission to explore more.
My palms travel over stretches of soft, warm skin, tracing the cut of abs I hadn't expected to find under his boxy shirt. I hesitate for a second when I reach his chest, then rub a thumb over one of his hardened nipples, teasing a gasp out of him.
“Not good?” I murmur between kisses, unsure how to interpret his reaction.