Chapter 12
CHAPTER TWELVE
Elodie
Cruz picked me up to go to my parents’ place. I stifled yawns the whole way while balancing a tray of salted caramel eclairs on my lap. I liked dressing up for our date, but it’s also good to be back in my loose shorts and shirt with sandals. Even nicer that Cruz gave me the same smoldering look.
When we arrived, Clem was already there and so was Uncle Karl.
I introduced them, and Dad and Karl have dominated Cruz’s attention since we arrived and all through eating.
Cruz has probably shared every scrap of distilling knowledge he knows and received just as much gossip about his neighbor, Hutch Langley.
Mom’s not allowed to do any work, so the guys are cleaning up the meal too. I’m sitting on a chair beside Clem on the floating deck Dad built behind the house. Mom has her face tipped to the sky.
As if Cruz senses me staring at him, he slides his gaze over and gives me a little smirk.
I pass him an equally sly smile. Does he know how good he looks just standing there?
He doesn’t have to do more than wake up, run a hand through his hair, and throw on jeans and cowboy boots to get my hormones buzzing.
My fatigue isn’t as debilitating when I’m admiring his muscles.
“I think Dad approves of Cruz,” Clem murmurs.
I push my glasses up my nose and sit straighter. “He should.”
Mom chuckles. If I didn’t know she’d bumped her head, I wouldn’t be able to tell. Her gray hair is pulled back and the pleasant expression on her face is exactly what I want to see. “He’s not the hard parent to win over, but I have to say, I agree. Cruz is an open book.”
He’s been as honest as he can be. Will he and I always be guarded around Mom and Dad? Cruz, because he doesn’t want to dredge up a guy who doesn’t exist anymore, and me, because I don’t want my parents to spiral over something they had no control over.
What if they knew, and we could just be? Would the grief and stress be worth it? Would my parents accept him, so he doesn’t hide his past from me? He’s a good guy, and he should be accepted for who he is and not how charming he can be.
Cruz’s laughter drifts over to me and my lips lift into a smile. The man is easygoing and utterly charming. He doesn’t boast. He’s not arrogant. He’s honest and relatable. And he wants to be mine.
Wouldn’t it be nice to fall asleep with him in a bed this time? Sex with him might scramble my brains, but the cuddling would be off the charts.
“I like that I’ve met him,” Mom says, and I’m yanked into awareness.
Was I falling asleep again? With nothing but Cruz and cuddling on my mind? Yes, probably. “I like that you’ve met him too.”
Clem nods. “I even know more than his name and what he does for a living, but that’s thanks to working with him.”
“You should count your lucky stars you didn’t work with my ex.”
Both of them look at me. Mom’s lips form a troubled line. Damn. My gaze strays to Cruz yet again, still chatting by the porch with my dad and Uncle Karl. I wasn’t going to touch this subject, but it slipped out. I cracked open the door, and I want to shut it again.
For years, I gave them the bare minimum—when I actually answered their calls. Guilt chews my insides, but that door is going to stay cracked. I won’t shut it completely, not after opening up to Cruz. “I knew something was wrong, and I didn’t want to admit it. Now I just want to forget.”
“But Cruz?” Mom’s approving gaze touches on the group of men. “No history of being bad news?”
I know about the history. That’s the difference. “He’s not perfect, but he’s worked on himself.”
“Then save him from another hour of small talk and interrogation.” Mom wiggles to get out of her chair, her feet barely touching the ground until she’s almost all the way out. “Go get your dessert, and I’ll distract your dad.”
Laughing, I make my way toward the kitchen to retrieve my eclairs. When I turn from the fridge, Cruz is waiting to take the container from me like my very own dessert.
I could get used to this, to having him there when I need a hand. “How are you holding up under their attention?”
He flashes his crooked grin. “It’s the most fun I’ve had in a long time. Except for when a pretty girl stopped in at the distillery at closing time.”
Tendrils of heat unfurl in my belly, and they only stoke hotter when he gives me a quick kiss. I feel like I’m a teen and I’ve snuck a date through my window, which is something I’ve never done.
He carefully tucks the eclairs under an arm. “I’ve been looking forward to your . . . cannoli.”
I let out the girliest giggle. Who am I right now?
He leans against the island and adopts a crooked grin. “Are you ready to go on another date with me?”
I’m ready for so much more than a date. I might be ready to drop, but I’m not missing another chance with Cruz. “How about you come over tonight instead?”
“You don’t have to ask me twice.” He pushes off the island and leans close enough to murmur in my ear. “And you’ll have free rein with me.”
My heartbeat thrums between my thighs, and a needy quiver runs down my spine.
I have so many ideas about what to do with his hard body and that wicked mouth of his, but my business brain won’t shut off.
“Whatever I do might be pretty quick because I have a lot of baking to catch up on tomorrow, along with two wedding cakes and a birthday cake.”
His grin is unrepentant and full of promise, infusing me with enough adrenaline to chase away a large chunk of my fatigue. “I’m at your mercy.”
Cruz
Just like the night we got interrupted by her mom’s injury, Elodie and I are all over each other as we plunge through her back door. My tongue’s in her mouth, and as soon as we’re fully inside, I kick the door shut behind me.
Again, I pin her between me and the door. She kicks her shoes off and I manage to toe out of my boots while keeping our lips locked. The salted caramel flavor lingering from the eclairs is just what she’s going to taste like when I get her naked.
I hook my fingers over the hem of her shorts to drag them down, but she shakes her head and grabs my arms. Then she spins me around and my back hits the door with a thump. “It’s your turn.”
When she yanks my zipper down, I suck in a breath. Having her mouth on me is a recurring fantasy come true, but it can’t be an obligation for her. “Aw, sugar, as much as I want you to do that, you don’t have to.”
“I know.” She flicks open the button of my fly.
I’d be all about her pleasure, I’d insist, but my dick has been pestering me for weeks when it comes to Elodie Palmer. And the way she’s clawing open the fly of my pants, who am I to deny her something she wants to do?
My brain can be a selfish prick, but all other logic and good intentions vanish as soon as her warm fingers curl around my shaft.
A long groan leaves me and her grin is unadulterated wickedness.
She tugs the rest of me free and pumps her hand up and down the length.
Blistering pleasure sears me behind my eyes.
I have to brace myself—against the floor, against the door, fuck, anything. Nothing has felt this good. Ever.
When she drops to her knees, I’m a goner. The sight of Elodie with her big eyes gazing at me from behind her glasses and her lips plump from my kiss is an erotic sight that will never leave my brain. My spank bank has one image in it and it’s this.
When her lush lips part and she licks that pink tongue across the crown of my cock, I hiss. “Fuck me, Elodie. You’re going to twist me into a pretzel with nothing but that mouth.”
“Good. Then you’ll feel the same way as me.” She wraps her hand around the base of my erection and takes me slowly into her mouth, her cheeks hollowing as she goes.
My desire cranks to infinity, and I fight my way down from my peak.
I will not come within a minute of her touching me.
This should be an exception, but the night I have planned with her is going to be long, and it’s going to start with her coming on my face, and finish with me orgasming inside of her while we come at the same time.
But surely I can enjoy just another minute of this.
Her head’s bobbing and it’d be easier on my impending climax if I didn’t watch the glistening crown of my cock slip in and out of her wet mouth.
When she swirls her tongue around the tip and moans, I gently cup her chin.
I’m going to lose it and I have too much planned.
She releases me, and my pulse beats through my hard-on, ready to let her resume what she was doing.
My breath saws in and out of me. “I’m not going to last, and I really need to come inside you.”
Her eyes are shining when she says, “Let’s go upstairs.”
“Yes, ma’am.” My shirt falls over my dick when I help her up. I’d pick her up, but she takes my hand and tows me behind her.
The stairs are narrow and I duck my head to keep from knocking myself out on the low ceiling.
We emerge in a cozy studio apartment. A nightlight glows by a partially open door that must be a bathroom.
A bed with rumpled covers is in the middle under a narrow rectangular window with closed blinds.
A small counter and stovetop run along one wall and a dresser with clothing piled on top rests against the opposite side.
She doesn’t stop as she pulls me to the bed.
“Get on.” My command is guttural. The shirt material brushing against my sensitized skin isn’t nearly as good as Elodie’s mouth, but it’s enough to shout loud and clear that I haven’t come yet. “I’m going to strip you down.”
She gets on her hands and knees on the edge of the bed and casts a glance over her shoulder at me. Then she wiggles her ass.
“Naughty girl.” My groan echoes through the whole room. I stalk toward her. “I cannot wait to have you sit on my face.”
“Sitting on faces feels like a fourth-date thing.” A playful smile ripples across her face.
She flips to her butt just as my knees hit the bed. She sets her glasses on the nightstand, and I prowl over her.
“Lunch, dinner at my house—which one hundred percent counts,” I add when she opens her mouth. “Bootleg, and . . .” I grin wide. “Dinner at your parents’. What does that add up to?”
She laughs and fists her hands in my shirt.
I let her drag it over my head. I want to get her shorts off, but the way she’s devouring my bare chest with her gaze holds me still.
I’m caught between wanting to dive into everything Elodie Palmer ASAP and needing to stretch and savor every single moment.
She’s the finest spirit I’ve ever gotten my hands on.
She traces a finger over the tattoo on my arm. It’s a curving highway circling my biceps with three dots, like three stops on a map. “A road, like the theme of your name, Lane, and Myles.”
The warmth blooming inside my chest isn’t something I’ve experienced when I’ve been half naked with a girl before. “You’re the only one who’s guessed that other than my brothers. Mom liked the theme and ran with it. Drove with it would be more accurate.”
“It’s sweet.” She runs her fingertip along one of the lanes, then switches to the horseshoe with a B inside of it over my heart. “Do you have any other tattoos?”
“I stopped at these.”
She returns to the inked highway and trails her index finger along the other side. Threading her hands through my hair, she drags me down for a kiss.
I don’t linger long. I’m addicted to her sweet taste, but I have other plans. I kiss my way down her neck as she writhes underneath me, entirely too dressed. For the second time, I dip my fingers underneath her waistband. Just as I’m about to pull down, she gasps.
Half sitting, she props herself on her elbows. “The door? Did I lock it? Shit. Sorry.”
She wiggles to get off the bed. Instead of being frustrated, I let out a little laugh and put my hand on her leg until she stops her delectable squirming. “It’s not your fault I haven’t driven doors and locks right out of your mind yet.”
She slaps her hands on either side of her face. “Oh god. I’m so sorry.”
Embarrassment floods her cheeks, and it’s so damn cute, my brain splinters. She’s the perfect mix of adorable and sexy.
A shudder travels through me. Soon. I’ll get to have her soon. “I’ll go lock it.”
Relief and gratitude fill her eyes as she lies back. “Thank you.”
“Never a problem.” I flip my shirt back over my erection and jog downstairs. I lock the doorknob and flip the dead bolt. She really could do with some alarms and real security, but she probably knows that. Another thing that has to wait for spare money.
To make sure nothing else interrupts us, I go through the bakery to the front door and check those locks. We’re secure.
I take the stairs up, keeping my head down. The last thing I need ruining this night is a concussion. When I reach her small apartment, it’s quiet and dark like before.
A sense of apprehension descends over me.
Nothing terrible, just a notion that tonight isn’t going to turn out the way I hoped.
I approach the bed and a sprawled-out Elodie.
Her limbs are limp and her head is turned to the side.
A puff of air escapes her lips, like she just tumbled off a cliff into a deep sleep.
My disappointment is no match for how damn cute she is. I study her, wondering at what point it’s creepy to stand by her bed and stare. Her dark lashes are stark against her cheeks. A few fingers twitch a moment before she rolls to her side, tucking her hands under her chin. She curls her legs up.
Her phone is almost falling out of her back pocket, so I carefully slip it out and she stays asleep, which she obviously needs more than an orgasm.
I set the phone on the nightstand by a small lamp and a framed picture of two little girls with dark hair sitting on a bench that has their dad’s name.
The youngest of the girls has a big grin, missing teeth, and the older girl appears to be scrutinizing the camera or whoever is the photographer.
A young Elodie was still a serious Elodie.
Next, I take one of the blankets that’s not completely under her and drape it over her.
I could leave, but if she wakes up and I’m gone, will she think I ditched her when I couldn’t get laid? If I stay and she wakes up to me, will she scream at me to leave because I smashed past another boundary? I don’t know. But I don’t want to leave.
I’m going to risk her wrath. I’d rather she be angry with me than hurt by me. Besides, waking up beside Elodie won’t be a bad way to experience a Monday morning.