Chapter 9 #2
She was smiling as she stopped next to the open passenger door of my truck, and the urge to lean down and kiss her was almost overwhelming.
I knew that was a horrible idea, though.
I’d been paying attention to her behavior since she’d announced she wasn’t going to date for a year and noticed that any time I got too close to her, she made an excuse to move away.
I knew it wasn’t out of fear, mostly because I caught her watching me with a heated look in her eye and a flush on her cheeks - sure signs that she was interested in me.
So far, her stubborn declaration was winning out, though, and I knew that if I pushed her too hard, she’d run.
I knew enough about women to understand that she felt that she needed control, so I was going to give it to her.
But I’d decided last night while we were watching a movie that I didn’t have to make it easy.
More than once, she’d almost faltered and curled up next to me, but she’d realized she was slipping and caught herself.
She’d gotten up from the couch with the excuse that she needed to check on the puppies.
When she came back, she made sure to sit as far away from me as possible.
But as she relaxed, we got closer and closer until, once again, she had to get herself in line by feigning a need to get up.
So, I decided to press the issue - not overtly, but like water on a rock, I was going to slowly wear her down until I made her see that I was nothing like the men she’d known before.
I was a Forrester through and through, and we were an entirely different breed.
It was about time I demonstrated that to her.
I slowly walked toward her until she was pressed between my body and the open door, and then I took her elbow in my hand.
I tenderly slid my hand down her arm before I took her hand in mine.
I gave it a quick squeeze and then unhooked the bag from her fingers, making sure to hold her eye contact so I could see the change in them as I touched her.
It wasn’t just her eyes that showed a reaction. Her cheeks flushed, and goosebumps covered her arm before she shivered and took a deep breath. She apparently felt the same electricity I did every time we touched, which meant that I was going to make it my mission to do that as often as possible.
Once I put her bag in the back seat, I shut the door and turned toward her again, taking her hand in mine.
Once I had the passenger door open, I put my hand against her lower back and said, “Hop in, babe.” Darcy was taller than most women but still had to use the step to get in, so when she reached up to grab the handle for leverage, I put my hands on her waist and ‘helped’ her.
I then pulled the seatbelt out and leaned across her to buckle it.
While our faces were just inches apart, I smiled and said, “Safety first, right?”
“Right,” she mumbled before she swallowed hard. “I remember that. You took care of me.”
“I’ll always take care of you, Darcy. No worries there.”
◆◆◆
DARCY
There was something different about Crow today. He was more . . . everything. More touchy-feely and in my space, giving me more knowing looks that made me wonder what in the hell he was thinking, and . . . just more everything!
He had me so off balance that I wasn’t sure whether I was coming or going. That wasn’t a great analogy, because when he ran his hand down my arm, it felt so sensual that all I could think about was how hard he could make me come with that rough hand of his.
Good grief.
My libido was rearing its ugly head right now, and I needed to get that bitch in check.
I had a plan, dammit! One year of celibacy to get my shit together wasn’t too much to ask, right?
I had barely passed the two-month mark, and all I could think about was climbing on top of Crow Forrester and doing things that would make him blush the next morning.
Ten months, Darcy! Ten! You can do it. It’s what’s best for your mental health and spiritual growth . . . blah blah blah. Bullshit. Ten months felt like a death sentence right about now.
When we pulled off the highway and turned down a gravel road, I wondered where in the world he was taking me.
It quickly registered that this wasn’t just a simple cookout - this was a freaking party.
There were cars and trucks on each side of the road, and once he pulled in between two of them, I saw a line of motorcycles in the driveway.
“This seems like a little more than just a cookout,” I said as I looked at all the vehicles. “I went to keg parties in college that had fewer people.”
“You’ve met a fraction of my family, babe. When we do things, it’s never on a small scale.”
“Whose house is this?” I asked.
“That one is my grandparents’ house, and my parents’ is the next one over.”
“We’re going to dinner at your parents’ house?”
“Technically, it’s at Gamma and Papa Smokey’s, but since they share a backyard and my parents are the ones with the pool, I’m sure we’ll wander through their place at some point.”
“I thought . . . But I’m not . . . We’re not . . .”
“Hungry? Believe me, the second you smell whatever they’re cooking, you will be,” Crow said as he opened his door.
I managed to pull myself together in the short time it took Crow to come around to open my door, something he insisted on every time we were together.
When he took my hand to help me down, it made my heart race just like it did every time he did something like that.
Yes, I was fully capable of opening my own door and getting in and out of a vehicle, but his insistence on holding doors for me and helping me even when I didn’t need it always gave me butterflies. And when he squeezed my hand before he let it go, they took flight and made my heart skip a beat.
How dismal was my dating history and expectations of how to be treated if something so simple seemed extraordinary? That was definitely something I should bring up in therapy.
Crow grabbed the warming box and our bags from the back seat. When I tried to take some of it off his hands, he scoffed and said, “I’ve got it.”
“If you’re carrying everything, then what am I supposed to do?”
“Be your gorgeous self and walk with me to the door,” he replied. When I rolled my eyes, he said, “How is it that when other people roll their eyes at me, I want to break their faces, but when you do it, I think it’s adorable?”
Yeah, he was being weird.
“Are you feeling okay?”
Crow laughed and nodded before he asked, “Why do you ask?”
“You’re acting . . .”
When my voice trailed off, he said, “Like a guy who can carry this stuff without any help?”
“I’m not talking about that.”
“Is it a problem?”
“No, you always do that. It’s normal.”
“Honey, your idea of what’s normal and mine are very different on many levels.”
“Honey, you have no idea.”