One Week Later
Cassie
Atticus exhales with relief when we pull into a parking spot in front of Mrs. Lucinda’s diner, and I can’t help but giggle. He’s not a fan of my driving.
“It wasn’t that bad, was it?” I pat a hand on his thigh, and he shoots me a glare that makes me laugh harder. “You didn’t complain the other night.”
It’s been a week since Halloween.
A week since we broke his curse…
In that time, I’ve been slowly introducing him to everything he’s missed over the last century. Netflix, cell phones, internet, risque lingerie that made him blush bright red…
But this is the first time we’ve left the farmhouse and ventured into town.
“I think I was too excited to be afraid,” he mumbles before reaching for the door handle. I move to grab my own, but his eyes shoot back in my direction. “Don’t touch that door.”
It’s a playful warning, but I freeze anyway.
He gets out of the car and hurries around the front before opening my door for me. I blush, my cheeks burning as he offers me a hand and helps me out of the car.
I could get used to this old-fashioned chivalry.
He interlaces his fingers with mine as we head for the diner, and a little bell jingles as we step inside.
“Welcome, welcome,” a brunette waitress calls from behind the counter straight ahead. “Seat yourself and Mrs. Lucinda will be there in just a minute.”
I smile and nod in her direction before dragging Atticus across the mostly empty dining room to a booth in the corner. It’s technically after lunch, and the rush has passed.
“Ladies first,” Atticus says, gesturing to the empty booth seat. With a grin, I slide in and he follows suit, sandwiching me between him and the wall.
“What do you think?” I whisper as his eyes travel across the dining room again, admiring the rustic decor.
“It’s cute,” is all he says before his eyes snap back in my direction. “But I have to admit, I’m more excited to have you alone again.”
His hand lands on my thigh, and he squeezes before sliding it higher. Heat blooms low in my belly, sinking between my thighs, and my eyes widen.
“Atticus,” I hiss under my breath. “Can you at least save it for the car?”
He wiggles his eyebrows. “Don’t threaten me with a good time.”
It’s been days since we had any alone time; Uncle Wayne has kept him busy around the house, helping with heavy lifting and dirty jobs. When he isn’t working, he’s helping cook or clean. Doing any and everything he can to contribute and earn his keep.
I was worried about asking my aunt and uncle if Atticus could stay in the other guest room, at least for a few days until we figured something out. But they caved easily, especially when I told them he had nowhere else to go.
It wasn’t a lie.
It was their house or the cornfield, and I refused to let him stay there a second longer.
The rest of his backstory required more creative storytelling, like explaining why he showed up with nothing more than the clothes on his back. I told them his luggage was lost, and they bought it. That, or they didn’t care enough to pry.
Either way, miraculously, we played it off.
Uncle Wayne even had some clothes Atticus could wear until the online order I placed arrived.
With a grin, I glance at his new black jacket, T-shirt, and jeans. He looks good and fits in, which is the most important thing.
I glance down at his hand on my thigh, his fingers slowly creeping closer to the end of my maroon sweater dress. If I wasn’t wearing leggings, there’d probably be no stopping him. I’d be getting finger banged in the middle of this cozy little diner before we even had our orders taken.
My face heats.
It’s suddenly gotten several degrees warmer.
“Behave then,” I whisper. “You’re going to get us into trouble.”
He laughs. “Didn’t you know? Trouble is my middle name.”
I purse my lips to keep from smiling and grab his hand, lacing my fingers with his, admiring their warmth. He’s no longer the frigid, cursed scarecrow I met weeks ago, and I take every chance I can to remind myself of that incredible fact.
He’s real, he’s alive, and he’s mine.
“Yeah, well, you’re going to be grounded if you get us kicked out of here,” I warn.
A second later, Mrs. Lucinda slips up to our table with a wide grin. “Good morning, Cassie. Is Madelyn joining you today?”
“Morning, Mrs. Lucinda.” I shake my head, knowing my cousin’s gone four-wheel riding with friends. “Not today.”
Her gray eyes slide to Atticus, who offers her a charming smile.
“G’morning ma’am,” he says in his thick southern drawl.
“I don’t reckon I’ve seen you before,” Mrs. Lucinda says. “Are you new around here?”
“Quite new.” He tips his head in a nod. “But you could say it feels like I’m coming home.”
My stomach flip-flops at his words, and I squeeze his hand beneath the table. If only Mrs. Lucinda knew who he really is, that he’s been here longer than she’s been alive. That he might have known some of her ancestors if they lived in town when he did.
She already knows of him, even if she doesn’t realize it.
Everyone has heard about the Watcher.
But no one knows Atticus Taylor, the town’s newest—and oldest—resident.
“Well, welcome to Cold Springs, sugar,” she says warmly. “What can I get you today?”
“Two milkshakes,” I cut in. “And some apple pie.”
The old woman winks in my direction. “Coming right up.”
After we finish our dessert, I offer to take Atticus window shopping, but he politely declines.
“There’s something else I’d rather spend time admiring,” he says before lifting my hand to his lips and kissing my knuckles. “And it’s nothing any of these stores have on their shelves.”
A stupid grin spreads across my face, the way it does anytime he says something sweet.
I’ve got it bad, and I know it.
Why shouldn’t I?
After having my heart stomped on by my ex and my ex-best friend, I deserve to be treated like a goddamn princess. And I’m convinced that Atticus is the perfect man for the job.
“Where to then?” I ask as he leads me to the driver’s door of my beat up Honda. Rather than opening the door for me, he pins me to it, his body pressed firmly against mine as he stares into my eyes.
My stomach flutters as I imagine passersby watching us.
To be so old-fashioned, he sure doesn’t have a problem with public displays of affection.
Wasn’t it considered scandalous back then?
“Well, you told me to behave inside,” he says, leaning in to brush his lips against mine. “How about now?”
Heat rolls through me as he presses a kiss to my jaw, and I fight the sigh teasing my lips. “Atticus, you can’t just fuck me in the middle of the street.”
“A shame, really,” he mutters against my cheek. “How about in the car in the middle of the street?”
I can feel his massive boner pressing against me through his jeans, and my pussy throbs needily at the thought of him dragging me into the backseat and fucking me senseless.
“No,” I sigh. “But maybe we can make a pitstop on the way back to the house if you don’t complain about my driving.”
He chuckles and reaches for the door handle. “Deal.”
We park on the side of the road several miles from town. Fields stretch in every direction, and anyone who passes by will be able to see straight through the windows, but it’s this or try to sneak into my room at the farmhouse and be silent so Aunt Bonnie doesn’t hear me getting railed.
Fuck that.
I don’t want to be quiet right now.
I want Atticus to fuck me so hard that I cry out his name.
I want to lose myself in the moment, in him.
No sooner do I cut the car off than Atticus is leaning over the console and tangling his fingers in my hair. His lips crash against mine, and I gasp against his mouth. It’s obvious he wants me just as badly as I want him.
“Fuck, I’ve needed this,” he growls between kisses, dipping lower to drag his teeth down my neck. He kisses and nips around my throat until I’m a panting mess.
My heart is slamming in my chest, heat quickly consuming me, until I’m crawling into his lap and straddling him in the seat. It might be cold outside, but it’s burning up in the car.
We’re wearing far too many clothes for this.
“What if someone sees?” I ask as I fumble the zipper of his jacket down and help him shuck it off. It goes flying into the backseat seconds later.
“Cassie, I don’t care if everyone sees,” he says sternly, his hands slipping around my hips to palm my ass. He squeezes to the point of pain, and he swallows my gasp with another kiss. “I’ve waited so long for this, for you. I hope they all envy what I have.”
In a flash, he grabs my dress and pulls it off over my head, tossing it into the backseat with his jacket. He kisses his way across my chest, tugging impatiently at my bra until my tits pop out the top. Then he takes one of my nipples into his mouth and sucks until I gasp out a moan.
“Tell me what you want,” he urges as he kisses his way back up to my throat. He grabs my hips and pulls me down onto his lap, rolling his hips simultaneously so his rock hard cock presses against the apex of my thighs.
My thoughts go fuzzy.
“Fuck me, Atticus,” I whine as his hand skim over my exposed skin, dancing up my back. Rather than waste time with the clasps of my bra, he pulls it off over my head and tosses it aside. “I want to feel you inside me, please.”
I don’t care that I sound desperate.
I am desperate.
He groans in response and pulls his shirt off over his head.
Immediately, my hands rush over his muscled torso, dancing over the perfectly-sculpted muscles I’ve memorized.
His lips find mine again, his tongue plunging into my mouth as one of his hands dips into the front of my leggings.
His fingers dive frantically, shoving my underwear aside, until he finds my dripping center.