Chapter 18 Heston
HESTON
June
Hattie clicks the door closed behind her and then leans back against it. When she pulls the phone from her back pocket, her eyes light up.
“You were texting me when I got here?” she asks, smiling down at the screen.
I completely forgot about sending it when she showed up and surprised me, but the timing tracks.
I’d been typing out a message to her, backspacing the whole thing, and then retyping it again several times tonight.
By the time I decided to stop being a pussy and send the text I wanted to send, I had no clue that she was already here and making her way through the bunkhouse.
When I step close and lean over her to read what she’s seeing on her phone, I notice her hair smells different. It has more of a flowery scent this time compared to the fruity one I remember. Makes sense. She left her watermelon shampoo in our guest bathroom. It’s still there.
Jolly Rancher
Hey
I shake my head with an amused huff. The single word looks stupid when I see it as an unopened text on her home screen.
In my mind, “Hey” sounded more like “Hi, it’s me again, that annoying guy who hits you up every few hours.
How are you? What are you doing? Can I call you again tonight?
No pressure, super casual chat that won’t go past one in the morning this time, I promise. Let me know!” with four hearts emojis.
Jolly Rancher
Can I see you again soon?
She glances back at me, smirking. “I guess you got your answer pretty quick, huh?”
Our faces are no more than a few inches apart. Instead of replying, I kiss her.
It only takes a second for her to turn toward me and loop her arms around my waist. The phone is still in her hand, and I sense the moment it starts to annoy her that she’s stuck holding it instead of fisting my shirt.
I smile against her lips when she slips her phone into my back pocket and then smooths her palms over my lower back.
I’ve been lying awake and staring at the ceiling for weeks, wishing she were in my room, just like this. Now that she’s here, there’s a fifty-fifty chance I’ll never let her out again.
I know that isn’t realistic or possible.
Last I checked, false imprisonment is also illegal, so there’s that.
But I can’t help the fact that I want to be around her all the time.
Just thinking about her driving back home and not getting to see her again for a while sends my primal instincts into overdrive.
“I can sleep in the loft again,” Hattie quietly suggests after pulling away. “I don’t want you to think I’m trying to weasel my way into—”
“No,” I quickly cut her off. She flinches, and I realize how barbaric that sounded. I clear my throat to smooth the edge in my tone. “I mean, you can crash in here since it’s always packed upstairs after parties. Gage is pretty strict on not letting people leave if they don’t have a DD.”
She nods slowly. “Right.”
What I said is technically true, but not entirely honest. Wanting her in here with me all night has nothing to do with the loft being crowded.
I was worried about coming on too strong the last time we hung out, and for some reason, I’m still stuck in that mentality.
Before I met Hattie, I never wanted to take things slow with a girl.
This is uncharted territory, and I don’t know how to go about it.
I just know I don’t want to scare her off.
But she drove here and surprised me because she missed me. She said so herself. If she didn’t like me as much as I like her, I doubt she’d have done that. So, logic would say that she wouldn’t run for the hills if she realized how into her I am.
I turn and place my hat on the top of my dresser, brim side up, then push a hand through my hair. Hattie’s legs are pressed together as she watches me curiously.
Damn, she’s cute. So ridiculously cute that I can’t even look at her for too long without getting the urge to touch her.
Realizing my boots are still on, I kick them off next to the dresser.
Hattie does the same and lines hers up neatly against the wall.
She looks at me, and I narrow my eyes for a beat before taking off my socks and tossing them in the hamper.
Slowly, Hattie removes one sock, then the other, and places them on top of mine.
Is she . . .
I take a chance, pulling my shirt up and over my head. Hattie’s lips part as her eyes drag down my chest.
Then, my shoulders.
Arms, abs . . . chest again.
I have quite a few scars from old injuries and surgeries, especially around my right shoulder. But she doesn’t say anything about them.
When she finally meets my eyes, she lifts the hem of her t-shirt. In one fluid movement, she pulls it over her head, exactly the way I did mine. My throat goes dry at the sight of her, and my shirt falls from my grip, landing at my feet.
Never before this moment have I wished that men wore bras so I could demonstrate to her what to take off next.
The lace one that she’s wearing is a powdery, sky blue. It’s mouthwatering on her, but I don’t drool over it for long because when I reach for the button on the front of my jeans, Hattie copies me once again.
Just when she’s about to push her pants down over her hips, as I’ve already done, her fingers still, and she tilts her head.
“Not to be a buzz kill,” she says. “But I was just wondering . . . are you sleeping with other people?”
“Hell no,” I answer right away, twisting my face. Then my stomach drops. “Are . . . you?”
She shakes her head, and I do everything I can not to sigh in relief.
I roll my lips into my mouth when she lowers her pants to her ankles and steps out of them.
Her panties are a light pink, but they aren’t lacy like her bra.
They’re a thin cotton, so soft-looking that I can almost imagine how they’d feel if I dipped my hand below the waistband.
“What happened?” She asks cautiously.
I look down, following her line of sight. “Horn went through here,” I point to the inside of my left thigh, then turn my leg and point to the outside. “Came out here.”
“It went all the way through?”
“Yep. Got a little staph infection from it too,” I add with a chuckle.
My face falls when I see she isn’t laughing. I’m not self-conscious about any of the scars from my rodeo days. Maybe she thinks they’re gross, though. I definitely could have left the infection part out.
“I’ll kick your ass if I have to worry about you being in the hospital all the time.”
I know my smile must look ridiculous right now. “I don’t compete anymore.”
“Okay, good to know.”
When she goes rogue and reaches behind her back to unclasp her bra, my legs almost give out.
Don’t pounce.
Don’t.
“Just to make sure . . . do you want to sleep with other people?” she asks, still rolling the outrageous concept around in her head.
Of course not. Is that what she thinks? My mouth opens, but no words come out. I’m fucking crazy about this girl, and I don’t think I’ve done anything to make her think otherwise . . .
Then I close my eyes and groan, pissed at myself, because I never actually told her. She can’t read my mind. If I knew how to say things the right way, she wouldn’t have to ask questions like that in the first place. She’d already know.
I drop my arms and stride toward her. She squeals as I pick her up and spin toward the bed. When her back hits the comforter, my lips crash into hers. It’s not enough reassurance, though. I have to do more. She whines when I break the connection after less than a minute.
“I don’t want to sleep with anybody else,” I say point-blank.
She lifts her legs to wrap them around my hips, testing my restraint.
I manage to remain hovering over her as I slip a hand underneath her.
She arches her back, and I twist my fingers so that the clasp on her bra snaps open.
It lands somewhere on the floor after I pull it from her chest and chuck it over my shoulder.
It’d be helpful for my sanity if her tits were nothing special.
Then, I could finally say I found one tiny thing about her that didn’t drive me out of my mind.
But no. They’re spectacular, just like the rest of her.
She gasps when my mouth drops to her left nipple, teasing it with my tongue and sucking until she’s writhing beneath me.
I wonder if she’d let me do this all night. I’d be the happiest guy on earth if that’s as far as we went. I’m half-tempted to find out.
My dick hates that idea, twitching against the front of my boxer briefs in painful outrage. I ignore it, too content to continue sucking on her in a dream-like state until the sun comes up.
“So,” she breaths out in a moan. “This is, like, a fling. But also kind of exclusive?”
I slowly lift my head to look at her.
“Sorry.” She sighs and covers both hands over her eyes. “I’m ruining the moment. I just—might be in a little too deep here, and I don’t know where your head’s at. It’s making me all frazzled.”
In a little too deep? If she only knew the thoughts I’ve already had. Crazed thoughts like how I’m going to give her everything she’s ever wanted or how I’d rather not kiss anyone but her ever again.
This girl has no damn clue. I’d look like a psycho if I told her every overzealous thing that’s been on my mind.
“Talking about feelings and stuff isn’t my strong suit,” I admit. “Or, talking in general, really.”
Her eyes are still covered. “I’ve gathered that.”
I drop my forehead to her shoulder and breathe for a moment. I wish I knew how to do this.
Something warm and comforting blooms in my chest when she removes a hand from her face and threads it through the hair at the back of my head. I kiss her collarbone and finally settle the weight of my hips between her legs.
“Oh my god, Hes.” She tightens her grip in my hair. “Do that again.”