Chapter 19 #2
“I’ve got you,” he murmured against my chin as I rested my forehead against his, head spinning and overwhelmed. “You’re okay.”
I sobbed as he got his hands into my pants, broad palm cupping me from root to tip. His hand was so big and so warm, so confident, touching me like he wanted to touch me, like this was fun for him. No one else had ever touched me like this.
My fingers tightened in the collar of his shirt hard enough to cramp. It was almost impossible to breathe, to do anything other than feel the hot rush of pleasure rolling through me, overwhelmed tears stinging at my eyes as I ground down against Booker’s hand.
Three strokes, four, five. My vision whited out, my back arched, and I was pretty sure I more or less screamed before the rush of my orgasm deafened me and I came in my underwear like an overeager teenager, gasping my way through it.
Booker kept his hands on me, gentle strokes easing me through it. Easing me back down until the last ripples of pleasure faded away and I could start to catch my breath.
I collapsed against him, resting my head on his shoulder and letting him take my full weight, tears soaking into his shirt.
This. This was what I’d been missing.
“Wasn’t that bad, was it?” Booker murmured after a minute.
I shook my head, going with him as he eased me back to look me in the eyes.
“Why the tears?” Booker frowned, brushing one away with the tip of his thumb, stroking my cheek. “Something wrong?”
I half-laughed, half-sobbed. He was so perfect. How had I managed to find him? How had no one else gotten there first?
“Nothing wrong,” I said. “It’s just… it’s a lot.”
Booker nodded, then wrapped his arms around me and pulled me into a hug. He held me close to his chest and let me settle against him again, a few more tears soaking into the collar of his shirt while I recovered.
“Don’t regret this,” he said, voice rough. “I don’t want you to regret it.”
“I don’t,” I whispered. I could see why he thought I might, but I didn’t. Not even a little bit.
I would almost have regretted not doing it before, but I was so glad it’d been Booker that I couldn’t. This was what I’d been waiting for.
It was worth the wait.
A tiny laugh escaped me at the thought. The place really wasn’t called Faith for nothing.
“I don’t,” I repeated a moment later, turning my head to press a kiss to Booker’s neck, the only place I had the strength to reach just now. “I’m so glad it was you.”
Booker hummed, tightening his grip on me so I could feel the vibration of it through my whole body, and something in me finally broke. I hadn’t realized how tense I’d been but when I relaxed all at once the relief was almost enough to make me come again.
“You don’t regret it?” I asked, one last worry making me tense up again.
“No,” Booker said, voice still rough and low. “Wish I’d had a little warning so I could’ve done right by you, though.”
“Done right by me?” I asked.
Booker hummed again. “Dinner, dessert, dancing, drinks…”
“Dick?” I filled in for him, channeling Joel.
Booker snorted. “Hours of foreplay, starting with picking you up,” he said.
“In your truck?” I asked.
“It’s got a bench seat.” Booker shrugged. “I’d take you somewhere nice a couple of towns over, so no one who knew us would interrupt. Bench seat means you could snuggle up to me on the way back.”
“But not on the way there?”
“No, not on the way there,” Booker said, so indignant it made me laugh. “You’ve gotta build the anticipation. Couple of hand-brushes over dinner, a little foot-to-foot contact…”
I couldn’t stifle a giggle at that.
“This is serious!” Booker said, but he was laughing, too. “Back here for dessert. Something you really like. Which would be…?”
“Hmm. Something chocolatey. I’m such a sucker for chocolate,” I admitted.
“Noted,” Booker said. “Dessert—I think this has to be back at your cabin—and then slow dancing. I wouldn’t kiss you until the second song, until I was sure you wanted it.”
“I wanted it when you picked me up,” I said. “In this scenario.”
“Well I didn’t know that. I’m nervous! We’ve been dancing around each other a while, I’m scared it’s not going to work out, I’m—umm… anyway. Where was I?”
“Kissing me,” I said, forcing myself to move just enough to press a kiss to the corner of Booker’s mouth.
“Right. Then when you—hopefully—responded, I’d pick you up and carry you to bed. Kiss you some more. Tell you how much I wanted this, how incredible I think you are. Might start unbuttoning things. You’ve got a lot of buttons, so I gotta get ahead there.”
“I could cut down on the number of buttons,” I offered.
“No,” Booker said, shaking his head a little. “More fun to unbutton all of them.”
“This all sounds very time-consuming,” I said.
“I’d call it time well spent,” Booker said. “Can’t imagine a better way to spend it than making you feel as special and wanted as I can. Because you are. You are special, and you are wanted.”
“You always make me feel special and wanted,” I said, snuggling closer to him. I should’ve felt uncomfortable and sticky and maybe a few other things by now, but I didn’t. Not yet. I liked being close to Booker so much that nothing else mattered.
“Good,” Booker said. “So, are you gonna tell me what made you so upset you came running to me?”
I sighed. I’d almost forgotten all about it.
“I screwed up… absolutely everything about the town council visit today,” I said. “Library funding is on the line because they think nobody uses it. I showed them how many new cards I’d issued, thanks to you—”
“And your efforts to understand the needs of the community,” Booker interrupted.
“You mean my efforts in being pathetic enough that I flipped your knight in shining armour switch?” I asked, shifting to look him in the eyes.
I loved Booker’s eyes. They had kindness written in every line around them, and the almost perfectly colorless grey made him seem so solid and steady, like an ancient sage. But then when he smiled they lit up and reflected lavender blue and there was so much life and warmth in them.
“What?” he asked when I stared a heartbeat too long.
“I like looking at you,” I defended. “Am I suddenly not allowed?”
Booker broke into a smile, and his eyes sparkled just like I’d been imagining them a moment ago. “Look all you want,” he said, the couch cushions creaking as he shifted his weight, making both of us more comfortable. “What’s the bottom line on the library?”
“Use it or lose it,” I said. “The quarterly budget meeting is two Mondays from now, so I have until next Friday to impress them, when they’re coming through again.”
Booker’s lips tightened, his eyes sharpening as he looked right past me, as though I wasn’t there at all.
“Okay,” he said after a moment, coming back to the present and looking me in the eyes again.
“Okay?” I asked.
“Okay, we’re gonna save the library.” He shrugged, like it was that simple. “That all right with you?”
“How, though?” I asked. “I’m just… I don’t know…”
“Trust me?” Booked caught my gaze and held it. The panic that’d been building up in my gut again dissolved.
If I could bottle that, I’d make a fortune.
I nodded without having to think about it. Of course I trusted him.
If Booker said we were saving the library, we were saving the library. Somehow.
“Good,” he said. “It’s gonna be okay.”
It was hard to make myself believe that, but hearing Booker say it made it a little easier. And I wanted to save the library. I didn’t want to give up what I had here.
“You wanna shower?” Booker asked. “Always makes me feel better.”
“Are you going back to work?” I asked. I didn’t want Booker to leave. I felt like I’d just found him.
“No,” he said. “I was planning on scrubbing your back.”