Chapter 29
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
HAZEL
I sat on Tucker’s kitchen counter, one foot swinging slightly, the other propped on a pillow with ice on my ankle, eating ice cream straight from the tub. I was wrapped in one of his oversize hoodies that fell to mid-thigh and smelled like his shampoo. His skin. Him.
Hell, maybe it was me since I’d helped myself to his shower—while he joined me, hovering like a bouncer moonlighting as a nurse.
Now he leaned against the counter across from me in sweats and a faded Star Falls Fire shirt, his hair damp and wild, his eyes soft but worried.
There was a wrench on the counter—mine. My purse was flopped on the table like it’d fainted, and one of my sneakers had rolled under a chair as if it were trying to escape. “I think my stuff’s reproducing. Sorry for the mess.”
He shook his head. “I love that you’re comfortable here.”
“I should pay rent for me and my stuff,” I said.
His eyes held mine as he crossed to me and handed over a mug of tea. “I don’t need rent from you or your things.”
Which raised the question: “What do you need?”
He turned away, busying himself with pulling out the makings for grilled cheese. “Whole sandwich or half?”
Thrown off by his unusual dodging of the question, I answered automatically: “Half.”
He nodded and got to work assembling the sandwich like it was a high-stakes operation. Was he really not going to answer?
But maybe that was my answer. Nothing. He needed nothing from me.
And of course he didn’t. He had his whole life together—his dream job at the fire station, working toward being an arson investigator on top of that, his family, friends, squad mates, and a town that adored him. And though he’d told me he wasn’t into commitments, he’d been no monk.
Me? I was just a girl he used to know. One who brought heartache and trouble. I shrank into myself a bit. “You know what? I think I’ll just go—”
“Don’t.”
I stared at his squared shoulders. “You can’t even look at me, much less answer my question.”
“I know the answer to your question. I’m just not sure you’re ready to hear it.”
“Try me,” I said, tighter than I meant.
He paused to slice the cheese and assemble the sandwich with surgical precision. “It’s a two-part answer. I’ll give you the first, but then I have a question.”
“Okay,” I said, voice stronger than I felt.
“What I need from you is…you.” He paused, still working on the sandwich. “And now for my question: How much do you feel like running right about now?”
I narrowed my eyes at his back. “That’s your question?”
“Yes.”
Unbendable alpha male. “Well, it was a one out of ten. But it’s a good solid eight right now.” Look at that—my voice didn’t shake, even though I was on the last dregs of trust. “Why can’t you just say what you want to say?” And damn, I was feeling shakier than I had while facing down Ricky.
With a flick of his wrist, Tucker turned off the stove and moved the pan to a cool burner. He turned to face me, the heat in his eyes enough to cook the sandwich right there on the counter.
What he wanted…was me.
“Oh,” I breathed.
“Ask me again, Hazel,” he murmured, staying where he was.
“What do you need?” I whispered.
His eyes darkened, and every nerve in my body stood at attention.
“I need…” He came closer, until he bumped my knees. Lifting his hands, he cupped my face. “I need you to be okay.”
“I am.”
“I ache for you, Hazel, down to my bones.”
My heart rolled over in my chest, but as usual, my mouth had to try to joke the goodness away. “One bone in particular, right?”
That earned me an almost smile. “Always. But I’m serious, Hazel.
I told you that relationships didn’t work out for me in the past because I couldn’t commit.
But what I didn’t tell you was that I couldn’t commit because they weren’t you.
” He gripped the edge of the counter on either side of my hips, trapping me in the most deliciously sexy way.
“And there’s another thing I should’ve told you all those years ago,” he said. “You’re the most important thing in my life, and I want this. You. Us. I’m hoping you choose to stay. Everyone wants you to, but no one more than me.”
The words cracked something wide open inside me, and in that moment, I knew I wasn’t going to take the Seattle job. I was also glad I’d never mentioned it, because I didn’t want him to think I could walk away. I wanted this, nothing but this, him, for the rest of my life.
“Tucker?” I breathed.
“Yeah?”
“Touch me.”
With a low masculine growl of pleasure, he slid his hands up my bare thighs, grounding me physically and emotionally in one perfect stroke.
There was something new in his eyes tonight—lingering adrenaline, sure, but something deeper too. Need. Hunger. Fear of losing what we’d barely found again…
He reached for the hem of the sweatshirt I wore. “I love you in my clothes.” He toyed playfully with the hem, teasing me with warm fingers sliding just beneath it. His voice dropped, husky. “What are you wearing underneath it?”
I smiled.
“Mmmm.” He pressed a kiss to my shoulder while the backs of his knuckles dragged up my thighs, unhurried, sensual as they made their way beneath the material.
When he found only skin, he groaned. “Killing me.” He kissed me then, pulling the sweatshirt up, up, up…
exposing me to his dark gaze an inch at a time, breaking the kiss to guide it over my head, slowly, so slowly, taking his sweet time, so that when the sweatshirt finally hit the floor, I was practically vibrating.
He backed up a step to take it all in. Me on his counter, wearing nothing but a smile.
“Fucking gorgeous.” He stepped between my legs. “You wreck me, you know that? In the very best of ways.”
Something about the way he said it, raw and reverent, made my pulse stutter. My entire body tightened in response, suddenly desperate for more of him. I tugged at his shirt. “And you’re overdressed.”
He laughed and peeled it off. It joined the sweatshirt on the floor behind him.
I greedily slid my hand inside his sweats. Filled it with him. One stroke of my hand, and he stilled, head falling back with a rough groan, his entire body tense. He held himself still for one suspended moment, like it took effort not to lose control. And that effort made me want him even more.
“Wound up?” I asked.
“You have no idea.”
He scooped me off the counter and strode through the kitchen, carrying me down the hall past an annoyed Her Fluffiness, and into his room, kicking the door shut behind him.
He tossed me onto the bed, and I bounced with a laugh, but it backed up in my throat when he stripped out of the rest of his clothes like he had a vendetta against fabric. My amusement caught fire somewhere in my chest and turned molten low in my belly.
“You’re quick,” I teased, letting my gaze drag over him.
“Not exactly what a guy wants to hear when he’s naked.” But his smirk said he wasn’t too worried.
I was still grinning when he tugged me to the edge of the bed with a delicious lack of restraint.
Then he crawled up my body, eyes full of mischief and heat, and with a wicked smile that sent lightning dancing down my spine, he pinned my wrists above my head and kissed me like it was his life’s purpose.
He gazed down at me and pressed his forehead to mine for a beat. “I used to dream of this. You in my bed. Looking up at me like I’m your world.”
He’d held me like this before, but it felt different tonight. It felt like we were building something true, something everlasting. I shifted and my ankle twinged, a reminder of just how badly I hadn’t wanted to call Tucker for a rescue.
And how grateful I was that I had.
His lips ran gently along my jaw, and then he nipped at my bottom lip. I arched into him, a distinctly needy sound escaping from my throat before I could stop it. He kissed me then, long and deep and hot, until I was rocking up into him, desperate and needy. “Tucker.”
“I got you.” His mouth found my neck, leaving a trail of kisses to my ear, which he nipped. “Close your eyes, Haze. Let me take care of you.”
I wanted to freeze time, to press Pause on this feeling of being cared for. Happiness this big felt dangerous.
His talented mouth made its way down my body, distracting me, making it impossible to think as his broad-as-a-mountain shoulders spread my legs to make room for himself. He drank in the view of me like I was his personal feast and he hadn’t eaten in days.
“Here’s what’s going to happen…” His words were hypnotic as his warm palms ran up my thighs, his fingers stroking teasingly over my center, the rough pads of a callused thumb circling in a way that brought me to the edge in shockingly little time.
“You’re going to come for me,” he said in that don’t argue with me voice.
After half a second of debate with myself, I decided to give in to his demands. He’d had a rough day after all. Who was I to deny him anything?
So I did as he demanded. I came, first with his fingers between my slick legs. And then on his tongue. Finally, I tugged at him.
He looked up, hazel eyes bright, pupils blown. “What do you need, Haze?”
I was tired of hiding my feelings for him, tired of running, of the walls around my heart. So I gave him the truth. “You. I need you. All of you. And I need it now. Please, Tucker.”
“Fuck me,” he breathed.
“I’m trying!”
With a rough laugh and a groan, he buried himself inside me in one slow roll of his hips. I wrapped my legs around his waist, my heels pressing against his lower back, urging him on. Faster, harder, deeper.
He shuddered and lifted his face from where he’d buried it against my hair. Watching me, he slowed himself down, taking care to stroke and touch every inch of me he could reach.
My muscles clenched and tightened around him, and he stilled, head falling back for a moment, lost in the myriad of sensations.
God, he was beautiful.