35. Jeb
Chapter thirty-five
Jeb
“I don’t think I’ll find a soulmate on the internet. A hookup, sure. A life partner, no. And I don’t need a hookup.”
“Are you looking for a soulmate?” Fallon asks and I wait for the shoe to drop. Did she find someone on vacation?
“I don’t think I’m religious or spiritual enough to call someone my soulmate. I’ve never really been the hookup type. Well, one summer in college, but that was it. So, I guess if I were going to date, I’d want to be looking for a wife, if that makes sense.”
“Same. I don’t think I’d be up for a hookup. After being someone’s fiancée, I don’t want to be someone’s situationship. Rhett’s showed me how to be treated properly, so I won’t let someone walk all over me or only want me for sex or whatever.”
“I don’t think I could watch you get walked over or only used for sex or whatever,” I choke out. It doesn’t quite sound how I want it to.
“Have you ever been in love?” She catches me off guard with her question.
“I thought I’d been in love a few times, but now I realize it was probably just once,” I answer truthfully, although admittedly omitting crucial information.
Fallon shifts to sit beside me on the couch, linking her pinky with mine.
“What about you?” I ask, suddenly feeling the heat from her finger radiate through my whole body. “Obviously, Rhett. But were there others?”
“I’ve been in love twice,” she says matter-of-factly. Not unsure, like myself.
If I were a bolder man, I’d tell her I’m pretty sure I’m in love with her. She’s the probably just once for me. I squeeze her pinky and lean back, not able to physically bring myself to ask who her second love was.
Fallon yawns, and I shift on the couch, attempting to pull my pinky from hers. “Well, I’ll get out of your hair. I’m sure you want to unpack and—”
“Jeb, remember when you called me last night, and I was in bed instead of dancing with Shay?”
“Yes.”
“Well, I have a confession to make.”
“Okay.” I hold my breath, waiting for whatever Fallon’s about to divulge.
“Last night, I was dancing with a guy at the bar. He had his hands on my hips and I got lost in the music. It felt good. I almost felt free. The next thing you know—”
“You don’t have to confess anything to me, Fal. If you kissed a guy or anything else. It’s none of my business.”
“Let me finish.” She scoots closer, resting our linked pinkies on my thigh. “I closed my eyes, feeling the beat. When the song ended, he spun me toward him for a slow song, but when I opened my eyes, it took me a couple seconds to figure out why hazel eyes were staring back at me, not the brown ones I was picturing when my eyes were shut.” Her eyes close halfway through her revelation, her breath ragged and soft.
“Did Rhett have—”
She holds a hand up to stop me.
“It was you. It was you behind me when I closed my eyes. It was the safeness of you making me feel free,” she continues, “I bolted the second I saw eyes that weren’t the color of dark whiskey.”
Our eyes meet, Fallon’s as wide as saucers at her own divulgence. My heart gallops in my chest, and I’m paralyzed in fear I’m going to make a wrong move. I’m taking this the wrong way. I have to be. There’s no way in hell Fallon wants me.
“I ran straight to my room to splash water on my face thinking I could wash my feelings away. It’d be a lot easier if we kept this a platonic friendship, ya know?” She lets my pinky go in favor of holding both of my hands. “Then Shay made me a dating profile, and I hated every second of it. I was nervous I’d find you on there. I know this is a lot at one time, but I wanted to be true to myself, and true to you too.”
Electricity crackles between us, the air thick. I’m afraid to move. Afraid to breathe. Afraid this is a dream.
I thought she’d come home and I’d welcome her back to the States. Show her the easel and the bathroom. Ask to see pictures of the trip.
Not this. God, not this. I couldn’t dream this in my wildest dreams.
“Did you…” I stumble, my eyes shifting between hers, mystified.
“I know it’s like I’m dropping a bomb on you right now, so you don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to.” When I shy away from her eyes, she brings a hand to my face, cupping my cheek, forcing me to look into her eyes and dive into her words head first. “I moaned your name, Jeb. Thousands of miles away, dancing on a tropical island, and it was your name coming out of my mouth on a whisper.”
An explosive crack of thunder roars directly overhead. Seconds later, lightning flashes through the curtains. The burst of blinding light exposes the sunless sky neither of us had noticed.
“My bags!” Fallon jumps from the couch, running for the back door as sheets of rain pound the roof.
I follow, quick on her heels. We rush to the side of the house, rain sloshing beneath our bare feet. Fallon yanks two smaller bags from a puddle while I heave her suitcase and high-tail it to the house.
Behind Fallon, wind whips the screen door shut. Dripping rain from every inch of our bodies, we drop the luggage on the deck with heavy breaths while admiring the quick summer storm.
A puff of air from Fallon’s mouth has water droplets sputtering from her lips.
“Is this what they mean when they say raining cats and dogs?” I chuckle as I use my fingertips to shake the rain from my hair.
“It must be. I’ve never felt such heavy raindrops.” Fallon bends to unzip her suitcase, pressing her palm on the clothes on top. “Just wet on the outside, thankfully.”
“What a way to be welcomed home.” I gather the fabric on the front of my shirt and squeeze. Droplets fall onto the wooden planks of the deck.
Another deep rumble of thunder shakes the house, the two of us stopping to stare at each other when the sky illuminates again. The flash of light lasts long enough for her eyes to glow like the Blue Grotto. Holding me captive, yearning to dive to the deepest depths.
If you ask Fallon who made the first move, she’d say I did. It wasn’t intentional, though. I never intended to make a move on her, even knowing how she felt. One second, I’m reaching to free a couple of strands of hair bound to her neck from the rain. The next, I’m brushing my fingertips against her neck, swiping the stuck hair and laying it on her back with the rest. I drag my fingertips from her scalp to the ends, and when I tug gently, her face tips toward mine.
My brain is in overdrive, and my body hums with energy as I comb my fingers through her hair again and again. The storm sweeps through, moving quickly across the river. Thunder quiets and lightning dims, but the smell of the rain lingers. Every time I finger through the prettiest blond hair I’ve ever seen, rain mixes with the floral aroma of Fallon’s shampoo.
The combination is heavenly. Or deadly. Only time will tell.
Now, if you asked me who made the first move, I’d say she did. Because I wasn’t the one who lifted onto my toes and pressed my lips to hers.
A few short, staccato bursts of our lips touching together was all it took to lose my fucking mind over her. The pressure had been building for weeks. Slowly and steadily reaching a summit until now.
Her lips, softer than I could have conjured. Her skin, warm and electrifying. I’m prepared to be shocked, but I can’t bring myself to care when I slip my tongue in her mouth.
The vibration of her sweet little moan has my tongue buzzing with want. I bring my hands to her neck, then move one around her waist, not knowing where I want to touch her. Wanting to touch her everywhere.
Her tongue swirls with mine in a way I’ve never been kissed in my entire life. I follow her lead. She knows what she likes, and I like it too. When her tongue slows, I grab her bottom lip and suck.
“Jeb.” She moans my name.
I growl in response, moving from her mouth to her jaw, swirling a trail of kisses to her ear. Fallon brings my earlobe to her mouth, and I forget my own name. When she flicks my lobe with her tongue, I growl again. Wrapping my arms around her waist, I pull her hips toward mine, and she gasps when she feels what she does to me.
She drops my earlobe and moves her mouth to mine. Our teeth clank. Our kiss is hurried and wild, almost like one of us might come to our senses and pull back, stop whatever this is before we even get started.
My hand cradles her jaw as she rubs up and down my back, flattening my sopping shirt onto my skin. Fallon grabs the hem, attempting to lift it over my head. It sticks as she lifts. “Get this off.” She tickles her fingertips against my bare skin as she puffs out the words, strangled.
I lean back, the wet fabric of my shirt clutches my body when I try to yank it over my head, and I have no choice but to rip my shirt to get it off. Fallon gasps and steps away from me, her bright blue eyes trailing my body.
Studying Fallon’s face while she studies my body could be the greatest present she never knew I wanted. I stand still, minus the rise and fall of my chest, giving her eyes full access to me. When Fallon’s gaze lands on the place where my cock juts out from my pants, her cheeks pinken. I could play it cool and hold back my smile, but I don’t even try.
The rain stops, and rays of light shine through the trees, highlighting the silver flecks in her eyes and the golden ribbons of her hair. The thick haze from the warm rain bounces off the yard, waiting for the sunlight to burn it off.
Fallon cups my dick in her palm, and I forget all about the cycle of a summer storm. I’ll never think about evaporation and condensation the same way again.
If we had waited a minute and turned to the sky, we could have seen a rainbow span across the Chetta. Brilliant colors barreling through the clear sky. A sign of a storm’s past, the dazzling colors representing hope.
New beginnings. Promise. Peace.
All the same sentiments I feel deep in my bones when Fallon links her pinky with mine and runs through the house with me on her tail, evidence of the rain dripping down the hall in our wake. Water pools when Fallon stops in her bedroom doorway to unlace her tennis shoes.
When her balance falters, Fallon’s arm makes a thunk against the wall as she stabilizes herself, and I drop to my knees. My fingertips work the laces, and I feel the burn of Fallon’s stare without looking up at her. I unknot one shoe, smoothing the fingers of my left hand up the bony ridge on the back of her ankle, tickling across her calf.
Fallon lifts her leg, and I pop the back of her shoe from her heel, tossing it down the hall and concentrating on the other knot. I sneak a peek; Fallon’s neck is tipped backward, head resting against the wall. Her chest surges with every audible breath.
I hurl the other shoe without looking to see where it lands, then peel her wet socks from both feet. I grab one foot, lifting it so the bottom is facing me, and I dig two thumbs into the soul, circling them toward her heel and back up to her toes.
I slide my thumb across the underside of her toes. “Jeb!” she shrieks.
“Ticklish?”
“Yeah.” She laughs in a sultry way. Sexy and alluring, her voice catches. “And turned on, too.”
My throat and all my thoughts plummet deep into my gut. All the blood in my body sinks.
Four little words—meaningless singularly—turn every part of my brain off except for the part that wants to worship her in any way that I can.
And turned on, too.
I shiver as my hands slick up the back of Fallon’s legs, smoothing droplets of rain as I slide my fingertips up her calves, past her knee, and to her thigh. Shifting from a kneeling position to standing, my hands follow the curve of her ass.
“Are we doing this?” I stare into her eyes as my hands find the hem of her shirt, slipping underneath to dance along her spine.
“I want to if you want to, Jeb.” She presses her lips to my neck, across my shoulder, and along my biceps, nearly bringing me back down to my knees.
My head falls forward, nuzzling Fallon’s hair. My eyes close on their own accord, my body shutting down one sense to experience another more extremely. I focus on touch, Fallon’s lips softly vibrating my pecs, working their way toward my nipple.
I attempt to focus on smell, inhaling the scent of her when she splays her hands through my hair. Adjusting my head, she brings our lips together, the hum of her moans vibrating through me.