15. Mia
MIA
He left me.
Stuck in the mud in the ditch outside his house.
I can’t believe he actually left me.
I slide my foot back into my boot. I look around. I pick my other foot up, but the same thing happens. The mud traps the boot, and my stockinged foot slides out.
This mud is really sticky.
I eye my car. It’s only a few yards away. I could make it if I leave my boots behind.
I look toward the drive that leads to David’s house.
He’ll come back. He’s not going to leave me out here.
I’m pretty sure.
I smile as I remember the look on his face when he turned and saw me down here in the ditch.
He was happy to see me.
Yeah, he’ll come back.
I’m just not sure how long it will be.
I decide to start plotting the next scene in my story to kill time. I left my phone in my car, so I’m just standing out here in a short-sleeved sundress and these boots. I can’t type or dictate any notes. But I can at least get a few ideas going.
After David didn’t kiss me last night, I was inspired to write a scene between my two main characters where they kissed. I made the scene everything I’d wished the scene with David could have been.
I’d also made it so there were no family members just inside the house or a friend sitting in the car, so it had gotten steamy and inappropriate for a sweet front porch.
It was awesome.
It feels like an hour, but it is probably only ten minutes later when David drives back down his long lane.
On a four-wheeler. Wearing hip waders.
I grin as he pulls up next to my car. I watch as he opens the car door, pulls my bag and my keys out, locks the door, and puts the bag with the keys inside, in the storage compartment of the four-wheeler.
Then he climbs down into the ditch.
“You came back,” I say.
“Of course, I did.”
“What if I’d left?”
“I wasn’t worried. You’re basically stalking me,” he tells me. But then he lifts his hand and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “But I would have come after you.”
My heart suddenly flips over and starts beating harder. “You would have?”
“Yeah. I went to a lot of work, and I’m not going to sit out in my backyard by myself.”
“You went to a lot of work in your backyard?” I don’t know what that means.
“I did. And it’s a good thing you can’t tell anyone about the time we’re spending together, because my brothers would definitely figure this out if they heard what I did.”
He’s still got his hand against my face even though that piece of hair is secure. I turn my cheek slightly, pressing into his palm, loving the feel of him touching me. “Figure what out?”
His voice drops. “That this isn’t so casual after all.”
My heart is galloping now.
And I really need to see his backyard, apparently.
“What did you do?” I ask. “That will be so obvious to your brothers?”
“Why don’t I just show you?”
“Okay. I guess I?—”
But before I finish whatever I was about to say, David’s big hands are on my waist and he’s pulling me up, out of the mud. And my boots.
Without boots on, I have two choices: step down into the mud in my socks, or wrap my legs around David.
I choose the latter.
And he doesn’t seem to mind.
His big hands cup my ass as if that was what he intended for me to do and he grins at me. “Hang on tight.”
I wrap my arms around his neck and try to grin back.
But my brain doesn’t have enough synapses available to form a smile. It’s too busy cataloging everything about being pressed up against, wrapped around, and carried by David Bennett.
The overall summary? It’s very nice.
He strides up out of the ditch with me in his arms and goes straight to the four-wheeler. He deposits me on the seat.
At least, he bends over to deposit me on the seat.
I make it difficult to actually do the depositing, though, because I don’t let go of him.
Why would I? He’s big, and hard, and warm, and my entire body wants nothing more than to be as against him as I can get.
“Uh, Mia?”
“Yeah?”
“You gotta let go so I can go get your boots.”
“What boots?”
He chuckles, and with him so close, the low sound vibrates through me.
“We’re just gonna stay here like this all night?” he asks. “I like this, but I had bigger plans.”
I like the sound of that. I pull back slightly to look into his eyes. “I’m intrigued.”
His gaze drops to my mouth, and I feel heat slide through me.
“And if I stay this close to you, I might kiss you. Wouldn’t want to ruin the memory from the deer stand.”
I deserve that, considering my sassy remark last night. “I’m starting to think it might be worth the risk,” I tell him.
He takes a short breath. “I’m glad to hear that. But maybe we should go up to the house.”
That seems like a great idea. I lean back further. “Okay.”
He stands staring down at me for a moment, his hands braced on the seat on either side of my hips.
Then he mutters something that sounds like dammit before leaning in and pressing his lips to mine.
And just like that, I’m convinced that stopping this to go up to the house is a terrible idea.
I slip my arms back around his neck and arch closer, tipping my head as one of his hands slides from the seat over my hip, up my side, to the back of my neck. He holds me still as he deepens the kiss, his mouth opening, and his tongue seeking entrance. I readily part my lips, and he groans.
He tastes my mouth fully, and I deeply regret not kissing him last night. I won’t make that mistake again. I now hope that David Bennett will kiss me every single day for the rest of my life.
That realization slams into me, and I jerk back.
I blink up at him, breathing quickly. Oh crap . I am falling into this head over heels. I’m thinking things like the rest of my life on our second kiss.
That is not good.
Yes, he just hinted that this is feeling less casual to him, but that doesn’t mean that he’s thinking in terms of never kissing anyone else again.
I take a deep breath as I try to calm my heart rate and spinning thoughts.
He seems to be studying my eyes.
“You okay?” he asks.
I nod quickly. I’m not not okay. I realized what was happening and I stopped it. I’m aware that I’m going too fast. I’m not blindly falling in love. I’m not broken-hearted.
Yet.
David Bennett probably kisses every woman the way he just kissed me, and as long as I understand that and don’t get caught up in thinking this is like my fanfiction, where everything works out the way I want it to, then I’ll be fine.
“Yeah. I’m definitely okay,” I say, giving him a wobbly smile.
He doesn’t look entirely convinced. “You still want to go up to my house?”
So much that I probably should say no, actually. But I nod. “Yes.” I want to see this backyard surprise. I want to spend more time with him. I do want to kiss him some more. I just need to keep my thoughts and feelings about it all realistic.
The way he smiles at my answer does not help me feel any less oh-crap-I-want-so-much-more-than-I-expected.
He pushes away from me, shoves a hand through his hair as he studies me for another moment, then turns and climbs back down into the ditch to retrieve my muddy boots.
He somehow straps them into the back of the four-wheeler, then comes around to climb on. But not before he eyes my bare legs beneath the skirt of my dress.
“Not really four-wheeler attire,” he comments.
“I got a very firm text from Game and Parks saying that tonight wasn’t a good night for four-wheeling.”
“I see. And you're such a good listener, huh?”
I grin. “Of course. Sweet, introverted, unassuming librarian, remember?”
One of these days, I might shock him and tell him about my fanfiction. He’d see a whole new side of me.
And possibly run for the hills.
He’d realize then that flirting and banter and kissing the way he just kissed me is serious stuff in my world.
Your fantasy world. Your imagination. Get a grip.
“Right. Well, Miss Sweet Librarian, you’re going to have to be a little less than lady-like for a few minutes and straddle that seat.”
That sounded very dirty. I can’t help it. I know he means it literally, but my whole body is hot and tingling after that kiss, and David has absolutely been the inspiration for several recent dirty scenes I’ve written.
Knock it off. You’re not falling in love with him and you’re not going to mentally fuck him all night. He’s being a good guy, and you’re having fun, and sure, the kissing is great, but it’s just kissing to him, and he’s not trying to seduce you.
“Got it,” I say, making my voice as normal as I can. I hold my skirt down between my knees and throw one leg over the seat, showing nothing inappropriate.
He looks like he wants to say something but thinks better of it and simply climbs onto the four-wheeler in front of me.
“Hang on tight,” he tells me for the second time tonight.
I would love to hear him say that to me in bed.
Knock it off, for fuck’s sake! I tell my inner hussy.
But she won’t be silenced. As David starts the four-wheeler and the engine rumbles beneath us, I have to wrap my arms around him again, now from behind, pressing up against the hard, bunching muscles of his back.
My earlier story plotting takes a sharp turn into another sex scene, this one happening on the back of a four-wheeler.
I wonder if that’s possible.
I’ll have to look it up.
Or you could just ask David. See how he responds to that question.
I sigh inwardly. I can’t shut this voice up.
It’s going to be a long night.
It’s only a mile up to David’s house, which takes us just a couple of minutes, and yet that entire scene is full and vivid in my mind by the time we get there. My imagination doesn’t seem to care if it’s possible to have sex on a four-wheeler. It happens in graphic detail in my head.
It can’t be that different from doing it on a chair. He’s sitting on the seat, the woman is on his lap. She could face forward or face him. Facing him would be more fun…
I hope David thinks that the pink in my cheeks is simply from the humid August air.
He pulls into the garage attached to his house, and I notice that his truck is missing.