Chapter 18
Eighteen
All oopsies, no daisies.
—Gentry’s secret thoughts
Gentry
Her panties in my pocket felt like they’d been burning a hole there since I’d picked them up.
When I’d gone into her camper, she’d had a fresh pile of laundry—fresh from my washer and dryer—sitting on the counter right inside the door.
I’d spotted the leggings and t-shirt on the top, but I’d dug down to find a pair of underwear.
When I had, I’d hit the motherload at the bottom.
All pink and lacey, the scrap of fabric had looked tiny.
It was barely a bulge in my pocket.
“This is a long hallway.”
“It’s a long building,” I agreed. “It used to be a steel mill. I think it’s something like two hundred and twenty feet long. At some point in the past, it was turned into a ranch so the horses are housed on the other end of the building.”
“I can tell,” she said. “Feels like we’ve been walking forever. How do you even know which door is yours?”
I pointed at the ground. “There’s paint on the ground. Some of the guys have their doors decorated by their wives or kids. Plus, I’m the twentieth door down on the right.”
“Jesus,” she murmured. “Is that at the end?”
“Almost. There’s a big ass bathroom beyond my door that used to be a locker room. Now it’s just got extra toilets and showers in case anyone needs it.”
“Is there a boys’ and a girls’?”
“If you go into the individual bathrooms off the rooms, you have privacy. But the locker room is free for anyone. That’s where all the guests go.” He came to a door and pressed his thumb to it.
“Lock on the door?” she asked.
“I don’t like finding random people in my room fucking,” I said. “They’d never done it, but sometimes when the guys get drunk, this hallway’s pretty damn long, and they might just go into any room. It’s happened to others. But I didn’t want to be one of them. I have trust issues.”
I liked my space just like that—my own.
I was pretty particular about who went in and out of my room.
Some of the others had locks, but not all.
I didn’t have that kind of trusting mindset, and probably never would.
Not just because of all the shit I had to deal with during prison, but also thanks to the life I’d led before.
People, even family and friends, would always disappoint you.
Though I was slowly starting to figure out that the Dixie Wardens MC brothers weren’t anything like what I’d thought they would be.
I was still learning, but every day they came through for me, whether small or big.
Maybe one day I’d be able to trust them fully.
But not yet.
“The code is 4518,” I said.
Her hand went to my arm. “Dean’s birthday.”
“Dean’s birthday,” I confirmed, a sense of loss hitting me at the mention of his name. “He’d be seven today.”
“I know,” she said softly, squeezing my arm. “He would’ve been just like you.”
She pressed her finger to the dent in my chin and smiled.
“The one in Dean’s chin was cute as fuck.” I chuckled as I dropped her clothes to the bed. “The bathroom is through there.”
She picked up her clothes and then held her hand out to me.
“Oh.” I grinned and pulled out her panties, dangling them in front of her.
Her cheeks flushed. “Of course you would bring the smallest pair I own.”
“It’s not my fault,” I said. “I just picked the ones that were the cutest.”
“And the smallest,” she snorted and toed off her tennis shoes.
I eyed the shoes. “I brought you shoes, too. They’re still in the truck, though.”
“You brought the truck?” she asked.
“Yeah,” I confirmed. “It’s cold. I didn’t feel like bundling up.”
She smiled. “Sweet.”
She walked into the bathroom and kicked the door closed.
Like always, it bounced back open the moment that it closed.
“Your door is malfunctioning,” she accused as she ripped her scrub top off.
A plain white bra was revealed, and it was the sexiest thing I’d ever seen.
I’d always been an ass man.
Give me a set of booty cheeks that were toned or voluptuous, and I was in seventh heaven.
But seeing her there in a plain cotton bra with her back to me—and her front seeing as I could also see her in the mirror—I thought she had the most beautiful set of tits I’d ever seen.
“It’s broken,” I admitted. “Even if you close it, it still opens.”
She hummed and reached for the clasp at her back, popping the enclosure of her bra open.
“Since you have this nice shower here,” she said. “I’m just going to step into it really quick. Do you have towels?”
In answer, I pushed into the bathroom and pulled out a towel on the top rack above the toilet.
She smiled at me, holding the bra mostly in place. “Thanks.”
I say mostly because I could see the top of her areola on her left breast.
It was a dusky rose compared to her otherwise flawless, porcelain skin.
I forced myself to look away.
“What’s that?” I asked, spotting a darkened spot on her left collarbone.
She grimaced and looked at it in the mirror. “That crazy weirdo you took in today. He clocked me with a bed pan.”
Anger started to dance through my veins. “He hurt you?”
She shrugged. “Wasn’t the first patient to do that, and won’t be the last.”
I didn’t like the thought.
Not at fucking all.
I flipped the shower on, cranking it up way higher than I ever would’ve normally.
I knew she took steamy showers.
I’d seen her step into hers every night.
I’d watch as her window, which only showed her from shoulder up, fogged up within seconds.
You didn’t get fog that quickly unless you scalded yourself in the process.
“There should be no patients hurting you ever,” I pointed out.
She snorted. “Until we get the support we need, which we won’t, nurses will always be in harm’s way.”
I didn’t like that.
“It’s good Odin offered you a job then,” I said. “He wouldn’t let anything happen to you.”
She smiled. “That’s good to know.”
She stuck her hand in the shower, and I took that as my cue to leave.
I didn’t shut the door, though.
She didn’t either as she stripped the rest of her clothes off and stepped into the scalding heat.
I sat on the edge of the bed and watched her through the mirror.
I couldn’t see much due to the fogginess and the angle of the mirror, but I saw her breasts jiggle. Watched the muscles in her back. Her hair slick against her back.
When she was done, she got out and reached for the towel, giving me an uninterrupted view of her side.
Long shapely legs, small arms, big tits and ass. Hips for days.
Her usually light-brown hair was darker and plastered to her skull.
She caught the towel and wrapped it around herself.
My dick, which was hard as a rock, pulsed in my jeans.
She turned and saw me staring, her face unreadable.
She didn’t look surprised or offended, though.
Just…blank.
“I watch you shower every night after you get home,” I found myself saying. “Can’t say that I ever got a view like this, though.”
She wrapped the towel around her tight, then walked toward me, her hair still dripping water onto the floor in her wake.
She stopped with just inches to spare and said, “What are we doing, Gentry?”
I thought about lying.
I thought about telling her “what we’ve always done.”
But that wasn’t what I wanted anymore.
Ever since she’d made the move to my place, and I got to see her but not actually touch her every night, I’d gotten…antsy.
My skin felt like it didn’t fit right.
For so many years, she’d been mine, but she hadn’t.
Now that she was here, and she was here, and there was nothing stopping us…
“I have no idea,” I said, reaching for the edge of her towel.
She moved forward just the smallest amount, and suddenly her thighs were inside my own.
All it would take was one rip of that towel and she’d be naked in front of me.
“What do you want to do?” she asked.
I thought about that for a long moment before I said, “I want to strip this towel from your body and pull you into my lap.”
She let the towel drop.
My hands found their way to the outside of her thighs, and my breathing sped up.
Her nipples pebbled from where my breath fanned out against them.
Her wet hair curled around one of her breasts, and I reached a hand up to drag it free of her skin.
The wet hair dragged across one nipple as I did, and she hissed in a breath in response.
“This might quite possibly be the most irresponsible thing we ever do,” she admitted breathlessly. “But I haven’t thought about anything else in years.”
My gaze flicked up to hers. “Are you, um, okay? With my touch?”
She nodded. “I had a friend that was a psychology major in school. We talked it out. A lot. I don’t think I have any hangups about anything sexual, but I’ve never been with anyone since.”
“No one?”
She shook her head.
“I haven’t been with anyone, either, since I married you.”
“Not even when you got here?” she asked in surprise.
I shook my head. “Still married in my head. Whether I was technically dead or not.”
She leaned forward, and one of her voluptuous breasts bumped my face.
I couldn’t stop myself from sneaking my tongue out and lapping at the very tip.
She groaned. “I, uh, Gentry. I, uh…”
“Gentry…” I encouraged her, pulling back to once again look into her eyes.
“I never expected you to remain faithful.”
I grinned. “Short of fucking a man in prison, which I wasn’t into, there hasn’t been all that much time or inclination since.
But saying that, I haven’t wanted anyone.
To be truthful, I didn’t really think that way about you until O’Neal thought he was pulling one over on me in prison by sending me photos of you living your life.
You did a lot of growing up in those years, and he gave me infinite spank bank material.
You in a bikini. You running with a pair of leggings on that look like they were fucking made for you.
You in a tight pair of jeans enjoying a drink with your friends. ”
She shivered. “It creeps me out that he was taking photos of me.”
“He didn’t do it for long,” I found myself saying.
“No?” she asked, her hand going to my chin, her fingernails scraping against my stubble.
“No,” I said. “I started finding all his friends in prison and beating the crap out of them. I spent more time in the hole than out of it in that seven years.”
“Oh,” she breathed.
“I made sure that he stopped,” I said. “I would eventually have some buddies that got out. They owed me a favor or two. I had them go find these men that were taking the photos of you and warn them. Eventually, O’Sullivan hated finding all of his guys fucked up, so he ordered O’Neal to stop.”
She leaned forward, pressing her body into my open arms, and I closed them around her.
She slumped into my arms, her face going into my hair, and I hugged her naked body to me tight.
“I couldn’t do much from where I was at,” I admitted into her skin. “But I did as much as I could.”
“The last seven years wasn’t great,” she admitted. “But I wasn’t harmed. I was watched, but not stalked. I got to mostly live the life I wanted to live. You got me out before anything bad could happen with Dario.”
I squeezed her a little bit tighter. “That was the plan. Die, then bring you with me.”
She threaded her fingers through my hair and said, “You better not ever do that to me again.”
“What?” I teased.
“Die,” she answered.
I grunted. “I have no immediate plans to do that.”
She pulled my head back using her grip on my hair.
Then she kissed me.
Like the one from earlier, this one had the power to bring me to my knees.
It was good that I was sitting.
Her mouth caught mine, and her hands moved to my face where she held me still as she kissed the holy hell out of me.
I let her take control.
She crawled into my lap, her pussy now pressing against my denim-clad cock, and ground down into me.
I pushed up, letting her feel how excited I was, and threaded my hands into her hair before I guided her mouth to where I wanted it.
Our tongues tangled.
Her breathing mingled.
When she finally pulled back, she was breathless with kiss-swollen lips.