4. “Okay, darlin’.”
“OKAY, DARLIN’.”
YASMINE
We ended up on the floor in front of the fireplace, unlit but still the warmest corner of the room.
Hale grabbed two more beers from the fridge, handed me one, then settled against the base of the armchair.
“So, real talk,” he said. “What was the scariest moment in Patagonia?”
“When I thought I’d lost my camera bag in a river crossing.”
“Not the giant cat that could eat you?”
“The puma was predictable. The river wasn’t.”
Hale smiled. “Priorities.”
“You’d get it if you saw what I paid for that gear.”
“Show me more pictures,” he said. “The ones you didn’t show everyone else.”
I pulled out my phone, thumbed into the outtakes folder. “These didn’t make the cut, but I still like them.”
I scooted closer so he could see the screen, showing him the landscape shots first. Mountains stacked behind mountains. Skies so big they swallowed the horizon. The tent I’d lived in for three months, looking tiny and precarious against the terrain.
“Jesus,” Hale breathed. “You really were out there in the middle of nowhere.”
I scrolled to a selfie I’d taken, rare for me, bundled in so many layers you could barely see my face, nothing but eyes and wind-burned cheeks.
“You look…” He paused. “Happy.”
“I was.”
“Even freezing your ass off in a tent?”
“Yes.”
“Tell me how.”
“How what?”
“How you can be happy out there. Alone. Cold. Nothing between you and the weather but nylon and stubbornness.”
It was hard to put into words. The light. The waiting. The way the whole world would finally line up and hand you something spectacular if you were patient enough.
“It’s not about being comfortable,” I said. “It’s about being… free, I guess.”
“Free from what?”
I thought about my family. My brother. That heavy feeling that always crawled back the second I crossed the county line.
“Everything.”
He nodded like he understood more than I’d said. Then he took a drink and leaned back. “So what do you miss most when you’re out there.”
“Miss?”
“Yeah. Day ten on protein bars. What are you thinking about?”
I smiled. “Honestly? Tacos. Specifically tacos from the truck on Main.”
“Their migas?”
“I had actual dreams about their migas.”
“Solid choice.”
“What about you? What would you miss?”
“Besides modern plumbing? My books.”
“Fancy.”
“I’m a man of refined tastes.”
The conversation kept going from there.
He told me about the shop, finishing the renovations and upgrades that were supposed to take six weeks and had now eaten six months. I told him about the guide in Patagonia who got us lost for two days and tried to sell it as an “immersive cultural experience.”
At some point I’d shifted closer, angling toward him.
“You know what else I missed?” I said, emboldened by the alcohol and the late hour and the way he was looking at me.
“What?”
“People. Like… proximity to people.”
“You had guides.”
I took another drink. “Not the same. I like sex, and my vibrator only takes it so far.”
Hale went so still, it caught me by surprise and I laughed. “What? Does that shock you? That I like sex?”
“No, I just—” He shook his head, the corner of his mouth lifting. “How long are we talking? Three months?”
“Let’s see. Nico’s place opened in September. So… seven months.”
“Seven.” He processed that. “Wait, I remember. Stephan. Y’all hooked up in the back room.”
My mouth fell open. “How do you know about that?”
“In the group chat, remember?”
I groaned and dropped my head back.
“What happened with him?”
“Nothing happened. We had fun and he went back to Brazil.”
“Ah.”
“But the man had hips like a swivel.”
His smile went flat. “Okay. Yeah. I don’t need the play-by-play.”
“What? You asked what happened.”
“And you answered. Stephan. Fun. Done.” He shifted, putting another small but deliberate inch of space between us. “You can save the details for the girls.”
“So you’re a prude now.”
“Not a prude.” He gestured vaguely at the space between us. “We’re friends, Yaz. But I’m not your girlfriend.”
I pressed my hand to my chest. “So manicure Mondays mean nothing to you, now? I’m devastated.”
A smile tugged at his lips. “How dare you. I love a good spa day, you know that. What I’m saying is—you want me to check your car, grab a drink, listen to your work problems?
I’m your guy. Hell, if you want me to help with your dry spell instead of just talking about it, I’m your guy.
But save the sexcapades for Annie. I don’t need to know about how another guy’s dick curves left. ”
I blinked at him.
His brow lifted. “Fair?”
I cleared my throat.
“Fair, Yaz?” he asked again.
“Fair,” I croaked. Then, carefully, “Hale?”
“Yeah, hun?”
“Did you just offer to help with my dry spell?”
No smile now. No joke either. “Why not?”
I didn’t have an answer for that. Or I had several, and none of them felt relevant.
I’d always known Hale was attractive. That was old news, something filed away like the height of a mountain you weren’t planning to climb.
But this.
This closeness. This… awareness was new. The way his eyes had gone dark and steady on my face, like he was waiting to see whether I’d run or lean in.
The already quiet room got quieter.
“Yasmine,” he said.
“Yeah?”
“Do you want me to help you with your dry spell?”
“No,” I said too fast, laughing to play it off. “Of course not.”
Instead of laughing with me, he gave one slow, knowing nod. “Okay, darlin’.”
The words settled low in my stomach. My eyes dropped to his hands, wrapped loosely around the bottle, thumb dragging along the condensation. They were wide. Strong.
“What—” I cleared my throat. “What would that even look like… exactly?”
“What would you like it to look like?”
My mind emptied.
“I could get you off with my fingers,” he said. “With my mouth.” His eyes dropped to my lips, then back up. “Or if you need more than that…”
My pulse kicked hard enough to make my ears ring. I licked my lips, opened my mouth.
And nothing came out.
He took pity on me and set his bottle aside, moving in. Close enough that I felt his heat. Close enough to see the pulse jumping in his throat.
“How about this,” he murmured. “I kiss you. You want me to stop, you say so. Simple.”
I should’ve shut it down. Should have said Hale in the tone I used when he was being ridiculous. Found the version of myself from three hours ago who was certain this was just wine.
Instead I nodded.
His hand came up to my jaw, thumb brushing across my cheek. A question in the touch.
I held still, heart hammering. Then he leaned in and kissed me. Soft at first. Testing. Warm and slow and tasting faintly like beer. He gave me room to pull back.
I didn’t.
I leaned into it instead.
The kiss deepened. His hand slid into my hair and I made a soft sound that would have embarrassed me if I’d had a single thought left to spare. He smiled against my mouth, then kissed me harder.
My hands found his shirt, fisted in the fabric, pulling him closer. His mouth, his hands, the weight of him. This was exactly what I’d been missing.
He pulled back just enough to look at me. “Still okay?”
I nodded, breathless.
“Out loud, darlin’.”
“Yes,” I breathed. “Don’t stop.”
Then he kissed me again, nothing careful about it now. I climbed into his lap without thinking, needing to be closer.
He groaned low in his throat.
I was grinding down on the hard ridge of his dick before I’d thought it through, his hands shoving up under my shirt. We were all heat and hunger and a desperation that had shown up out of nowhere and taken over.
“Hale,” I breathed.
He kissed along my jaw, down my neck. “Don’t say stop.”
“No. More.”
“Hallelujah.”
I laughed, then gasped as his teeth grazed my collarbone.
We shifted, or maybe fell, until I was on my back on the rug and he was over me, braced on one arm, his other hand still under my shirt.
He cupped me through my bra and I arched into him. He made that low sound again.
“Fuck.”
“What?”
“You’re—We should go upstairs.”
“Too far.”
“Annie’s right there.”
I glanced over. She hadn’t moved an inch, still dead to the world under the blanket. “She’s out cold.”
“Living dangerously,” he muttered.
“Hale.” I pulled him back down. “I spent three months in a tent. I’m not picky about location.”
He chuckled. “Fair.” Then his hands were dragging my shirt up and I was helping, lifting my arms so he could toss it aside. My bra followed.
He stopped. Stared.
“What?” I asked.
“Nothing. Just… look at you.” His fingers traced down my sternum. “You’re something up close.”
I swallowed, reached for his shirt. “Your turn.”
He sat back and pulled it over his head.
I’d seen Hale shirtless before. Pool parties. Hot summer days, him jogging down the pavement. But this was different. This was mine to touch. So I did. I ran my hands over his chest, his shoulders, the muscles in his arms that came from years of work. He let me explore, breathing heavier.
“Yasmine,” he said, voice rough.
“Yeah?”
Something flickered in his eyes. “Nothing.” Then he kissed me again.
His hands moved to my hips, my thighs, the button of my jeans. I lifted my hips so he could pull them down, taking my underwear with them. And then I was naked on Ava’s living room floor with Hale between my legs and Annie passed out on the couch ten feet away.
“Tell me what you want,” he murmured.
“You.”
“Be specific.”
My brain was wine-soaked and want-heavy. “Your hands. Your mouth. I don’t care. Just make me come.”
He smiled against my skin. “Dealer’s choice?”
“Yes,” I hissed.
Then his mouth was on my pussy, hot and wet and fucking skilled. No teasing. He ate me like a starving man, tongue flicking my clit, two thick fingers sliding deep, curling just right. I had to bite my hand to keep from screaming.
He held my hips down while I bucked, licking and sucking until my thighs shook around his head and I came so hard my vision went white. He didn’t stop until I was a trembling, dripping mess.
When he finally kissed his way back up my body, I could barely speak.
“Okay?” he asked.
I nodded, still breathless. “Condom?”
“Wallet.”
He reached for his jeans, pulled one out, rolled it on. Then he was back over me, braced on his forearms. “Ready?”
“Yeah.”
He pushed in slow, so damn slow, giving me time to adjust. I hummed at the stretch, the fullness after so long with nothing but my own hand and battery power feeling so fucking good.
I wrapped my legs around him, hands digging into his shoulders, and let myself disappear into it.
“Shit,” he breathed. “You feel—”
“Don’t stop.”
He didn’t. He moved with careful control, gentle and intense at once, like he was holding himself back but barely.
“Hale.”
“Yeah?”
“You can—” I rocked my hips up. “You don’t have to be gentle.”
His expression sharpened. “Sure?”
“Please.”
That was all it took.
He adjusted his angle, gripped my hip with one hand, and started moving faster. Harder. Pounding strokes that hit every spot. He fucked me the way I needed it, the wet slap of skin and my choked moans filling the room.
“That’s it,” he murmured against my ear. “Let go.”
I did.
I came again, clenching around him so tight he groaned my name and followed right behind me, burying himself deep as he pulsed inside.
We stayed locked together, breathing hard, sweat-slicked and satisfied on the rug.
“Jesus,” he finally said.
“Yeah.”
He smiled lazily, then kissed me again, soft and sweet.
From the couch, Annie let out a particularly loud snore. We both froze and looked over.
She hadn’t moved.
I started laughing.
Hale laughed too, quiet and warm against my shoulder. Before I could ask what he was doing, he stood and scooped me up off the floor. “Come on.”
“Hale—”
“Shh. Guest room. Now.”
I didn’t argue.
He carried me upstairs, pushed open the door to the blue room, and kicked it shut behind us. I barely registered the bed before he was laying me down on it.
“We should sleep,” I said, even as my hands found his shoulders.
“We should,” he agreed, kissing down my neck.
“It’s late.”
“It is.”
“Hale—”
He lifted his head.
“Tell me to stop and I will.”
I didn’t tell him to stop.