Chapter 7
SEVEN
austin
For a few seconds, I was so shocked, I couldn’t even kiss her back. I just stood there like I was made of stone—I didn’t even close my eyes.
Then she opened hers and pulled back, covering her mouth with her hands. “Oh my god.” Her words were muffled. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry.”
I couldn’t seem to find my voice. All I could hear was Xander in my head.
You’re a fucking idiot.
Veronica uncovered her mouth and flapped her hands at the wrist. “I don’t know what just came over me. I must have lost my mind. Please accept my apology.”
“It’s fine.” My voice cracked, and I cleared my throat. “It just surprised me. You were right about giving good hugs.”
Flustered, she began to ramble. “It’s been such a weird day, and I was feeling so overwhelmed, like I don’t have a handle on any of these things that a functioning adult should have a handle on, my own money or a job or a place to live. Everything is out of my control.”
I wanted to tell her it was okay and also ascertain if I could have another shot at getting my tongue in her mouth, but she kept talking and would not shut up.
“And then grief hit me all over again and I was out here crying and you were finally being nice to me after being such a meanie, and then I probably shouldn’t have put my hands on you but you have a really nice body and it sort of did things to me that I wasn’t expecting and haven’t felt for a really, really long time, and I thought you were going to kiss me and then you didn’t, so I took control of the situation and kissed you—but then it was obvious you didn’t want that, and—”
“Fuck it.” Without waiting for her to finish, I grabbed the back of her head and forced her to stop talking by covering her mouth with mine.
This time it was her turn to go still with shock, and I took advantage of her immobility by opening her lips with mine and stroking between them with my tongue.
Recovering her senses, she moved her hands up my chest and clutched the front of my shirt while I devoured her mouth like a starving animal.
When her tongue met mine, just as hungry and desperate, I slipped one arm around her lower back, pulling her body against me, lifting her onto her toes.
Sliding one rough hand into her soft blond hair, I moved my mouth down her throat, catching the scent of her perfume, tasting it on her warm skin.
She moaned, and the hum of it against my lips sent a lightning bolt straight to my cock.
I took my hand from her hair and slid it up her side, beneath her shirt, spreading my fingers over her ribcage.
My thumb brushed the bottom curve of her breast, and when she looped her arms around my neck, I took it as permission to keep going, letting my thumb skim over the taut peak of her nipple.
Goddamn, I wanted my mouth on it. My mind was wild with the thought of tearing our clothes off and getting inside her right here under the moon.
Or we could go up to the garage apartment. Or I could invite her up to my bedroom.
My bedroom . . . with my kids right across the hall.
Fuck.
I released her from my arms and stepped back. “Jesus. Sorry.”
“It’s okay.” She stared at me, wide-eyed. Her pebbled nipples were visible through the thin white material of her T-shirt, and I cracked my knuckles, just to give my hands something to do.
“Well, I should go back inside. Check on the kids. If it’s too hot over the garage, you can turn on the window unit,” I said, because I was burning up. “It cools the place off pretty fast.”
“Okay.” She hesitated. “Thank you again for letting me stay. Honestly, I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t.”
“No problem. Goodnight.” Anxious to get inside before I lost control and kissed her again, I headed for the back door, carefully skirting around her so I wouldn’t be tempted to touch.
“Night,” she called softly.
Upstairs, I checked on the kids—sound asleep—then slipped into my bedroom and closed the door. After yanking my shirt off, I couldn’t resist moving closer to the window and peering around the shade again.
The light was on in the garage apartment, and the shade on the window facing the house was up. She came over to the window and looked out.
I knew she couldn’t see me, but I still held my breath. For a second, the teenager in me hoped she might take off her shirt. Those tantalizing nipples poking through white cotton lingered in my mind. I could practically feel them between my fingertips, beneath my tongue.
But after a moment, she pulled down the shade, and the light went off.
I got into bed and lay on my back, overcome with the urge to slide my hand into my pants and work off the pent-up tension with a quick orgasm. My dick was so hard, and it would feel so good. I untied the drawstring and eased the waist below my hips, closing my fist around my cock.
Closing my eyes, I thought of her. I pictured her long, lithe body. I tasted her on my tongue. I inhaled the scent of her skin. I heard the soft, sweet moan escape her lips. I felt her hands on my back.
I imagined what it might have been like if our circumstances were different.
If I’d had the house to myself tonight. If she were in bed with me right now.
Naked. Panting. Greedy for my cock. Maybe she’d talk dirty to me, or like it when I said filthy things to her.
Maybe she’d love the way I used my tongue on her clit, the way I made her come with my fingers.
Maybe she’d get on her knees for me, let me fuck that gorgeous mouth.
Maybe she’d beg me to fuck her. I could practically hear my name on her lips, smell the sex in the room, feel her pussy tighten around me as she whispered—yes, yes, yes . . .
Swallowing the groan that threatened to escape, I tightened my fist and jerked myself harder and faster, coming in quick, hot pulses that left a sticky mess on my stomach.
Jesus.
After my heartbeat quieted and my breathing returned to normal, I made my way into the bathroom to clean up. Two minutes later, I was back in bed, hands behind my head, staring up at the ceiling.
Was she asleep? Was she thinking about me? I wondered if I’d made the right decision not to hire her, or if I’d dismissed the idea too quickly. Would it be so bad to have her around this summer?
Xander’s voice was still in my head.
You’re a fucking idiot.
The following morning, the first thing I did was reach for my phone and Google her.
She didn’t appear to have social media accounts, which surprised me until I recalled Mabel telling me Veronica’s ex had made her delete them.
I saw a couple articles related to being a Rockette—she’d been interviewed on different blogs or news media—but the item that caught my eye was a wedding announcement from a Chicago newspaper.
I clicked on it and held my breath as the photo popped up.
She looked beautiful, sitting there in a chair in front of her fiancé, who stood with his hand on her shoulder, as if to keep her down.
But she also looked kind of miserable. No smile, no light in her eyes, no sign of love or chemistry between them. She looked like a caged bird.
Setting my phone aside, I threw on some clothes and went downstairs, feeling torn about what to do.
I hadn’t slept great, so I was a little groggy as I sipped my first cup of coffee, looking out the kitchen window at the backyard. For a second, I thought my eyes were deceiving me—was Veronica lying on the lawn?
Squinting, I chugged more caffeine as she pressed her hands into the ground and peeled her upper body off the grass, her face lifting to the bright blue sky.
Fuck, she was doing yoga.
She wore a black sports bra and little black shorts that showed off her legs. Her blond hair sat in a nest on top of her head, and her feet were bare. I moved a little closer to the window.
She held that pose for a moment and then shifted into a new one, moving through a plank to an inverted V shape, her legs perfectly straight, her heels on the ground, her arms stretched out, and her head tucked between her biceps.
I was mesmerized by the perfect lines her body created—especially her spine, which formed a gentle concave curve from her tailbone all the way to the back of her neck.
I was even more impressed when she extended one leg to the sky in a slow, dramatic arc.
She held it there for a moment, toes pointed, legs split in a perfect straight line—a work of art.
Then she brought her foot back to the ground and repeated the process with the other leg.
I was so enthralled I didn’t even hear Adelaide come down the stairs.
“Dad?”
I spun around so fast my coffee sloshed over the side of the cup and went splat as it hit the floor.
Adelaide stood there in her pajamas looking at me strangely. “What are you doing?”
“Morning, June bug. Nothing.” I grabbed a paper towel and wiped up the spill. My heart was beating erratically, as if I’d been caught with my hand in the cookie jar.
“You were looking out the window at something.” She went over to the back door and peered out the glass. “It’s Veronica!”
“Addie, don’t—”
But it was too late, she’d already yanked open the back door and run outside. “Hi! What are you doing?”
Veronica came out of her pose and popped to her feet.
I wondered what it would be like to have bones and muscles that moved so easily in the morning.
I always felt stiff as a board for a couple hours.
Although, I had to admit, my neck and shoulder seemed a little less tight than they had yesterday.
Maybe the revenge massage had worked. Standing at the screen door, I glanced over at the fire pit, where we’d kissed last night. A hot spark zipped up my spine.
“I’m doing yoga,” Veronica said with a smile. “Want to join me?”
“I don’t know how to do yoga.” Adelaide folded her arms behind her back. “Can you teach me?”