Chapter 37 - Hutch
Hutch
It’s after midnight when we pull up outside my shop.
My head is swimming with all the things I did and said to Ginger in that bathroom, the way she took everything I had to give her, fire in her eyes the whole time.
She’s wild and aggressive and submissive, all while challenging me as she matched my need. She’s fucking perfect.
It scares me, being this involved with someone physically, because it’s not something I’ve ever allowed myself.
At least not in the last decade. But it’s more than that, too.
There’s a mutual trust I have with Ginger that’s different than anything I’ve ever had with anyone else.
She makes me think about things completely differently, and I love that about her.
I think that’s why this—what I’m about to show her—feels so significant.
I kill the engine of my truck and hop out, meeting her at the front grill.
She shivers, and I wrap an arm around her waist, pulling her toward me, before bringing her lips to mine.
I kiss her softly, something flickering to life in my gut; an unknown sensation, tension mixed with want.
I don’t have a name for it, but I want more.
She melts into me, a soft sigh escaping her lips, pliant, willing.
“Come on,” I tell her, dropping my hand from around her waist and tugging her by the hand toward the shop.
“Where are we going?”
"I wanna show you something,” I tell her.
"Okay…" she says, curiosity lighting her eyes in the moonlight.
I unlock the shop door and push it open. "Watch your step,” I tell her as we cross over the threshold and the lights flicker on.
She looks around, squinting a little as her eyes adjust to the bright light. I’m sure it doesn’t look like much to her, given that the entire space is a mishmash of woodworking projects, a disjointed living space, sawdust, a makeshift office; it’s not really a home but works for me.
Making my way around the space with her hand still in mine, I lead her past the small kitchenette, couch, and bathroom.
"Should I close my eyes?" she asks.
"Well, it's upstairs, so…kind of hard to do that with your eyes closed," I say, looking over my shoulder at her with a small grin.
She raises an eyebrow. "So it's a surprise?"
I tilt my head side to side. "You’ll see."
Before she can argue, I scoop her into my arms, and she lets out a little squeal of a laugh, the sound sending a jolt straight through my chest.
God, I love that sound.
And when exactly did that happen; me loving the way a woman’s laugh sounds?
With the weight of her in my arms, her laugh isn’t all that I’m finding I love. I want to surprise her. I want her to care about this. Maybe a little too much. Shoving that thought away, I allow another one to settle into its place: contentment.
"Yeah, I think you should definitely close your eyes," I murmur.
She nods, letting her eyes slip closed, and I watch her lashes flutter. I take the stairs carefully, making sure I don’t catch one of her heels in the railing.
She hangs on to me, arms wrapped loosely around my neck. She’s even more beautiful up close, the constellation of caramel freckles dotting her nose and cheeks.
At the top of the stairs, I set her gently on her feet.
She opens her eyes—and sees it.
"It’s…a bed?" she says, blinking, taking in the king-size bed, made up with crisp white sheets and a muted gray duvet that the salesgirl in Billings said was like sleeping under a cloud, and pillows stacked against the dark gray tufted headboard.
I rub the back of my neck, feeling suddenly awkward.
Does she think it’s stupid? God, maybe I shouldn’t have told her it was a surprise for her. I mean, I guess she kind of assumed, but I didn’t correct her, and now I’m second-guessing if this will even mean anything to her. If I mean anything to her.
"Yeah.” I nod, chancing a quick glance at her, but her gaze is fixed on the bed.
Shit. Did I read more into things than I should have? Maybe it was stupid getting a bed for…whatever this is we’re doing. Fuck it. Too late now.
“It's probably dumb, but...I know you’re not a big fan of the van. Figured this would be better.” I shrug like it’s nothing, trying to keep my voice casual, but the next words slip out before I can stop them. "Cleaner. No history."
I don’t look at her when I say it. I can’t, for fear of her, I don’t know…judging me? Rejecting me? Who knows.
Either way she can probably put it together—I’ve had other women there. It’s been months, but it still bothers me now. In a way that it never has before.
But this isn’t about guilt. It’s that Ginger’s not like them. I can’t say that I love her. I honestly don’t know if I even know what that feels like or if I’d ever be capable of it, but I do know that I never want her in a position or place that feels disposable or cheap.
Says the guy who fucked her like an animal over the sink in a dingy bar bathroom, not even an hour ago.
Something shifts in her face, a realization blooming, and before I can say more, she throws herself at me.
I catch her easily, her legs wrapping around my waist like it’s second nature. She leans back, tugging my neck toward the bed with her arms around me.
In a few quick strides, we’re at the bed. Her mouth crashes into mine, all heat and hunger—even after the insane sex we had at the bar, it’s like we’ll never get enough of each other. I lower her onto the mattress, following her down so we don’t break the kiss.
"You did this for me?" she whispers against my lips.
I nod, still tasting her. I don’t want to stop. Her happiness is palpable, pouring off her in waves.
"You wanna break it in?" she murmurs, a little grin playing on her lips.
I groan against her mouth. "Hell yes."
She’s already tearing at my belt, yanking my shirt up, and I’m gone—completely, utterly hers.
Our kiss isn’t rough, or greedy, although I am definitely that when it comes to Ginger.
I take time undressing her, wanting to see every inch of her incredible curves and soft skin.
When she’s naked and writhing underneath me, warm skin on warm skin, I kiss a trail across her collarbone, palming her hips.
I move lower to press a soft kiss on her knee before trailing my lips up her inner thigh.
“You’re beautiful,” I murmur.
“You’re making me crazy,” she says, threading her fingers through my hair and tugging gently.
“I’m savoring,” I counter, kissing my way up her abdomen, over her tits and back to her mouth.
By the time I’m done devouring her skin, we’re both shaking.
I brace my hands on either side of her face, my gaze finding hers. “You want me to grab a condom?”
Her answering chuckle is soft. “Your cum is still dripping out of me. I think it’s a little late for condoms.”
Maybe we shouldn’t have done that. I don’t do that. Not ever. It’s a rule I don’t break—because breaking it means remembering, and I’ve spent years not doing that. But with Ginger…it felt different. Not impulsive. Not reckless. Right. And maybe that should scare me more than it does.
Her words hit me hard. She’s mine. She’s letting herself be mine. And not just in the heat of the moment.
And I can’t breathe for a second.
Not because of her body, though yeah, that’s pretty fucking incredible. It’s the way she’s looking at me. Open. Trusting. Like for her, this isn’t about just getting off. And I realize it’s not about that for me either.
I’m fucking terrified of screwing this up. But the weight of that doesn’t stop me.
I line myself up with her entrance, slick and swollen, still tender from earlier.
From me.
The fact that she’s still soft and ready, that her body remembers mine…fuck, that does something to me.
My eyes lock on hers as I try to slow the pounding of my heart.
The first thrust isn’t fast or rough. It’s deep. Slow.
Ginger gasps, wrapping her legs around my waist, fingers digging into my shoulders. “God, Hutch, yes…”
I bring my mouth to her again, one hand cupping her cheek. “Feel okay, baby?”
She nods, breath catching. “More than okay.” A pause, the quieter, “You feel so good.”
I rock my hips into hers again, slow and deep, and her head falls back, lips parting on a soft moan that punches straight through my chest.
“Yeah,” I whisper. “That’s it. Take it, baby.”
She clings to me tighter, legs cinched around me like a vice, every inch of her slick heat pulling me in. “Don’t stop.”
“Not planning to.” I cup the back of her head, careful not to pull her hair, and press my forehead to hers. “Not tonight.”
Her fingers slip into my hair, tugging me down until our mouths meet again—hot, slow, and deep. Her kiss is more than anything I could want, and fuck—I never want this night to end.
Her breathing goes a bit erratic, and her hips lift to meet each of my strokes.
“Right there,” she pants against my lips. “Don’t stop, Hutch—please don’t stop.”
“I’ve got you,” I rasp, one hand moving under her thigh to hold her open for me. The other tangled in her hair as I drive her into the mattress. “Fuck you feel perfect.”
I feel her tighten around my length, her gasps coming quicker, now.
“Let go for me,” I murmur, hips pistoning faster. Come for me, Ginger. Let me feel it.”
She shatters with a cry, her nails digging in, her whole body arching as she falls apart on my cock—hot wet, clenching like crazy. I chase her orgasm with my own, whispering her name over and over.
A groan rips from my chest as I bury myself deep, pulsing inside her, heart pounding like it might crack wide open. I press my face to her neck, loving the way she’s trembling beneath me.
“Shit,” I breathe against her skin. “I think I forgot my own name.”
Her laughter shakes the bed, and I chuckle, carefully lifting off her and rolling to my side.
“I think you earned a little nap,” she murmurs, snuggling into me like she belongs there.
I grin against her hair. “Only if you’re staying for it.”