Chapter 55
Fifty-Five
I awaken in Butch’s arms, my back glued to his front.
His erection, stirring before he does, lodges against my ass.
A smile creeps up. My man is nothing short of virile…
we spent hours pleasuring one another last night.
Even though I’m big dick sore, the memory causes stirrings of my own, and my hips grind into him purposefully.
“Mmm,” he groans, pulling me tighter.
“Mm-hmm,” I answer.
“I could get used to this.” His voice is even deeper still laced with sleep, and hearing it this close to my ear ignites my blood.
We take a quick break for human necessities, then reunite for another rousing session of sex…the loud and unrestrained kind, since little ears aren’t around.
Lying on his chest after, listening to his steady heartbeat, a comforting happiness fills me.
Butch breaks the silence. “I probably shouldn’t say this…it’s too soon.”
Now I’m curious. I lift my head to meet his gaze, resting my chin on my hand. “Say what?”
He heaves out a breath. “Don’t bolt on me? ”
I level him with a stare. “I just admitted I love you. I’m not going anywhere. And I seem to recall you saying if I did run, you’d just haul me back to your bed anyway.”
“Right. Still stands.”
“So?”
He strokes my hair, moving a section away from my eyes. “I don’t know about you, Sundance, but this sure as hell feels a lot like forever.”
I nod because it does, although voicing that sentiment aloud gives it a credence that scares me. Like it’s too good to be true? And it’s way too soon to be making even stronger pronouncements than we have already. A laugh huffs out. “Guess we really didn’t heed ‘going slow’, huh?”
“You know, maybe if Emmy had paused, even just for a second. But she didn’t. She sees exactly what I do…a bright, sparkling light. You’re so easy to like. And the window dressing ain’t bad, either.” He graces me with one of his most charming grins.
I sink into those compliments.
“Window dressing isn’t enough to sustain a relationship though,” he adds. “I mean, don’t get me wrong…it’s a mighty appealing package?—”
“Speak for yourself, Lumberjack. Your looks are pretty much responsible for keeping me around.”
Butch flips me onto my back and tickles me mercilessly.
“I give, I give !” I shout through giggles.
His gaze turns serious, and my laughter dissipates. “Let me finish. Where your beauty really shines is in your nature. You’re giving, loving, empathetic, funny, and damn good company. It’s why you fit in so well with everybody here, like you were meant to be a Hamilton all along.”
He’s knocking my socks off. That’s what he sees? That’s who I am?
I bury my forehead into his neck. “You’re embarrassing me but also winning me over.
” I lift my head and our smiles collide.
“Who you are takes my breath away. When I saw into your heart, the kind of father you are, son, brother, man…it was everything. You’re a protector.
A champion for others. Reliable, loyal, faithful, giving, so much more.
” I place my palm on his chest. “It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in a human being before, and I’ve never felt so at home with someone in my entire life.
In fact, I’ve truly never felt at home.” My voice cracks. “Until now.”
“Did I mention how in love with you I am today?”
“Not yet,” I whisper.
“I love you, Jacqui,” he says, his emerald eyes earnest.
Those three words are like CPR to a drowning victim. They revive me, make me want to live. “I love you too.”
We kiss, the soulful kind. The kind with unspoken promises.
Butch shifts his body alongside mine, resting his head on his crooked arm. “How are you doing with the whole…Emmy thing?”
“It’s been surprising,” I say. “Natural-ish? Easy? I’m going with the flow.”
“You’ve been great with her. She adores you, and I can’t even begin to tell you what seeing the two of you together does to the ol’ ticker. You two gals are shredding it.”
“It’s still early, but honestly, it’s not as difficult as I imagined. She’s a tiny human, nothing to be afraid of.”
He barks out a laugh. “Oh, she’s plenty scary. Like all you women.”
“I beg your pardon.”
“You’re part of the club, sweetheart, the giant sorority. None of you have a clue how much power you wield over us.”
I stare incredulously. “You must be high, Mr. Hamilton. Do you not understand how men shatter us?”
“Psh. It’s all posturing and ego and bullshit. You have what we want. Desperately want .”
I roll my eyes. “Pussy? ”
“Well, that, sure. But way more. Women are far more interesting and complex.”
“On that, we can agree.”
His lips quirk before he turns contemplative. “You provide depth…add meaning to everyday life. A woman’s love is rare, precious, and powerful.”
Whoa. “That’s actually kind of deep, Lumberjack. And beautifully expressed.”
“But don’t get me wrong, the pussy’s a major draw.”
I smack him playfully and he laughs, then gets up to run us a bath.
Bathing with Butch is fast becoming one of my favorite activities.
The lumberjack has an oversized tub that fits both of us perfectly.
It’s not only romantic, but seeing this tall drink of water with his arm hanging over the side, eyes fastened on me as I climb in, is sexy as hell.
The way he looks at me as if I’m the only person on earth who matters.
Like he wants to devour or spoil me with every second of his day.
Come to think of it, he looks at me this way all the time.
I nestle against him, immersed under the bubbles floating on the surface like fluffy clouds.
Mr. Slippery and All Mine kisses the crown of my head.
“I’ve been wondering…what if we’re like old cars that just needed the right person to come along and restore us?
You know, fix the engine, replace the upholstery, fabricate damaged sections, give us a fresh spin in life.
An opportunity to shine, press the gas, and go for a hell of a ride. ”
“I’m thinking you should be the writer.”
His gently pinches my waist under the water. “Nah, that’s your area of expertise.”
“It’s a poignant analogy, Butch,” I say softly. “Perfect, really.”
“Maybe we just needed someone to show us a little love after we sat rusting and neglected. ”
Now I’m getting teary. “Don’t you make me get all weepy, Butch Hamilton.”
The arm he’s casually slung across my chest tightens. “I’m your mechanic, baby, and you’re mine. And I’m damn glad we’re putting in the effort. It would be easier to ignore the rot, shy away from the work required, and let the paint peel. But what a waste, you know?”
He’s so damn poetic. I manage a nod. “We’ve still got miles to go, and plenty of gas. I’m thankful for you, for us.”
He squeezes me and plants another reassuring kiss to my temple. “You sure you have to leave today?”
“Unfortunately.”
“Now that we’re letting all the truths fly, I’m going to float something else out there. We’ve been doing the distance waltz for months. At some point, we need to talk about getting in the same zip code.”
He’s right. The miles separating us make everything difficult. “I don’t disagree. But I also have no idea what to do about that.”
“Me neither. Let’s stay open to talking more when we’re ready.”
“Okay,” I whisper.
As I drive back to my empty apartment, the ache deepens with every mile logged between Butch and me.
Once inside my studio, surrounded by dead silence, I’m struck by the difference in what I left vs.
what I have. And the quiet is louder than it was prior to Christmas…
because I just experienced an earthquake-leveling dose of home, family, and love.