Chapter 27 Abilene
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Abilene
Friday
I burn the bread.
Not badly. Just enough to make the kitchen smell faintly smoky and force me to scrape the darkest edge off with a butter knife while muttering to myself like an unhinged woman.
“It’s fine,” I tell the loaf. “You’re rustic.”
The soup is better. Vegetable, simple, simmered long enough that it tastes of intention instead of panic.
There’s cheese, too, because Jesse Murphy strikes me as the kind of man who believes cheese is a food group, not a garnish. I slice apples, drizzle them with honey, add a handful of nuts, then stop and stare at the plate.
This is ridiculous.
I’m not hosting a dinner party. I’m feeding my neighbor lunch to say thank you for spending the entire morning fixing my porch step, re-hanging a crooked gutter, and quietly reinforcing a section of fence.
Still, my hands shake a little as I set the table. I tell myself it’s gratitude.
I do not tell myself it’s because every time I stepped outside this morning, Jesse was there. Sweaty, focused, forearms flexing as he worked, mouth curved in that easy half-smile whenever he caught me watching.
I’m absolutely not thinking about the hallway.
I’m not thinking about his hands.
I’m not thinking about the way my body reacted like it recognized him.
I wipe my palms on my apron and call out, “Lunch!”
The sound of his boots on the porch comes a second later.
“Smells incredible,” Jesse says as he steps inside, setting his tool belt down by the door. “And peaceful. I’m so glad Marshall took the kids home to feed them there. I can’t remember the last time I got to eat in peace.”
His hair is mussed, his shirt darkened with sweat at the collar, and he looks comfortable in my kitchen, like he belongs in the space.
That thought lands dangerously.
“Sit,” I tell him, a little too firmly. “Before you decide to fix something else.”
He grins and obeys, stretching his long legs out under the table. “You wound me. I can rest. Sometimes.”
We eat.
And for a while, it’s easy.
We talk about nothing and everything. The market, which is coming up faster than I’d like. The fence post Jesse swears was already leaning before the fire and definitely isn’t his fault.
I laugh more than I have in days.
He does too, leaning back in his chair, eyes warm, relaxed in a way I haven’t seen since before everything went sideways.
When we’re done, I gather the bowls, moving automatically. He stands to help, of course he does, and our hands bump at the sink.
Just a brush. Just skin against skin.
My breath stutters.
I feel it immediately, that spark, that awareness that has been hovering between us all morning, finally snapping taut.
Jesse stills.
He looks at me, and the air shifts.
It’s subtle, but unmistakable. The moment before a storm breaks.
“Abilene,” he says quietly.
I should step back.
I should make a joke. I should thank him again and change the subject and keep everything safe and manageable and not terrifying.
He takes a step closer.
Just close enough that I can smell him. Soap, sweat, sawdust. My fingers curl against the edge of the counter.
Neither of us speaks.
I tilt my head up. He leans down.
The kiss happens before my brain can catch up. It’s almost tentative. We’re both checking to see if this is real.
It is.
His kiss is warm, and when I make a small sound, he deepens the kiss instinctively. Jesse’s mouth trails lower, unhurried, like he has all the time in the world and knows exactly what he’s doing to me.
My sweater slips off one shoulder, then the other, fabric sliding down my arms until it’s barely hanging on. Cool air kisses my skin and I gasp, soft, embarrassed, needy, all at once.
“Fuck, Abilene,” Jesse murmurs, as if the words are torn out of him.
His hand cups my breast, thumb brushing over my nipple until it tightens painfully.
I suck in a sharp breath, fingers clawing into his shoulders as he lowers his head and takes it into his mouth. The sensation hits me like a spark to dry tinder.
“Oh…” I choke, hips jerking forward before I can stop myself.
He groans around me, the sound vibrating straight through my chest and into my bones, and that noise alone nearly undoes me.
Jesse doesn’t rush. He remains, teases, draws it out until my thoughts blur and my knees feel weak.
His kisses move lower, along my stomach, my skin hypersensitive everywhere he touches. I’m dizzy with it—gratitude, desire, relief, need, all tangled together until I can’t tell where one ends and the other begins.
“Jesse,” I whisper, breathless and wrecked. “We—”
“I know,” he says softly, already on his knees.
He looks up at me, hands still, eyes dark with intent. He hooks his fingers into the waistband of my leggings and pauses just long enough to make sure I’m still with him.
I nod.
That’s all he needs.
The tantalizing sensation of fabric sliding down my legs all at once—leggings and panties together—grazing over my sensitive thighs is almost too much. A shudder tears down my spine, making my whole body writhe and buck with the force of it.
“You have no idea how long I’ve been trying not to think about this.”
His tongue lightly grazes my clit, making my whole body stiffen with anticipation. He’s teasing me, driving me over the edge, sending me wild.
I cry out, biting my lip too late, the sound echoing far too loud in the quiet house. My hands fist in his hair, anchoring me as pleasure surges through me.
The tension coils tighter and tighter until I can’t breathe around it anymore, until my body is trembling and I’m begging without words, without shame.
I honestly don’t know how I’m still on my feet.
Every flick of his tongue over my clit sends me flying higher. I don’t even recognize the primal sounds rolling out of me. I can’t concentrate on anything but the feel of him tasting me.
His rough, hot tongue is too much. I can’t get enough of it.
“Sh… shit,” I mutter, trying to express how much he’s affecting me. “Oh fuck.”
He’s about to send me tumbling over the edge, and I can’t wait for it. Although I’m enjoying this right now. I’d prefer to remain in this blissful before moment for as long as I can to savor every single second of it.
This is something that I want to commit to memory forever.
But I can’t hold myself together for too long.
Not with this incredible man on his knees for me.
At the tip of his tongue, I lose myself completely, tumbling and falling, sinking into the glorious orgasm that’s affecting every single ounce of me.
Every fiber of my being reacts to this man, wants him, craves him. The fireworks erupt in every cell, until I’m absolutely consumed by Jesse.
I feel myself sinking to my knees as the desire grips me. Thank goodness Jesse is on his feet in an instant with his hands tucked underneath my armpits.
His mouth finds mine, deep and hungry, and I taste myself on him, and it only makes me want more. I cling to him, desperate now, the ache between my thighs already building again.
“Don’t stop,” I whisper against his lips. “Please.”
His breath shudders. “I wasn’t planning to.”
He leads my hands to his trousers where I unzip him and free the thick, throbbing erection that’s pulsating for me.
I wrap my fingers around him, holding him and pulling him a little closer to me. I arch my back, rolling my hips toward him until finally he gets the hint. Not that he needs much of a hint.
He’s more than keen to buck his hips and to finally bury himself deep inside of me. He presses me up against the counter hard, thrusting until he hits all the right spots.
I cling to him, allowing the pleasure to erupt all over again.
I don’t know how he does it, how he manages to coax the orgasm from me again, but Jesse works his magic on my body.
Only this time I’m not alone as I tip over the edge. Jesse’s body is shuddering with pleasure as well. He’s grunting and groaning through the bliss.
We sink down slowly after, foreheads pressed together, breath still uneven, hands still clinging like neither of us quite trusts the ground yet.
Jesse kisses my temple, then my cheek, then my mouth again. Gentler now, but no less certain.
“Yeah,” he murmurs. “We’re definitely past pretending this isn’t a thing.”
I laugh weakly, heart racing, body still humming.
“Just a little,” I say.
And I know, deep in my bones, that whatever this is, it’s already changed everything.