Page 109 of Tenderfoot

“Okay.”

“And you need an armchair, because every man needs an armchair. One that looks good but it’s really comfortable so he can watch games sitting in it.”

“I hear you,” he said.

“So you’re down to look at armchairs?”

“Pink and green and velvet with mushrooms and shells,” he murmured, like he was talking to himself.

But I was lost.

“What?”

“All soft and sweet.” He was still talking the same way. “My lil’ mama, shouldering in between two big men so she could see to her guy.”

At that, I shut right the heck up.

“Make a house a home,” he whispered, his eyes moving over my face.

“Yeah,” I whispered in return, my heart bleeding with understanding he had no idea how to do that, not because he was a man, but because he’d never had it. Then I took a chance. “No shade, sweetheart, but it doesn’t look like anyone lives here.”

He smoothed both his hands over my back. “Like I said, Lolita, I hear you. And just sayin’, I used to have some shit. But it was shit. I wasn’t used to having space that was mine. I couldn’t settle into the idea of being settled. I couldn’t wrap my head around spending money on stuff when I was used to having not much, and what I had sometimes I had to let go. It was like Tom Hanks in Castaway, when he got rescued and couldn’t sleep on a bed because he’d spent years sleeping rough.”

I smoothed my hands over his face, his jaw, his hair, and I did all of that as I held back tears.

“I got the job with Mace, pay was a lot more, bought this place, I got rid of the big stuff, socked everything else away in one of the bedrooms,” he shared. “Only big things I kept were the nightstands and my dresser because I couldn’t afford to dump a load on new shit, and I needed those. They’re gonna get tossed when I can replace them. But other than that, told myself, nothing but the good stuff in this place.”

“No,” I agreed huskily. “Nothing but the good stuff.”

“No,” he whispered, his hands ceasing their movements so he could curve his arms around me. “Nothin’ but the good stuff.”

Oh my God.

Did he just…?

He did.

I couldn’t stop myself, though I didn’t know why I would.

I kissed him.

When I did, a rumble started in his chest that I felt, and then it sounded in my mouth, which I also felt (and both were stellar), and he kissed me back.

I buried my hands in his hair and kissed him harder.

He yanked the ponytail out of my hair, it tumbled all around us, this before he cupped a cheek of my behind and surged up, taking me with him, twisting, then we were down, with me on my back, and Javi on top.

God, it was just so amazing (and hot) that Javi could do things like that.

We kissed. We touched. He claimed my breast with his hand, my nipple with his thumb. Not long later, he got his other hand in my cute, flirty panties.

For my part, I got my hands up his Henley and did a thorough exploration of the acres of warm skin and firm muscle I found there.

It was the best trip I’d ever taken.

Bar none.

It was when I pushed both my hands in the waistband of his jeans and got two handfuls of his round, hard bottom, Javi reciprocated the gesture, at the same time burrowing with his strong hips so he was between my legs. He then pulled me up and ground his very hard boy parts into my very soft (and wet) lady parts.

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