Page 81 of Wood Riddance
He shrugged again, the infuriating man. “I can be your hero,” he teased with a wink.
“Stop goofing. I mean it. You’re amazing. Heroism in flight? Most guys wholookbadass are usually the least badass of all. But you, Finn Hebert, are the real deal.”
His face and neck flushed. Holy shit. This giant Viking lumberjack war hero wasblushing.
“What, no snappy comeback?” I asked.
He shook his head. “Nah. It feels good to hear you say that.”
All this time, I believed he was cocky and overconfident. But I couldn’t have been more wrong.
Taking his face in my hands, I leaned down and kissed him again. “I’ll say it every day. You made huge sacrifices. You risked your life for your country and its ideals. That makes you a fucking hero. This town should be throwing an annual parade in your honor.”
“Stop.” There went that flush again, and his eyes were downcast once more.
“I mean it.” I put a hand under his chin and forced him to look at me. “Now that I know this? Watch out, Lovewell. Because you best believe I’ll be shoving it down Mayor Lambert’s throat after his shitty lack of loyalty at the diner the other day. And Mrs. Leary. She wishes her deadbeat kids had half the bravery you do. I’ll be your one-woman hype squad.”
He sat up and pulled me closer. The thin white T-shirt I’d chosen offered very little protection from his heat and the way he manhandled me. In fact, I was ready to Hulk out and rip it off myself.
“Does that mean you want to be my girlfriend?” He pressed his lips to my neck at that spot behind my ear and dragged them lower, one inch at a time, erasing all rational thought from my mind. Slipping his hands under the T-shirt, he dragged one up to my breast and kept the other firm on my hip. God, this man and his goddamn hands. As a mechanic, I appreciated hands. His were not only large and strong, but strangely graceful. And he could use them. Capability like he possessed was the ultimate turn-on.
Especially the way he was using them now. Dipping two fingers inside me while simultaneously circling my clit with the pad of one thumb and rolling my nipple with the fingers of his other hand. I arched back, already desperate for more.
“Girlfriend?” I asked, already breathless as he bit gently on my other nipple and tugged. “I’ll be president of your fan club.”
He shifted me so I was straddling him and lined himself up. Then, with his eyes locked on mine, he entered me, pulling me down as he lifted his hips. So slow, so exquisite. I couldn’t stop the moan that escaped me when he was buried to the hilt. This feeling, I couldn’t get enough of it. He filled me up and possessed me completely. Leaving no room for doubt that what we had was special.
“I don’t want a fan club.” He grunted as I circled my hips. “I want everything. I want it all, Adele.”
I threw my head back as his thumb found my clit again. I was already on edge, ready to detonate.
“But I know you’re not ready. So I’ll be patient. But you should know, I always get what I want.”
* * *
His bedhead was impressive. It had to be after nine, but I didn’t care. Usually, I was up early, accomplishing as much as I could on weekends. But I was beginning to see the appeal of lazy Sunday mornings.
“I’ll make some coffee,” he said, rubbing his eyes. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood, giving me an eyeful of his round, muscular ass and tree trunk thighs.
After I relieved myself, I wandered around his place, still a bit orgasm drunk and not ready to join the real world.
The apartment was small, and the building old. But it was spotless. And not in the barren bachelor pad way. He had made an effort. The worn leather couch had throw pillows. Framed photos decorated the walls.
“This is the kitchen slash dining room slash living room slash homework lab,” he said, lifting one shoulder without meeting my gaze.
Two mismatched stools were tucked under the L-shaped bar. One fit perfectly in its place, but the other was much shorter.
“We found that one for me.” He nodded at the tiny stool and chuckled. “That way, Merry and I can comfortably eat together.”
“You’re pretty evolved.”
“I’m a thirty-five-year-old man. And I’m the father of a smart-as-hell ten-year-old. You think she’d let me get away with eating off paper plates or not decorating?”
“So I should thank Merry for civilizing you?”
“Nah. That would be my mother. I think you’d get along. She raised five boys. That woman takes no shit.”
I didn’t know Debbie Hebert. Obviously, I knewofher. Tireless single mom to five giant boys and ex wife of Mitch Hebert, who had publicly humiliated her back in the day by impregnating his barely legal secretary. I knew everything about everyone in Lovewell, but I had never really interacted with her. “From what I’ve heard over the years, she’s a sweetheart. A beloved nurse who always brings homemade chicken soup to sick friends.”
