Page 101 of When It's Us
“And it worked.”
He lets out a breath that’s half laugh, half growl.
I bite back a grin.
His eyes search mine and his voice is rough, vulnerable. “Come home with me.”
My breath hitches, his thumb ghosting over my bottom lip.
“Please?” he asks, pressing a sweet, lingering kiss to my lips, no heat, no tongue. Just a simple kiss.
I let out a soft sated sigh and nod, then press my forehead to his and hope I don’t regret it. “Okay.”
Hutch
It’saftermidnightwhenwe 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 whythis—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 didthathappen; 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.
