Page 63 of Feels Like Falling
“I thought you were going to be late,” I breathe out with less teasing and more moaning as I walk the line of being too sensitive and desperately craving more.
“Good thing I know the boss,” he says with a wicked gleam in his eyes as he pinches my clit between his teeth and stars burst behind my eyelids.
“Thank God for that.”
* * *
Montana was definitelylate to work.
Very late.
He’d gotten me off twice with his mouth before flipping me onto my hands and knees and pounding into me from behind. He’d been completely unhinged, pleasuring me as if he’d been waiting years to taste me and was making up for lost time.
And isn’t that what we’re doing?
Pulling myself out of bed, I smile as I walk to the shower, my muscles deliciously sore from last night but more accuratelythis morning.Montana had loved me thoroughly, teased me relentlessly, and absolutely obliterated all my senses.
It was the kind of thing you want to hold on to forever and pray it will always be this way. With the lengths we’d taken to get back here, I had to believe that it would—thatwewould make it.
Dressing quickly, I braid my hair and forgo any and all makeup, opting for a moisturizer with an SPF instead. I’ll have to put a little more effort in once the school year starts, but for now, I’ll enjoy the simplicity of this routine.
Stopping in the kitchen, I give Grandad a kiss on the cheek before pouring myself a cup of coffee and joining him at the table. The morning paper is spread out before him, and I shimmy out one of the pages he’s already read, earning a judgmental eyebrow.
“I’m gonna need that back,” he says pointedly.
“You already read this one.”
“No,”—he taps the left side of the open paper—“I read this side, not this one.” His finger moves to tap the right side and I grin.
“Well, I appreciate your willingness to share. I’ll give it back when you need it,” I say with a sweet smile that has him chuckling and shaking his head.
I’m halfway through the article by Arden James on the benefits of small-town communities when Grandad’s low rumble breaks the silence.
“Heard your father is back in town.” He eyes me over the lip of his coffee cup, casually taking a sip as if he’s talking about the weather.
“He is,” I confirm even though it’s redundant. “He’s divorcing my mother and waiting for her to take everything not nailed down to the floor.”
“That woman always was a piece of work.” I snort because that’s putting it mildly. Reaching over, he places his hand over mine. “How are you holding up, Dolly?”
The nickname warms my heart, and I can’t remember a time it didn’t bring a smile to my face. It’s always just been mine. Grandad call Vienna and Aspen each something different, the sentiment making me feel like one of them.
“I’m…conflicted,” I admit, playing with the corner of the paper with my free hand. “I’m happy he’s finally leaving her. I’m sad that so many years of his life were wasted being in a loveless marriage. I’m angry he’s here—creating tension with Montana when all I want to do is enjoy finally being together. My mother is awful, and I think Dad is still keeping a secret from me, and I just feel so damn tired.”
“Want me to get some whiskey to add to your coffee?” he asks, and I appreciate the seriousness in his tone.
“No, I?—”
My phone buzzes next to me, and I glance down at the screen, feeling the way my smile curves up on one side before stretching across my face.
BEA: Goats will be arriving at two!
BEA: That’s still okay, right?
ELLISON: We’re gonna find out
ELLISON: (gif of baby goat jumping around)
BEA: On a scale of one to Godzilla destroying Tokyo, how mad is he going to be?
