Page 22 of Feels Like Falling
“Almost.” I grin. “Except we forgot the salt.”
“Actually I thinkyouforgot the salt,” he says pointedly and I lift one shoulder.
“Semantics.”
“Nan swooped in after everyone took that first bite sayin’ she must have mixed up the pies when she put them on the counter.” We’d seen Nan trying to hide the pie she’d made earlier in the day when we’d declared we’d be tryin’ to bake one.
“That woman was a lifesaver, and you know damn well she never forgot to put salt in.” On a laugh I add, “But really, how could such a small amount make such a difference?”
“No idea, but to this day I’m a little gun-shy when I see one.”
My eyes widen and my mouth curls up on one side before I can stop myself, and Montana notices because before I can blink, his fingers are digging into my sides as a peal of laughter is ripped from my lungs.
“Don’t you even think about it,” he demands as I squirm in his grasp, and even though I promise not to show up with a bunch of pumpkin pies—it’s an empty one. There’s no way I’m letting this little nugget of information go to waste.
“Okay!” I giggle breathlessly as he finally relents and rolls onto his back, pulling me with him. Propping my chin on his chest as I pant, I don’t miss the way the sheet tents where his cock is more than a little excited to see me. I file that away too and say, “I promise no pumpkin pies.”
He sighs but his lips twitch. “I have a better chance of winning the lottery than you not showin’ up with five hundred pumpkin pies.”
“Guess you should stock up on whipped cream then,” I say teasingly but don’t miss the way his eyes are absolutely molten in the moonlight. It’s just a flash, but I know what I saw, and it’s almost cruel that I have to sleep next to this man without having him inside me.
“Time to sleep before you get us in trouble,” he says, his voice gruff and delicious to my ears.
“But trouble with you is my favorite kind.”
His head shakes the slightest amount as he wraps his arms tighter around me.
“Goodnight, Eddie. Welcome home.” He drops a kiss on the top of my head and I settle in, my cheek pressed to his chest and my leg draped over his. I try not to think about the way his big muscular thigh is sandwiched between mine and pressed firmly against my core.
Swallowing down a decade’s worth of longing and a healthy dose of lust, I squeeze him tight and whisper, “Night, Max, see you in the morning,” before sleep overtakes me.
10
ELLISON
“You’re lucky you’re so cute all curled up in my sheets. Otherwise I’d be makin’ you get up to help me this morning.” Montana’s voice is quiet but I don’t miss the humor in it—I can only imagine what I look like right now, but I don’t care.
“Just tell me I’m pretty,” I say into the mattress. His chuckle, low and gravelly, floats between us like the riff of my favorite song.
“You’re always pretty, Eddie.”
“Liar,” I retort as I stretch and turn to face him in the still darkened room. His sheets smell like wood and sunshine andhim.It’s the kind of smell that I want to bottle up and carry with me forever.
“Swear it,” he says, holding up his hands, a smile teasing his lips. “Even that time your mother convinced you to get a spray tan before junior prom, and you didn’t listen to the lady and went swimming as soon as you got home.”
I snort remembering my mother’s look of abject horror when I came out all streaky. “Took me a whole week before I managed to return to my natural skin tone.”
We share a secret smile because he knows I did it on purpose. My mother had booked me a date with the son of one of her high society friends. He had grabby hands, and my objections had fallen on deaf ears leading up to the dance.
Montana and I had spent that evening watching a movie at his house while Grandad and Nan fussed over us. Nan made us get dressed up a week later, once I was back to normal, so she could document the occasion. That picture had lived on her fridge for a long time.
Pausing in the doorway, Montana looks back and smiles at me like maybe he’s remembering it too.“If you hustle, you might be able to convince Grandad to make you breakfast.”
“With bacon?”
“Maybe.” He laughs but I’m already trying to untangle myself from the sheets.
“And French toast?”
