Page 21 of Bountiful
Getting out of the car, I assumed he’d try to talk his way inside. But I was only half right. Instead of talking, he put his hands on either side of the door, then leaned in to kiss me senseless. It wasn’t long before I whimpered into his mouth, because I have no self-control. And he took the keys right out of my hand and opened the door, following me upstairs with my hair curled around one of his big hands, because he knew that mademehot.
For a pleasant hour, I didn’t even bother trying to pretend I wanted him to leave. I let his big body have everything it asked for—my skin, my mouth, every sound of mypleasure.
Myverysoul.
At last we fell, sated, onto the mattress. He curled an arm over me and held on tightly. I hated how good it felt and how badly I wanted to curl in closer. I counted out a minute, and then two. I was exhausted from the stress of his imminent departure, and I needed him to leave me alone toprocessit.
But I didn’t want to be a jerk about it. I’d give it five minutes and then kiss him goodbye for thelasttime.
And that would have happened, except, for once, I fellasleep.
Since I wasn’t used to having anyone in my bed, I opened my eyes when my digital clock said3:07.
Fuck.
I had one leg thrown over Dave’s, and we were holding hands in our sleep. The peaceful sound of sleepy breathing came from his side ofthebed.
Closing my eyes again, I let him be. Only a total bitch kicks a sleeping man out of her bed at three in themorning.
Yet I’d been difficult all summer. “Prickly as a porcupine,” he’d said once with a big smile. He’d just seen his first porcupine that day. “In a tree!” he’d told me. “I didn’t know you guys climbedtrees.”
It wasn’t a bad analogy. Like a porcupine’s, my prickliness was there for self-preservation.
“You sure make me work for it,” he’d also said morethanonce.
“Your other dates don’t? Theyshould.”
He’d given his head a shake. “I don’t date. Not cut out for relationships. Hanging out with you is the closest Ievergot.”
“Because there’s an expiration date,” I’d pointed out. “You don’t have to look for the exits because you already have one foot outthedoor.”
He’d snorted. “Are we going to psychoanalyze each other now? If so, I’d like to know why a country girl is afraid ofspiders.”
“It was just the one! I walked face-first into thefuckingweb!”
“Dave!” he’d mock-screamed. “Is it inmyhair?”
“Yeah? I’ll put one in your bed, and then we’ll see how funnyitis.”
He’d only laughed and thenkissedme.
Sometimes, during our longer conversations, I’d forgotten to keep my guard up, and I’d caught myself smiling back at him. It was easy enough to fall headlong into his green eyes, and laugh at his jokes. “A giggle!” he’d said once. “Alert the media. Zara giggled like aschoolgirl.”
“I don’t giggle. You must have imagined it,” I’d said, staying incharacter.
“Uh-huh,” he’d said, and then tickled me. Nobody had tickled me in adecade.
So here I was smiling into the dark at three o’clock in the fucking morning, feeling nostalgic over ahookup.
What a dumbassIwas.
It wasn’t easy to go back to sleep. Because I’d gone and done exactly what I shouldn’t have done—I’d gotten hung up on Dave, the gingerhottie.
I must have drifted off. Because there was light seeping into my windows when I became conscious of Dave kissing me on the neck. “It’s morning,” he whispered. “I’mgoingnow.”
I closed my eyes and kept them shuttight.
“What a summer it’s been,” he whispered, landing a kiss on the underside of my jaw. “Hands down you’re my favorite person in Vermont.”Anotherkiss.
