Page 35 of Stuff My Turkey
"This is nice," I whispered to him as we shared a slice of pumpkin pie.
"Better than tofurkey?" he teased.
"Much," I agreed. "Though I maintain that with proper instruction, I could make a decent one."
"I don't think even Julia Child could pull off such a feat," he laughed.
"Good thing you like me for more than my cooking skills."
His eyes softened. "Good thing."
As the evening wound down, people began drifting home, full of food and goodwill. We all piled into our vehicles in the church parking lot - the Vickerys in their luxury RV, Knox and Bitsy in their BMW, and Heath and I in his truck. After a caravan back to the ranch, everyone dispersed with warmgoodnights. The Vickerys remained in their RV parked in the drive, promising to finalize investment details in the morning. Knox and Bitsy disappeared into the guest room, with Bitsy already planning Instagram posts about their "authentic small-town Thanksgiving experience."
Heath and I found ourselves alone in the now-quiet house. The moon hung low and full over the rolling hills outside, casting silver light through the windows. We stood in the living room, neither of us making a move to separate.
"What happens now?" I asked, finally breaking the silence.
Heath turned toward me, his face half-shadowed in the moonlight. "Five days ago, I caught you trespassing on my property in the middle of the night. Now I can't imagine my life without you in it."
My breath caught at the raw emotion in his voice.
"The arrangement is over," he continued. "The Vickerys are on board. You've fulfilled your end of the bargain. You're free to go back to Austin, back to your life."
"And if I don't want to?" I ventured, heart hammering.
Instead of answering with words, he stepped toward me and kissed me—not the desperate passion of our first time, but something deeper, more intentional. His hand cradled the back of my neck, fingers tangling in my hair as the kiss deepened.
When we broke apart, both breathing harder, he pressed his forehead against mine. "I think that's a good start."
"Just a start?" I whispered, my hands sliding up his chest.
His eyes darkened with desire as he pulled me flush against him, his mouth claiming mine with renewed hunger, all pretense of restraint abandoned.
"Bedroom," I gasped between kisses.
With a quick nod, Heath led me down the hall, our footsteps hushed against the hardwood. We slipped into his room, carefulto close the door quietly behind us, aware of the thin walls and nearby guests.
The moment the latch clicked, we collided again - hands seeking, breath mingling. His touch traced fire along my skin as buttons gave way and fabric fell to the floor. Everything that had happened since our first kiss after the foaling - the doubts, the arguments, the confession tonight - melted away.
At the edge of his bed, he paused, his gaze holding mine in the soft darkness. Then he lowered me onto the mattress with a care that made my heart ache even as desire coursed through me.
"You're beautiful," he whispered, his eyes traveling over me with an appreciation that made me feel more desired than I'd ever been.
I pulled him down to me, savoring the weight of him, the solid reality of his body against mine. His lips traced paths down my neck to my collarbone, across my breasts, drawing sighs and gasps from me as my hands mapped the planes of his back, the strength in his shoulders, the texture of his hair between my fingers. When his mouth closed around my nipple, my back arched off the bed, a moan escaping my lips. His tongue circled the sensitive peak before gently grazing it with his teeth, sending sparks of pleasure straight to my core.
I guided his mouth to my other breast, greedy for the sensation, as his hand slid down my stomach and lower still.
When his fingers found my center, already slick with desire, I gasped his name. He watched my face as he stroked me, learning what made me tremble, what drew sounds of pleasure from deep in my throat.
"Heath," I breathed, "I need to feel you."
Instead, he moved down my body, his mouth replacing his fingers. The first stroke of his tongue nearly undid me. He took his time, alternating between broad sweeps and focused attention on the bundle of nerves that had me clutching at thesheets. When he slid one finger inside me, then two, curling them to find the spot that made my vision blur, I came undone beneath him.
Before the aftershocks had subsided, I reached for him, desperate to touch him, to taste him. He moved up my body, but I pushed against his shoulders, rolling him onto his back.
"My turn," I whispered, pressing kisses down his chest, following the trail of hair that led lower.
When I took his thick erection in my hand, he hissed with pleasure. When I replaced my hand with my mouth, the sound he made was nearly enough to bring me to the edge again. I explored his cock with my lips and tongue, teasing the tip while I stroked his shaft with a rhythm that made him groan.
