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“Then we’ll stay here until you’re ready for a bath.” Whatever Delilah wants is whatever Delilah will get.
“Will you take one with me?” There’s a hope in her tone. Maybe she doesn’t think I’d get in the tub with her. A lesser man may not, but I will.
“Yep. Any chance to have you wet, naked, and in my arms, I’m going to take it.”
“Fletcher.” She uses her feet on my calf to push her face closer to mine, and I know where this is going.
“I take your mouth, we won’t get in the bath, and you’ll end up so sore there’ll be no sex for a few days. Neither of us wants that. I don’t want you sore either.”
“Fine, I won’t kiss you, then.” She goes back to tracing my tattoo. “You know, I’ve wanted a tattoo for a really long time but haven’t pulled the trigger.” I’m surprised by that, and she must realize it by the way she looks at my arched eyebrow. “It’s a want, but I’m not sure what I want, you know?” Each of my tattoos has a meaning. The clock on my sleeve is my parents’ time of death, the numbers on my knuckles are the year the peach tree farm was established, the wings on my other arm are reminiscent of my parents as well. Angels in the sky, so to speak.
“Whenever you figure out what you want, I’ll take you. My guy is in Wyoming. Lawson, my buddy, knows the guy, and all of them have their work done there as well. Only guy I’d trust with my skin.” I won’t be able to get away from work for a little while. The next time I do, it’ll be to take Delilah up to Wyoming with me. Let her meet the other people I call family.
“I’d like that. I’ve got a couple of ideas.” She takes my hand and brings it to the underside of her tit. “I’m thinking one right here to start out.” My pointer finger traces her flesh, thumb sweeping over her pebbled nipple.
“Fuck.” The second it’s healed, my tongue will be tracing whatever design she chooses.
“I think we should go take that bath now. If not, I’m going to beg you to take me, and sitting in an office chair for work isn’t going to help the soreness,” she all but purrs. She’s right. Damn, do I hate the fact. I want nothing more than to wrap my mouth around her nipple and suck it into my mouth.
“You got it.” I stand up before she has a chance to change her mind. My cock is hard as it is, and even with our combined cum drying between her legs, I felt her heated flesh. She’d try to take me again, and I’d be the selfish dick to take from her, too.
Chapter 11
Delilah
Two days in, and we’ve already created a routine. I spend the night at Fletcher’s, make us breakfast, watch him get dressed while I do the same, and we walk out the door together. When Fletch saw me repack my overnight bag, he grumbled, told me to bring enough over for a few days as well as any toiletries I’d need here. Apparently, he noticed me not using his shampoo. The lack of conditioner in his bathroom was all I needed to know to wash my hair at my apartment. My hair has a natural wave to it, which would mean nothing but frizz city. Mom got the lustrous curls, Dad has stick straight hair, and I got the in-between, but there are some days when the humidity isn’t crazy that the wave is super defined.
I’m tapping away at my computer after coming home. I turned on the coffee pot to have another cup or three. The late couple of nights are starting to catch up with me. Sleep is my best friend, literally and figuratively. Fletcher Wild may not know this about me yet, but without at least seven hours of sleep at night, well, it’s going to make for a very grumpy Delilah soon. At this rate, after work, I may have to crawl into bed to take a nap.
I’m attempting to get comfortable in my makeshift office chair, a task that is nearly impossible. My desk may be amazing with all kinds of drawers to put away my plethora of shit I like out while working on accounts, taxes, and payroll, but the same can’t be said for my chair. It’s one of those folding metal types. Madelyn and I looked high and low for a chair to go with the desk while at the vintage store, but needless to say, we came up short. I’m more than likely going to have to order one from a big box store, and that doesn’t make me very happy, unless they have a style that will go with what I’ve found.
I have my headphones on and am jamming out to my moody playlist, completely in the zone, when I damn near have a heart attack. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a movement. I whip my over-the-ear noise cancelling headphones off. “Mom! Jesus, you scared the piss out of me.” She’s standing there with a couple of bags in one hand, the other hand over her chest.
“Well, you gave me a heart attack, so I’d say we’re even. Though, you may want to go change your pants.” And she may be right about that. There are two people who have a key to my place: my mom and now Fletcher. I may need to set some ground rules with Marigold Taylor. Had this been yesterday, well, things could have played out differently.
“You’re not wrong about that. This is a pleasant surprise, Mom. Did you bring me goodies?” There was a time I would come home from college and shop their pantry for the good snacks. While I got a scholarship and worked as a teacher’s aid, there wasn’t a lot for extras. Dad wasn’t the chief at the time I left. Mom was only working part-time once I was in middle school, so it’s not like they were rolling in the dough. Which meant the extras were few and far between. I’d stock up on toilet paper, body wash, the good snacks, and Mom would always leave a bag by the front door with tampons and pads.
“The usual.” She plops the bags on the edge of my desk. “This is sweet. Vintage shop?” My love for thrifting and antiquing came from the woman in front of me. We’d go on days when it was too hot to be outside. Sometimes, we’d buy a new-to-us item, but most of the time we didn’t. On those days, we’d stop and get ice cream as a small treat.
“Of course.” The desk is probably four foot wide by six feet long, there are drawers on both sides, and it has vintage brass pull handles. It was the beautiful honey colored wood and the feet that stole my attention. Beneath the three drawers on each side are spindle style legs and a floating shelf, and the feet are just as beautiful—they’re carved and adorned with metal castor wheels. It was also a steal, and I was ready to run to make the purchase in case someone else snatched it up before me.
“Looks like it’s British, too.” Mom drags her hand along the top.
“I think it may be. There’s a stamp on it, but I couldn’t really decipher it. All I know is she’s a beast and is really heavy.” I stand up, needing to stretch and obviously start back up my yoga. Since I’ve moved back home, the only exercise I have been doing is between the sheets.
“Most vintages are. How’d you get it home?” There’s no reason to lie. It’s not a secret like my relationship.
“Fletcher and Beau. I was at the pizza place with Madelyn when Fletcher walked in and heard Mads offer Asher’s truck. He suggested his truck at home would work, so Fletch picked it up and Beau helped.” I shrug my shoulders, trying to come off nonchalantly.
“Your dad would have helped. I know you’ve done it on your own for years now, but we’re here, too.” Mom is right. I’m not one to ask for help. It’s a problem of mine.
“I’m not sure it would have fit in Dad’s patrol vehicle. It barely fit in Fletch’s truck. I guess something came up, both the Wild brothers showed up, made it look like a cake walk, and left. Though I’m probably going to need to bake more cookies. He mentioned they were all gone, and now that he helped me yet again, it’ll be time to bake another batch, plus whatever Beau’s favorite are. You don’t happen to know his, do you?”
“Take a breath, Delilah. You’re probably right on the desk. Plus, your father had a meeting and wouldn’t have been able to help. I have no idea what Beau likes, but I’m sure Fletcher will share his chocolate chip cookies.” Fletch barely shared the cookies I baked for him with me. I highly doubt he’ll share with Beau. He does not like to share, so I guess I’ll have to figure something else out.
“True, that’s settled. A triple batch of cookies it is. You want to sit in the living room? My office still has a long way to go.” I grab the bags off the desk and wait for her to head toward the open doorway. My apartment has a living room, kitchen, and then what I’m using as an office. They advertised it as a game room. There’s no closet, and it can’t be classified as a bedroom without it. That’s okay because the only person who would need to stay would be Madelyn. Asher would never allow her to spend the night now that they’re rock solid. Fletcher is in bed with me or vice versa, and the double glass doors add a brightness to the office I never knew I’d appreciate.
“Sure, honey.” I’m hoping I’ve done a good enough job to keep things under wraps. “I will say this, you’re positively glowing.”
