“Yeah?” he asks, his hand tightening on my hip again.
I rise on my tiptoes and kiss him, tasting rain and just the slightest hint of grapefruit on his cold lips. I feel him smile againstmy mouth and I fight the urge to take this further, in the middle of a rain storm in a public park.
Instead, I pull back, breaking the kiss as I trail my fingers along the exposed skin on his chest. I hook my finger into the opening of his shirt and give it a tug, and Declan takes a step closer to me.
Rising on my toes again, I bring my mouth closer to his ear and whisper, “Take me home.”
CHAPTER 29
Declan
Take me home.
Elsie’s words and all of the sinful promises they contain play on a loop in my head the whole way back to her house. It’s a struggle to keep my eyes on the road, instead of on Elsie and her long hair and perky tits. I wanted to lean down and take one of her nipples between my teeth right there in the park. At least she had the sense to get us out of there when she did.
We’re both quiet on the short ride back to her place, though the pounding rain on the roof and windshield doesn’t leave much room for conversation anyway. I settle my hand on her thigh and let myself enjoy the simple fact that I’ve found someone I can be quiet with.
The anticipation makes the drive feel longer than it is, but a few minutes later I’m making my way down the long drive, past the lavender fields to the small cottage tucked away in the back of theproperty. After learning that Elsie’s home is her favorite place to be, I’ve been dying to finally see it.
The cottage is small, with white siding and green shutters, and colorful flowers spilling from seemingly everywhere – boxes hanging from the windows, a garden that loops around the side of the house, a raised bed near the front door. It suits Elsie.
I park as close to her front door as I can get without ruining her yard and leave the car idling. When I look over at Elsie, I find her watching me with a hungry look in her gaze. She glances at the keys in the ignition, then back to me.
“Are you coming inside?”
That’s all the invitation I need. Without a word, I turn the vehicle off and shove the keys in my pocket.
“Ready?” I ask her, glancing at the rain pounding mercilessly on the windshield.
“Ready,” she confirms. We both undo our seatbelts and on an unspoken countdown, we throw open our doors and make a run for it. The rain is relentless, beating down on us and permeating through every stitch of clothing we’ve got on. I follow Elsie up the walkway to her door, where she tries to slip the key into the lock with shaking hands. Whether it’s from the cold or nerves over what’s to come, I’m not sure, but it takes her a few tries to get the key inserted.
When she gets the door unlocked we hurry inside and slam the door behind us, making an absolute mess on her kitchen floor in the process. She has one of those tiny floor mats that’s more for decoration than function, and it stands no chance against the water dripping off us.
“I’ll grab some towels,” Elsie says, her wet sandals slapping loudly against the tiled floor as she disappears through the kitchen. She leaves a trail of water in her wake, though she doesn’t seem worriedabout it. She returns less than a minute later with a stack of towels, which she sets on the counter next to me.
“Thanks,” I tell her. I watch, distracted, as she grabs a towel from the stack and immediately sets to work on her hair. When she leans over to scrub at her long locks, the view down her flimsy white top that’s plastered against her breasts nearly makes me groan.
I grab a towel and start scrubbing at my own hair, which was carefully styled before our date and is now slicked down my forehead in a way that’s reminiscent of my middle school days, when hair gel and I first met and weren’t too familiar with each other yet.
I’m debating what to do with my shirt, which is uncomfortably stuck to my torso, when I notice Elsie sliding her skirt over her hips and down her legs. Thethudthat it makes as she lets it fall into a heap on the kitchen floor makes her chuckle, but I’m too busy trying to keep from swallowing my tongue to join in.
Elsie stands in the middle of the kitchen in bare feet – I hadn’t even noticed her slide her sandals off – and one of those funky bodysuits that women wear, the ones that look like a gymnast’s outfit. It sits high on her hips and hugs her curves, leaving very little to my imagination, which is nonetheless running wild without my full permission to do so.
I want that bodysuit off of hernow, right here in the middle of her kitchen.
“Are you going to make me get naked by myself?” Elsie wonders, and I choke out a laugh.
“Definitely not.” I make quick work of the buttons on my shirt, then slide it over my shoulders and drop it on the floor next to her discarded skirt. My eyes are locked on Elsie as I lean down to untie my boots and slide them off along with my socks.Hereyes are zeroed in on my torso, her gaze raking over me as if she can’t get enough. I love the way she studies each tattoo that’s revealed to her, as ifcataloging them to review later. It’s not the first time she’s seen me without my shirt on, but the raw hunger in her gaze makes it feel like it is.
I stand, popping the button on my jeans and sliding the zipper down. Elsie’s eyes dart down to watch the movement. She takes a few hesitant steps closer, until she’s right in front of me, our toes nearly touching where we stand in a puddle of water.
I stand stock-still as she raises a hand and reaches out, placing it right over the ink-free area on my chest, right over my heart. It’s one of the few empty spots on my torso. It might be silly, but tattooing something over my heart feels important. I haven’t yet found anything worthy of being inked there.
Elsie’s fingers flex against the spot and my heartbeat ticks up in response.
It’s yours, I want to tell her.
Instead, I reach out and tug one of the bodysuit straps over her shoulder. I stop before it exposes her breast, waiting for confirmation that this is okay. Elsie meets my eyes and nods.
