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“Hunter, I love it.” She leaned back to look at me, and I felt it. That wall cracking and her feelings seeping into mine, making me whole again. She loved the rocking chair, but her eyes said that she loved me, and as absolutely terrifying as that was, it was the best feeling in the world.
That was what Taylor Jane Bryant did to me. It was probably a good thing I kept my latest personal woodworking projects at home in my garage shop. No telling what would happen when she saw those projects. Her left hand was caught between us and rested against my heart, clutching my shirt. Fingertips pressed against me and the contact through my clothing burned with emotions that kept me tangled up in her, refusing to let her go. Her right hand traced the polished wood armrest of the rocking chair. Slowly back and forth her fingers traced the seam of dark wood and I knew I didn’t want to ever let her go. I tried that before and it didn’t end well in a sea of crash and burn one-night stands that vanished from my memory as quickly as they happened and all forgotten. Taylor Jane was the only memory that stuck from the first day of school, to prom, and graduation. I felt like the biggest fucking tool having let her go for the years she was away in college and living on her own. I risked losing her heart to some fucking hipster in Brooklyn and it rotted my stomach like acid.
* * * * *
“So is there only one?” Taylor Jane lay over me, resting her chin on her hands, peeking up from her mass of curly bed hair.
Laughing, I knew exactly what she meant. “I made two actually. There’s a matching glass top table for the set.” Pulling her up so her lips could reach my own, I kissed her soundly.
“How is it we know each other so well and yet waited so long for each other?” Taylor Jane curled her body around mine, and I rubbed my hand down the soft skin of her back, tracing her spine down to the cleft in her lower back.
“I guess we weren’t ready for what everyone else apparently knew.”
“Magical perfection,” we said together on a cheesy, happy, lovesick sigh.
“Look at us. I bet we could totally gross out Kristen and Damien with some good old-fashioned PDA next time we see them.”
“Damn right we will. Those two… geez. Do you think they will ever get together?”
Sarcasm laced my response. “What, and ruin their deep-seated hate they’ve been brewing for over a decade?”
“Well, that’s a pretty long-term commitment even if it’s the polar opposite of love.”
“Stranger things have happened.” Kissing the top of Taylor Jane’s head, I sat up slowly and moved back against the headboard, guiding her up with me. I positioned her legs over mine and eased her down over my cock that had been reaching for her since early morning. The tip of my thick shaft beaded with pre-cum, eager to sink home between her thighs.
“I think those two might kill each other first.” She eased herself down over me and the fit was tight even with our combined wetness lubricating her body to fit mine.
I pushed up against her and placed her hands on the headboard behind me, letting her ride me. I eased into her, rolling my hips, and her eyes closed just so as she bit her lip, holding back a moan I wanted to hear echo off the walls of the room.
“Can we please stop talking about them now?” I thrust my hips, seating myself deep inside her.
Tossing her head back moaning, I used the opportunity to kiss her breasts, sucking on each nipple with a teasing bite.
“Okay,” she whimpered.
We had amazing friends, but frankly I didn’t think they had any place in our bedroom even conversationally. Taylor Jane met me thrust for thrust, her gorgeous lips parted open, and she let out a sound of satisfaction that made me smile. I loved knowing I brought her to this place and that it was me making her feel this way.
* * * * *
It was the final day of the film crew shooting around the house and Taylor Jane nervously fluffed pillows from Kristen’s aunt’s antique shop. Spindly chairs that matched the stair railings I reconstructed and Taylor Jane painted in matching wood finished with teal-colored trim decorated the space. Small glass vases in purples and reds filled with pink and orange wildflowers lined the new screened in window of the kitchen. No fucking birds of prey to deal with there. Whittaker’s interesting and new friend Lia was taking photographs of the light pouring in from the southern exposure and everything was nearly perfect.
Perfect would be everyone getting out of the house so I could christen another empty bedroom or take Taylor Jane in the Jacuzzi tub I got Damien to refurbish under the back porch. As it was, I was nervous as hell for her and she was putting on a good face, smiling and wearing the cutest pair of cut off overalls I’d ever seen. Her tool belt held a hammer and a tape measure in pink, a gift from Kristen but something she made honest use of during our weeks on the project. If Taylor Jane won the house flipping contest it would have her packing and leaving again. I didn’t want that, but I did want good things, the very best of things for her. I vowed to find a way to make it all work.
“So everything is all set and the crew said they got everything they needed to cut the video.” She stepped next to me, and I grabbed her hand, squeezing it to reassure her. Pulling her close so I kissed the top of her blond head, she rested against me. The hammer poked my side and I wouldn’t trade the pain for anything in the world.
“It’s perfect,” I told her the lie brightly, catching the choke in my words. It was perfect and that wasn’t the lie, but keeping the truth of wanting her to stay here with me was.
“I love this house. I kind of don’t want to sell it.” Tears brightened her eyes and I knew what she meant. I’d already called the realtor to buy it. Taylor Jane didn’t have a clue, but she was about to get one hell of an offer and my entire life savings short of the construction company. I was going to give her the house and let the cards fall where they may.
“Well, we can always tell them the place is haunted.” I was only half kidding when I told her this.
“Hunter!” She hit me in the chest, and I held her in my arms, relishing how this all felt because there was every possibility it’d be the last time I got to have her this way.
Please, God… I prayed in one rare plea, don’t let her go. I wasn’t religious in the least, not e
ven on the major holidays for anything. The house brought us together, brought us closer, and it was more than closure or simple sadness at the end of the project. Clenching my fists, I spoke in my head, letting my voice make that bargain with my higher spiritual being to give me this one precious thing I could honor for the rest of my days on this planet. I offered to keep Damien alive and stop bickering with him if I could have Taylor Jane by my side of her own choosing. I’d lost my parents and part of myself as a kid. Just please give me this one thing and I’ll never ask again.
“Feels like Mom is here with us.”
