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So we walked to the tree and neither of us spoke the entire way. It felt strange, leading him along. He was never so meek. But whatever had happened between him and his dad must’ve rattled him. It took everything I had not to ask. Not yet, anyway. He’d talk when he was ready.
We reached the trees and made ourselves comfortable on the ground. His eyes lit up when he saw everything up close that I’d brought. Meeting my gaze, he sent me a half grin. “Good choices.”
“I had a feeling you might approve.”
Sitting side by side with our backs to the trunk of our tree and our shoulders brushing, we polished off everything. Neither of us spoke, but it was a comfortable silence, filled with a handful of glances and shared smiles.
As he was licking the last of the Doritos off his fingers, he rumbled out a moan of delight. “Mmm. One of my favorite flavors. Only one thing on earth tastes better.”
“What’s that?” I asked, determined to find this food he loved, as rare as it may be, and procure it for him, even if I had to travel to the ends of the earth.
He glanced at me, his lips curving warmly. “You.”
When he leaned toward me, I met him halfway, smashing my mouth against his. His tongue immediately spiked deep, gifting me with a hint of peanut butter, apple and ranch.
“You taste like heaven,” he broke away to tell me through shallow breaths. Then he tugged me onto his lap, and I was suddenly riding his erection through our clothes.
We’d only gone this far a couple of times, but I loved each and every encounter. I thought maybe I was ready to do more just as one of his hands landed on my waist, under my shirt. While his other hand buried itself into my hair, he slid his fingertips against my bare skin.
I sighed into his caress, welcoming it. His warm palm moved from my waist, around to my back. It followed my spine up until his fingers reached my bra. His lips left mine to move along my jaw, then down my throat. Following the line of my bra, he slid his hand around to the front until he was cupping me through cloth, but as soon as his thumb brushed over my straining nipple, I gasped and went rigid, not expecting the zing that went through me.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” His hand came out from under my shirt in record time and lifted in surrender. “Jesus, City. I don’t know what I was thinking. I should’ve asked first. I wasn’t... I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay,” I assured him. I wanted to tell him he could put his hand back there. I’d actually liked it; it had just shocked me. But from the look on his face, he wasn’t going to touch me again, so I lost my nerve.
“I’m sorry,” I said this time, because I hated ruining the moment. I rested my head on his shoulder and he immediately wrapped his arms around me. “I just—”
“You didn’t do anything wrong,” he said and kissed my forehead.
He kept his mouth against me and continued to hold me close, so I wrapped my hands around his forearm and clung back. Nestling onto my side so I could press my ear to his slowing heartbeat, I closed my eyes and enjoyed what I did have with him.
“He doesn’t hit us a lot, you know,” he said out of the blue. “I don’t want you to think he just wails on us every day.”
I turned my nose into his shirt and inhaled his clean, Knoxy scent. “Okay,” I said.
“As long as we stay out of his way, he pretty much forgets we even exist unless one of us really gets in his face, and then it’s just a single wallop, and he’s done.”
“And you got in his face?” I guessed, stroking my hand up the muscles in his arms.
He shook his head. “No, not this time. Someone stole a bottle of his Wild Turkey, and he blamed me.” With a snort, he added, “If he’d been thinking, he’d have known it couldn’t have been me, though, because I was at work last night when it went missing.”
“Who do you think took it?”
Lifting his shoulder into a half shrug, he guessed, “Rocket probably. But I’m not sure. I just knew it had to be one of the siblings, and since they’re all smaller than me, I took the punishment.”
My fingers wandered over his shoulder and up the side of his neck. “Do you do that a lot? Take the punishment for your younger siblings?”
After he gave another casual shrug, I decided he probably did. “You’re such a good big brother.”
“Meh.” He shook his head, disagreeing.
“Tell me,” I murmured, scraping my fingers over his prickled jawline. “How much of the money that you make at the plant do you save away, and how much do you spend on your family?”
“I don’t know,” he mumbled, shifting under me as if suddenly uncomfortable. “Maybe...fifty, fifty.”
“Errr.” I made the sound of a buzzer, telling him he’d given the wrong answer. “Try again.”
He sighed. “Fine. I probably squirrel away...twenty percent.”
