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Even though I’m disappointed he has so much self-control, I can’t fault him. He wants to take things slowly, and he has every right to ask for that. I’m flattered he likes me enough to not want to rush things, even if I’m incredibly horny and frustrated. I tamp down my wandering imagination and follow him into the bathroom.
A huge mirror hangs over a double-sink vanity, reflecting the light from the two dormer windows. The entire back wall is the shower. Actually, the whole back half of the room is the shower. There’s no enclosure blocking it off from the rest of the space. The floor slopes enough to direct the water from the multi-directional shower heads toward the drain and away from the rest of the room. It’s striking, and I wonder if he designed it. It’s a wonderful, creative use of space. “This is beautiful.”
As we pass back into the bedroom, I reach out and take his hand. The electricity between us is immediate, and warmth tingles up my arm from where our fingers entwine. I step closer. He doesn’t pull away, so I place my hand on his chest and move even nearer, stopping when I feel the soft exhale of his breath on my face. Gunnar’s heart hammers under my palm, and I’m glad he feels this too. “Gunnar?”
“Mmmm?” His eyes lock on my mouth, and my heart gallops in my chest.
“I’d like to kiss you. Is that alright?”
Gunnar’s eyes never leave my lips. “Yeah.”
Every part of me thrums with excitement as I slide my hand up his chest and along his neck, weaving my fingers into his lush, dark hair. “I’ve been thinking about this.” I push up on my toes and lightly brush my lips to his. His soft gasp against my mouth makes me smile, relieved he’s feeling whatever this is, too. I lean into him, slowly parting his lips with mine, sweeping my tongue into his mouth to tease against his. I moan with all the pent up need simmering just below the surface since our last kiss.
He wraps his arms around me, practically crushing me against his broad chest, leaning back until my toes barely touch the floor. I moan, my entire body on fire like one big erogenous zone, and everywhere Gunnar touches only increases my need for more of him. “Gunnar.”
Without warning, I’m back on my feet, and he steps away, guilt clear on his face. “Sorry. I got carried away.”
I take a moment to catch my breath and make sure my disappointment doesn’t show on my face. “It’s alright. That was my fault.” He’s absolutely flustered, and damn if it doesn’t look good on him.
Gunnar shakes his head, his smile rueful. “I think it’s going to be too easy to get carried away kissing you. We probably should head out before my resolve breaks and we skip the whole dinner.”
I bite my tongue because I’d be okay with skipping dinner if it means crawling into bed and getting naked with him. Instead, I follow him back downstairs. Damn. Taking things slowly isn’t easy. At least, not with him. By the time we reach the kitchen, we’re both a bit more composed. Gunnar grabs his keys from the counter and turns to me. “Bike or car? Your call.”
Now there’s a dilemma. I’d love to ride pressed against Gunnar’s back again, but given we’re trying to behave, and I’m not doing a very good job of that, it could be torture. “Car. That’s probably less cruel for both of us right now.” Gunnar smirks but nods. We grab our coats and head through the kitchen and out to the garage. I follow behind him and pray my semi goes away before I face an entire house full of Gunnar’s siblings.
10
Gunnar
Westepintothegarage, and Jocelin freezes, mouth open. “You have a classic Mustang. An actual classic Mustang?” I can’t help the rush of pride as he walks around the car. “Gunnar, it’s beautiful.”
“Yeah. She’s a Boss 429.” I’m about to go into full-on gearhead mode and then realize he might just like how she looks. “Are you into cars?”
He shakes his head, but his attention is all on the car. “No, but I can appreciate beauty when I see it. Original condition?”
He looks up at me, and I nod. “She was my dad’s from back when it was just him and mom. He eventually stopped driving her, but couldn’t give her up. Mom said a two-seater muscle car wasn’t practical with kids. But he still took amazing care of her, and when he passed, the car went to Bjorn.”
Jocelin grins at me. “She’s gorgeous.” Ridiculously, my heart swells in my chest at his use of her pronouns. It’s too sweet, just like him. “How’d you end up with her?”
I shrug. “Bjorn drove her for a couple of years, but then he got a motorcycle and said he didn’t want her anymore.” My stomach does a little embarrassed squeeze thing. “At least, that’s what he said. Told me I could have her, and at the time, I believed him. But I think the truth is he knew how much I loved her. How much it makes me feel like a part of Dad is still with us because of her.” I run my hands along the fender and wonder, not for the first time, if Dad would be proud of how well I’ve taken care of her. “I also needed a car to get to and from school. And I love tinkering with engines.”
“You are amazing.” I glance over to find him gawping at me. “That is such a useful skill. I’m hopeless with practical things like that. I can barely figure out how to work the microwave.”
I laugh at his joke, then shrug. “It’s relaxing. Tom and I basically rebuilt the engine over a summer. I thought his wife, Josie, was gonna kill me because we were at it constantly. It was a few years ago, when I was really struggling with things.” Struggling is an understatement. I’d been angry, sad, and hurting so desperately I didn’t know what to do with all of it. “Working on her was a good distraction while Tom helped me figure stuff out.”
“Stuff?” Jocelin walks around to my side of the car and leans into me.
Without overthinking it, I put my arms around him and pull him close. “Yeah. How to deal with all the thoughts and feelings about my parents. And Bjorn. And Erik’s leaving.” I fiddle with the side mirror. “I wasn’t in a good place mentally and lashed out a lot.”
“And Tom is Tom Randall? Your friend who works with Tadhg?”
I nod. “He’s my best friend, really. He’s done so much for me. Helped me get my head out of my ass. Got me into therapy, where I really needed to be.” I drag my hand through my hair and grin sheepishly. “Sorry. This is kind of a heavy conversation, and we probably should get going.”
Jocelin puts a hand on my arm and squeezes. “Hey. I like that you feel comfortable talking about this with me. It can’t be easy, and I appreciate your trust.” He tilts his head until I’m forced to look into his eyes. “I want to get to know the real you. Not just the good parts. Okay?”
Fighting back an overwhelming wave of emotion, I cup his face with my hands and kiss him softly. He has no idea how much I’ve needed to hear those exact words from someone. “Okay.” I take a moment to get my shit together, then grin. “There are a lot of good parts, though.” He rolls his eyes and shoves me playfully. “Let’s get moving. You don’t want to miss a minute of the Osouf family dinner shenanigans.”
We climb into the car, and I thumb the button to open the garage door. As I slowly back into the driveway, I remember Mrs. Clarke is waiting for me. “Wait a sec, okay?” I put the car in park and jump out, vaulting over the three-foot-high fence, then sprint to her front door.
