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“Sure, let me go grab your bags, and I’ll tell you all about it on the way home.” The steps put us at eye level.
“Lane, I am home.” She has no idea how wrong she is about that.
“No, Birdie, your home is with me. Where you lay your head down each night, I get all your good nights and all your good mornings.” My lipsgraze along hers, shutting down anything she has to say. I coax her to open for me, my tongue sweeping along her lower lip, and when her hands move from her chest to my shoulders, I give her more. Birdie’s body sways into mine, fingers digging deep like they always do when my mouth is on any area of her body, and I deepen our kiss. Our tongues stroke along one another’s. I taste her sweetness with mine as her hands slide to the back of my neck and hold me there. It’s not until she’s breathless that I pull back. Her lips are wet from my mouth, her eyes are hooded, and I know there’s no way I’d ever give her up without a fight.
“Lane.” My finger covers her lips, stopping her before she starts.
“I’m not taking no for an answer. You don’t want to say no. We both know this. Take my hand and come home, Birdie.” I’d get on my knees and coax her into saying yes, using any means possible as long as she’s with me.
“Fine, I’ll go get my bags. They’re already packed.” She rolls her eyes. I shake my head.
“You’re not getting your bags. You want to help, get your pretty ass in the truck.” My hands slide down from her hips, cupping the cheeks of her ass and squeezing them.
“Okay.” She moves closer, pressing her boundless tits along my chest, making me hiss out a breath.
“Babe, you’re playing with fire.”
“Maybe I want to be burned, Lane.” When she moves to the side, I lose her, but I already know I’m gaining her for-goddamn-ever.
9
BIRDIE
“Wow,I love what you did with the place,” I tell Lane with a hint of sarcasm when he opens the front door for me. I’m carrying absolutely zilch because he was adamant about me doing nothing but resting.
Memories assault me. I don’t think there’s a surface in this place we haven’t touched in one form or the other. It’s still as barren as when he first moved in. There’s nothing on the walls, and the rich, dark-brown leather couch and chairs are in the same position. This means the couch is facing the fireplace, but what it’s really focused on is the massive television. I guess there is one thing Lane changed because that was not as big the last time I was here.
“Thanks, it’s called bachelor life. You know, the creature comforts are about all I need. A couch, a bed, a television or two, and food are thesize of it. Hell, I barely need food. Ryland still lives at home, which means Mom and Dad always have their door open for breakfast and dinner. The only thing I worry about is lunch, and half the time, I’m too busy to stop and eat anyways.” Lane drops my purse on the chair sitting in the corner, which is also facing the TV. What he doesn’t do is drop my bags anywhere. Nope, he’s got them firmly in his grasp. I shouldn’t be surprised, except I am. He walks toward the hallway, his booted feet echoing off the hardwood floors.
“That’ll be changing,” I murmur under my breath. Lane taking care of me is so classically him, and well, now I’m in a position where I can do the same. Even if it’s something small like packing his lunch and delivering it to him while he’s working in an area. I’ll need to use the side-by-side. Okay, fine, maybe I won’t be able to do that right away. I can at least pack his lunch the night before or early in the morning. It’s not like I have anything else to do, although I should be questioning how easily we’ve fallen back into how we once were.
“Did you say something?” Lane stops near the hallway, both of my bags in one hand, looking right at me.
“Nope, not a thing.” I’m not ready to admit that I came home for more than one reason or the way Lane so easily offered up a solution with the job front.
“Yougood to walk, or do you need help?”
“I can walk,” I reply. Unlike Lane, I take my shoes off. No way will I be the one responsible for scuffing his beautiful golden oak wood floors.
“Not fast enough.” He sends a crooked grin my way as I kick off my shoes, well, slippers, rather. I had socks on, and much like now, back at my Mom’s, he was impatient to get me here.
“Well, not all of us have your long legs, Lane Johnson.” I roll my eyes and make my way toward him. He waits patiently like he always has. This man has a golden retriever personality like no other. Sweet, gentle, affectionate, easygoing, and, beyond all else, dependable. A characteristic I took advantage of when I was too young to realize what an amazing man Lane really is. He’s also a good listener and is very observant. Fine, Lane Johnson is everything a person like me needs.
I’m stubborn to a fault, though I do like to blame that quality on my mother. I learned from the best. She’ll do anything she can without asking for a lick of help. Eleanor Robertson would have to try it upside down, inside out, backward, and forward before she’d admit defeat.
Lane picks up his pace once I’m behind him, giving me a view of his broad shoulders, tapered waist, thick thighs, and round ass. The man has a dump trunk, and the funny part about it is he’s not in a gym two hours a day, seven days a week. Oh no, his muscles are from working on theranch, baling hay, riding horses, fixing fences, and the many other tasks he does on a daily basis.
“Like what you see?” I’m interrupted in my Lane daydream. I must have really been out of it. My bags are on the chair in the corner, and he’s standing at the foot of the bed.
“You know I do.” Last night wasn’t enough. One time with Lane will never be enough. I’m more addicted to him today than I was when I left college. And don’t get me wrong, the two of us may have been separated, a thought I don’t want to think or talk about now and not ever, but it was always Lane Johnson for me.
“That I do. Wish like hell you weren’t hurting, and I didn’t have to continue with my day on the ranch.” I almost pout at the thought of him leaving me already, except I can’t. This is his job. He’s not the one who’s battered and bruised. Which means Lane won’t allow me to do so much as ride along with him.
“Me too. I don’t suppose I can talk you into letting me go with you?” He sits down on the edge of the bed, and I step closer, my knee nudging his until he opens them for me. I’m feeling a lot better after a full night of sleep and some medicine.
“No way in hell, baby.” His hands slide up the back of my thighs. The blood in my body heats, my skin comes to life beneath his touch, and I’m going to have a hard time not begging him to take this a lot further.
“Fine. Leave me the Wi-Fi password. A lady of leisure I am not, so I may as well start figuring out how to make money.” When everything went down, my job was the last thing on my mind. I have enough funds tucked away for a rainy day until I figure out what’s next, and while I don’t have a plethora of bills—thanks, Mom, for instilling a good ethic with money—the one credit card I have has a decent limit. I only use thirty percent of it at any given time and pay it off at the end of the month. My car may not be much, but there’s no note on it, and it gets me from pointAto pointB. That being said, I still have day-to-day bills, like my cell phone, car insurance, and food. And while Lane is moving me into his house, I’d still like to have a job to contribute in some way.
