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You want an umbrella?
This is ridiculous. I pull the hood of my sweatshirt over my head and make a run for Cross’s door, not slowing down until I’m under the roof of the wraparound porch, soaked and dripping wet, when Cross steps outside. He’s still dressed from his game, and he looks good. So damn good. Expensive black slacks and a crisp white dress shirt highlight every sexy feature, but it’s the worn baseball hat, unbuttoned collar, and rolled up sleeves, showcasing the mother of all arm porn that remind me this is my Cross. Even cleaned up, this man wants to be comfortable. He’s even wearing a chunky leather watch, completely clueless about what the whole damn package that is Cross Wilder does to mere mortals like me.
“What’s going on, Everly?”
“Have you ever done something you were positive was going to get you hurt?” I ask as my chest heaves, wild with adrenaline.
“You tell me. Are you about to tell me you can’t do this?” he asks, and I know that’s because I’m all over the damn place. I could give a saint whiplash.
He doesn’t deserve that.
I shake my head.
“Thank fuck.” He crosses the porch in two strides and grabs the back of my head. “I need you to tell me you want this, baby.” Cross’s eyes are fixed on mine. His dark pupils, blown wide with want, send a sharp, sweet bolt of heartache through me.
We might destroy each other, but I’m not going down without a fight.
I fist the front of his shirt and lift my chin. “I want this, and I need you.”
The words have barely left my lips when his strong arms wrap around me. Cross’s calloused hands slide under my old worn Kings hoodie and scorch my heated skin before he lifts me from my feet and wraps my legs around his waist.
“I need you so fucking much, Everly. You’re mine, baby. Mine to take care of. To protect. And I’ll tell you as many times as you need to hear it.”
His words are a balm to all the tattered edges of my cracked and tortured soul. The one that shattered so completely, I wasn’t sure I’d ever be willing to take this step. They soothe the fear that won’t stop but seems to always quiet in his presence.
Cross walks us around the side of the house until we’re hidden on the back of the wraparound porch and sits us down on a chaise lounge big enough for three people.
I tug off his cap and run my fingers through his dark hair. “Didn’t want to go inside?”
“I like the rain” is all he says before he pulls my face down to his and takes my mouth in a kiss I feel everywhere. “Kids are asleep. Ares is out, and Bellamy’s crashing at Caitlin’s. We’ve got the house to ourselves.”
The rain beats down on the roof above us and plays the prettiest tune as it hits the lake in the distance. The bright moon illuminates Cross just enough for me to see his onyx eyes scan every inch of my face. “You want to tell me why you sat in front of my house for thirty minutes?”
“There are other things I’d rather be doing.” I press my lips to the corner of his mouth and revel in the touch of his hands on my bare skin under my hoodie. His hands make slow passes up and down my rib cage. He never goes further than the band of my dance shorts or the bottom of my sports bra. Each tortuous stroke making it harder to think.
“Everly . . .”
“I don’t trust easily, Cross. I’ve been hurt. And before you ask, no, I don’t want to talk about it now. But you... It’s like my heart knows I can trust you. And if it makes any sense at all, my brain knows it too. But man, the fear is still there. The fear is louder than everything else.”
“Baby, you’ve got nothing to fear. Not from me. Never from me. I’m not that guy.”
His hand moves up the tiniest bit farther on its next pass up my ribs, and I shiver under his touch. “I don’t like to be vulnerable, and you make me feel that way. I’m not sure I’d ever be able to put the pieces back together after you.”
“Then it’s a good thing I’m never letting you go.” His tongue slides along my lips, and I moan as he pushes it inside my mouth. “Mine, Everly.”
Thunder crashes in the distance, followed by a bright bolt of lightning as the rain picks up around us, cocooning us in our own small piece of the world. I arch into his touch, and Cross finally slides his hand under my bra. His rough hand cups my breast, and those deliciously calloused fingers pinch my nipple, leaving me aching. Needing more.
“Cross...” I beg as I slide my legs to straddle either side of his lap, desperate to feel him.
I wrap my hands around his head, my fingers tugging on his hair, as our tongues tangle, fighting for control.
Finally...finally, he pulls back and rips my hoodie up over my head.
My hair falls down in waves, and Cross sucks in a sharp breath. “I fucking love your hair, Cinderella.”
I laugh at the ridiculous use of that nickname and play with the top button of his shirt until I pop each one open and press my palms flat against his chest. “I’ve dreamed of you naked since July, Cross. You’ve got on way too many clothes.”
Cross’s silent laughter makes me smile. “At least I’m dressed. What the hell are you wearing?”
