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“We can’t.”
Her eyes flashed, and I stepped even farther away, my body peeling off hers as some clear thinking settled back in. She remembered where we were, and her mouth clenched as she hopped down from the counter. I didn’t move out of the way. The dick in me couldn’t make myself move because I still wanted to feel her as she brushed against me.
She trembled slightly before raking a hand through her hair and moving to the door.
I followed silently.
She turned off the outside light, locking the door before pulling it closed behind us.
Her hand caught mine, and she took me to her guesthouse. We stepped around a partition, over a hidden patio, and through her door. She flipped on the light. If I’d had a predisposed idea of what the inside would look like based on the outside, I would’ve been vastly wrong. The inside was cozy and chic. It was her.
There was a small table set against the wall with a laptop on it. I could immediately envision her sitting to work where she could see the back area by the chickens and the driveway. The window must also be disguised, because from the outside, I hadn’t noticed it.
Her small living room had two super comfy-looking loveseats with blankets thrown over them. A small television had been mounted on the far wall so no matter where you sat, you had a good view of it. The kitchen was tiny—fridge in the corner, sink, not much counter space, cupboards, and a tiny dishwasher. She had a wall of mugs hanging from nails.
I looked toward the back and saw a bathroom and a bedroom. There was also a loft area above. The place smelled of her. Like honey and lilac.
“This is where you live?”
I could sleep here. The second I’d stepped inside, my body relaxed. That was Billie. She did that on purpose, designing everything so you had no choice but to destress.
She leaned back against the kitchen counter, her hands behind her. Her little shoulders lifted. “It’s enough for me.” She glanced around, maybe trying to decipher what I was seeing. “It’s home.” Her eyes found mine, and there was a message there for me. “I feel safe here.”
That was it.
I nodded, taking a step back. “Howard was in the military?” I recognized the way he held himself.
She nodded. “He was in the Navy. Were you?”
“Almost. My brother went to prison our last year of high school, and I wanted to get as far away from him as possible.”
“But you didn’t?”
“The weekend I was going to decide, a coach saw me, asked me to try out for his team instead. The school was far enough away—a whole different world. It felt good enough for me… My dad used to be in the military. He came back fucked up, and he never unfucked himself. Howard’s not the same.”
“No,” she said lightly. “He’s not.”
“Roger’s no fighter though.”
Her eyes flashed to mine.
“He’s not a killer either, and he knows it,” I added.
Her lips opened. “How do you know that?”
“I grew up with people who could hurt. You know who they are for the rest of your life.” A shadow crossed her eyes. “You know that too.”
The air grew heavy, more intense. I could feel the ghosts from the past making themselves comfortable around us. I looked over her body, seeing everything I wanted to make mine. But I still needed to go slow. I would fuck it up if I went too fast. She was precious and needed to be handled with care.
“If I start touching you now…” I stopped talking as a determined expression settled over her face and she pushed away from the counter, her head tilted to the side as she came to me.
“What?” Her hands moved over my chest, sliding around to my back as she hugged me. “What will happen then?”
I couldn’t answer. The need to touch her, taste her, make her mine was almost too much.
She tipped her head back, her chin resting against my chest. “What are you going to do? Because I’m the one touching you.”
Fuck.
