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He thrusts his hips just a bit. “This work?”
“Did you forget boxers?” I ask, eyes following the outline of his massive shaft.
“I have baggy sweats on. They’re not tight; they’re covering everything, Whit.”
He looks me over from head to toe as he curls up to sit, his ab muscles flexing as he does. It’s very … disarming, although I’m not sure why I feel like I need to be armed.
“And here you are, looking stunning in white—again.”
His back is against the headboard of the queen-size bed, a bed he fills near completely, but anything bigger would fill the room to the point that we’d be unable to open the closet.
“Before I get to unwrapping you”—he swings his legs over the side and stands—“I need to show you something.” Two steps, and he has my hand, pulling me behind him.
“Who says you get to unwrap me?”
“That robe might as have a tag that says To Pope on it.” He turns, eyes dancing, and looks me over before opening the back door and shoving his size thirteens into a pair of black-and-white athletic slides.
“I don’t have shoes.”
“Hop on.” He squats down and looks back at me as I hesitate. “It’s my back, not my dick, Whit.”
My face turns red, and he chuckles.
“What has gotten into you?” I grumble but do as invited to, and I hop on.
When I hook my legs around his center, he stands. “Three of the goals I’ve had forever have been checked off my list. I’m happy, Whit, and in love. You’re gonna feel the same when you allow yourself to lean all the way into this thing we got going on and stop pretending it’s just a way to keep Nora because it’s also keeping us.”
He turns and hits a button, and I hear a noise. “All the locks are now engaged, keyed in with a code. She’s all tucked in, safe and asleep.”
When he turns to the new back door of a garage that has more than doubled in size—much like Pope’s already-big dick when it’s hard—a light comes on.
“Motion lights at all entrances and some scattered around the perimeter, here and at your grandparents’ house.” At the door, he taps a code into the keypad, and that same sound—the lock moving—occurs, and he opens the door.
More lights come on as we walk in, and he squats down so I can slide off.
He takes my hand and points left. “There are a couple of closets and a bathroom with a washer and dryer through there. Thought we can use them when the main part of the house gets renovated.” He points to some very steep, narrow stairs. “Those are temporary. A full set will lead into the house when we figure out how we want it laid out. We can talk about that later. But this …”
He turns, biting his lush bottom lip but is still unable to hide his smile as he holds both my hands, walking backward. More lights come on, and that’s when I see it. Pope’s old ride, but it’s had work done—a lot of work.
“I’m gonna get my do-over in that thing.” He stomps his foot like I did all those years ago, eyes smiling so much they sparkle.
Trying hard to not laugh, I say, “Honestly, I can’t say is if I blame you for wanting to redeem yourself.”
His smile deepens, and I drop his hands to get a closer look. He follows me around as I check it out.
“It’s amazing.”
He opens the door and pushes a latch, and the passenger seat folds forward. “You and Nora have a step to get up in here, and she’s got her very own seat, so no more fussing with switching it from your ride every time we’re together.”
“She’s going to love it.”
And she will. Everything someone does for her makes her feel special, and the girl is as grateful as can be.
I follow him to the back, where he waves his foot under the chrome bumper and the hatch opens.
He then opens the tailgate. “I can put an air mattress back here next time you wanna?—”
I smack his chest, and he laughs as he captures it beneath his own hand.
