Goodbye to You (20 page)

We finish off the food, and I’m stuffed. Against my better judgment, I order my fourth beer. A sense of calm sinks into my bones.

Hattie returns and smiles when she sees Thea curled into my side. “Good here?”

Thea sits up, and I miss her warmth immediately.

She rubs her stomach. “Yes, Mama Hattie. Wonderful. We’ll take the check. I don’t think we can eat anymore.”

“Consider it all on the house if you promise not ta be a stranger, girl.”

“I promise. I’ll be back soon.”

“You better be, child. Don’t make me come huntin’ for ya. Ya know they took my driver’s license from me, said I was too old, but that won’t stop me from comin’ ta find ya.”

We laugh, and Hattie shifts her gaze to me. “Young man, you bring her back around soon. I like seeing that sweet smile on her face. Been missin’ too long. Don’t ya do nothin’ ta take it away.”

I wonder what she means. Thea’s graced me with her bright smile since the moment I met her, and I’ll never do anything to make her sad.

At least I’ll try not to.

The jukebox played all through dinner, and now a slow song vibrates through the room. I stand and bow in front of Thea.

“May I have this dance, my lady?” I sweep my arms in a flourish. She rewards me with a hearty chuckle.

“I thought you don’t dance.”

“I can hold on and sway. This song was made for moves like mine.” I stand to my full height again and extend my hand.

She beams and accepts the invitation.

I circle my left arm around her slender waist and hold her left hand with my right.

We move in slow circles, and her warm body presses closer with each turn. My senses are filled with warm raspberries and the scent of her shampoo. I’m lightheaded. It’s all so new—every sensation and emotion is heightened in her presence.

She lifts her face, chewing on the inside of her cheek. “We’re late for the movie.”

I laugh lightly and let go of her hand to touch her face, cupping her chin in my hand. “I’m right where I want to be.”

Her hands slide up my back and then dip into the waist of my shorts.

Her slender fingers trace circles on my skin, setting off a fire that can’t be put out.

At least not here.

I lean into her neck, the silky strands of her hair tickling my nose. “Ready to go?”

She nods.

We retrieve her purse, and I drop a twenty on the table to tip the staff for a night well-done.

I plan on making the rest of the night one Thea will remember for as long as she lives.

The drive back to my place seems so long, but I’m glad we went out of our way.

I chose Mama Hattie’s because I wanted Shay to try authentic southern cooking, and I wanted to introduce him to my surrogate grandmother.

Hattie’s been a part of my life since my childhood, and I want him to be a part of my life for as long as I live.

Shay fiddles with the radio, and I admire his long fingers as they push the buttons and turn the dial.

My phone buzzes with a text from Bennie, telling me she’ll be at Leesh’s tonight, in case I “get lucky.”

Which is likely.

I bite my lip and run a hand through my hair. Yoga breathing does nothing to calm my nerves.

Key West was a fantasy.

This is real.

My truck, my friends, my home.

He’s here.

Holy shit! He’s here.

I need to tell him about the surgery.

Soon. Soon, I promise. I’m not sure to whom I’m promising, but I need to say the words, even if they’re in my head.

The gravel of the drive pops under the truck tires as we wind to the back of the house. The night is cloudy, and the weak bulb outside the door faintly illuminates our path.

I’m thankful Bennie flipped on the switch before leaving, or else I’d be tripping to get to the door.

Shay holds my hand, and we stroll along. It’s like he’s savoring the moment.

I want him desperately, and I don’t know how much longer I can contain my desire.

Nobody’s perfect, but I have yet to find the flaws. I’ll find his defects if he sticks around, but I’m happy with the illusion of the god-like status he earned in Key West.

We get to the door, and I search his shadowed face. He looks fierce, but the slightest question remains in his eyes. “Are you su—”

I cut him off with a kiss. No more words. Only touch and taste and smell.

We can talk later.

Tonight, all I want is to feel.

My hands shake as I try to unlock the door. Shay closes his strong hands around mine and takes the keys from me, unlocking the door and closing it behind us.

I flip the switch to the overhead light, so we don’t trip on the furniture on the way to the bedroom.

His nimble fingers are soon on the hem of my shirt, easing it over my head. He dips his head to my neck, kissing the sensitive hollow. I shiver as he draws circles with his tongue. His hands reach to cup my breasts. I gasp when his thumbs graze my nipples, the friction from the satin of my bra and the heat of his hands tightening the flesh to tight peaks. A bolt of lightning shoots to my core and I lean against the door for support.

His hands slide to my waist as he presses the length of his body into mine. He kisses my forehead and gazes into my eyes. I’m drowning in the green-gold glow of his eyes as his gaze falls to my lips. He bites his lip, and all I can think of is him nipping at the tender flesh behind my knees, on the backs of my thighs . . .

He stares into my eyes again, but this time he’s not asking for permission. I’ve already given it with my hands, kneading at the muscles of his back, with my legs, as I lift one and wrap it around his hip.

His hands move to my face, cupping my jaw as his mouth inches closer. I shut my eyes and wait, my heartbeat counting the seconds.

The gentleness of his lips on mine, a mere whisper, is maddening. I want to drink in every inch of him. I let him lead. No need to hurry, no matter how much I want him naked over me, under me, and behind me.

He moves his lips to my temple, across my cheek, and I arch my head back, inviting him to take whatever he wants.

He groans from deep in his chest as I dig my hands into his hair and urge his head to the swell of my breasts straining against my bra. I need him to undress me, kiss my naked breasts, and show me how much he loves them.

I need him to ease this throbbing between my legs. Now.

But he won’t rush. He kisses the top of each breast, trailing his fingers up my arms, the fine hairs standing on end. He pulls one strap over my shoulder then does the same with the other strap. When I reach behind my back to unhook the nuisance, he shakes his head and clasps my hands in his, holding them above my head.

“Not yet.” His murmur tickles my cheek.

His fingers return to my shoulder, and he dips his head to drop kisses across my collarbone and back to the hollow of my neck.

The delayed gratification is maddening.

He cups one breast in his free hand, and my flesh tingles in response to his touch. My stupid bra is nothing more than a frustrating barrier between my skin and the rough warmth of his large hand.

He must be a mind reader because he
finally
releases my hands and reaches behind me to release the hooks.

I tug at his shirt, frantic to touch him.

The shirt comes off over his head, tousling his perfect hair. He’s even sexier, tousled and desperate-looking. I feast my eyes on his hard body, then stroke my hands over his steely forearms dusted with dark hair. I clutch at his biceps, caress the rigid planes of his chest. The muscles flex in response, encouraging me to explore more. His hot skin burns my lips.

His moan fans the flames of my need for him.

My hands skim lower, over the six-pack granite of his abs, and I undo the buckle of his belt, slide the button of his shorts open, and yank at the zipper. I slide the shorts over his solid thighs, the cotton pooling around his ankles.

He kicks his shoes off and is standing in front of me in nothing but his boxers. I see how much he wants me, and I want to feel his desire. I cup his hard cock through his underwear and tease him as he did me.

He grips my wrist and pulls my hand away.

He lifts me in his capable arms and carries me through the short hall and into my bedroom.

He sets me gently on the quilt covering the bed, and I lift my hips so he can slide my capris off. Leaning in, he cradles my face in his hands as he kisses me again, sucking on my tongue, drawing it into his hot mouth. He works his fingers through my hair, deepening the kiss even more, and I melt further into a puddle with each groan.

I can’t tell which sounds are his and which belong to me.

I whimper when he drags his lips away from mine, crying out as he takes my pebbled nipple into his mouth. He sucks deeply as he massages my other breast, his callused hands setting off sparks.

He runs his tongue along the sensitive underside of each breast, my hands in his soft, dark hair encouraging him lower still. He kisses my belly as his fingers stroke between my thighs through my panties, stoking the fire that had been raging in me since I left him in Florida.

Our eyes connect when he hooks his thumb in the edge of my panties; he’s asking for permission. I concur by raising my hips off the bed.

I open my legs for him. Again, he delays his gratification for me. He drops his head, his lips teasing at the damp heat between my legs, nipping at the sensitive bud of my clit. His tongue darts out, stroking the bundle of nerves as he slips his forefinger inside.

He crooks his finger and massages the nub inside, and my legs shake in mere seconds.

I claw at the quilt, my tenuous grip on reality slipping through my fingers as waves of pleasure spirals through my body, throwing me into an abyss I never want to climb out from.