Throughout our afternoon of horseback riding and fishing down at the pond and our evening spent making dinner together in the kitchen, I’ve been careful about how I treat Annabelle. No longing glances or touches under the table. It’s been fucking torture keeping my eyes—and hands—off Annabelle all day.
But as soon as Annabelle closes the door to Grace’s bedroom after tucking her in, I pounce. For the ten or so hours that the girls will sleep, Annabelle is all mine.
With my hands on her waist, I push her down the hallway, my boots heavy on the wood floor. She stares at me wide-eyed, biting her lower lip. “Hayes,” she hisses, her gaze darting to the doors of the rooms the girls are sleeping in.
“Yeah, baby?”
“Be quiet!”
“It’s not me I’m worried about.” Arching a brow, I whisper teasingly, “If memory serves, you were pretty loud.”
She socks me in the gut, not hard enough to hurt, just hard enough to make her point. I chuckle, loving how it feels to get under her skin.
When I steer her around the corner, I push her against the wall, bracketing her body with mine and nuzzling her neck. With my hands on her jaw, I angle her face upwards and capture her lips, forceful and punishing. She gasps at the urgency with which I kiss her, but damn, I’ve been waiting all fucking day for this kiss. After a moment of hesitation, her arms slide up my neck as she returns my ministrations with equal fervor.
Pulling back, I look down at her in my arms as happiness fills my body. Lowering my head, I gently kiss her satiny, soft lips once. Twice. Three times. Annabelle tugs my mouth down to meet hers a fourth time, and this time, she slowly licks my bottom lip and slants her mouth across mine, pulling me in deeper.
My hands drift down her back and come to rest on her shapely hips. My thumbs sneak under her shirt, grazing her silky skin with my guitar-calloused fingertips. Her mouth twists as we kiss, a giggle escaping.
“Hayes, you can’t tickle me when we’re making out!”
Cradling her cheeks, I stare into her beguiling eyes. “Come on, there’s something I want to show you.”
“Your bedroom?” She suggests with a coy smile.
25
Hayes
Now
“Ilike the way you think, Jeopardy. Never fear, you’ll be getting a full tour of the bedroom later.”
Slipping my hand in hers, I pull her down the stairs, winding our way through the living room, grabbing a blanket off the back of the couch, and through the kitchen to the door at the rear of the house. Removing one of my jackets from the coat hooks, I slide it over Annabelle’s shoulders.
My jacket engulfs her frame, but she looks damn sexy wearing it.
After I don a jacket of my own, I take her hand. With a flashlight to guide our steps, we follow the pathway leading out to the firepit. It’s set back from the house. We walk without conversation, thesilence absolute except for the wind whistling through the trees and an occasional animal call.
“It’s so peaceful,” Annabelle whispers.
“It is. I love it.”
There are ten Adirondack chairs arranged in a circle around the firepit, and I drop onto the nearest one, pulling Annabelle onto my lap. Arranging the blanket over us, she reclines on me, her head settling into the crook of my neck. Since it’s just us, I didn’t light the firepit tonight, which works in my favor for stargazing.
“Look up.”
The earlier cloud coverage has dissipated, allowing the stars to light up the inky night sky, glistening like diamonds amidst the midnight hues. Some are bright and bold, demanding our attention, whereas other stars are small and dainty, sparkling little pinpricks of light.
“It’s gorgeous,” she breathes out in awe. “You can’t see anything like this in the city.”
“No, light pollution from the city obscures the stars.”
Pointing her finger, she traces a line through the sky and asks, “Is that the Big Dipper?”
“Yeah, it is.” Taking her hand, I reposition her finger to the north and a bit to the right of the Big Dipper’s handle. “See that bright star? That’s Polaris.”
“Also known as the North Star.”
