Bess
Lane was in my house. Rather than his usual expensive suit, he was wearing worn-in jeans and a dark blue thermal shirt, standing in the middle of the sitting area with his mouth covering mine.
In Pennsylvania. In my little house.
I was freaking out—baking and suggesting a hike—when all I really wanted to do was lead him back to my bedroom. Although I had vowed that one weekend with Lane was enough when I returned home, then he texted me. And I’d relented, because once would never be enough when it came to him.
My life was still complicated. AJ and I were not in a better place, but our swords had been drawn. He knew where I stood and wouldn’t accept that, but I was holding to it.
I was lonely other than my occasional time with Shirley. Being alone and cold with no one other than Brooks to warm my feet was getting old. And I liked Lane more than a little. Maybe even a lot. I just couldn’t figure out how he fit into my carefully crafted life. But now he was in my house, kissing me silly.
So when Lane interrupted my thoughts with, “A hike sounds perfect,” I quickly took him up on it. It seemed the smart thing to do at the time.
We hiked through the woods, taking a path from my house. Brooks followed along off leash, but Lane noticed he wore the collar he’d sent in his second package. He also noticed the giant container I was using for Brooks’s treats that he’d sent in his most recent package.
I thought that would be my last package and cherished the tiny mementos of our weekend he included. The miniature snow globe with a swimming pool inside sat on my window sill, and the votive full of sand and shells held a permanent spot on the mantel. He probably noticed those too, but I didn’t point them out.
As we made our way along the narrow paths wearing almost matching puffy vests, we held hands and had conversations we shouldn’t have been having.
“So, you got this dog pretty much under your little finger?” Lane asked as we rounded a bend and Brooks came as soon as I called him.
“I don’t know about that, but we came into each other’s lives when neither of us had anyone else. I think he knew how much I needed him.”
I stopped and caught myself from going on and on about a time of my life that would certainly bore anyone.
“Hey, go on,” Lane insisted, grabbing my hand and keeping us moving through the trees.
“Really? It must sound so silly and touchy-feely.”
“Let me be the judge of that,” he said, and pumped my hand.
“Well, it was right after I left rehab and was on my own for the first time in ninety days. The worst was behind me, I hoped, but I still felt really alone. My dad wanted to come and be with me, but we were never close like that, and I grew up without a mother.”
Bess paused for a moment in her story, reaching out her free hand to stroke Brooks’s head as he trotted beside her. “So I got a dog. One Saturday I went over to the pound, and they had a litter of puppies that had been abandoned in a barn. I felt so bad for those little guys, I wanted to take all of them. But I could barely take care of myself, let alone eight puppies.” She tugged affectionately at Brooks’s ear. “And then this one tumbled over to me. He was tripping over his own big paws and kept trying to jump in my arms. I picked him up and didn’t put him down until it was time to get in my car to go home.”
This time, Lane came to a halt and grabbed my cheeks, bringing me in for a kiss before he said, “Bess Williams, youaremagnificent.”
Brooks sat down right at our feet in between us and stared up at us like we were the two weirdest creatures he’d ever laid eyes on.
“Would it be wrong if I said I want to turn around and go back to your house and strip you naked?” Lane said, interrupting my thoughts.
“No,” I choked out, already breathless and barely able to speak.
Practically racing back up the hill, we made it to my door in record time. I unlocked it, let Brooks in, and by the time he was finished shaking the moisture off his fur, we were ripping our coats and shoes off, leaving a trail of clothes behind us as I led Lane to my bedroom.
We fell onto the bed in a tangle of limbs. Lane helped me scoot over, smoothing the hair around my face as my head fell into the pillow, lightly tracing down my neck and collarbone with his tongue. A hot trail formed where his warm breath laid tracks barely cooled by the mountain air swirling around my room.
My hands and hips reached for him of their own volition, betraying any rules I had put into place where it came to my heart or unwanted disruptions in my very organized simple life. Apparently my body didn’t mind complications as long as it meant Lane was inside me.
He slowly licked a path up my inner thigh, taking so long that I was squirming when I begged, “Lane, now!”
“Be patient,” he breathed out, and went back to teasing me.
My heart pounded in my chest, my own breathing coming in pants, and when he finally landed where I wished he would, my body yelled,Yes!
His strokes were both tender and rough, patient and urgent—a living, breathing contradiction, much like our lives and paths crossing.
With a final sweep of his tongue, I came. My orgasm was hard and furious, my body angry that I’d waited so long since I last saw Lane, sending chills spiraling through me that were almost punishing.
