“We’re going to take this slow.”
“But you, we . . .” She managed to say before a wicked smile took her breath away.
He looked down at the bulge between his legs and shrugged. “I’m a big boy. I’ll handle this on my own. But you, sweetness, you need a good night’s sleep because I’ll be back for you tomorrow morning around nine.”
“Back?” she asked, propping herself up onto her elbows as she felt a new wave of heat rush across her cheeks.
“Wear something suitable for a bike.”
“I don’t understand.”
“We’re going on a road trip.”
“On a bike?”
“It has a motor.” He flashed that grin again and it damn near took her breath away. He looked younger. Lighter somehow.
“So . . . a date,” she’d replied with more cheek than she thought she had.
Gus winked. “Call it whatever you like.”
He left her alone and she fell back onto the bed, reaching for the covers. She didn’t think about a date. She didn’t think about tomorrow. Or the fact that she’d just done all the things she’d heard about but had never tried.
All that she could think about was . . .
“I just had my first orgasm.” Hearing the words out loud made her wince, then smile. Then, bury her head in her pillow and scream.
She’d slept like a baby and now that it was morning, Faith finally thought of the other things. His mouth had been relentless — his fingers magical. And she’d had not one. Not two. Not even three. But four orgasms.
“Oh my God,” she murmured as she crawled out of bed and giggled. Faith walked across the room and peeked outside, a light smile on her face. The sun was already high, and slivers of fog clung to the trees at the back of the yard. The birds sang and a few moments later, Mr. Pine’s lawn mower fired up in the yard next door. She knew that in the next half an hour, Billy the paper boy would toss a copy of theFire Lake Reformeronto the front yard and that Candy would read it front page to back, then leave it on the table in the foyer.
Faith shook her head slowly. Imagine a place that still had a daily paper. Heck, she’d only ever read news on her phone or watched it online. But there was something soothing and simplistic about holding a paper in your hand, about enjoying it over coffee and the morning sun. It was much more relaxing to read the real deal than hover over a phone or tablet.
Things were so much simpler in Fire Lake. It was a far cry from the world she’d grown up in. A world of gated communities, yachts, money, country clubs, and island vacations.
Faith knew more than anyone that money didn’t buy happiness. It helped to ease financial strain of course, but that was about it. In fact, it was her experience that folks with more money than they needed were the most unhappy. And they were desperate to appear as if they didn’t have a care in the world. As if the life they led was one everyone aspired to.
She thought of her mother and Faith’s early glow evaporated like air from a balloon.
She backed away from the window and slipped into the T-shirt and boxers she’d worn the night before, then crossed the room to the small closet. Inside, there at the back, tucked between an old sweatshirt and a pair of jeans, was a small box. She grabbed it and then padded into the kitchen, where she placed the box on the counter before starting her coffee machine.
She glanced at the clock and noted the time of 7 a.m. While the coffee brewed, Faith took Taco out to the backyard. The house was silent, and she wondered if Gus was awake, starting his morning like she was, or fast asleep. She wondered what he looked like in bed. Then, she blushed when those thoughts led to memories of how he’d looked with his mouth on her body.
She really needed to get her shit together and stop acting like a goofy fifteen-year-old who’d just been kissed for the first time.
Once Taco was done and she’d tossed his bag in the trash, she headed back to her apartment. The welcoming smell of coffee filled her nose, and Faith quickly filled Taco’s food and water bowls before grabbing a cup of java and sitting at the small table. From there she slowly sipped the strong brew and stared at the little box on the counter.
She had another cup and finished it.
By now, it was nearly eight, and she needed to shower, but after she rinsed her mug and put it away, she grabbed up the box and sat back down.
There were crescent-shaped indents in the palms of her hands when she finally opened it and took out the cell phone. Faith ran her hands over the smooth screen and, with her heart in her throat, powered it up and waited.
But nothing happened.
“Jesus,” she muttered. The damn thing was dead.
Maybe it was a sign. Maybe she should just leave well enough alone. But moments later Faith found herself in her bedroom, rummaging through her backpack until she found the cord she needed.
