“Another thing I thought about while fucking my fist with your shampoo,” he grumbles right as he slides his cock inside me in one thrust. Clenching around him in surprise, I cry out as we devolve into nothing but bodies slapping and rolling, both chasing the orgasms we’ve worked hard for. Walker leans over and cups my breast, squeezing. “Fuck, I love being inside you, Tal.”
He kisses down my spine and then the hand on my breast moves lower and, while making shallow thrusts, he rolls his fingers over my clit, massaging the tight bud into oblivion.
His fingers squeeze my hips as he unloads. I can’t turn myself around quick enough to wrap my arms around hisneck and kiss him while he slides right back in me and continues to fuck me even as he goes soft. What is this? What is this feeling? And how the hell am I ever going to get over it when it ends?
—
After an actual shower, during which Walker washed my hair and rubbed my favorite body wash over every inch of me, I’m feeling like a new woman.
“Why are you putting on clothes?” Walker hooks out an arm and wraps it around my waist, pulling me back into bed. I giggle as I fight against his tight hold, but the scuff on his face burns deliciously against my bare shoulder as he nuzzles my neck and tries to hold me down. “You promised we’d stay in bed all day.”
I glance up at him over my shoulder. “No, I was promised a Tally day. And you’re still getting one.”
“I’d prefer a naked Tally day,” he mumbles, but he releases me so I can grab my sundress that’s fallen to the floor.
“I was thinking,” I start as I pull my dress over my head.
“Oh no, I can already feel that I’m going to regret your thoughts.”
I chuckle and push against his chest. “Stop being so grumpy.”
He juts out his lips in a mock pout. “I’m exactly who I was when you met me.”
As I start to work the buttons on my dress, I assess him. Walker couldn’t be more wrong. He’s nothing like the person I met; he’s more open, and he smiles more than he frowns. And God, does he make me smile, too.
I turn to tell him my thoughts, to kiss the frown right off his face, when I hear a loud banging on the door.
“Walker!” My mother’s voice has me pulling back and frowning.
“Mom?” I leave the bed and head toward the front of the cottage as the door swings open.
My mother’s face is crazed, her hair a wild mess. “Where’s Walker?”
I motion behind me. “He’s in the bedroom. What’s wrong?”
She stalks past me and into the bedroom without hesitation. I follow behind her and almost snort when I see Walker pulling the sheets over his body. My eyes fall to his erection, which makes an obvious tent as he grabs a pillow and holds it over himself.
“What is with you Darling women?” he grits out. “You’re supposed to knock and thenwaitto be let in.”
My mother shakes her head, not phased in the slightest by what’s in front of her. “It’s the cake.”
“The what?” I ask, trying to get her to look my way.
Finally, she turns to me. “For the ceremony. It was delivered last night. When I went to check on it this morning, the refrigerator was dark. It’s broken. The cake’s ruined.”
Walker bounds out of bed at her words, wrapping the sheets around his waist and rushing out of the cottage. My mother and I chase after him, but when we finally make it up the path and to the shed that houses the makeshift kitchen caterers use for weddings, we find him standing in front of the warm, dark fridge, his shoulders slumped.
“Is it ruined?” I ask, even though I know the answer. The frosting has melted down the cake, and the floral decor has wilted. “It’s a cream-based filling,” I murmur to myself. Evenif we could salvage the outside of the cake, we can’t serve this. There’s too much of a risk that people would get sick.
“What are we going to do?” my mother asks, sounding drained as she stares at the melted masterpiece. My heart aches for her, for everything she’s lost this year. I reach out to wrap an arm around her. This ceremony was supposed to be the thing that saved the farm, but if we’ve destroyed the cake, I can’t imagine we’ll be saving anything.
Walker turns around, and his gaze settles on me. “Well, Gail, I guess it’s a lucky thing that we have a baker on staff, huh?”
I shake my head and hold up my hands, pulling away from my mother. “Oh no, I can’t—”
With one hand tightly gripping the sheet around his waist, Walker smiles at me and nods. “Yes, you can.”
I blow out a breath. “I don’t have anywhere to bake. I’d need a commercial kitchen. One stove isn’t going to cut it.”
