A vision I’ve never given into in real life, where I’ve never trusted a partner to be in control, much less to dominate. It’s been so damn long since I trusted a man. It would be nice, in some instances, to know what that’s like. Like fulfilling fantasies, for starters.
He watches my eyes cloud over in the daydream, a hungry look in his own.
“Yeah?”
I shake my head, tucking my head into my shoulder. “Let’s start with getting to ride an authentic Southern gentleman first. That’s one pin I’d like to move to my “Been There, Seen That” board tonight. Finally.” I grumble the last word, more of a complaint, and he chuckles.
“I’ll give you your money’s worth,” he promises. “And I’m happy to help you tick off any other items on your list while you’re here.” Head down, his eyes flick up to meet mine from beneath heavy lids. “Or next time you’re in town.”
He offers it so simply, like I’m someone who could come back to visit. Like I’m not bound to keep on the road, never hitting the same place twice. His confidence in me, this simple belief he holds that I could be this version of that girl, it reminds me of everything Rory told me today. Of Lexi’s parting words. Anda yearning fills me that’s more than just sexual. It’s one that’s achingly familiar, but deeper than I’ve known it before. The need for connection. For a home, even if it’s just a little while. One where I wouldn’t be an outcast.
It’s a future so close I can practically taste it, if only I let myself give in to the daydream of a life that will never be mine.
“You know, Rory cornered me today,” I tell him.
His brows dart up. “Is this part of your fantasy? Because I could be into this, I just need to imagine someonenotmy sister-in-law.”
“No,” I laugh, shoving his shoulder from where I stand between his legs at the side of the bed. “She wanted to give me that pitch you warned me about.”
“Oh,” he says, nodding like he knows where this is going.
“Yeah. Turns out, there’s some pretty cool incentives to stick around in this town.”
He nods again before speaking. “It’s not a bad place to slow down for a bit,” he says carefully, casually. “If… one wanted to stop moving for a breather.”
It’s my turn to nod.
The timer on the air fryer dings at us, and I jump back, further away from him. His eyes don’t even fall to my bare breasts as I do. They’re still locked on mine.
It only takes a minute to get the dish out of the air fryer and serve the meal up on the one plate I own. The plate is steaming, overflowing with one of my favorite recipes, and I hand it to Weston as I climb up to join him sitting on the bed.
“Sorry I don’t have more plates and forks. We’ll have to share.”
“No problem for me, darlin’. And might I just say, that was pretty damn impressive that you didn’t burn yourself even once while you made all this.” He looks pointedly at my nude form, blessedly free from oil splatters.
I laugh. “Well, as you’ve probably figured out by now, I’m not huge on clothes unless I have to, like if I’m leaving the van or something.” My head swivels to the open doors behind us, the mountain range silhouetted in the night sky. “You’re sure no one can see us here, right?” I reconfirm.
He shakes his head, eyes dancing. “Not a chance I’d share this view with anyone.” His eyes aren’t on the mountains.
Weston takes the first bite, not even blowing on it, just piling a huge mouthful in, a smile breaking out on his face when it hits him.
“It’s nothing fancy,” I tell him, while his mouth is busy chewing, to get him off the hook of the mandatory compliments.
He hands me the fork to let me take a bite and does these huge, exaggerated motions with his mouth so he can swallow the hot, colossal bite faster. Like everything between our sizes, my forkful is a lot smaller than his, but it’s full of flavor, nostalgia, and times that were good.
“Are you kidding? It’s delicious, Amelia. Ever since the diner closed here there’s been shit for options. You’ve got the flapjack house for breakfast, or something fried at Suds to soak up a little of the beer. And instant ramen can only last me so long. This is the first homemadeanythingI’ve had in an embarrassing amount of time.”
My insides warm from more than just the hotdish.
We keep talking while eating, about harmless things, funny stories, whatever comes to mind. It’s a sort of ease between us I haven’t had with a one-night stand before. An hour ago he was making me hear colors and see ancient deities, and now we’re talking about our demons, scratching the surface of that deep-baked trauma we all carry with us, and making each other laugh all within minutes of one another, no lingering weirdness as we hop from topic to topic.
We drag the meal out for far too long, talking for ages, until what has to be the early morning hours. It’s only fitting that the blaze between us returns to a full burn as soon as the meal is finally done, and like a good Boy Scout, Weston has cleaned the plate and fork and put them away for me while I use the restroom and make sure I’m ready for what’s next.
When I emerge, he sneaks in behind me, asking to borrow some toothpaste before closing the door, and I hear the toilet flush, the water run, and then he’s back in the bedroom portion of Van Gogh, somewhere around her haunches.
“So about this ride,” he says with a taunting smirk as he walks out of my wet room, completely naked, cock thickening at our matching outfits. “What exactly are you planning for me, darlin’?”
And just like that, I’m wet, everywhere. My thighs are slick, my mouth waters, and I want him in every way I can have him.
