“Silly girl, we need to try the shower first.” I give her one vicious thrust which causes her nails to dig into my shoulders to hold on tighter.
“Oliver,” she gasps, and it’s music when it mixes with the sound of running water.
“Tonight you’re mine. Understand?” I’m buried deep inside of her and refrain from pulling out until she answers me.
Her moan causes her to search for her voice because my grip on her hips tugs her harder against me.
“Yes,” she whispers.
Satisfied, I begin to move again.
With plans to do this all weekend.
Hailey wasin a deep sleep when I woke at eight. Peaceful and maybe a little sore from our all-night fuck fest, but it’s all worth it. As much as sleeping in should be a hobby for me, it isn’t. I don’t even know how. It’s often that my phone goes off at six with an urgent need to get a player on the team or do a trade. Saturday is usually less work, and luckily, today nothing. I left a note for Hailey that I would be right back because I had no supplies in my house for breakfast.
Now, I’m exiting Foxy Rox with a tray of coffees and a bag of bagels. The place is packed, as I expected for the weekend, which is why I’m in luck that a man holds the door open for me. The sun is shining, clear blue skies, and my mood is fucking peachy, even if I couldn’t get a parking spot on Main Street close to the coffee house.
When I walk by the building with the for-sale sign, I stop as soon as I accidentally overhear the real estate agent outside on the phone. I’m trying not to listen, but it’d be obvious if she took any notice. Also, why in the world does she have her phone on speaker?
“Truthfully, I wish that girl who wanted to open a preschool could manage to buy this place. When you brought her through the open house, she was the only one who seemed to be in love with the space. The other offers were nothing of interest. I don’t want that couple who is keen on opening a brewery. There are already enough cute places for food and drinks in Everhope.”
Molly hums in understanding. “Hailey would be a great move-in. But as I mentioned, she most definitely can’t fulfill the clause about marriage.”
I can hear the woman on the other end crack a sound. “I know. It’s just my grandfather had the clause, then my father, and now it feels it would be taking away tradition.”
“I’m not sure what to say. I mean, there is the orthodontist who would like to open his second office. That’s a great offer.”
It’s a few sentences more and I’ve heard enough, know enough, and hate the situation enough.
Sighing, I need to get out of here. It’s just, I continue to mull over the conversation on the drive back to my house. It bothers me. A lot, apparently. Everyone sees the potential, but nobody will move the rocks in the way.
I park my car in the driveway and quickly, with my hands full, attempt to wave to the tired couple next door who are watching their preschool-aged girls draw on the sidewalk with chalk. I can tell they have had an early morning, and I internally wince for them.
Hurrying, I get inside before the coffees get too cold. I can already hear the movement of cupboard doors. Hailey must be up.
A smile quickly hits me when I slow my stride into the kitchen to find her back to me, on her tippy toes, in my shirt and giving me a glimpse of her panties.
I’m an idiot for not giving in to this woman years ago. She’s part of the picture of my kitchen, and I want to walk right to her and wrap my arms around her like a warm blanket.
“Not a bad view.”
She closes the door and turns to smile at me. “There you are.”
I hold up the tray and bag. “Replenishments.”
“Oh, thank the heavens.” She rushes straight to me and snatches the bag from my hands. She fishes into the bag and pulls out a bagel. “Are you joking with me? Is this your way of trolling me? I don’t need the reminder of my kitchen failures.”
I laugh, as I didn’t think about it. “No way. I just know you like bagels. There’s a variety and a container of cream cheese, too.”
She squinches her eyes to appraise me to check my sincerity then grins ear to ear before sliding onto a stool at the counter.
“I guess breakfast is more important than a good-morning kiss?”
“Kind of,” she jokes.
When I hand her the coffee, I give her a quick peck then circle the counter to grab plates.
“What’s on the agenda for today? Boardgames? Knitting? Giving G-rated kisses.”
