Page 74 of Hats off to Love

“Let’s see . . . I know your favorite food is toast. Mine is frozen fruit.” He slides his large hands up my rib cage until his thumbs reach the side of my boobs. They brush back and forth in a way that’s so normal it’s like he’s done this every day for years.

“Frozen fruit?”

“Yes.” His grin stretches. “Strawberries, peaches, blueberries—you name it, I love them. So much better for you than candy, and I prefer a bowl of frozen strawberries over ice cream any day.”

“That’s so . . . healthy of you,” I mock.

“Are you teasing me?” he grumbles. “I’ll show you tease.” There’s a mischievous glint in his eyes as he grips me tight and then slides me down his body until I’m dragged over his lap.

“Oh.” My eyes widen as they find his, and every muscle in me clenches.

“Oh is right. You have no idea what you do to me.” And just like that, our very short get-to-know-you session is changing direction.

“What do I do to you?” I roll my hips over his and his hardness, and he groans.

“You drive me crazy,” he all but growls.

“Ha, I already knew that,” I taunt. “My sworn life’s mission.”

“I have a mission, too. Let me show you.”

Stokes sits up, taking me with him. My hair tumbles around my shoulders as he pulls my hips snug over his. The impressive length of him presses against me, and more than anything, I want to incinerate my underwear and his boxer briefs so I can sink down on him. Wrapping his hands around my face, he claims my lips with his in a kiss that beats out all other morning kisses to ever exist.

Time is lost as we make out with no hurry, just the desire to taste and consume each other in a way I once only dreamt of. Our hands are greedy and insatiable as they roam and explore, and I’m so turned on I’m certain he can feel the evidence through his boxers and on his skin. Eventually he twists so he’s placed me on my back. He strips us bare and shows me what our mornings together would truly look like. Underneath the soft sunbeams and him, after he’s fed my body and soul twice, I can’t help but think this is the most perfect way to start a day. I didn’t realize this level of contentment was possible.

He decides we need coffee, and I watch as Stokes slips on a pair of navy athletic shorts then makes his way out of the room. If I could drool on cue, I would. Satisfied eyes, lazy gait, muscles for days—he looks so good. He looks like mine.

While the pot is brewing, he comes back to the bedroom and leans against the doorframe. The sunlight is bathing his skin golden, and, almost timidly, he asks, “Go for a ride with me this morning?”

My brain goes blank, and white noise rushes through my ears. I know it’s stupid, but I’m having a hard time comprehending what he just asked. Ride? Like on a horse?

My brows pull down, and my lip curls as I realize that is exactly what he’s asking me. In fact, I can’t believe he’s asking me this, and my heart starts to race.

“Um, I don’t think so,” I tell him as I let out an unbelieving laugh. There’s an edge to my tone, and he hears it.

His eyes narrow, and if I didn’t know any better, with the way he just stiffened, I’d say it’s like he’s thrown up invisible armor, cloaking himself behind it. It’s something that hasn’t been present for weeks, maybe even months. What is happening right now?

“What do you mean?” he asks quietly, returning my tone, and that sends up red flags.

“I don’t want to go for a ride,” I tell him as I break out in a sweat.

Standing up straight, he drops his gaze to the ground, and his hands clench in fists before they find his waist.

“Why not?” he asks without looking at me. The color on his skin deepens, the tops of his cheeks, his chest, the top of his arms—I’m not sure what is happening right now.

“You can go, but I don’t want to go with you,” I tell him, giving him an out. I know he likes to ride, he always has, but you won’t catch me anywhere near a horse.

He lets out a chuckle and shakes his head, looking disappointed and angry at the same time.

“Why are you mad? What difference does it make?” I sit up and wrap the sheet around me.

He takes a deep breath as he thinks about how to answer me. I don’t understand. “I asked you once before to ride with me, and you said no then too.”

“When?” My brows pull down in confusion.

His eyes rise from the ground to find mine. What am I seeing right now? They’re stormy, completely walled off, and accusatory.

“Right after we met. You’d lived here for maybe two weeks, three at the most, I don’t remember. Things were hard for me then after my dad passed, but I wanted to be friends with you like you were with Molly. Riding horses is my escape and one of my favorite things, as you know. I wanted to share that with you. I spent all morning getting the horses ready. I washed them, brushed them, saddled them, and packed a picnic. I was so excited to take you out, but when I asked you, you stood on your porch and laughed just like you did now and shot me down—hard. I was completely embarrassed. I guess you could say I didn’t take it very well.”