“Outside. I’ve been quite the hermit lately. I could use some sun.”
“You know the remedy to that problem?”
She wrinkles her cute nose in annoyance. “Funny. I’ll start venturing out of my apartment when the time is right.”
“I hope it’s before our kids turn sixteen.”
She shoves my side and pulls away when we reach the picnic table underneath two weeping willows. My grandfather built the table decades ago for when my grandmother would bring him lunch.
I rub my hands together when we sit down. “So, what have we got?”
Her eyes widen in reluctance. “They say it’s the gesture, not the gift, right?”
Did she bring cheese and crackers? A Snickers bar and Sunny Delight?
“I’ll enjoy whatever you brought.”
She draws in a breath when I open the cooler and start dragging out its contents. There are plastic bags with sandwiches in them.
“I love me some peanut butter and jelly,” I say upon further inspection. The next item is a bag of tortilla chips large enough to feed Maven’s entire preschool and then a covered bowl. I open it and can’t stop the cheesy smile from hitting my lips. “And guacamole.”
“I’m giving you a run for your money on the best guac in Blue Beech.”
“Let’s taste-test it, shall we?” I open the bag of chips and dip one into the guacamole.
It’s good, definitely not as good as mine, but I can tell she worked hard on it. She analyzes me chewing it likes she’s a contestant on Top Chef.
“You killed it. I’ll bring over my trophy for you later this evening.”
She raises a brow. “You’re just saying that because we’re having sex.”
“There are better things I could say to you to get laid than”—I stop to fake a smoldering gaze I saw on The Bachelor once—“Hey, girl, you make excellent guacamole. Let’s fuck in a bed of guacamole, have it served at our wedding, and name our children Guac and Mole.”
She throws a chip at me while trying to contain her laughter and then slides the sandwich in front of me. “Now, eat your PB and J and shut up. I slaved all day, making this.”
I scarf down the two sandwiches she made me and make sure I moan with every bite of her guacamole.
She looks from side to side. “So … is there anyone else here?”
“No. Just me today. I’m sure you know, Hudson is feeding Stella strawberries in bed.”
She laughs. “I booked the room for them. Stella’s been coddling me since our secret came out. I couldn’t handle it any longer.”
“What secret?”
She leans forward. “You know.”
“Which one? I believe we have a few.”
She narrows her eyes my way. “You know exactly which one I’m referring to.”
“The one where we’re having twins?” I give her a shit-eating grin. “Or the one where I’ve been eating your pussy?”
She blushes. “You’ve been doing that? I think I’m in need of a reminder.”
I smirk. “Oh, I see what’s going on here. You thought you could come here and butter me up with PB and Js to get laid?”
She shrugs. “Just a little.”
I point to my chest. “You do know I’m sweaty as fuck?”
“Let me make you even sweatier,” she whispers with a wink.
I surge to my feet. “You don’t have to ask me twice.”
Willow slips off her seat and speed-walks to the garage. Her mouth crushes to mine as soon as I lock the shop door behind us. Adrenaline speeds through my blood as she demands more of me, pressing her tongue into my mouth. I’ll never be disappointed to come to work again. This memory will hit me every time I walk in.
I grunt when I’m pushed back against the wall, and she kisses me harder, owning me, as our tongues slide together. She consumes me. The need of wanting her takes over every thought in my mind. I seethe at the loss of our connection when she runs her lips over the line of my jaw.
She’s running the show.
She needs this.
And I’m a willing participant—anytime, any-fucking-where, any way.
My hands trail down her body to cup her perfect ass and lift her off the floor. I spin us around, so I have her against the wall now. She wastes no time in grinding against my cock. I do the same against her pussy.
“God,” she whispers. “Please fuck me. I need it.”
“Where do you want it?” I grit out.
She jerks her chin toward the parked car on the other side of the garage. “There.”
We don’t usually work on cars here, but I’m doing it as a favor for a buddy.
He’s the one doing the fucking favor now.
“You want me to fuck you on that car, baby?”
Her breathing is labored, and she has to speak between breaths. “Yes”—inhale—“right”—exhale—“there.”
“You want it hard or soft?”
“Hard. Really hard,” she says against my mouth.
Heat radiates through my chest when her teeth graze my tongue, and she bites it.
Oh, yeah. She wants it hard. Rough. Dirty.
We fumble around until we’re both naked, and I race across the garage and lower her bare ass on the ’67 Chevelle.
I brush her hair back from her face and don’t make another move until her eyes meet mine. “Willow, you’re beautiful.”
A bright grin spreads across her mouth when she hears her name, and I tense when her soft hand wraps around my aching cock. My heart hammers against my chest when she guides me into her. My head throws back as a roar rips through me.
The first move is made by her tilting her waist up, slowly taking in the length of me, and I’m close to losing it when my gaze drifts down to our connection.
Her pussy juices cover my cock. Her legs are open wide as she takes me in again and rolls her hips in the process. Nothing describes the feeling of watching the girl of your dreams lying on the hood of a car and taking your cock like she owns it.
“Fuck, you feel good,” I grind out.
No more taking it slow. I grab her ankles, pull her down the car until she’s on the edge, and slam inside her. She clings to my shoulders and rests her weight on me.
“I’m there,” she says, her body going weak. “Oh God, I’m there.”
I keep my focus on her to watch her face. Her mouth opens, a loud moan escaping her, and she clenches around my dick.
The view of her getting off sets me off.
My body shakes when I bury my face between her breasts and release inside her.
We stare at each other, breathing heavily, and she cracks up laughing.
“Not the best reaction after someone gets you off,” I say, unable to hold back my smile.
“I so buttered you up with my guacamole.”
I join her laughter.
Willow Andrews isn’t just working her way inside me. I’m also falling in love with her.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Willow
Two paint samples are in my hand as I hold them against a wall in the nursery.
Red or yellow?
I want to go with a neutral theme since we don’t know the sex of our babies yet. I drop them onto the floor when my phone rings.