Page 28 of Wine & Dine

12

Gratitude is the attitude

[Garrett]

I can’t get her to eat before she grows drowsy from the warming whiskey. However, I’m starving, plus I need to take Wally out, so I excuse myself to make a quick sandwich and eat it while I walk my dog. When I return to the bedroom, she’s sitting on the edge of the bed, her hands gripping the mattress.

“What are you doing?”

“I should go,” she says, her voice groggy and rough. “It’s getting late.” She presses off the bed and stands on wobbly legs. Her hands smooth down the thick terrycloth. Her clothes are ruined, so she’ll have to cross the hall in the robe.

I’m not a cuddler. I don’t hold women after sex. If I spend the night, we separate, each to our own side of the bed. So it’s a shock when I don’t hesitate to step forward and wrap an arm around Dolores’s middle. I speak into her hair at the nape of her neck.

“Don’t leave.” She stills under my embrace. “Just let me hold you tonight.”

Her breath hitches, and her stomach flinches under my forearm. I don’t want to remind her again, no funny business. I promise myself I won’t touch her below the waist. Though it was nearly impossible not to get a glimpse of her sweet tits in the shower. I’m a man, what can I say? I peeked, but I didn’t react. Okay, I did react, but I didn’t touch. I swallowed back my desire and willed my dick to settle. Keeping my boxers on helped contain my erection from nudging against her naked ass. Her fine naked ass. Her fine heart-shaped ass.

“Okay,” she whispers.

Thank fuck. I give a little internal cheer of victory. I’m convinced her Rusty might be like me. Well, at least in the cuddle category. But tonight, I’m making an exception to many rules. She’s going to stay in my bed, and I’m going to hold her to me all night.

I pull back the duvet, and she climbs under the sheet. She’s still wrapped in the robe, which won’t be comfortable to sleep in, but I don’t want her changing out of it. Heaven help me, she can’t sleep naked. I crawl over her and scoot under the sheets as well. Molding my body along the curve of hers, my knees bend, my arm drapes over her waist, and my face nestles into her hair. She smells like me, from my shampoo and soap, and I find I like the scent on her. I’d like other scents on her—like our bodies mingling and sweat mixing—but not tonight. Tonight, I tug her to my chest and squeeze my arm around her as if I can’t get her close enough. Which I can’t.

She’s fitful in her sleep, muttering and grunting, and I want to settle her dreams. Eventually, she presses my arm off her.

“What’s wrong?” I ask as she sits up.

“I’m too warm, and the robe is hard to sleep in.” She rolls her neck near the thick folded material.

“Top drawer. I have T-shirts and boxer shorts if you’d like.”

The room is dark, but I see her nod. She presses off the mattress and stands. I watch her cross my room and then open the dresser drawer. She removes one item and bends at the waist, stepping into my boxer briefs. Suddenly, the robe slips from her shoulders, exposing her back to me like it was in the shower. She’s pear-shaped—bigger hips that taper inward at her waist—and I want a bite. Her spine cuts a river up her back, and I want to lick the path. She slips a T-shirt over her head, then pulls her hair free. I could watch her dress for the rest of my life, and the thought startles me.

She spins in my direction, then bends down to pick up the robe and returns to the bed. She folds herself back into the space she left, reaching for my arm to cover her waist. I smile to myself as I breathe her in again.

“I think you’re starting to unrust,” she murmurs.

“What?” I chuckle.

“That heart you say you don’t have? I think I hear it ticking, Tin Man.”

I press a kiss to her covered shoulder and snicker. “Don’t get your panties in a twist, Dorothy. It’s only temporary.”

“Good to know,” she says, but then she pauses. “But thank you all the same.”

“Anytime, stunner.” I smile into her back.

“Why do you call me that?” she asks in a sleepy voice.

“Because you’re stunning.”

She chuckles softly. “I’m a hot mess.”

“Hot being the appropriate word,” I mutter. She twists to look at me over her shoulder, causing her backside to press against me. The slight brush of her ass against my lower region causes an immediate reaction, and my hand comes to her hip.

“I’m trying really hard to be a gentleman,” I say, leaning forward to press a kiss to her shoulder. “So stop squirming.”

“What if I don’t want you to be decent with me?” Her voice is hardly a whisper, and I stare at the outline of her body in the darkness. She can’t mean what she asks.