Chapter Eighteen

Gavin

It's been about two weeks.

Two whole weeks in which I've only been able to steal texts, late-night phone calls, and one surprise drop-off to her house when she was resting. After our date to St. Paul with the rock climbing and dinner, we planned to sneak away Wednesday night, but that was foiled when she got sick. She spent three days at home, completely under the weather, which was why I made the surprise drop-off on Thursday night. I wanted to go in. I wanted to take care of her and hold her in my arms, but I refrained. Instead, I left her blue Gatorade, ibuprofen, chicken noodle soup, and Kleenex.

By the time she was feeling better, it was Saturday and the kickoff to my week with Annabelle. Unfortunately, by mid-afternoon on Saturday, my daughter started feeling bad. This started the cycle of sickness that then passed from her to me. I tried to stick it out at work but ended up taking two days off myself. Ava ended up reciprocating, dropping off a homemade potato soup, along with electrolytes and cold medicine while Annabelle was sleeping. I wanted to go outside, to see her and hold her in my arms, but I didn't want to risk reinfecting her with this aggressive sickness that seemed to make its way through the streets and buildings of Pine Village at a rapid pace.

Fortunately, it's now Saturday again, almost two weeks after our date, and my daughter is with her mother. I have big plans for tonight. Ava will be coming over shortly for dinner, and we're planning to watch a new documentary just released on a streaming site. It's the first time she'll be here, in my house, and I honestly can't wait. I've made arrangements for her to pull her car into my garage bay, so nosy neighbors won't be staring at her car, trying to figure out who's at my house.

As the clock approaches five, I turn my attention to watching the driveway. I told her I'd open the door, so the moment I spot her slowly pulling in, I press the button on the automatic door opener by my back door. Then, I head out to greet her, anxious to steal my first kiss in almost two weeks.

"Hi," I say the moment her door opens.

She gives me a smile that makes my heart beat a little faster and my cock start to thicken in my jeans. She takes my offered hand and starts to climb from her little SUV. "Hello."

There it is.

That faint blush I can't get enough of. I knew I missed her, but seeing her now, pulling her into my arms, makes me realize to what extent. The moment my lips connect with hers, I feel…lighter. Freer. Happier than I have any right to be.

"I've been needing that for almost two weeks," I confess, wanting to deepen the kiss, but knowing this isn't the right spot. "Let's go inside," I add, shutting her car door and reaching for her hand.

"Hold on," she replies, opening the back door and pulling a container from the seat. "I made cookies."

"Chocolate chip?"

"Is there any other kind?" she teases with a grin. In one of our many text conversations, we discussed sweet treats, and both concur there's nothing better than fresh, chewy chocolate chip cookies. Except maybe warm ones with a scoop of vanilla ice cream on top.

"Come on," I say, pressing the button to lower the garage door.

"How about a quick tour while dinner finishes?" I offer the moment coats are hung up and boots are off.

"Absolutely," she agrees, setting the container of cookies on the counter by the Crock-Pot and following me through the house.

"You did these cabinets, didn't you?" she asks before we even leave the first room.

"I did."

"They're stunning," she replies, touching the smooth oak wood.

"I love using white oak, but wanted to avoid the traditional honey coloring, so I used a darker Jacobean stain with a lighter backsplash to add contrast."

"Beautiful," she insists. "You do amazing work."

"Thank you." I clear my throat and take her hand once more. "Come on. We've got more to cover."

She points out her favorite features in each room we visit, and it's not lost on me they're all things I've built. Bookcases, Annabelle's bed, tables, and more. All projects I've worked on in my free time, mostly when Annabelle was with her mom. Creating stuff was the perfect way to keep my mind busy while I was alone, and even though I don't consider myself a furniture builder by any stretch of the imagination, I'm proud of the pieces I've created.

Construction is my passion.

Furniture is a fun hobby.

When we reach the final room on the tour, I stand back and allow her to enter my bedroom first. She walks in slowly, taking it all in for the first time. The massive California king-sized bed takes up most of the space, and I can't help but picture her lying in it. With me. Naked.

Ava walks to the dresser, where I have a photograph of Annabelle and me from when she was little. She holds the picture, smiling at the love I always feel from the image. It's my favorite one, taken when my daughter was about eighteen months. She's got a big, drooly, toothy grin on her face, and my head is thrown back in laughter. I don't even remember what she did or said, but I'll never forget the way I felt in that moment.

When she returns the frame to the dresser, she takes in the wall of art, as I like to call it. Things Annabelle's made for me over the years are taped to the wall opposite my bed. Obviously, I can't save every drawing or piece of art she creates, but I do keep my favorites. At first, I'd put them on the fridge, but that space was quickly filled, so when Annabelle was in second grade, she suggested I hang them on my bare wall so I could see them every day. In the last three years, that tradition has continued, and my wall is now home to a few dozen of her best art pieces.

"I love this," Ava murmurs, taking her time and scanning each picture.

"I wanted to keep some of her work, so she suggested we hang them here. We add to it a few times throughout the year."

She turns and gazes at me, her eyes full of awe and excitement. "You're such a great dad."

I shrug casually, even though the compliment is the greatest I could receive. "Thank you. I try hard."

"It shows," she replies.

"There's a walk-in closet and a bathroom through there," I tell her, pointing to the two other doors in the room.

"You have a great home," she states, turning her attention back to me.

"Thanks. It's quiet and a bit lonely when she's with her mom, but when she's here, it's filled with laughter and happiness." I keep my feet rooted to the floor instead of going to her and taking her in my arms the way I want.

She takes a few steps toward me. "I couldn't help but notice how big your bed is." A faint pink coloring stains her cheeks.

"I like to spread out," I tell her, now vividly picturing her curled up in my blankets.

"Me too," she confesses, turning her attention to the bed. "Though, I've never really had much opportunity to try the whole cuddle thing, so I don't know if I prefer that."

"No? Maybe we should try it sometime. I've always preferred my space, but maybe if I had the right cuddle partner, I wouldn't mind snuggling close."

She's fighting a grin. "Makes sense. We could give it a test sometime, you know, to see what all the fuss is about. Come to think of it, I don't have anything going on later tonight."

My cock is now fully erect and ready to go. "No?" I'm able to keep my excitement and anticipation out of that one word.

"Nope," she says, stepping into my personal space and placing her hands on my chest. "I might have brought an overnight bag."

My dick kicks at my zipper, desperately trying to get out. "Really? I don't recall seeing it," I reply, wrapping my arms around her waist and pulling her against me.

She lifts her shoulders gently. "I wasn't sure you were on board for a potential snuggle buddy tonight, so I left it in my trunk."

Placing my hands on her arms, I hold her gaze as I say, "I'm always on board, but not until you're ready."

Going up on her tiptoes, she brushes her mouth against mine. "I'm ready."

My heart is trying to burst from my chest, and my cock is all but pulling a Kool-Aid Man from its denim confines, but as excited as I am, I'm doing this right. "All right, let's table this discussion for a bit later. First up, dinner. Then, that true crime documentary. What happens after, happens. We'll talk about it when the time comes."

Something flashes through her eyes, but before I can dissect the look, it's gone. "So what did you make for dinner?" she asks, taking a step back and putting space between us. I hate it but know it's necessary. Otherwise, I'm liable to throw my timetable right out the window and take her to bed right now.

"I cheated and pulled something from the freezer," I confess, taking her hand and leading her back to the kitchen.

"Well, it smells amazing, whatever it is."

"Lasagna and garlic bread. My mom insists on making freezer meals all winter long, and I benefit from her obsession. I was going to make something myself, but this seemed simpler and allows me to spend more time with you without worrying about cooking. Plus, let's be honest, my mom's meals—even her freezer ones—are much better than anything I could fix," I say. "Have a seat at the table, while I finish up. Are you thirsty? I have white wine, water, juice, and Sprite."

"I'll have a Sprite for now. Maybe some wine later," she replies.

While I grab the French bread I prepped before she arrived and place it in the preheated oven, I take out two cans of Sprite and put them on the table, where two place settings are ready.

"Oh, how was the movie last night with Annabelle? She was so excited to go see it," Ava asks, opening her drink and taking a sip.

"She loved it. I never would have thought she'd be so into the Ghostbusters series. She loves the new ones, and when she heard the original was turning forty and coming back to theaters for the anniversary, she insisted on going to see it."

"I love it. Ghostbusters was one of my favorites when I was young. My dad and I used to watch it a lot. That and The Karate Kid ."

"Classics," I reply, pulling the baked bread and lasagna out of the oven. Carefully, I take them both to the table and cut servings. "I was a huge fan of Days of Thunder and Top Gun when I was little." I scoop a piece of lasagna for Ava and take two for myself. The bread I cut into thin strips, which is Annabelle's preferred way of eating it. It takes longer to cut but it's so much easier to eat.

"Oh, my dad definitely watched those. This looks and smells so good," she replies, placing a napkin on her lap.

Joining her at the table, I prepare to dig in. "Let's eat."

I'm not paying an ounce of attention to the show. Don't get me wrong, I'm staring at the TV, but instead of watching the drama unfold on the screen, I'm thinking about the woman currently sitting beside me, snuggled into my side, and resting comfortably beneath my arm. We fit together so easily, naturally, contentedly.

I could get used to this feeling every night at the end of a long day.

About an hour into the program, Ava shifts against me. "Gavin?"

"Yeah?"

"Are you watching this?"

I open my mouth to lie, to tell her I am, but that's not what comes out. "Well…"

Our eyes meet, and I can not only see the fire blazing in those brown orbs, but I can feel their heat. She's moving, crawling on my lap and straddling my thighs, just as she did in my truck a couple weeks back. Only this time, we have plenty of freedom to move. "I wasn't really watching it either," she confesses.

"Why not? I thought you really wanted to see it," I reply, my hands flexing against her hips as I hold her in place. I'm certain she can feel my quickly growing erection pressed between her thighs.

"I was, but then…"

"Then…" I repeat, wanting to hear her say the words. The last thing I want is to make wrong assumptions, so if she wants this thing between us to move to the next step, she's going to have to ask.

She exhales slowly and whispers, "And then I was snuggled against you, and I couldn't stop thinking about that bed."

The corner of my mouth ticks. "My bed, huh? What about it?" I ask.

Ava rocks her hips, grinding on my cock, that invisible thread tethering us together tightening. "It looked so big and inviting when we were in there earlier. Perfect for cuddling."

Her short nails dig into my chest through my long-sleeved T-shirt. "Definitely worth exploring," I bite out through gritted teeth as she wiggles on my lap.

Leaning forward, she brushes her lips across my own. "I'm ready, Gavin. I don't want to wait any longer."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive," she murmurs before pressing her mouth firmly against mine and opening.

My tongue slips inside, tasting, as it glides with hers, and my hands cup her ass, holding on tight as she rocks against me. She whimpers as our movements create sweet friction between us, driving us both absolutely wild. And while I'd love nothing more than to hear her come, feel her let go above me, I have more planned for the rest of our night.

Pulling back, I ask again, "You're sure? We can do other things without sex."

Her fingers slip into my hair as she presses her chest firmly against mine. "I want to be with you, Gavin. I've thought about nothing but feeling you inside of me all day. Well, all week really."

I can't help but smile at her confession. "I like this bolder version of you, Miss Rutledge."

She gives me a sassy little grin herself. "I'm becoming rather fond of her myself, Mr. Pierson."

And with that, I'm moving. I stand up, holding her against my chest. Ava wraps her legs around my waist as I head toward my bedroom. The moment I cross the threshold, I walk to my bed and gently lay her on top of my comforter. She looks like a fucking goddess, her red hair splayed out across my pillow and her breasts rising and falling as she breathes deeply. Her eyes are filled with desire, with hope, excitement, and maybe a hint of nervousness.

I know I have to make her feel at ease, to feel good, give her pleasure, and there's nothing I want more than to do all of the above. To be the man who makes her forget her own name and leaves her completely spent and boneless. To make her come so hard, she'll never remember what it was like to be with anyone but me.

I'm the man for the job.

"May I take these off?" I ask, waiting for her to nod yes before I remove her clothes. I start with her jeans and sweater, leaving her lying on my bed in her light blue bra and panty set. They're silky and soft, with a thin layer of lace over the top, and I've never seen anything sexier in my life.

I get on my knees and lean over her. She watches me with wide eyes as I lower my head and kiss directly between her breasts. She shudders a breath as I kiss my way up her neck. Her scent wraps around me, a mixture of her desire and a subtle floral lotion. I keep my mouth moving, kissing back down her chest. When I return to her breasts, I meet her gaze and wait in silent question. She nods without hesitation, giving me permission to continue my exploration.

Gently, I pull the material to the side, exposing dark, hard nipples. They're small and perfect and make my mouth water. I swipe my tongue over the first peak, watching her shiver. Then, I draw her nipple into my mouth and suck. She arches off my bed, moaning, as her hands dive into my hair, anchoring her to me.

I lap at the first nipple before giving the second a little attention too. "Please, Gavin," she mutters with a gasp. "Please."

"Do you want some relief, beautiful?"

"Yes, please," she begs, drawing out the last word as if it had four syllables.

I move between her spread legs and lie on my stomach. She's wet, the panties soaked with her arousal, and all I want to do now is taste it. Taste her. I feel like I've waited a lifetime for this moment, for the chance to be with this woman.

Now, we're here.

Her and me.

Together.

And I know I'm never going to be the same.