18. Woody

18

WOODY

The morning light crept through the windows, waking me gently. My first thought was that I’d never slept so soundly, and my second was the dawning realization that I was being held.

Emery .

His large palm was resting against my chest and our bodies flowed with each other as though they’d been carved out of the same rock.

I took a deep breath and basked in the warm safety of his arms. I couldn’t figure out what was happening. Even when he pissed me off, I felt protective of him, and especially of Stevie. I should’ve been annoyed by his heavy handedness during sex, but it’d been impossible to maintain my iron will when his blistering kisses and demanding hands felt like heaven.

I’d promised myself I’d never let myself be this vulnerable again, but Emery McAvoy was some kind of wizard, and I was defenseless against his magic. Everything about him made my nervous system stand down. I hated admitting how much I needed this.

I felt at a disadvantage since I got the sense that Emery had never pined for a relationship, at least not the way I had. I’d confused sex for love so many times I’d grown to despise the empathetic look of a man who was trying to let me down easy.

When Shane had come along, I’d thought my luck had turned around. After all, who had the love of their life move in next door?

The reality was I’d never felt comfortable with Shane, knowing somehow that I could never rest on my laurels around him. In retrospect, I’d grasped after him, giving him all I had while he’d only ever doled out enough to keep me around.

I’d flung myself off that cliff without realizing that it hadn’t been a cliff at all. It’d been a pit, and there’d been spikes at the bottom. To me, he’d been the love of my life. But to him, I’d simply been convenient.

Lessons had been learned and new, steel-reinforced walls had been installed. Then Emery moved in. I wondered what would’ve happened had he been my neighbor this entire time.

With the steady rise and fall of Emery’s solid chest against my back, I wondered if we’d already be a family, or at least well on our way to one. Or maybe this was just another pit of spikes.

I sighed, hating how Shane had fucked up my ability to trust anything good in my life. I was terrified, even as I’d just had the best sleep of my life. I wanted to let this sensation settle into my marrow, but the only sound in my head was a fire alarm, reminding me that feelings were far too dangerous.

Pushing the busy thoughts out of my head, I slipped out from under the covers and went to the bathroom. Staring at my messy hair in the mirror, I placed my hand on my chest. “I’m sorry I didn’t protect you before,” I said to my heart. “I’m trying to protect you now.”

After finishing my morning ablutions, I dried my face and made my way out into the main room, stopping about a foot from the bed.

It was embarrassing how soft Emery made me. With his brawny body spread out on my bed, he looked like one of those Renaissance paintings: soft muscles and square jaw lit by the morning sun. My mouth watered at the sight of his sleepy cock peeking out from the mess of sheets around his waist, even as my throat remembered the pounding it’d taken yesterday.

After rushing through the morning feed, I crawled in next to him, needing satisfaction, but not sure where to begin or how to ask for it. His chest, as always, called to me. I lapped at one of his nipples, sucking on it as I thumbed the other, pressing our bodies close.

He moaned, his hand landing on the back of my head, keeping me in place. I sucked harder, running my teeth over the sensitive skin. His responding “Yes, baby” encouraged me to bite down, just a little. His cock jumped between us, and I made a mental note to include nipple play in all further encounters.

“I’m ready to go, if you wanna.”

“I wanna,” Emery murmured, his movements uncoordinated as he flipped me face down onto the bed.

Before I could process what was happening, he raised my hips, spread my cheeks, and ran a stripe across my hole. He ate me out like it was his job, fucking me on his tongue, then on his thick fingers, following my directions to the lube.

I was a half-aware mess, pushing back against him, begging for more, panting for it. I barely processed him ripping open a condom, rolling it down his length, and I only came back to the present when he pressed inside me.

I had taken him a few times now, but Emery’s cock wasn’t something you got used to.

“That’s right, sweetheart. Relax for me.”

I tried to do as he asked, though it was nearly impossible to relax when all I wanted him to do was fuck me into this mattress. As if he’d heard my thoughts, he bottomed out, sloppy as he scooped his hips, rooting around inside me.

This wasn’t bossy Emery. This was cozy, horny Emery, and I couldn’t tell which version I liked better. I only knew that my previous assertions were bull hockey. I didn’t hate the thought of belonging to him. I wasn’t even afraid. How could I be when he was whispering sweet filth into my ears as he slow-fucked me into a morning coma?

“Fuck, baby. Your hole is so warm and soft this morning.”

“I wanna fill you up so badly, darlin’. When are you gonna let me breed you good and proper?”

“You smell like sex and comfort.”

Out here in the middle of nowhere, we were free to be as loud as we wanted, and yet all we could manage were soft grunts, whispered curses, and the gentle scrape of the bed frame against the old wood floor.

The pressure from the combined weights of our bodies ground my needy cock into the bed, and moments later my orgasm rocketed through me, coating my front with my release.

“ Yes . Fuck yes,” he whined, thrusting hard and holding in place, shaking through his climax.

He grunted through a few more shivery thrusts, then pulled out and fell to his side, shifting me away from the wet spot till I faced him before wrapping his arms around me and dragging my face into his incredible pecs.

As I inhaled his warm scent, he rained kisses down on my forehead and in my hair.

“Mmph. Shower,” he muttered, still sounding like a caveman.

He took his sweet time standing, then pulled me up off the bed and marched me into the bathroom, where we cleaned up, and he was very, very thorough. I returned the favor, then forced him to stand against the tile wall as I knelt behind him and tongue-fucked him into a shaky half-gasm.

After, I made us some coffee, which we drank on the bench outside. Well, he sat on the bench and pulled me onto his lap as we watched Mother Nature waking around us. Even with the insecurities going off in my head, I couldn’t drag myself away from him. I needed his arms around me, and I didn’t have the strength in me to resist when he offered.

“Mmm, I’m dozing off again,” he said, setting down his coffee.

Taking my mug from my hands, he set it next to his, then stood up. I squawked, nearly tumbling out of his lap. He tightened his grip on me until I wrapped my legs around his thick waist, then moved us back inside to my bed.

“What are we . . . ?”

“Shhh. It’s Sunday morning. We’re sleeping in.”

He pulled me under the covers, a now familiar move, and wrapped himself around me before promptly falling asleep. I’d normally be agitated, but there wasn’t another place on the planet I’d want to be.

So, I let myself fall back to sleep, warm and cocooned in the safety of his arms.

I blinked my eyes open, and Emery was there, smiling back at me.

“Hey,” I said, checking my phone.

Damn. Noon. I started to get up, but he shook his head and put me back where I wanted to be.

“How’re you feeling?”

“Like I just slept away half the day, even though there are poems that need to be written and animals that need to be looked after.”

“I’m happy to help you with the animals, but you’re on your own with the poetry.”

I shifted, slightly uncomfortable. “Thank you for the offer, but I need to...I’m not trying to be rude, but...”

“You need solitude for your art?” Emery asked with reverence, like it was something he respected.

“I do. Like I said, not trying to be rude?—”

He touched his nose to mine. “That’s not rude at all. You gotta respect the process,” he said, pushing me down on the bed, fitting himself between my legs.

“What are you?—”

My words fell silent as he took my cock into his mouth.

I arched up, loving the soft heat. As hard as my previous orgasm had been, he got me there so quick that I was drained and watching him, godlike as he jacked off over me, striping my chest with his cum. I ran my fingers through it, tasting him on my tongue as I held his gaze.

“You’re a dirty country boy,” he said.

“Is that a complaint?”

“Absolutely not.” He stood and began getting dressed, then turned to me. “You’re gonna be working on your poetry this entire week?”

I nodded. “I need to buckle down. No distractions.”

He pulled his T-shirt over his head before placing his fingertips on his chest. “Moi? A distraction? Say it ain’t so.”

I raised my brow and he offered me one of his easy grins. “Message received. When did you say you were gonna talk to your agent?”

“Thursday afternoon,” I answered, thrilled that he remembered that detail.

“Then you should join us for pasta that night. It’s our Thursday night tradition and Mom usually joins. Rowdy, too.”

I stiffened, not sure of his intentions.

He rolled his eyes. “Don’t make it weird—you’ve already met my mom, so this isn’t some meet-the-parents scenario. I swear, I’m just being neighborly.”

“Neighborly, huh?”

He sent me a wink as he tucked in his T-shirt. “For now.”

Emery: How did the meeting with your agent go?

Me: I think I surprised her.

Emery: Pleasantly? Or have you switched to Scandinavian death poetry?

I snorted.

Me: NO. I’ve just been *extra* inspired this week.

Emery: blush emoji

Me: Don’t go getting a big head about it.

Emery: I would never.

Emery: Are you up to join us for some homemade pasta?

Me: I haven’t seen another human in several days and am practically feral.

Me: You sure I should share a dinner table with your mom?

Emery: All I hafta do is tell Dawn McAvoy that you’ve been subsisting off of Pop Tarts and potato chips for the last four days, and she would drag you down by your ear.

Me: Wow, threatening me with your mom.

Emery: Just come to dinner.

Emery: gimlet eyes emoji

Me: Yes, Daddy.

Emery: Please don’t ever call me that.

Me: #sorrynotsorry

Emery: You’re the worst.

Me: Whatever. You like it.

Emery: I do. I really, really do.

There was an awkward pause in the conversation, like maybe neither of us knew what to say to that. His words felt honest, though, and that was particularly terrifying.

Emery: Why don’t you come down in about an hour?

Grateful for the new direction, I latched on to it.

Me: Will do.

An hour later, I was tying Shadow to Emery’s front porch, wearing my nice Wranglers, my goin’ out boots, and my Designing Women T-shirt. I’d left my hat at home, which was a mistake. Not only was my hair a mess from the short ride, but with Emery’s mom—who I’d only met in passing—in the equation, I could’ve used the armor.

Before I could make my way up the steps, the front door opened, revealing a short, plump woman with mostly gray hair and a familiar mischievous look in her eyes as she gestured me inside.

I sucked in a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves.

“So,” Mrs. McAvoy said, breaking the silence. “You’re the reason my son’s been humming to himself all day.”

Oh, shit.