34. Chapter Thirty-Four

It's still pouring rain when we leave the diner just after ten thirty. I follow Coop back to his house, and when we get there, we hop over the huge puddles of water in his driveway and then hurry inside, trying not to get too wet.

"Shit, it's fucking freezing in here," he complains as he shuts the door behind us.

It is pretty cold, but not as cold as outside, and there's something warm about being here with him right now anyway. Something warm and just so... right. My heart flutters as I glance toward the kitchen, where the roses I'd bought him sit on the table, arranged neatly in a glass vase. And I turn back toward him, grinning, as I copy him in slipping off my coat and shoes. He also takes off his baseball cap and hangs it on a hook by the door.

"I turned off the heater earlier, like you asked," I say. Then, before I can add anything else, his arms are around me and his lips crush against mine.

"Mmm, yeah . . . Thank you . . . for that," he manages between kisses.

"Guess we'll have to keep each other warm?" I mumble as his hands settle at my waist and he starts to walk us toward the bedroom.

He laughs into the kiss, and I feel all his joy as he stops us, just at the beginning of the hallway. His hands inch under my shirt, and he deepens the kiss, his tongue darting into my mouth. Then he grins and pulls away. "Fuck, you taste like peaches again. That cobbler, is it good?"

I wish I could answer to tell him yes, but his hands are too distracting, running along my stomach and then around to my back. He presses both hands into me, bringing our hips together, and there's a jolt of heat straight to my groin as he captures my lips again. God, it's good. I think I'm moaning, and my hands slip down to grip his ass, pulling him even closer. He's hard. I'm hard. Shit, I want him. Now.

Some delicious thrill runs through me as his hand dips down between us. "Slow down now," he rasps, even as he strokes me through my jeans. "We're in no hurry. We've got... forever."

"Ahh, god, yeah, but—"

"Mmm, fuck, you're hot."

His lips trail down my neck as he gently turns us and pushes me up against the wall. The pressure of his hips rocking against mine, his hand still stroking me, his tongue hot and wet on my neck—it's all maddeningly arousing, and I moan and let my hands thread up into his hair. He grunts a laugh or something but then starts sucking at that spot at the base of my neck. And god, it's good. So, so good.

After a second, he groans and lifts his head a bit, still pressing his hips against mine. But he moves his hand away and reaches out to adjust the thermostat, which is just to my right along the wall. Something clicks on, and there's a clunk and a low hum. He grimaces.

"It's finicky, but it usually kicks on, um, eventually," he says, and I just nod and go to kiss him again. But he resists, shifting both of his hands to my hips. "I need a shower before, um, bed. It's been a really long day, and... uh, yeah."

I groan, but only because he lets his fingers tease at the waistband of my jeans. My dick's still hard and throbbing, and I needed that pressure.

"Um, yeah, of—of course."

I take several breaths, but my heart is still racing wildly in my chest, and when I finally open my eyes a moment later, he's watching me, his expression dark and needy.

"Fuck, I just want you right now. But..."

I grin and bring my hands up to rest on either side of his neck. "I need a shower too. It's too bad"—I let one hand drift down his chest and then lower until I'm cupping him through his jeans—"your shower is so small."

He leans into me and groans, and his head falls to my shoulder. "I'll—I'll be quick. I mean—ahhh, fuck."

His tone makes me pause, and I pull my hand away and let my arms wrap around his waist. He's shaking slightly, and his breaths are ragged and unsteady. He quietly returns the embrace, his head still resting on my shoulder, and he breathes out a long sigh.

I hold him a little tighter and brush my lips against his temple. "You know, um..." There's something I should say, but that part of me that wants to take him straight to bed right now has been resisting because it means a longer conversation. It's a conversation we need to have, though. "How about you shower, and I'll get my luggage out of my car, then heat us up some leftovers for dinner? You didn't eat yet, did you?"

"Ah, no, I guess I didn't." He straightens, looking as torn up about it as I feel.

I lean in and give him a light kiss, which he immediately deepens, pressing me back against the wall again. And when I feel his rock-hard shaft hot against my thigh, I groan and move one hand to his hip to try to put some distance between us. I pull my lips away from his, groaning again, and his mouth shifts to my neck, trailing hot, wet kisses downward.

"God, Coop, don't make this harder than it already is," I say as I tilt my head back to give him more room. Yeah, I'm totally contradicting my words, but I can't help it. And he's... laughing.

"I thought that was the goal—to make it harder," he whispers, and he's there—his hand rubbing lightly up my thigh until he finds me.

I groan as I rock my hips. "Ahh, you—you know what I meant. You know what I meant. God, that's so good. But, I..." Need to talk. We need to talk. About us and this week and next week and the future and... Shit, his fingers are unbuttoning and unzipping my jeans, and he's— "Ahh, god, yessssss..."

My train of thought crashes as he takes my dick in his hand and starts stroking me. Pleasure and heat shoot through me, and I'm hooking my fingers into the belt loops of his jeans now to pull him closer. But he groans and shakes his head as he tears his lips away from my neck.

"What were you going to say?" His voice is a low whisper, and it's damn sexy, especially as he continues pumping my shaft slowly.

I moan and try to pull him toward me again. "Want you now, but..." Ah, shit.

"But?"

He's teasing me, and I love it. I love him. But we really need to talk.

I lean forward into him and kiss him—hard. Then I pull back and gently remove his hand from my dick, even as I suppress a whimper in protest. He's grinning when I look up at him, and he lets both hands settle on my hips. Then he kisses me again, lightly this time.

"You feel so good, you know. I just want to watch and feel as you come." God, yeah, his voice is sexy. His words are sexy. "Later?"

I nod, because I can't speak, and he laughs quietly and actually steps backward. It's a combination of relief and disappointment as I lose the heat from his closeness, but I manage to zip and button my pants again, and then his hands return to my hips.

"You . . . want to talk?"

"Y-yeah. We should." I look up at him, and his expression is soft. "I don't want another, um, misunderstanding because I've failed to communicate how much—" My words catch in my throat, and I feel all my uncertainty from earlier returning full force. But I shake my head and try one more time. "I screwed up again this morning because apparently I'm terrible at communicating with you just how much all this—you—just how much you mean to me. And I don't want that to happen again. And so, I think—"

"—we should sit down and talk while we're both calm and in control?"

I nod again. "Yeah. Can we do that?"

He pulls me up against him and kisses my forehead. "Yeah, of course."

He's warm, and everything feels so comfortable here, in his arms. I wrap my arms around his waist and hold him too, and I hope he feels all my love, as I'm feeling his.

***

"On my drive back from Omaha, I tried to think through all the possibilities. What if I move here? What if you move there? Would I be able to find work here, or you there? What would you want to do if you weren't working at the diner? If you, um..."

"If I wasn't struggling financially and didn't just need the job?"

I grimace but nod, and when I look up at him, he lowers his eyes to his partly eaten dinner—leftover stir fry from last night. His hair is still damp from his shower, and it falls down over his forehead in those messy curls that are just so distracting. That and the way he smells. Some mix of his shampoo and this deep, masculine scent that's just... him.

It's such a wonderfully intoxicating distraction. But all that's for later. Later, after we've talked.

"Honestly, Coop..." He looks back up at me, and there's a little pain in his expression. I shake my head. "I want to do whatever would make you happiest."

He bites his lip but doesn't say anything.

"And I realize this is, um, sort of everything all at once here, but—"

"I need you," he cuts in. He sets his fork down, rests his elbows on the table, and then lowers his head into his hands. "I-I mean, I...I know it's so fast. We just went on our first date yesterday, and—"

He runs a nervous hand through his hair and doesn't quite look up at me. Yet I can feel his vulnerability, and it almost hurts.

"I love you," he continues. "I always have. And I don't want to spend another day without you or..."

I scoot my chair closer to his, even though we'd already moved them pretty close together when we first sat down a little while ago, and I set my hand on his thigh. "Or...?"

He blows out a shuddering breath and shakes his head. "Or be left here, wondering if... you'll come back to me."

A sharp pain stabs through my chest, and I immediately gather him up in my arms, awkward as it is with us both seated at the table. I kiss his cheek, even as I feel him shaking. My words come out in a rush. "I won't do that again. I'll always come back. Always. I love you. I'm so sorry."

"I-I know, but it's just . . ."

I nod, still holding him tightly to me. God, how I've screwed things up. I won't let it happen again. I've already promised him. And I'll tell him again. As many times as he needs.

The path forward suddenly seems clear to me. I rub his back gently and brush another kiss on his cheek. "You said you're off this upcoming Monday and Tuesday?"

"Um, yeah. Mel's gotta go to Kansas for some family shit, and the diner's going to have to shut down after lunch, which is when my shifts were supposed to be."

I sit up and take his hands in mine. Then I bring one of his hands up and kiss his knuckles. He closes his eyes with a quiet sigh.

"Come with me to Omaha?" I say. And then I start into some long-winded ramble that may or may not really make much sense. "We can leave Sunday after your shift is over. Then you can help me pack up my stuff, and I'll move back here to be with you. I'll—shit, I'll have to give at least two weeks' notice at work, but I'll talk to HR, and I'm sure we'll be able to figure something out so I don't have to go in, or at least not more than just another short trip. Yeah. And then, um, I can find a place to rent or something in town here. Hopefully I'll be able to get a job at the hospital. Or I could even open up my own practice. Whatever it takes to be here with you. And when we're ready, we'll make more long-term decisions and things..."

I pause, and he's watching me now with a hopeful smile. Hopeful and gorgeous. I reach up with one hand and graze my fingertips along his cheek, and he closes his eyes again and leans into the touch. Warmth courses through me. Warmth and love and all these amazing emotions.

God, I do love him.

I clear my throat and try to finish my string of thoughts. "All that matters right now—all that's ever going to matter—is that we're together and...and that you know how much I love you."

He breathes out what sounds like a light laugh, and his hand comes up to grasp my wrist, holding my hand to his cheek. "I love you, too. And, um, I...I think I like your plan."

"Yeah?"

He bites his lower lip—and there's this pulse of desire that jolts me because, god, that's still just incredibly sexy—and then he nods as he draws me toward him for another kiss. It's full of love and hope and promise—everything I know we're both feeling. And when he pulls back a moment later, he's nodding, and his eyes are bright and happy, matching his grin.

God, my heart.

"Yeah, yeah. It's a fucking good plan," he says. Then his grin turns silly. "You know, I've got a good plan too."

"Oh?"

His hand drops down to my thigh and slides up toward my groin with this deliciously firm pressure, and I'm moaning as some aching need tugs at me. He laughs and silences my moan with a soft, teasing kiss.

"It involves me and you... finishing something we started earlier," he whispers against my lips.

There's a shiver that runs through me, but it's warm, like his touch. "Ahh, yeah, that's—"

"That's a fucking good plan, right?"

"Yeah, yeah. For sure. A really, really good plan."

He stands up and pulls me to my feet, and then his arms are around me, his breath hot on my neck as he lowers his head to my shoulder. And I hug him back.

It's so right. Everything feels so right. Finally. I turn my head and press a light kiss to his temple. "I love you, Coop."

He doesn't respond, but his arms tighten around me, and his lips graze my neck. And I swear I hear him chuckle quietly and murmur something that sounds like "Fucking peaches and honey" before he tugs me off toward the bedroom.