Inevitable Detour (Inevitability Book 1)(39)

Good thing he finds me cute, since by the end of the movie I am halfway in his lap.

“That movie was terrifying,” I declare a few minutes later when we’re leaving the theater.

“Good thing I was with you,” Farren replies.

“Good thing you were,” I agree, bumping into him.

The days pass with Farren and I spending all our time together. Sure, he takes breaks to speak with Rick on the progress of the rescue attempt. But since the pieces are falling into place as planned—Rick is putting together a rescue team—Farren and I have plenty of time to concentrate on each other.

Oh, and the fun we have…

We go out to dinner every evening, and we play during the day. We discover a nice park for walking down the street from the motel. We take strolls there on sunny afternoons. I get to know Farren better, and he gets to know me. And at night, we get to know each other in ways that don’t involve much talking. No matter what we do, though, we have a great time together. Even when we have to pay a visit to a local Laundromat—we’re running low on clothes—we make the most of it.

The morning we’re at the Laundromat, Farren is teasing and flirting with me while folding his jeans and T-shirts. I’m at the other end of the folding counter, but he keeps edging in closer and closer.

“What are you doing?” I ask, laughing when he’s practically on top of me.

“Checking out what you’re folding there,” he says nonchalantly, nodding to a set of silky red Victoria’s Secret bra and panties. “I don’t think I’ve seen those on you yet,” he remarks.

“I wore them on one of our first days,” I say. “Before we were, uh, messing around.”

“Messing around,” he mumbles to himself, chuckling. And then he leans in even closer, his breath warm and sweet at my ear. “Hmm, maybe you can wear those tonight for me. You know,” he quips, “before we get to the ‘messing around’ part of things.”

“Farren,” I admonish, blushing.

Images of him peeling the lingerie off of me and then covering each inch of newly exposed skin with hungry kisses have me feeling hot and horny right in the middle of the Laundromat.

“Maybe I can wear them sooner,” I suggest. “Like as soon as we get back to the motel.”

Farren leans down and kisses my lips lightly. “I’d like that, Essa,” he tells me.

But before we can race back to the motel, Farren has to drop off his nicer clothes—dress pants and button-down shirts—at the dry cleaner next door.

“Have them ready by tomorrow morning,” he tells the withered old woman at the counter after she takes his clothes.

She has a hooknose and no-nonsense eyes that flash in irritation when she barks, “Two business days is the best we can do.”

Farren hands her a fifty. Quirking an eyebrow, he says, “Now can you have the clothes ready by tomorrow?”

She snatches up the bill. “Yes, sir,” she says, her tone suddenly breezy. “Your clothes will be pressed and ready by nine.”

“Make it eight.”

The counter woman can’t meet Farren’s hard stare. She acquiesces and says, “Eight it is.”

“Do you always get your way, Farren?” I ask on the way to where we parked the SUV.

“Mostly,” he replies with a cocky grin. “Throwing some money around always helps.”

I just shake my head and smile in return.

Damn, I am falling for Farren. Spending all this time together, continuously, with no breaks, has allowed us to grow close, very close. Just the other evening after eating something that didn’t agree with me, I was feeling sick and Farren stayed by my side all night. As he held me in his arms I asked him to tell me something to distract me from my aching belly. He told me dirty jokes the soldiers in his basic-training unit had once shared. I was soon laughing and forgetting all about my upset stomach.

I’m finding Farren is everything guys my own age aren’t. He’s attentive and exceptionally sweet to me, and he makes me feel good about myself. Not to mention he sure is incredibly nice to look at.

And that’s what I’m doing once we’re back at the motel. I’m watching a very hot, very handsome Farren lower his head to my breast. I’m not wearing a thing as I lie on the bed. Remember that sexy lingerie? Well, it was put on…and promptly removed—very slowly—by Farren. Farren, with his dark hair currently mussed from my fingers raking through the silky strands again and again.

He latches on to a nipple, and I gasp in response. I watch as thick, corded muscles in his shoulders and arms bunch and contract as he moves his body over mine. So far, Farren has been above me, beside me, behind me, and under me as we’ve engaged in many sexual acts. The only place he’s not yet been is inside of me.

And I. Am. Dying.

“Please, Farren,” I plead, the weight of his erection pressing enticingly at my thigh. “Just put it in for a second.”

He releases my nipple and looks up at me. “Patience, Essa,” he replies.

“How can you be so strong?” I ask.

“How can I not?”

Farren won’t articulate it, but I know what he’s doing. It’s not just a wait-until-Essa-is-ready thing, though there is that. Farren is also molding me—sexually—to be exactly how he wants me to be. He’s making me his, teaching me what he likes. He shows me how he wants me to touch him, and he asks me to tell him which of the many things he does to me I like best. Turns out, I like pretty much everything he does. I respond favorably to Farren’s every touch, his every grasp. I learn to let myself go. I’ve become comfortable with Farren. My body craves what he gives me, and I know he enjoys watching me revel in pleasure. And I certainly enjoy pleasing him in whichever way he desires.