Hold On (The 'Burg #6)(70)
It was wet, long, thorough, soft, and sweet.
He gave what he just gave, so that was all for Merry.
And it was a beginning that even me, who’d managed to read a lot of important things wrong in my life, couldn’t miss.
When he released my lips, he stayed close, drawing his nose along the side of mine, our positions meaning our eyes had difficulty meeting.
But we managed it.
“How you doin’?” he asked quietly.
That made me want to laugh, the question was so damned crazy.
I was limp in his arms.
Hell, I was in his arms.
How did he think I was doing?
“I’m hangin’ in there.”
He found humor in my response too; I saw it light his gaze.
It sobered as he murmured, “My brown-eyed girl.”
I sobered too, that feeling hitting my eyes again as I whispered, “Merry.”
If I meant to say more (which I didn’t know if I did or didn’t), I couldn’t when he gave me a fierce squeeze.
“Means a lot, you takin’ a shot at this with me.”
Oh God.
I had to give it to him.
I had to.
I couldn’t f*ck this up again. Not for him. Not for me.
“Means a lot to me too.”
His sober eyes warmed.
“Like your boy, Cherie. Wanna get a chance to get to know him better when the time is right for you. But that’s gonna wait. Right now, wanna know when you’re next day off is ’cause just you and me are goin’ to Swank’s.”
And it came again. Something I’d never had. Something I’d never felt. Something incredible given to me by Merry.
This time it was him asking me on our first date and telling me that date would be at Swank’s, a fashionable, expensive restaurant in Indy.
This meant not a bullshit date.
This was a big-time, whole hog, in your face, this means something to me, we’re gonna ride it out but we’re gonna start that ride right date.
“Swank’s?” I whispered.
“You got a nice dress?”
I didn’t have one good enough for Swank’s. But I’d steal one if I had to.
“Yes,” I lied.
He smiled.
Oh God.
“Night off, babe,” he prompted.
“Feb doubled me up. This week, Thursday and Friday.”
“I’ll get us in Swank’s tomorrow.”
Oh God.
He wasn’t messing around.
“I’m scared.”
There I was again with the blurting.
His smile died, but his arms got tighter. “I know.”
We stared at each other without either of us saying more.
This lasted a long time and it was time I didn’t want to end, standing in my living room in Garrett Merrick’s arms.
It seemed, since he didn’t move, he agreed with me.
But life was life, so eventually we’d have to let go of that moment.
And, not surprisingly, it was Merry who was the one who had the strength to do it.
“Wish we had time to talk shit out right now, but I gotta get back to work.”
“Right,” I said, making a move to pull away.
He didn’t let me go, so I stopped and focused on him.
He lifted his head and I straightened mine but neither of us went far.
“For planning, you gotta know, Cherie, that you owe me.”
I felt my eyes narrow in confusion. “I what?”
“Owe me, baby, and when we work out that debt, I’ll want more than your hand down my pants.”
My legs got wobbly.
“Right,” I said again, this time breathy.
One side of his lips curled up and it was again cocky. “I’ll get you home to your boy after Swank’s, but just sayin’, whoever’s lookin’ after him’s gotta know you’re gonna have a late night.”
My still-sensitive clit gave a throb that was of a strength and enjoyableness I preferred to focus on, so I just nodded.
He kept the cocky grin as he watched me do it.
He apparently had enough time to continue looking smug and not let me go and go to work, which I started to find annoying.
“Would you like me to send a thank you note for my orgasm, or would me providing that gratitude verbally right now suffice?” I asked touchily.
“Prefer your gratitude to come in a different form than both, so I’ll just wait until tomorrow.”
I rolled my eyes.
He gave me another squeeze, and when my eyes got back to him, I saw he was out-and-out smiling.
“Call you to let you know when I’m picking you up,” he told me.
“Okay, Merry.”
He bent, touched his mouth to mine, gave me another squeeze, and then, to my despair that I hid totally, he let me go.
I stood where I was and watched him go.
He unlocked the front door, opened it, unlocked the storm door and had his hand on the handle before he looked back at me.
“We got a lot to talk about, Cher. We’ll get that shit outta the way tomorrow at Swank’s. But I don’t want you dreading it, because, honest as f*ck, we’re gonna get through it and we’re gonna get past it. I won’t make you promises again that I can’t keep. Swear that, babe. So when I promise right now that I know where my head is at with you and I want us both to give this the best shot we can give it, you can believe that.”