Just My Type(79)

Her eyes are still locked on mine as I pull my hips back, sliding in slower this time, and she moans softly when I stay deep and rock against her. As much as I want to pound into her and let her take all of my frustrations away, she needs to know I’m serious about this. She’s moving away from Chicago, but she damn well better not move away from me.

I take my time, because I don’t want to rush through this last stolen moment with her before she leaves. I rock into her with slow, deep thrusts, bringing my hand between her legs to tease and touch, while I kiss her just as leisurely. She wraps her legs around my hips, and her arms around my waist, clinging tightly to me, pulling me closer as we move together on her couch in this quiet and empty house. There’s nothing but the sounds of Ember whimpering, Ember begging for more, Ember telling me not to stop, and Ember moaning how good I feel inside her.

I want her to tell me she loves me. I want her to be a hard-ass and order me to come with her, even though she’s going a week early.

But that never happens. And I have to be okay with that.





CHAPTER 27





Ember

That Motherfucker, Part 2


“Did you tell him you love him before you left?” Brooklyn asks.

I smile like a happy idiot, even though she’s asking me a serious question, because it feels good to actually be sitting across from her at the kitchen table of the farm and seeing her in person.

“Can we just talk about how robust your tits are right now? Pregnancy looks good on you.” I continue smiling, unable to pull my eyes away from her boobs in the V-neck Hastings Pumpkin Farm shirt she’s wearing.

“Right? Aren’t they amazing? It’s the only good thing about being knocked up,” she muses, looking down at her own chest.

“You know, aside from the whole beauty of creating a life with the man of your dreams thing,” I remind her.

“Yeah, yeah, that too.” She waves me away. “Stop distracting me and answer the question.”

“You’re distracting me with those giant bosoms.” I snort.

“Ember!” she scolds.

“Okay, fine! No, I didn’t tell him I love him before I left,” I admit sheepishly.

Instead of enjoying being back home, I’ve done nothing but complain about how weird Baker has been since the night Brandon came over and opened his whore mouth, ever since I stepped off the plane.

I complained when we went to the White Timber Times and Brooklyn showed me a new printing press she’d gotten since the last time I’d been there. I complained while I was in the kitchen of the store on the farm, whipping up a few things for my brother to freeze for next week’s reopening. I complained to everyone I saw in town when we walked to the square to have lunch under the gazebo, because it was really nice to have people I knew to complain to as I walked down the street. And I complained to all of the farmhands, when I helped clean out the horse stalls before I came in here to talk to Brooklyn.

I mean, of course I expected Baker to be shocked. I was shocked. And I was overwhelmed, and pissed at Brandon, and a hundred different emotions were flying around in my heart. But then I got overloaded with transcription jobs and life with an eight-year-old. And then Baker started being weird, and a little distant, and I decided to put an end to that shit once and for all, moving up my trip here to the farm so I could talk to my brother and Brooklyn alone.

I thought we’d finally have time to talk about everything yesterday when Baker came over, where I fully planned on telling him I was in love with him and beg him to still be all in while I sorted through this mess, but he walked right in the house still acting weird and a little distant, and it threw me off. Then he touched me, I remembered we had the house all to ourselves, and I got distracted by the dick.

I am only human, dammit.

“I couldn’t just tell him something like that when he was inside me. That’s too cliché, even for me.” I scoff.

“You’re an idiot. No wonder he’s been acting weird.” Brooklyn shakes her head at me.

I think about the fact that the only text I got from Baker since he left my house yesterday was an Okay, when I told him Lincoln and I had landed in Montana this morning.

Our plane just landed. I can’t believe I forgot the assless chaps.

Okay.

Just okay. Not one comment about my ass in chaps, or a joke about how his ass would look better in them.

God, I’m an idiot. I should have told him. He would have thoroughly enjoyed it if I told him I love him while his dick was in me. Dick jokes for daaays. I miss his dick jokes.

“At least tell me you informed him you aren’t moving here,” Brooklyn says, pulling me out of my thoughts.

I scoff again. “Why would he think I’m moving here without discussing it with him first?”

Brooklyn just stares at me with one of her eyebrows raised.

“No. Come on! He hasn’t been acting weird because he thinks that. There is no fucking way. He’s probably just acting weird, because I’m acting weird. My brain has been on the verge of exploding the last week, and I needed to process everything first.”

My explanation sounds lame, even to my ears. Brooklyn proves it’s lame to everyone with ears when she snorts and shakes her head at me.

Pushing back from the big, wooden farm table, I snatch my coffee cup off of it and put it in the sink.