Roots and Wings (City Limits #1)(59)

The hunger to build something with this woman was powerful and new to me. I didn’t want the idea of the perfect life, I really wanted it, and it was so easy inserting Hannah into all of those future thoughts. It was the most natural thing picturing her by my side.

I wasn’t going to come on strong, even if everything in my being told me to hold on to her. What we had was new and exciting and fun. Completely unexpected, but so welcomed at the same time.

There was no place I’d rather be. I wasn’t going anywhere, and, I thought, neither was she.




I woke up early in the cabin in my boxers, still holding her, just as I’d fallen asleep the night before.

I didn’t want to let go, but I wanted to stretch out. Careful I didn’t wake her, I tried to pull my arm out from under her, not realizing she was already awake, too.

“Remember that day you asked me why do you keep coming over here? And I asked you why don’t you ever tell me to leave?”

I did remember. I was frustrated and annoyed, and there she was. The only person who was trying to help me and the only one around to take it out on. It wasn’t that I missed Rachelle, because I didn’t. It was that all along I was trying to force something that wasn’t right. Then, when she showed up, it made me question why it never felt wrong with her there. It was confusing.

“I’m sorry I was so rude that day.”

“I’m not.”

She rolled around in my arms, looking sleepy and fresh faced. Her hair wild and messy. I took a moment to memorize exactly the way she looked. A mental snapshot, knowing there would be a time when I’d think back to this second and be thankful for the clarity.

She’d been half asleep when I set her in the bed last night. I didn’t want to wake her, but when I sat her on the bed, she stirred. Then she kicked off her flip-flops and pulled her jeans off, choosing to sleep in her underwear and tank top. Her bra never found its way back on after the boat.

“Want to know why?” She quirked a conspiratorial eyebrow and puckered her lips to hold her secret in a little longer.

“Why?”

“When I was little I remember asking my grandpa if my mom and dad fought a lot. I always knew she left, but I never really understood why until I was older.” She propped herself up on her hand, her elbow pressing into the bed.

“Anyway, from time to time I’d ask my grandpa if it had been this or that which had caused my mom and dad to split. On this day, it was fighting. I wanted to know if they fought all the time and I was shocked when he said no so fast.

“He said, ‘Never, Mutt. Not one time did I ever see them fight and that’s not good.’ Now I was probably ten or eleven when I asked. So his answer confused me. I thought that people fighting was bad in a relationship, not the other way around, so I asked him to explain. He told me that when I grew up I’d understand it a little more. Then he told me the key to having a long happy life with someone was finding someone you liked fighting with.

“That day, after you asked that, and I said what I said back, on the way home it made me smile. Don’t get me wrong—I don’t want to fight with you—but I don’t think I’d mind it either.”

I wanted to kiss her, but held off for her to continue.

“You’re hot when you’re pissed. And, for those first few weeks, even though you didn’t say anything else that was rude, there were days when you were working things out in your head, and you had every right to. It was your home. You were going through some changes. But being around you like that, if that was what you were like when you didn’t feel at your best, I knew you were worth hanging around a little more. I knew you were special.”

Where had she been my whole life? Here. She’d been here, as if she were waiting for me.

Hannah shrugged as I watched her grin like she was confessing something scandalous.

“And the hot thing. One time I saw you get so mad you clenched your teeth, balled your fists, and looked like you were going to scream, but then you scanned around for me, and didn’t make a sound. Pissed and fine as they come.”

I had to agree with her grandpa. Rachelle and I never fought. And at the very end, when we did a little, I didn’t like it. I didn’t like that side of her.

That morning when Hannah fired back, then kept right on working on my house—in her free time no less—even when I wasn’t the best company, said a lot about the kind of person she was.

Also, I really liked hearing that she thought I was hot.

I couldn’t hold back anymore. If there was more to the story, it could wait. I kissed her, because that’s what you do when someone looks as sexy as she did lying in that bed.

While she kissed me back, I thought about the night before and how it had been exactly what I’d wanted. What I’d needed.

Her body was made for me. Every soft curve. Every corner and bend, I wanted to touch and claim for my own. I wanted it all. The freckles and scars, the whimpers and moans as she fell apart in my arms. The look of wonder in her eyes when I tasted her, and knowing that I’d been the only man to please her in that way.

I’d had sex, and I’d done my share of f*cking, but it had never been like we were together.

Never that powerful. Never that intense. I’d never craved for more as bad as I did in that moment with her.




That morning was the first of dozens.