The last two days have been surreal. So surreal that I’m going to give myself a legit bruise if I pinch myself one more time to make sure I’m not dreaming.
Yesterday we spent the entire day in bed, just like Crey said we were going to do. I lost track of the number of orgasms I had. My lady parts are actually sore today. Crey gave me a dark look when I winced as we got out of bed this morning.
“I need to take more care with you. No sex today. You need to recover.”
“That’s not fair!”
His dark look turned smoldering. “Doesn’t mean I can’t fuck that sassy little mouth of yours.”
And that’s all it took for my previously mentioned lady parts to perk up and claim they were in perfect working order. I tried to tempt him later, but he didn’t take the bait.
I needed to get some songwriting done this morning, considering I have a deadline bearing down on me, so we retreated to our separate corners. Crey set up his laptop out in Gran’s back room—the one that was added on to the house about sixty years prior, but never properly insulated. It was drafty, but he didn’t seem to mind. I offered to share the repaired kitchen table with him, but he declined, saying he didn’t want to interfere with my concentration because he had calls to make.
So instead, I spent most of the morning watching him through the window in the wall that separated the kitchen from the back room addition. Even in this little house in Kentucky, he looked all business. He stood and paced and shoved his fingers through his hair as he talked with his hands. It was fascinating to see him in full empire-running mode.
I was unable to concentrate on my own task, so I dropped my pencil and slipped into the back room and dropped to my knees in front of him, just as he lowered himself into an aging La-Z-Boy recliner.
His eyes dropped to mine questioningly, but he didn’t stop me as I ran my palms up his thighs and reached for the button of his jeans.
He mouthed what are you doing, but I ignored him and unbuttoned and unzipped them. He didn’t object overly much to my actions because he lifted his ass and let me tug his jeans down—and God love the man—because he nearly always went commando. I can’t be the only woman in the world to think that is sexy.
He continued his call, but his answers shortened to single words—yes, no, fine—as I wrapped my hands around the base and lowered my head to run my tongue from root to tip before going in whole hog and deep throating him for the win.
I was in a go-big-or-go-home mood.
His choked-out, “Fuck. No, excuse me. Sorry. Wasn’t talking to you,” had me humming a little giggle around his cock.
After he muttered, “Please continue,” Crey’s hand found my hair and guided my movements. He slid into my mouth with long, sure strokes, and I took his cock all the way to the back of my throat with each thrust.
Ending the call with an abrupt and clipped, “We’ll finish this later,” he dropped the phone to the floor. It reminded me of the time I touched myself in front of him while he was on the phone in our hotel room back in San Antonio.
As soon as he dropped the phone, Crey cupped both my cheeks and tilted my face up at him. The look on his face was adoring.
“Best decision I ever made, Holly. Best decision I ever fucking made was making sure that missed connection went viral.”
Tears stung my eyes, and not because of the cock hitting the back of my throat.
“I’m gonna come, sweetheart. You ready to swallow me down?”
I nodded, ready to take anything this man wanted to give me. Everything he wanted to give me.
Whoever says giving head can’t be a romantic experience clearly isn’t doing it right. I shiver at the memory. I don’t know when things changed between us, exactly, but I know everything has. Hell, I don’t even know when I started thinking of him as Crey instead of Creighton, but I do.
What’s more, I trust him. And even bigger than that? I’m falling in love with him. I should be terrified, but instead, I’m excited.
Being back in Gran’s house, it’s easy to acknowledge that my future before Country Dreams was just a big yawning emptiness. And then after Country Dreams, it became some crazy, scary ride, one I could only do my best to hold on to and not get bucked off and land on my rear in the dirt like a bull rider who didn’t make it the full eight.
Now, though, the future lies before me like an amazing adventure I can’t wait to experience with this man at my side.
When I finish getting ready and step out of the bathroom, I expect to find Crey waiting in the bedroom, but instead I find a gift-wrapped package on the bed.
What the hell?
I study the box. It’s about ten inches long, approximately the length of Crey’s own package—not that I’m comparing—and eight inches wide and three inches tall. It’s wrapped in simple brown craft paper and a turquoise ribbon.
I reach for it and pull my hand back. Seriously, what the hell?
“Open it.”
I jump at Crey’s voice coming from the doorway behind me, and spin to look at him.
“What’s this for?”
“It’s for you.”
“But why?”