Still unfiltered, she heard her voice say, “I like you, too.” He blinked again, and his mouth opened but she forestalled whatever he had been about to say when she continued, “Sorta a lot. Like, not even sorta. Just a lot.”
Truck moved, his hand gliding up her shoulder as he lifted it to cup her jaw. Leaning in, he brushed his lips across hers. Coming back for a second pass, still gentle, then he pressed in, as in pressed in, molding his mouth to hers in a way that demanded a response. She kissed him back, his face slowly fading from view as her eyes slipped closed. The roar of the water rushing from the faucet drowned out the other sounds in the room for long minutes. No one could hear how his exploration of her mouth evoked soft moans. Her gasps as their tongues were slipping and sliding, tangling deliciously. “I amend my previous statement,” he murmured when he finally pulled back a fraction, lips still touching hers, beard tickling her skin. “I don’t sorta like you. I just like you. A lot.”
Head tipped back, resting on the edge of the tub, she felt the loss of his hand then heard the water cut off and she knew where it went. Quickly it was back, stroking down her throat, curving around her shoulder as he lifted her to meet his mouth again. Her fingers glided up his arm, and she let her thumb caress his rough, bearded jaw. Feeling the muscles flex and move under her touch as he kissed her, wet and deep, eating down her moans with an open, hungry mouth. She stretched, moving up, fingers sliding into his hair, tangling on the tie holding it back and away from his face.
His hand shifted, palm covering her breast and this time it was she who took his reaction in, his deep groan rattling down her throat as his powerful fingers flexed and tightened, gentle as they caressed her. “God, Vanna,” he said, his voice holding that rough edge she hadn’t recognized as passion before.
Kitt shouted from downstairs and she smiled, feeling Truck’s lips curving against hers in reply. “I think I should pretend to be a good hostess. Kitt’s a lot to take when he’s this excited.”
“Shar’s got this,” he told her, but he slowly released his grip, shifting back to sit on his heels. “You get warmed up before you climb out, darlin’.” Reaching out, he trailed one thumb across her lips, gaze tracing the path with a heated look. “If you’re steady now, I’ll let you get cleaned up. I’ll see you downstairs?”
This last was a question, and she knew it was his way of being sure she wanted him there when she came downstairs. “You better, mister. I know where you live, you know. I can hunt you down.” His shouted laughter rang loud in the small room, and she smiled up at him as he caressed her face one last time before leaving.
Truck
Never would have expected this to be my Christmas day, he thought, looking around Vanna’s kitchen. Gunny and Sharon stood to one side, Gunny with beer in hand because he’d informed Vanna that skunky or not, if there was beer he’d be drinking it. Kitt was next to them, but ass to the floor, legs straight out, the toddler Cadence holding his hands for balance as she stood on his thighs. Knees bending, her body was rocking back and forth in a dance to music it seemed only she and Kitt could hear, because his head tipped back and forth in time.
He had hurried, but Vanna had already been downstairs before he returned from heading through the woods to his house for a change of clothes. When he walked in carrying his duffle, she smiled at him, reaching her hand out to take the bag from his suddenly nervous grip, tossing it to Kitt with a quiet request to take up and put in her bedroom.
Vanna was tucked against his side, nice and tight so his arm could wrap around her and hold her in place. She and Sharon hadn’t stopped talking for more than a minute, and he glanced down as she laughed, her head tipping back so she caught his gaze. Dipping his head, he brushed his mouth against hers, feeling the heat and silk of her lips.
Gunny interrupted, saying loudly, “Saw nobody opened the packages I fuckin’ wrapped and mailed. What the hell, Peepers? You slackin’ on Christmas, woman?”
Kitt’s head straightened at Gunny’s words and he pulled Cadence close, eyes fixed on her face as he whisper-shouted, “Presents. Cade, presents.” Looking up at his mother, he told Vanna, “Now, presents.”
“Yes, Kitt. We can open presents now.”
Gunny scooped up a laughing Cadence and they all made their way into the dining room. Kitt repeated the earlier scene, demanding everyone sit on the floor near the tree while he shook his head at Truck, putting the Santa hat on a laughing Gunny’s head this time.
There were more presents under the tree than before, and Kitt’s face twisted in confusion until Sharon explained, “We brought our Christmas with us, buddy.” She handed a sleeping Kitten to Vanna and scooted a little closer. “I’ll help you. We’ll sort things out.”