All I Want Is You (A Chester Farms Novella) (7 page)

Color filled her cheeks as she kept her gaze on his. "Probably a lot."

He turned and rested a hip on the railing to see her better. "When I do something stupid a week from now, I'm going to remind you of that."

"Who says you will?" She shifted her weight and ended up closer to him.

"Sam Chester. He claims when it comes to women, men and mistakes go hand in hand."

She laughed. The sound ripped through him and he couldn't stand it. Night before last with her leaning into him was just too strong. It was a wonder he’d made it this long. He dipped his head, found her lips and savored the sweet taste of her. The softness of her mouth touched his and the laughter on her tongue slowed to a moan that reached all the way through him and buckled his knees. Her cheeks were soft as a peach against his hands.

The weeks he'd dreamed of this and thought of the way her hands would move along his sides didn't touch this moment. Her fingers curled and pulled against his shirt. If only she would tug it free from his tight jeans. Her hips moved along his and dear God, he was seconds from backing her against the side of the house.

Zero to sixty, that's how she made him feel.

Right here on this porch, in the middle of the damned day. A mix of hot and cold, doing the right thing, or taking until she stopped him swirled through his mind in an endless battle against his aching cock.

Stopping was the right thing to do. It hurt like the devil as he eased back, but then she went and tipped her head a little. Her chin turned up and lips parted.

The tip of her tongue touched his, and every nerve jumped to standing along the hairs of his body with the tangy, tart taste of cranberries. Tingles tickled up his spine and he got his hands in her hair like he wanted. It tangled between his fingers and he gave it a slight tug. The sound that came out of her was liquid heat pouring through him and it was the only excuse for his knees trying to further melt out from under him.

Wind tickled the chimes hanging at the corner. Somewhere in the fuzzy dark part of his head it clanged the reminder that he was on the Chesters' porch and not in the privacy of his bedroom, but God, how he wanted to be at home.

He dropped his hands down her back. Her cotton shirt was soft, but he wanted to know the bare curve of her lower back. Touch that shaded spot that had teased him just inside the waist of her jeans.

Alarms and bells rang off in his head. Too fast. Chester's front porch.

She purred and reasons for stopping left him with ideas of unzipping her jeans instead. They were just kissing, but the images stirred through his head of her naked with only her hair over her shoulders.

Forget dessert and dishes and an afternoon of sports on TV that may or may not end up with them in the yard for a game of touch football. His keys dug against his thigh in his pocket. His truck was just right there. If only there was a way to get from the porch to the truck to the house without breaking this kiss.

Something hummed and she startled. She pulled away from him and air whispered out of her. Her lids lifted and met his gaze. The hand against his side slipped away and she pulled her phone from her back pocket. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out and the phone continued to vibrate in her hand. She cleared her throat and stepped further out of his arms. "This is my mom."

His throat was tight and the air thick. Never mind where his thoughts were. Her mom. Phone. Right. He backed away and his heel caught on a board. He stumbled and caught himself on the wall. "I'll be in the kitchen with the others when you're done."

She held his gaze a moment longer and her tongue swept over her lips as she answered the phone. His knees all but disappeared by that movement and liked to have knocked him on his face. The kitchen was out of the question for the next few moments. He'd be in the bathroom splashing his face and getting his damned head on straight to get through this afternoon.

Somehow he needed to find a way to keep his mind off her taste and sweet curves through the rest of the long day until he could get her alone for the drive home.

Chapter Six

Tasha rubbed her hands over her thighs and glanced at the clock. It was nine o'clock at night. She'd never in her life been to a Thanksgiving that lasted a solid twelve hours, but it had been a blast. She glanced across the truck at him. He rested on his elbow against the door and just smiled at her. After lunch, they'd laughed. They'd watched football. She'd sat next to him on the couch and listened to the pounding of her heart for the better part of the last eight hours. It'd taken all day, but they were finally alone again.

And it would be over in moments because the drive from Chester Farms to her shop was five minutes at best. That included driving below the speed limit as he blessedly was. Did that mean he didn't want this to end either?

Or he could just be tired. It had been a long day that included a nonstop offer of food.

He adjusted in his seat and sat up. "What did you think of your first holiday with the Chesters?"

"Fun." Small talk. She could do that. If she could think over the heat sprinkling across her skin. No matter what he said, his voice just went through her like sweet butter. She was going to need a long, cold shower once she got home. "The shower thing you built works like a charm. I don't think I told you that."

"Good. I'm glad."

She nodded as the truck ate up the too few miles. Just another five hundred or so feet, they'd round that curve to the left and enter the small strip known as town. Her ice cream shop was nearly the first thing on the right. Panic skated over her skin as she scrambled for a way to keep this night happening. She just didn't want to give him up tonight. She wasn't built for being alone. "If you have a few moments, I have a...um, a latch on my back door that isn't working. Do you think you can look at it?"

"Sure. The door is closing and locking fine?"

She blinked, suddenly realizing the problem with that excuse. Primarily, there was no latch on the back door. Or anywhere that she could recall. Let's hope he was as okay with lying as she was. "Yeah. It's just loose. I have nothing to tighten it with."

"You need a screwdriver?"

And a broken latch, thing. Maybe she could break something on a refrigerator. "I think so."

"Phillips or flat head?"

Good question. "Phillips."

"I have one in my truck."

"Okay." A real tool for an imaginary problem. She bit her lip as her shop came into view. A giddy, bouncing ball of nerves settled in her belly. That should be guilt, but it wasn't. Not even a little bit.

He cleared his throat and tapped the half dozen containers between them. "Do you mind if we stop at my house to put these in the refrigerator? Just in case I hit a snag fixing it, I don't want all this to go to waste."

"That's fine." That was perfect. His house. Private. No pretend latch to find in her room and break before he could see it. That bundle of nerves took another bounce and rolled through her limbs.

For the last ten or so months, she'd spent so much time wrapped up in opening her own business, men hadn't landed anywhere on her radar. Then he came along and there was that kiss that was just
whoa
. Even before the idea of taking control of her life, she didn't remember kisses being that good and she was darn ready to get back to that part.

Her ice cream shop was a blur going past the window. He went up another couple blocks and turned down a side street next to a big, yellow lit up sign advertising a florist who worked out of her home.

Homes and fenced yards stood in rows as he went down three more blocks, took a left and slowed. All but one house had lights on along the street and he pulled in the driveway of that one. His headlights hit the front of his house just long enough to see white siding before the truck turned off and left them in the cozy, warm darkness of his truck.

He pulled the keys out. "I would leave it running, but I need keys to get in the house."

"Okay." She reached over and grabbed two containers on top. "I'll get these for you. I would hate to see one get dropped while you're messing with the key."

He met her stare a moment. "All right."

She followed him up the front concrete steps and waited as he got the door open. He bumped the lights on with his elbow. "There's boots by the door. Watch your step."

She lifted the containers as she stepped in and over the big work boots she recognized from the other night. From the boots, she lifted her gaze to wooden floors and glanced around a room that was skimpy on furniture.

A single recliner sat in the center with a TV stand parked next to it. They faced an entertainment center made into the wall. Empty shelves went halfway the wall. Cabinets covered the lower half and a TV sat in the big open square in the center. If they were going to watch it, she'd have to pile in his lap. A bolt of warmth shot straight to the back of her neck, ears, and all over her face. As he walked ahead with his jeans snug over his rear, she really didn't have a problem with that. Movie night at Patrick’s definitely had to go on a to-do list.

He stepped through an open doorway, put his handful down and reached back, flipping on more lights. Off-white counter-tops covered dark wood cabinets. A microwave sat in one corner with a toaster next to it. Across the room was a refrigerator and a stove along the wall. A big, empty space took up the far wall where a table for four should go. He pointed around. "Sorry, there's not much to look at it."

She laughed. "You do remember seeing my house, don't you? You have a TV and a big soft chair. I'm trying not to show my jealousy."

The corner of his mouth tipped up in a smile. He lifted the containers and carried them across the room to the fridge. "There's something that seems so exciting about moving out for the first time."

"It's hard, but I don't regret it." She eased the leftovers in her hands onto the mostly empty shelf. He had beer and deli meat. Really, what else did a person need? "I figure eventually I'll have the big house and all the junk I could ever want to fill it."

He put his on another shelf and shut the door. "Thanks for helping. You ready?"

She pushed her hands down her hips. Not so much. Next to where there should be a kitchen table was a darkened hallway. She wanted to know what was in there. And she wasn't ready to go yet. "Can I use your bathroom?"

"Sure." He walked through the dark hall and flipped on lights. A laundry basket was to the side and a tall wicker basket full of his work clothes were in a corner. A white washer and dryer was to the left and she couldn't help it, she caressed her fingers across the cool metal front with more envy moving through her. A door was to the right, but he walked past it and opened the one straight ahead.

He flipped on lights and took another step and pointed. "Right over there."

She stepped in his bedroom. With his bed along the wall that was bigger than hers. The covers were turned back and sheets were a little bit twisted. It looked just right for climbing in on a rainy day. Or after a long day of nothing but eating. Or fine, any day really. "Thanks."

He backed out and left her alone in the Holy Grail. His bedroom. Unlike the spare living room and kitchen, there was a matching furniture set of a bed and dresser. Possibly moved in with it from home. She had stuff like that she was supposed to take when she finished college. If her news of leaving the plan went like her brother's, getting that furniture, or any of her things, wasn't going to happen. One day she could buy new.

She stepped around the room and into the bathroom. Razor and shaving cream was on the counter and look at that. Not a single fleck of hair all over the counter and sink like her brother was famous for doing. She liked him more and more already. A dark blue shower curtain was pulled back to show off the bathtub and shower combo that had a sigh easing over her tongue. Oh, God, would he notice if she disappeared in here for like an hour to soak?

That was probably pushing her luck. She didn't have to pee since she did that before leaving the farm, so she flipped through cabinets and came across a big box of condoms right off the bat.

Her mouth got a little wetter. She wanted to go back to kissing, not go that far. A thump rocked over in her chest. All right, not that far this time. She bit her lower lip and tipped the box enough to see it was opened and it was full. Good to know.
For next time. Next time, Tasha!
She pushed the box back in place and mentally smacked her head.

Sex on a first date would be a little fast. Or second date. Spending ten minutes explaining her custom built shower rod surely counted as a date. No wait. He helped her sweep last week and stayed for ice cream after. Ice cream was definite date material that would make today a third date. Third date wasn't so fast. Three semi-sort-of dates. Her friends dropped panties on the first date. Tasha never had. She'd always waited a little bit to see if the guy was just there for her pants or if there was more.

First time for everything. It's what they said. Her palms were damp and she wiped them down her hips as she turned and walked from the bathroom. It was all that kiss's fault. It shouldn't have been so good. He’d lightly tugged at her hair and somehow that move yanked her into a thousand pieces and made her toes curl up all at once. Another shake shimmied through her limbs. Good Lord.