Текст книги "Meant for Me"

Автор книги: Faith Sullivan

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He notices the pensive expression on my face and draws my feet onto his lap. With his strong hands, he begins massaging each arch, one at a time, and it feels like heaven. I fall back among the pillows as he works his magic. This has become our morning ritual. He reaches back, grabbing the bottle of body lotion off the end table. Squeezing some onto his hands, he runs his palms up my leg all the way to the knee. I look up through the skylight at a flock of birds flying overhead as he begins to do the same thing to my other leg. I close my eyes and smile. He’s going to make a great father. I can picture him doting over our baby, just like he’s doting over me. The lotion even smells like baby powder.

But I have to stop being so needy. I want to give him some tender loving care before I go—and more than just getting the mud stains out of his jeans and preparing pre-cooked meals for the freezer. I want to do something special for him.

Getting off the bed, I grab his hand, dragging him along with me. He laughs, amused by whatever it is I’m up to. Groaning, he walks over to the dresser, taking out a fresh pair of boxers. I try to hide my disappointment that he’s getting dressed as I head into the bathroom. He must really not be in the mood this morning.

I pull a tiny stool out of the corner and place it in front of the sink. Digging through the shelves, I find what I’m looking for. Everything else I need is either on the counter or in one of the drawers.

“Hey, what are you up to?” Eric surprises me, kissing the top of my head while snuggling me from behind. He’s only wearing his boxers. That’s a good sign. They’re easy enough to remove. My eyes find his in the bathroom mirror as he drapes his arm protectively across my stomach. “Are you feeling okay? The last couple of mornings have been a little rough on you.”

Oh jeez, he heard me. Maybe that’s why he’s backing off. I thought he was already gone when I was on my knees, clutching the rim of the toilet bowl. But he must’ve been downstairs with Shep, who always renders his plaintive doggie wails whenever I’m battling a case of morning sickness. Shep’s howling undoubtedly muffled Eric’s anxious footsteps. I didn’t even know he was down there listening to me. How humiliating. I’m not even comfortable with Eric hearing me pee behind a closed door, never mind puking my guts out.

“I’m fine,” I reply before turning to face him. “Sit down.”

He raises an eyebrow, not even bothering to hide the smirk forming on his lips. I think he likes when I get all bossy with him. “Yes, ma’am,” he says, acting like he’s ready to obey my every command.

I turn on the faucet, waiting for the water to warm up. This close, I can see the tiny freckles dotting his shoulders. I want nothing more than to bend down and kiss each one, but I have a job to do. I can’t allow myself to get distracted—not yet. Eric starts stroking the back of my leg as I get everything ready. He’s waiting patiently, not sure of what to expect.

Once the water is lukewarm, I gently nudge his back, urging him to lean forward as I drape a towel around his shoulders. Trailing my fingers over his neck, I ease him into a reclining position. He gets the drift of where this is going as he gazes up at me, his head resting above the sink. There’s nothing but adoration in his eyes as I touch his face, my hand lingering on his cheek.

I hover over him, pausing for a minute. It’s hard to concentrate with him looking at me like that. I grip the edge of the counter. If I give in now, it’s all over, and I really want to do this for him. I take a deep breath, willing myself to continue.

I cup my hand under the running water and start wetting his hair. I work my fingers through it as he turns his head, allowing me to get the sides. His strong jawline stands out even more in profile. I feel his breath skim my breasts through the thin fabric of his t-shirt, causing my nipples to harden in response. Seeing how my body is reacting to him, he lowers his hands to his knees, gripping them tightly. He seems determined not to touch me, and that gets me going even more.

His hair is now completely wet, but I can’t stop myself from running my fingers through it. He moans with pleasure, making me glad I read that Cosmo article about how to massage a man’s scalp. He’s loving every minute of it. The ends of his hair are starting to curl as I rake my nails across his head. I can’t believe how long his hair got. He’s been too busy to go into town for a cut, but I’m about to change all that.

I turn off the faucet, and he takes it as his cue to sit up. I lift the towel from his shoulders, tossing it over his head. Only his mouth is visible as I wring out the excess moisture. I pat him dry as he leans back with his eyes closed, a sigh escaping his lips. My heart flutters from knowing that what I’m doing is making him feel relaxed and content.

Reaching for the scissors, I comb out a section of hair and start snipping away. I’m not a professional stylist by any means, but I’m competent enough to give him a decent trim. I measure how much I’m going to cut between my fingers as the pieces of hair start to fall to the floor. His eyes are shut, but there’s a smile on his face like he’s in a state of pure and utter bliss.

When I finish with the top, I kneel down to work on the sides. He can’t prevent his eyes from opening when he senses how close I am to him. He tries to get me to meet his gaze, but I keep my attention on what I’m doing, drawing the comb through his sideburn. He blinks when I bring the scissors near his face. I make a few snips then caress his neck reassuringly. I move around him to cut the other side, making sure everything looks even. We’re practically nose to nose as I make a few extra passes, wanting him to look perfect. It’s intense, feeling the weight of his stare on me. I can’t believe I got through all of that without kissing him.

I step back for a moment in anticipation. Now for the part I’ve been waiting for. I don’t know why but I’ve always wanted to shave the guy I love. Those kinds of scenes in movies never fail to turn me on. The man and woman are touching but not touching. Every movement is heightened. Every breath is labored. Every touch is charged. They’re playing at restraint when really they’re bursting at the seams. I admit that I always wanted to feel that level of sexual tension that such an intimate act creates. Not through a screen—but in person.

And Eric is about to help me live out that fantasy.

My heart races as I pick up the can of shaving cream, shaking it for all it’s worth. I tremble, squirting a generous amount onto my hand. I can’t believe how nervous I am. My mouth is watering as I dab my finger into the rich lather. He’s looking at me with such intensity that I almost chicken out and rinse my hands in the sink. Instead, I rub them together before spreading the shaving cream onto his stubbled cheeks.

I cover his mouth, gliding my fingers across the faint beginnings of a mustache. His face is nearly all white, and I chuckle to myself as I remove the lather from his lips with my thumb. He groans when he feels my finger on his mouth. I grin as I wipe the lather from my hands onto the towel before reaching for his razor.

I try to get in a good position as I raise the blade, but I feel awkward. He gazes at me warily, afraid that I’m going to cut him. He’s at my mercy now. A surge of heat shoots through me, and I press my thighs firmly together. He shifts uncomfortably on the tiny stool, causing me to look down. There’s a huge bulge in his boxers. I purse my lips to keep from smiling. I’m not surprised that he’s enjoying this, too.

I start by making a large vertical stroke down the length of his cheek. I love the sound of the bristle of his beard scraping against the path of the razor. It’s so sexy. Elated by my first attempt, I turn on the water to rinse off the razor before making another pass. I continue my way across his face from left to right, pleased by my progress. So far, I haven’t even nicked him. Familiar with the drill, he lifts his chin, allowing me free access to his neck. The blade scratches against his skin, causing him to flinch. I stop what I’m doing and wait for any blood to appear, but there isn’t any. Now that I’m in the home stretch, I have to calm my nerves. The last thing I want to do is cut him. I’m not used to handling a razor over the angles and planes of a man’s face. It’s a lot more difficult than the long, easy strokes I use to shave my legs.

With the last swipe, I want to jump up and down and scream, “I did it.” Instead, I bury his face in the towel, blotting away the last remaining traces of shaving cream. I can’t resist running my knuckles against his cheek. His skin feels so incredibly smooth. I love when he’s clean-shaven. When he’s scruffy, his stubble scratches my face and neck. His kisses end up leaving a trail of red marks that can last well into the next day. Not to mention, his mouth feels best between my legs when it’s not irritating the delicate skin surrounding my inner thighs.

He runs his hands over his face, examining my handiwork. He smiles at me, indicating that he’s pleased with the results. He’s usually in such a rush to get to the garden center that he doesn’t take his time getting ready. On the days he does shave, it seems like he’s always gulping down his morning coffee with bits of toilet paper stuck to his face to stem the bleeding where he cut himself. I’ve even caught him trying to shave with the bathroom mirror still fogged up from his shower. Oh, the crazy things men do.

I lean forward, intending to kiss him, but catch myself at the last moment. I want to draw this out as long as I can, and his lips are distracting me. I nuzzle against the softness of his cheek and whisper in his ear, “Did you like that?”

He doesn’t even give me the chance to respond as he lifts me up, placing me between his legs. He raises my arms, skimming his hands down my body as he fumbles with the hem of the shirt. In one swift movement, he draws it over my head, sliding my hair through the collar.

Standing up, he makes quick work of removing my thong. He’s in such a hurry that it’s still hanging around my ankles when he hoists me onto the bathroom counter. His mouth crashes onto mine as I tug on his boxers. They’re so snug around his hips that they won’t budge. I groan against his lips and he takes the hint, freeing his hands from my hair in order to yank them from his body. Anxious to reclaim my mouth, he tries to move between my legs, but my stupid thong prevents him from spreading them open. He’s wild as he bends down to untangle the strap that’s now wedged between my toes.

My breasts jiggle my hair as I burst out laughing. We’re both naked and absolutely desperate for each other, but seeing him so intently focused on freeing my thong from my feet just cracks me up. I can’t stop. He looks up at me like I’m crazy. He has no clue how I was imagining this whole perfect movie moment in my mind about how this would all play out. Romance in real life is so much more ridiculous.

I can tell he wants to take me now, but he’s debating whether or not to stifle my laughter with his mouth and keep on going. Despite the fact that he’s kneeling on the bathroom floor that’s covered with pieces of his hair, I can see a spot of shaving cream I missed behind his left ear. His hair is still wet, unstyled, and plastered flat against his head. But to me, he’s never looked sexier because in this moment he’s fulfilling every fantasy of mine and then some.

I open my legs to him with a devilish grin. If he wants me, he can have me, even if I can’t stop giggling like a schoolgirl. He slides between them, pulling my hips into him and tossing my legs around his waist. He’s inside me before I can even blink. I cling to his shoulders as I already feel myself clenching around him.

Oh yeah, reality is way better than any movie.

Chapter Four

Eric

I really hope having so much sex isn’t going to hurt the baby, but I can’t get enough of Ivy.

I’ve never felt this way about anyone before, not even Cassidy. I was such a clumsy kid back then. I didn’t know how to draw things out and take my time. I was awkward as hell. Two virgins making love for the first time, well… Things didn’t go so smoothly, not for the first couple of tries at least. It took us a while to get our timing right and get in sync with each other. The chemistry was there and I was definitely attracted to Cassidy, but I always handled her with kid gloves like I was afraid I was going to break her or something. And then after she got sick, I felt like a jerk for wanting her that way when she was suffering so much.

But it was more than that. With Cassidy, I realize I was holding myself back. I didn’t try things I knew she wouldn’t like. I didn’t ask her to do things she wasn’t comfortable with. I held her up on a pedestal, not wanting to defile her in any way. To me, she’d always be so pure and innocent—the kind of girl a guy feels a duty to shelter and protect. She was my delicate rosebud I had to keep safe.

The moments we shared were tender and sweet. There was nothing wild or passionate about them. She always felt shy about her body, preferring to turn off the lights and dive deep beneath the covers. She was thin and small-boned, lacking any real womanly curves. She regretted being so flat-chested even though it made no difference to me. What concerned me more was how tiny she was. I knew it hurt her when I was inside of her, stretching her to the limit. She didn’t like the physical act of intercourse all that much, and I usually did what I had to do then withdrew from her. She preferred to cuddle and have me gently rain kisses all over her body. She liked when I was gentle with her.

With Ivy, sex couldn’t be more different. From the very first night, I did things with her I’d never done with Cassidy—things I’d been dying to try and things I had always wanted done to me. We were ready to explore our bodies with abandon. It had nothing to do with shame or guilt or trepidation. It had everything to do with satisfying our hunger for each other. Her body was a natural fit for mine, taking me in as far as I could go. For the first time, I felt free being with a woman. I could let loose and really go for it without the fear of hurting her or causing her pain.

And I couldn’t get enough of her body. I wanted to learn every inch of it, what she responded to and what she didn’t. She let me touch her wherever I wanted, as deep as I wanted. Knowing that I had to fight off Will and Ryan in order to be with her, I just assumed she was a lot more experienced than I was. So I was surprised when she revealed that we had been with the same number of people—two.

Call it old-fashioned, but hearing that she hadn’t slept with dozens of guys helped soothe my male ego a bit. She was responding to me because she wanted all I had to give, not because she had a bag of tricks up her sleeve that she gained from previous exploits. At heart, she was eager to embrace her sexuality. It made her come alive. And the best part about it? I was the one driving her desires. She was hot—for me.

Sure, women eye me up, but only because I’m blessed with broad shoulders and a job that keeps me toned. I don’t need to hit the gym to build muscle. It comes with the territory. But I wasn’t always this way. Back in high school, I was still growing into my body. I leveled out at 6’3” with arms that eventually bulked up thanks to the sweat of my brow working the land. Before I graduated, I ran my grandma’s farm, moving in with her until she passed away at the end of my senior year. It was a lot to take on for someone so young, but it gave me the confidence I needed to start my own business. I knew even at twenty-two that I could handle it.

I guess that’s why I admire Ivy’s get-up-and-go spirit. She reminds me so much of myself. She doesn’t want any free rides. She wants to earn everything herself. Her family doesn’t have a lot of money, so she was putting herself through college, combining her partial scholarship with a variety of part-time jobs from waitressing in a diner to answering phones in a dentist’s office and everything in between. It really freaked her out last summer when she wasn’t able to bring in an income. Her internship was unpaid and took up the majority of her time. She basically saved as much as she could before the spring semester ended and hoped she’d be able to get by living on a pretty frugal budget.

She’s super smart and deserves so much more than the hand she’s been dealt. If Lauren hadn’t screwed things up for her, she’d be at the main campus right now pounding the pavement, looking to uncover her latest story. Whiling away her time in the country has to be killing her. She never complains, but I know she’s bored here. There’s not enough excitement for her. She likes to be on the pulse of things, finding a scoop, investigating a lead. The only noteworthy event at Riverside Gardens is when Shep needs a bath in tomato juice after chasing a skunk. Not exactly headline-grabbing stuff.

That’s why I have to let her go to L.A. even though I don’t want to. I can’t have her come to resent me, making her feel trapped. The baby was a surprise—one we didn’t see coming. But it’s also a tie that forced her to swap her life for mine. We both want to live as a family and raise our child together, but that requires sacrifice on both of our parts. She lost out on a promising career and I have to work longer hours. It’s not going to be easy supporting three people instead of one.

I’d like nothing more than for Ivy to return to school and finish what she started, but with a baby on the way, it’s just not possible. If she weren’t pregnant, I’d have no problem financing her last year. But there have been so many extra costs connected to the baby that I never anticipated. Ivy’s health insurance isn’t the greatest. Her mom lost hers, so she’s on an individual plan where she has to reach a staggering deductible before her coverage kicks in. So far, I’ve had to pay for every test she’s had out of pocket. And that’s before the baby clothes, car seats, cribs, bottles, diapers—the list goes on and on. I bought all of these things before but Ivy and I both agreed there was no way we could use what Cassidy and I had purchased for our baby. There were too many bad memories attached to that stuff. All I know is that it probably would’ve been cheaper if Ivy went back to college instead of getting pregnant—at least until I was able to get the garden center out from under its mountain of debt.

Starting a business from scratch is tough. There are so many initial costs and investments that need to be made in order to get it going. I had to buy the land. I had to purchase an inventory. Most things I can grow myself, but not everything. I’d love to increase the size of my staff, but I can’t afford the payroll taxes accompanying every new hire. I pay Jack under the table whenever he can moonlight for me, and my dad does the books for free in his spare time. Things are tight, but I’m hanging in there.

I guess the last time around I was so consumed with Cassidy’s deteriorating health that I wasn’t paying attention to how expensive having a kid really is. Cassidy’s parents helped out with a lot, and I had a little nest egg after I sold my grandma’s farm. It was going to tide us over until life got back to normal, but it never did.

Now I kind of wish I hadn’t built this house right away. I didn’t have to have the finest quality wood for the closets or the top-of-the-line bluestone for the fireplace. I could’ve kept things simple, but I didn’t. Building this house was what kept me alive after Cassidy died. It was my love letter to her, and I wanted nothing but the best inside and out. I was consumed in finishing it, wrapped up in the project for months. I didn’t sleep. I didn’t eat. I sawed, hammered, and drilled until my fingers bled, blowing through what little I’d inherited from my grandma in the process. I didn’t sock any money away for a rainy day. Instead, I used it to hide out from the world.

So I feel like a dick since I can’t provide for Ivy and the baby the way I want to, the way they deserve. Sure, she likes working with Will on the screenplay. She’s doing what she loves and what she’s good at, but the chances of it turning into something are slim to none. There’s not a lot of money in independent filmmaking. The budgets are a fraction of what is spent on major blockbusters. Some indies are even bankrolled through fan contributions on fundraising websites. Investors are lucky to break even since the audience for these types of movies is relatively small. The only chance of hitting it big is by building a word-of-mouth following at one of the major film festivals. Only then does an independent film have a shot to break into the mainstream come Oscar time. At least, that’s how Ivy explained it to me.

I’m not even sure if Will is giving her credit for her work or if she’s just writing under his name. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s using her for all she’s worth, not expecting to pay her a dime if the movie’s successful. She hasn’t signed any type of contract, and while there’s an email trail of correspondence between the two of them, he’d probably deny that she had any involvement if the project takes off. He’ll most likely pay her a small lump sum to keep her quiet and that’ll be it. He’ll pocket the rest.

I feel like I’m sending Ivy into a den of thieves to get bamboozled by a bunch of Hollywood bigwigs. She’s a young girl with an extraordinary amount of talent. She doesn’t have an agent. She doesn’t have a lawyer. All she has is me. And it would gut me if they take advantage of her out there. Yeah, Will’s paying for her flight and her hotel room, but that’s about it. The whole thing doesn’t sound too promising.

I haven’t read the script yet. Ivy won’t let me until it’s done. She says she feels weird about me seeing her unfinished work. But I read all her articles in the Independent Gazette and she was fine with that. I was always stoked to see her byline whenever I opened the paper. It was cool to actually know the writer. Check that—love the writer.

I look at her now as we get inside my truck to drive to the airport. I can’t help remembering our first ride together, bringing a container of gas to her stranded car after it had died on the dirt road leading to the garden center.

* * *

“You don’t have to do this, you know. I’ve already kept you waiting for forty-five minutes. You must have a million things you have to do.” Ivy glances at me anxiously.

“True, but I want to,” I respond, giving her a wink. “It seems like your day’s been bad enough as it is. The last thing I’m going to have you do is lug this heavy container out there by yourself. C’mon, get in.”

“But you already gave me a pair of shoes. I can’t keep taking without giving something back in return.” She pouts as she hops up next to me on the seat. I take a second to enjoy the moment. A girl hasn’t ridden next to me in quite some time.

“Are you forgetting that the whole thing was my dog’s fault? We’re even as far as I’m concerned.” I crank the ignition and the engine roars to life. Shep, hearing the sound of the truck, comes running with the heel of Ivy’s shoe in his mouth. “See what I mean?”

She takes one look at Shep and loses it. She’s laughing so hard that she’s practically crying. There’s something about her laugh that makes me want to join in. We’re cracking up as Shep gets more and more annoyed that I’m taking someone else for a ride and not him. He jumps up on the passenger door, hanging his paws over the window, making us laugh even harder.

“Oh, the poor thing. I stole his seat.” She reaches out to give him a scratch behind the ears. He usually doesn’t let people touch his head, but he seems to like Ivy. And I kinda like her too.

“C’mon, boy. Get down. We can’t stay here all day.” Shep heeds my command, lowering his tail. I don’t often yell at him, but his manners today have been atrocious even though Ivy’s been cool about it. I know I wouldn’t mind staying parked with Ivy from now until eternity. But I don’t think she’d appreciate that. She’s been sweet and polite, humoring me and my crazy dog, but she probably can’t wait to get out of here.

“Bye, Shep!” Ivy waves to him as we pull away. She reaches back to look at him over her shoulder and her hand unexpectedly lands on my leg. “Oops, sorry.” Her face flushes as she quickly pulls it away.

I can’t speak for a full five seconds. My dick immediately went hard at her touch. Her fingers were so tantalizingly close. I clear my throat and try to change the subject. “I can’t believe Lauren sent you all the way out here just to pick up a disk. I could’ve dropped it in the mail.” At the mention of Lauren’s name, Ivy’s face drops, but it buys me some time to collect myself—not like that’s going to help matters as I catch a whiff of her perfume. I clutch the wheel until my knuckles turn white. She has no idea what she’s doing to me right now as the bumps in the road cause her breasts to bounce against her camisole.

“No, it’s okay. I had to run an errand at the movie theater first, but that was a bust,” she shrugs, and I nearly come undone at her choice of words. Ever since I laid eyes on her, all I can think about is sex—and what it would be like with her.

“Why, what happened?” I try to appear interested, and I am, but she’s so damn distracting. The way her body moves. The way she touched me. The way she smells. All of my senses are heightened.

“I was supposed to pick up the payment for their ad, but I struck out. Now Lauren’s going to go nuclear on my ass because the whole upcoming edition revolves around the film festival. It might be too late to change it.” She fiddles with her skirt as I pull up alongside her car.

“Yeah, I heard they’re not doing so well over there. People around here are so used to watching movies at home. The theater’s only been open for a few months. We had a pretty bad winter and no one wanted to make the trek into town on those cold and snowy nights. But now that summer’s here, they need to be reminded that it’s there.” I lean back, straining against my jeans to reach for the wallet in my back pocket. “I’m a huge movie buff and I don’t want to see it fail. I like being able to see a film on the big screen. There’s nothing better. Tell me how much they owe the Gazette and I’ll foot the bill. The arts need as much support as they can get.”

“Eric, you’re being way too generous. You don’t have to solve all my problems in one day.” She shifts, facing me. Instinctively, she lays her hand on my arm as a friendly gesture, but it ignites every nerve ending in my body. I lower my head and take a deep breath, and she misinterprets my response. “Please don’t be mad. I just don’t understand why you’re being so nice.”

“Because I like you, Ivy.” The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them. Damn it. “I mean…you seem like a really good person, who just so happens to be dealing with a lot of bad luck on her first day on the job.”

“How did you know it was my first day?” She looks at me in amazement, her jaw dropping.

“Because you’re trying too hard.” I’m joking, and for a minute I think she’s going to throttle me, but she doesn’t. The reason I know is that Lauren pretty much has me on her mind 24/7. I’m her obsession. So it’s a pretty fair assumption that she’d make up some excuse to send her new intern up here to spy on me. But I can’t tell Ivy that. She has to work with the nutcase. “Ivy, if you don’t take my money now, I’m just going to ask Lauren to tell me the amount when I call her to explain why you’re wearing clogs.”

“You’re really going to do that? I thought you were kidding.” She sounds impressed by my willingness to go out of my way for her. I’m not looking forward to talking to Lauren, but if it saves Ivy a tongue lashing, I’ll do it. From the moment I held her in my arms, I haven’t been able to shake the urge of wanting to protect her.

“I’m a man of my word.” I look deeply into her eyes, showing her I mean what I’m saying, and she blushes. “Now let’s go fill that empty tank of yours.”

My hand is on the door handle when I feel her pat me on the back. “Thank you, Eric. You’re really something special, you know that?”

And just like that, she’s out of the truck. But the warmth of her touch combined with the sweetness of her voice leaves my head spinning. Man, I can feel myself falling for this girl—or maybe I already have.

* * *

“What’s wrong?” Ivy shoots me a worried glance from the passenger seat.

I’ve been meaning to replace the ignition switch on my truck for a while now, but I kept on putting it off even though it’s been giving me problems. But man, it sure picked a hell of a time to die on me. I turn the key again, but to no avail.

“Eric, we’re already late, and you know I can’t miss this flight.” Ivy’s voice rises as she starts to panic.

We took our time getting ready this morning. I wanted to savor every last moment with her. We should’ve been on the road a half hour ago, but I followed her into the shower and…well, one thing led to another. I was a good boy while she cut my unkempt hair and shaved my fledgling attempt at a beard, but after that I couldn’t keep my hands off her. Holding back while she was cleaning me up just made me even crazier for her when she was done. It was torture having to sit there and behave while she was turning me on with every snip of the scissors and flick of the razor.

But I have to get her to the airport somehow, and my mind begins to race furiously through all of the available options. Jack was already out back on the tractor, but he rode over on his motorcycle, so that wasn’t going to work. My dad was off visiting an old buddy of his and wouldn’t be back until this afternoon. And my mom isn’t able to handle the stick shift in the old truck in their garage. And there’s really no one else I could call on such short notice.