Where We Go From Here (Phoenix Falls Series Book 3)

We didn’t kiss in the bar. Well, technically Mitch kissed me, but I didn’t get to kiss him back. I lift my hand so that I can delicately press my fingertips over the area where his mouth met my skin, and a deep tingling sensation sparkles in my belly.

He’s staring intently out of the windshield, jaw tight, and his hands gripped around the steering wheel like he’s about to rip it clean from the dashboard. I’m curled up in his passenger seat, watching him like he’s my favourite movie.

The sound of my voice breaking the silence makes him suck in a quick breath, like he’s on the verge of losing his composure.

“Did you shave your stubble for me?” I ask, when my eyes suddenly note the fact that his usual sharp coating of scruff has disappeared, his laugh lines and deeply tanned jaw now stealing the show.

He scratches at the back of his head, eyes still on the road, then he wraps his fist back around the wheel.

“Yeah,” he says, his voice low and deep. “Thought you might–” He bites his lip and shakes his head, as if he’s embarrassed by whatever he’s thinking.

“You thought I might…?” I prompt him, my brow arching curiously.

He swallows and stretches his neck. “Thought you might prefer it,” he says, his face turning hard, as if he doesn’t like what’s coming out of his own mouth. He clicks the indicator with a little extra vehemence as he makes the turn off the main road. “Thought it might be more like what you’re used to.”

My eyebrows rise involuntarily. Wow. And I thought that I was the over-thinker.

I lean closer towards him, resting a palm on his thigh, and I watch his jaw clench. Then I move my hand slightly higher and a gruff sound reverberates in his chest.

“I like you exactly as you are,” I tell him. “I’m not into pretty boys anymore, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

When he still doesn’t look down at me I rub my thumb into him harder, making his chest swell and heave.

“Mitch, I’m serious. Even when you’re covered in dirt you’re more clean-cut than any of those shallow-ass motherfuckers could ever pretend to be.”

The truck comes to a smooth, abrupt stop and I realise that we’re already in front of the gate at the top of the forest’s Nature Trail. I was so distracted by the sharp angles of his jaw, the thick cords in his neck, that I hadn’t noticed how quickly we’d made it up bank towards the bungalows.

Mitch uses one hand to un-strap his seatbelt and the other to clasp his fingers around mine, his eyes moving from the opening up ahead to stare deeply into my own. In the shadow of the cab roof with only the moonlight and his car beams to illuminate the gloom, his eyes have never looked so striking.

It’s the blue shirt. That soft dusty blue against his unbelievably deep tan, drawing my eyes straight up to the only other source of brightness: those candy-crystal irises.

“You say the sweetest stuff,” he murmurs, his thumb stroking firmly up the back of my hand. We instinctively both lean closer, me lifting up and him ducking down, but then his gaze sweeps back through the front window and he lets out a low curse. “Let me just… the gate… once I’ve opened the gate–”

I nod adamantly – anything to get us through the gate and over to those bungalows as quickly as possible. Anything to speed up the process of getting his mouth on mine.

He heaves himself out of his door and storms over to the gate, the truck headlights giving me a clear view of his large bulk striding to the latch, and his hands practically ripping the chain from around the wooden pole keeping our metal obstruction in place. He tosses the chain and shoves the gate wide, wiping his hands on his jeans as he makes his way back over to me.

He’s the hottest contradiction that I’ve ever seen. Protective yet threatening. Light yet dark.

He ducks back into the driver’s seat, quickly shutting the door, and then he puts his foot down hard on the pedal so that we can get out of the truck as soon as possible.

Once he parks up beside the bungalows he unfastens my seatbelt and gives me a heated look as he says, “Stay here.”

I watch him as he leaves the car, shutting his door after himself and jogging back towards the gate so that he can lock it up again. He picks up the chain and it clanks in loud repetitive twangs as it hits off the metal and thumps against the wood, only dropping into silence once he’s got the lock in place and he’s retracing his steps towards the truck.

A few moments later he’s pulling my door open and holding out his hand so that I can take it as I dismount the step. Once I’m on the ground he shuts up the vehicle behind me and suddenly we’re back to that moment in the bar. That suspended second of stillness. Our hands are hesitantly hovering beside our bodies as we gauge what we can and can’t do.

The car lights are off, the bungalows are in total darkness, and the only source of light is the soft beam of the moon. I look up at Mitch, feeling a combination of sexually desperate and nervously unsure, and he looks back down at me, his eyes half-mast.

Quietly he says to me, “I owe you a dance.”

We stay totally still for a few long moments and then suddenly I’m being warmed, his hands pressing firmly into the arch of my lower back. I tuck my fingers into the front belt-loops of his jeans and his mouth curls slightly into a grimace, like he’s losing his gentlemanly control.

“Couldn’t do it in that room,” he admits gruffly as he closes the gap between us, pressing his hard abs up against my breasts. “But we can do it here, so no-one else gets to see when you…” His hands slide to the sides of my hips and he grips into them hard, making them move in a provocative sway. “When you do that,” he finishes, his face set hard like he’s ready to snap.

My lashes flutter as I look up at him, my body turning weak and lightheaded. I lift one arm so that I can encircle his neck and it enables me to press my chest against his body harder.

“Christ,” he grunts, and suddenly my back is against the side of his truck, his hard thighs are knocking my knees apart, and he’s settling himself right against my heat, hands tight on my ass as he starts to grind me.

I gasp quietly but it only encourages him to move a little faster, a little deeper, his fingers impatient as they knead and grope.

“This is how you dance?” I ask breathlessly, tilting my head back as he dips his face into the warm curve of my neck. “Good job we didn’t do this in the bar. We would’ve been banned for life.”

A huff of laughter hits my cheek and then he’s looking down at me as he rolls his body firmly against mine. “Gonna let me kiss you?” he asks, his eyes on my lips, then my throat, then my slightly bouncing chest.

I can’t help but smile as I watch him become hypnotised.

“Where do you want to kiss me?” I whisper back at him.

Something like a snarl leaves his chest and he presses his forehead fervently against mine. “Harper, for Christ’s sake, I’m trying to not get too carried away. Please don’t give me any more reasons to let myself get carried away.”

I arch slightly backwards and let him rub my nose with his. Then I subtly nod my head and he makes a low groan of relief.

“Thank you, baby,” he murmurs quietly, and then he ducks down to press his mouth against mine.

At first it’s soft and gentle, the light press of something respectful, him wanting to make sure that I’m as okay with this as he is. I move my hand from the back of his neck to grip at the firm line of his jaw, and he breaks the kiss for a second so that he can look into my eyes. Then he dips straight back down, taking my lips again.

The second time it’s harder. The immediate pressure of his mouth on mine has me moaning into him, incentivising his hands to grip and squeeze more roughly at the soft curves of my behind. When I pull his belt-loop as close to my body as it’ll go he slides one hand down my thigh and suddenly hitches my leg up around his hip, pinning me to the truck with the pressure of his hardened groin. He turns his head to the side and the movement makes me gasp, giving him the opening to slip his tongue inside. It’s soft and warm as he laps gently around mine, but the anguished moan that leaves my throat makes him growl and rub our tongues together harder. Faster. Soon we’re nothing but a frenzy of him pounding my crotch against the side of his truck and his tongue stroking wet and relentless, deep into my mouth.

My mind goes blank, sputtering and fizzling until I’m nothing but physical sensation. I slide my hand from his jaw so that I can pull hard at his hair and he makes a gruff noise in response, his hand landing a quick spank against my ass.

My body jolts right into him, my breasts jumping up to meet his pecs, and he tears his mouth away from mine, breathing heavy as he stares down at me.

“We have to stop now,” he says, his voice a thigh-clenching command.

I shake my head.

“Yes,” he orders. “Otherwise we’re going to end up screwing over the hood of my truck.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad to me,” I reply, my voice a quiet vixen rasp. I watch heat stain his cheekbones and decide to taunt him further. “Don’t you remember what I asked for in the bar? The Doggie–”

He presses his palm over my lips and I lick a tiny stripe up his hand.

“Stop it,” he says firmly. “You only just learned about my past. In the morning you might decide that a guy with a kid doesn’t hit the spot for you.”

When he removes his hand I murmur, “I bet you could hit my spot all night long.”

“Harper,” he says warningly, one of his hands moving to his jeans so that he can rearrange the situation trying to push its way out of the denim. “And we need to talk about our age difference, too,” he adds on gruffly.

I roll my eyes. “Go ahead. All that’s going to do is turn me on harder.”

“Harper,” he grits out, his eyes dark and aflame.

“Fine,” I submit. “We’ll stop for tonight. But I know all you’re going to do in your bungalow is picture me on my bed, naked. You take really long showers, Mitch.”

He licks his bottom lip, his hands both back on my hips rubbing gentle circles.

“You sleep naked?” he asks me.

“I will tonight,” I say wickedly.

His mouth lifts into a smirk and he presses another hard kiss against my lips. Then he murmurs, “I sleep naked every night.”

I shove at his chest but he doesn’t move an inch. Tease, my mind thinks. The next time I shove at him he’s so comfortable that he starts sucking on the lobe of my ear.

“I’ll deny you,” I threaten him, my arms now looped around the back of his warm neck.

He smiles against my cheek and then gently nips at my jaw. “I’ll enjoy it,” he taunts back.

“I know what you want, and I won’t let you do it,” I continue, and suddenly his movements slow down, like he’s trying to work out how well I’ve read him.

“You won’t let me do what?” he asks quietly, his hands slow-kneading my ass cheeks in an unending spread and circle.

“That,” I say, like it’s obvious. “That thing that I mentioned in the bar? From the second that I saw you I knew exactly how you’d be – you’re the big bad boss who likes to be in control.”

He pulls away from me now and stares down into my eyes. I use the moment to take the reins, turning my body one-eighty and arching my ass as hard as I can up against his crotch.

He lets out a hard exhalation and presses his chest against my back, my hands gripping the roof of his truck as his palms fly up to my breasts, massaging me.

“I know you want me from behind,” I whisper, amused by how right I was but too aroused to fully revel in my glee. Because the fact of the matter is he is the big bad boss, and he’s currently grinding two-hundred-and-fifty pounds of solid muscle against my soft little behind. The knowledge that he could take control of this moment at any second rings like a shotgun in the silence of the night.

I cover his eager hands with my fingers and he grunts against my neck.

“Yeah,” he murmurs. “I want that. I…” He moves one hand up to my jaw, turning my head so that he can kiss me, slow and deep. He doesn’t stop until I’m whimpering. Then he pulls away as flushed as I am and says quietly, “I wanna hit it from the back.”

I almost lose all control of my body. I stabilise myself against the truck and then turn around to face him, our chests rising and falling embarrassingly hard.

“Okay, you’re right,” I say quickly. “We… we should stop for tonight.” Otherwise I will literally go into cardiac arrest.

He nods in agreement whilst simultaneously scooping a hand under my ass, but this time he uses the position to lift me from the ground, holding me against his side as he walks us up the short path to my front door. When he deposits me on the ground both of his hands move to my jaw, cupping it gently as he leans down to kiss me again.

“You’re going to make me change my mind,” I whisper against him, “and you should know, I’m a fighter.”

He grins, a flash of perfect white in the darkness as he pulls away. I give him an irritated glower before turning around to unlock the door.

As I push it open I feel his hands move back to my hips, his groin rubbing rhythmically against my ass, and a deep grunt coming from somewhere above my head.

I glance up at him over my shoulder, his eyes already locked on mine.

“You’re going to make me change my mind, looking this damn beautiful all the time,” he warns me. I tip my neck all the way back so that my head is resting in the centre of his pecs, and one of his hands climbs over my waist, all the way until it’s wrapped gently around the front of my throat. “Knowing I got all this right here? Knowing that you’re my neighbour?” He dips down and whispers against my cheek, “Knowing how you’re going to let me pump you?”

I shiver hard against him and he presses a firm kiss against my jaw. Then he lifts up, releases me, and I turn to face him, his feet just behind the threshold.

“Lock your door,” he instructs me.

“As if you wouldn’t just break down our adjoining wall. What’s it made of anyway? Papier-mâché?”

“Sheetrock,” he growls. “And don’t tempt me.”

I bite back a smile, leaning against the frame as I murmur, “I was only kidding.”

He flexes his jaw and his eyes burn into mine. “I wasn’t.”

I suddenly feel limp, his strong body less than a foot away, and he senses it in the air between us. He takes a large step backwards, trying to clear the fog from his brain. It’s too late for me – my whole kitchen is steamed up with red smoking lust.

He nods his head at me and I’m gratified to see that he’s as begrudging about this departure as I am. Then he jerks his chin over to his own bungalow and we both smile at the ridiculousness of it.

So close, yet so far.

“Goodnight Harper,” he says finally.

I kick off my boots and smile. “Goodnight Mitch.”