Faithful (25 page)

“Aww, you did this for me.”

“Between the factory hours and running out to the new houses Carson has been building, I don’t have a lot of time here for domestic chores. Now, get undressed.” He crawls on the bed and begins unzipping my jeans.

“So much for me slowing things down,” I say excitedly. I’m already worked up from the kiss, and looking at an almost naked Cooper only arouses me further. I want to simultaneously zip my pants back up and rip off my blouse.

“If something is good, why would you want to slow it down?” Cooper is eagerly trying to remove my clothing while my hands make feeble attempts to stop his quick maneuvers. He yanks both of my shoes off and flings them at the ceiling. I watch one fall down and hit a lamp and the other skitter across the room.

“Why do you think some people can take a relationship slow and others move like the speed of light?” I ask as he finally pulls my jeans off in one fluid movement.

“People who move slowly don’t have any sense of mortality. They think they have all the time in the world,” he growls as we play tug of war with my blouse.

He regards me with a flash of irritation. “Why aren’t you naked? Why am I doing all the work here?”

“I like watching you work for it, and why do you feel compelled to move so fast? Do you think death is around the corner or something?”

“Ah, shit.” Cooper is on all fours glaring down at me. “Not again, Imogene. Stop overthinking this. Why are you shy all of sudden?”

“I’m not shy.” Lord knows, a little shyness might have spared me a decade of wankers. “We’re always jumping on each other like it’s our last chance to screw before we end up at the Death Star.”

“Maybe it is,” he says, lowering his head to the buttons on my blouse. When he rips one off with his teeth and spits it across the room, I watch, fascinated, as he proceeds to work his way up each button.

“Good Lord. You’re on a rampage, and you’re ruining a perfectly good blouse.”

“And you’re ruining a perfectly good night. I’m making up for lost time, including last night, which you also ruined.”

“Oh, fine.” I push him to the side, and he falls on his back to watch me.

Once I get up on my knees and struggle out of my damaged blouse, Cooper hooks a finger under the band of my black panties and looks up at my breasts spilling out of my black bra. His eyes widen, and I realize I have trapped the wild boar. He looks like he’s been shot with a tranquilizer gun.

I suddenly grab his boxer briefs with both hands and yank them down his legs with enough force that he yells in surprise and protectively grabs his straining cock so it doesn’t get strangled in the menacing hold I have on his underwear.

“Jesus,” he mumbles, all his beautiful muscles flexing in response. I am momentarily caught up in a few seconds of admiring his form.

“You wanted rough.” I pop off my bra and wiggle out of my panties. It’s my turn to lean over him like an animal. “Get ready for the ride of your life.”

“Can’t wait,” he says, reaching for my waist to bring me closer.

Damn, I forgot to have the condom ready. While I eye the distance of the nightstand, realizing it’s out of reach, Cooper tilts his head and catches the frustration in my expression. There’s an intensity to his gaze as he gives me that knowing smirk, and that’s enough for me to give it my best shot. I launch myself forward, stretching across Cooper’s chest, trying to grab the nightstand drawer.

So much for my wannabe, sexy-dominatrix act. My buffoonery move has all my weight on Cooper as I struggle to pull a condom out of the drawer. He’s growing harder by the second as my soft tummy and breasts press and rub against him. Finally, he laughs and reaches his arm out to retrieve the condom that I’m unable to grasp.

“Is this what you’re looking for?” He smiles and holds it up to my face.

I take it and prop myself back on my knees to roll the condom on him, making him moan and throw his head back.

“I was hoping we could be more than the sum of our basic urges,” I muse as I stroke his length. “Oh, well. I was wrong.”

“This is a really lousy time to get introspective about us fucking.” There’s that smug smile. Then his eyes become hooded as I increase the stroking.

“True. This is nothing special. We’re just going at it like animals,” I say matter-of-factly, even though my pulse is racing.

“Wait a minute,” Cooper grits and makes a power play, throwing me off him and quickly positioning himself between my legs. “Don’t give me that bull.”

“Oh!” When I knee his hands and cock away and push him over again, toppling to the floor, he manages to embrace me so his back takes the hard hit.

“Christ, Imogene. What are you doing?” he barks, trying to turn me over on my back.

“No you don’t! This is mine!” I straddle him, and he lets me pin his arms above his head.

“Why the hell did I buy new sheets? You should have told me you prefer the floor.”

I shut him up by rubbing his cock in the wetness between my legs. His eyes blaze with lust as I impale myself on him in one swift move. Then I am rocking and grinding against him. I release his hands, and Cooper assists by gripping my waist and forcing me to slam down on his cock as if he can fill more of me.

“Fuck, yeah.” He bucks upward, going for the gold.

He thrusts harder, holding me in place so I won’t catapult off him. Everything about his glowering eyes and tense expression tells me he wishes he were taking me in a way that would satisfy his baser instincts. With angry grunts and steely eyes, he moves one hand and puts his thumb to good use so I’m squirming above him, hurtling towards a nice, big orgasm. His needs don’t even register with me at this point. It’s all mine.

“Come on, beast,” I cheer him on. “Let’s bring this one on home, big boy.”

And he does, more than once, thanks to a drawer newly stocked with condoms.

Twenty

“I’m not even listed in here,” Cooper says as he scrolls through my phone.

We’re taking my car to work since he’s going to be in New York City with Dylan for the next two days and can’t take his Harley.

“How is this possible? We’ve talked and sent texts, so how did you not save my number? And you still have Jeremy’s number in here,” he bellows, which makes me laugh.

“You’re in there.” I grin as I park the car behind the furniture factory. I look past the basketball court to my new, little office building and sigh happily.

“Where?” Cooper is glaring at my phone as if it has become his enemy.

“You’re listed under
Viking
.”

Cooper regards me quizzically and then looks back at the demon phone and begins scrolling furiously until he finds his number. “Is it because you think I’m a barbarian?”

“No. It’s a compliment.” I turn off the engine and smile at him. “
Sexy, Hunky Viking
seemed like overkill to put in my phone.”

“Oh.” As his tense face relaxes, he drops the phone in my handbag before leaning over to kiss me. Keeping his hand behind my neck, he moves back to study my face. I like this part—being past the hullabaloo and knowing we’re a thing, a couple, or something. Okay, maybe nothing is clearly defined, but it is a pivotal moment … I think.

“I’m going to miss you, but you’re going to be very busy,” he says.

“With being a boss lady, you mean?” I laugh because that’s exactly how I envision myself, and it cracks me up to think of myself as an employer.

“That, too. But I’m talking about that damn phone. You have a lot of guys’ numbers in there that you need to delete. Either you’re storing numbers from the past decade, or you’ve been a lot busier than I thought over the last year.”

I grin and cup his jaw for one last kiss on his cheek, reveling in the sensation of his stubble against my lips.

“Sure, laugh, but Quasi is going to be thinking of you while he has to share a hotel room with Dylan. Me and Mad Dog. Real fun.”

“You have me picturing a hunchback and a Rottweiler.”

“There you go. So you need to call me a few times a day and maybe we can have phone sex.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I already have someone on call for that. Yeah, he’s listed in my contacts as
Hot Phone Sex Dude
.”

“Start deleting, Imogene.”

Our first morning of business at Imogene & Lauren goes quite smoothly. Our two new employees, Anita and Tracy, both show up early. After Lauren and I give a detailed overview of our product designs and goals and the layout of our new workshop, everyone gets busy. Lauren likes to handle paperwork and administrative chores first thing; therefore, she turns the back office into a system that flows for her. I sit at the large craft table in the main room with the others, and we get into a natural groove of separating and organizing our personal areas and keep up a very good pace on the current jewelry projects.

The women chat casually as their fingers expertly handle the more complex beading techniques. It’s inspiring to watch them bring our designs to life and gives me greater faith in our decision to take on this enterprise that seemed so far-fetched to me two years ago.

“Lunchtime!” Lauren sings as she sails out of the back room.

We all get up to retrieve our sack lunches from the mini fridge handed down to us from Carson’s office.

“Are you always this cheery?” Tracy asks Lauren.

Tracy is a thirtyish, single woman, a granola head who moved to Hera from the city to pursue a more affordable, artistic lifestyle. She sort of floats around with her gauzy tops and skirts billowing around her, and she believes in positive mantras. She’s really the perfect match for Lauren’s optimism.

Anita is closer to my mother’s age and a bit more serious and morose like me. We’ve been sharing eye rolls all morning, anything to balance out the constant giddy vibes the other two give off.

“Lauren is in the cheerleader hall of fame,” I add dryly.

“I think it’s nice,” Tracy says. “The boutique I worked in was owned by a very miserable woman who drove away the tourists whenever she worked the cash register.

“Ha. That would be me,” I say and Lauren laughs. “Lauren and I are opposites, so it creates a pretty good equilibrium, I think.”

“Definitely.” Lauren sits down at the small, four-person table by the window we’ve designated for eating and taking breaks.

“I thought I’d run over to
The General Store
and get some sushi today,” Anita says, picking up her handbag. “Would anyone like me to pick something up?”

“Sushi Dan is in town?” I frown because I really can’t afford to splurge on sushi rolls, but our quaint Old West-style grocery store that caters high-end gourmet foods, mostly to tourists, only brings in the sushi chef a couple of times a week. I hate to think of how much money I used to blow on Sushi Dan.

“I made you peanut butter and jelly,” Lauren says, handing me a grocery bag. “And there’s an apple.”

“Thanks. Is there a juice box, too?” My sarcasm doesn’t faze Lauren.

“No. I stocked water bottles in the fridge for everyone. It’s sweltering in here. We’re not getting any crosswind.” Lauren ruffles the bottom of her shirt to fan herself. Her face is pink, but she still isn’t showing any obvious signs of pregnancy.

“I’ll be back in ten.” Anita slings her purse over her shoulder. “Oh, look, someone is coming.”

We all look out the window that faces the parking lot and watch a man walk towards our building, clearly holding an enormous vase of flowers.

“Ooh,” Lauren squeals.

“Hello?” The man knocks on the doorframe and opens the screen door to pop his head in. “I have flowers for Imogene Walsh?” As he looks at the four of us, my eyes are riveted on the extravagant bouquet of hydrangeas and roses.

“Me! That’s me.” I jump up and dash to take the heavy vase out of his hands.

“I’ll get the tip.” Lauren signals for the man to wait.

“It’s been taken care of. Have a nice day, ladies.” He gives us a curt nod and leaves.

“Well?” Anita asks. “Who is it from?”

“They are gorgeous,” Tracy says with glee.

“I bet they’re from Cooper,” Lauren chimes in.

“It could be from our parents,” I say, but I’m secretly hoping these are courtship flowers and not daddy’s-little-girl flowers.

“Open the frigging card!” Lauren hovers impatiently as I put the vase on our lunch table and fumble with the envelope.

“Oh, give me that.” Lauren yanks the envelope from my hands and rips it open.
“‘For my favorite ball buster. Congratulations on your first day. Quasi.’”

“Ballbuster?” Anita asks.

“Quasi?” Lauren looks at me questioningly.

I laugh and grab my phone. “I have to call him.” I run to the back office and shut the door for privacy. I call
Viking,
and he answers on the first ring.

“Hey, ballbuster.”

“The flowers are beautiful. Thank you.”

“I should have brought these to your door a month ago instead of that ratty sandal. I’m kind of doing this backwards.”

“Backwards?” I lean against the office door and smile to myself, racing heartbeat and all.

“I’m told the guy is supposed to give a woman flowers at the beginning. I’m a little late to the game, but in my defense, I’m working with a bunch of guys who seem to know less than me.”

“About women? I don’t think you have a problem in that area.”

“About dating,” he chides. “About … us.”

“Hmm, you’re doing very well, Mr. MacKenzie. Wooing me with big cash tips, jewelry you shouldn’t be paying for, hikes that I hate, expensive dinners we don’t eat, and flowers. Very nice.”

“Did you intentionally leave out the all-night sex? Because I think that’s kind of a biggie, and it’s a low blow to a guy’s ego when you skip over that part.”

“Isn’t this nice? We’re actually having a conversation instead of sex.”

“Seriously, I’d rather have both. But I’m glad you like the flowers, and that I did something right for a change. Maybe I should have tried this approach a year ago.”

I’m deliriously happy to hear his voice. “No, this is the right time for flowers. The women were all a flutter. Our first delivery, and they’re flowers for me. Not bad, Viking.”