The 'Burg: Hold On Part 20

I would struggle to rank my favorite parts (outside of one in particular, which was obvious). He had great everything-shoulders, chest, biceps, abs, the hip V, his thighs.

But however that list came about, special mention would have to be made to the dark hair he had on his stomach. Not a heavy mat across his chest and down. The hair started on the upper ridge of his abs, spreading out and down, spa.r.s.e and enticing.

It got better as it gathered and thickened at the center of the second ridge, down more, more, more, like a line on a map with the arrow at the end, pointing at buried treasure.

And one could definitely say the arrow at that particular end pointed to serious buried treasure.

"Babe."

I started, my eyes darting from his crotch to his face.

Even though he caught me checking out his package, all he said was, "Tired."

I nodded and moved to him.

I was barefoot too, in my jeans, tank, and bra from work. I stopped a couple of feet from him, but he wasn't paying attention. He was twisted to turn out the lamp beside my bed.

I saw the range of his ribs cutting down from the swell of his lat before the room was plunged into darkness.

I undid my belt buckle, the b.u.t.ton, unzipped my fly, and pulled my jeans down my legs.

I'd barely straightened when he hooked an arm around my waist. I swallowed a yelp, noting he'd thrown back the covers, because when we hit the bed, we were in bed.

Merry tossed the covers over us, rolling so I wasn't on top of him but we were on our sides, face-to-face. The roughness of his jeans gently scored the skin of my legs as he wound his in mine, leaned his weight in to me, his arm remaining around me, the other hand coming up to cup the back of my head.

He shoved my face in his chest.

It took a lot, but I didn't rub it there. I wanted to, feeling him, smelling him, knowing he was there for the reasons he was, wanting to believe that what he was giving right then could be mine for eternity.

He'd made it clear he wanted me to take hold of that.

I just doubted his ability to really give it.

Not in the way I needed.

Not in the way that needed to be for Ethan and me.

I heard his head move on the pillow, then I felt his quiet words stir the top of my hair.

"Like your room."

This surprised me.

For mental health purposes, I'd never allowed myself to consider the environs that would surround an at-home Garrett Merrick. But in that moment, I pictured lots of wood, some seascapes, a gun rack, and a very large TV.

"Don't believe in ghosts but evidence points to the fact that the spirit of Janis Joplin puked all over your pad."

I didn't have a lot of room to move, but I was me, so I managed to sock him right in his tight stomach.

He emitted a soft grunt right before I heard chuckling.

I s.h.i.+fted so I could press my hands into his hard heat, not to push him away but to absorb the feel of him right there.

Life had not given me much, so I knew to take what it gave when it offered me a boon. Since it had offered me a boon, I was taking it. Tomorrow, I'd face the consequences.

Now...

Well, this I was taking for me.

I got the sense that Merry knew I wasn't pus.h.i.+ng away because he pulled me closer and leaned more of his weight into me.

I felt his hand tangle in my hair and I closed my eyes tight, taking that boon too, no matter how risky.

"You know I'm teasin'," he whispered. "It's cool and warm and all you."

G.o.d, he had to stop. If he didn't shut up, I'd start believing, and I'd believed before-twice-and except for getting Ethan, it had not lead to good things.

"I thought you said you were tired," I noted.

"Yeah," he murmured.

"So shut up and sleep," I ordered.

"Cher?"

"Callin' my name isn't sleeping, Merry."

"You shut up and listen for a sec, we both can get some sleep."

I shut up.

"No matter what, no matter how things go down-in life, with you and me-no matter I p.i.s.s you off, no matter anything, sweetheart, promise me you'll never block me bein' able to get to you again."

My eyes flew open.

Merry went on, "I don't think I gotta convince you that you mean somethin' to me. What I want you to know right now is, no matter the future, that'll never change. If I gotta know things are good with you or with Ethan, I just gotta know. In the world we live in, don't make it hard for me to get that information, baby."

"I unblocked you about two seconds after you left us, Merry," I whispered.

"All right. Good. But now I'm askin', don't block me again."

"I won't block you again, honey."

The arm he had around me gave me a squeeze.

s.h.i.+t, I had to give it to him.

s.h.i.+t, s.h.i.+t, s.h.i.+t, there was no choice.

"I was p.i.s.sed and I had reason," I muttered into his skin, kinda hoping he couldn't hear me. "But you were right. Callin' in Tanner and the way he played it was what was needed."

I didn't get a squeeze at that.

He kissed the top of my hair.

He said no more. He didn't rub it in. He didn't push things to take advantage and gain more ground.

He just kissed the top of my hair and let it be.

G.o.d, he looked good, f.u.c.ked great, liked my kid, liked my mom, liked me, was protective, smart, dressed well, drove an awesome ride, had a nice family, amazing friends, a solid job, was funny, thought I was funny, knew how to install countertops and skim walls, and he didn't rub it in when he was right and I was...not.

Was he perfect?

And was I crazy?

"You're not goin' to sleep," he noted.

"That's because I'm freaking," I shared openly.

"Tomorrow," he stated.

"It is tomorrow, Garrett."

I heard the smile in his voice when he said, "Right, then later today."

"You can't just turn off freaking, Merry."

"Okay, then shut up, relax, and go to sleep, or, seein' as your boy was probably tweaked at what went down tonight and isn't sleeping soundly, I'll need to haul your a.s.s to my truck to f.u.c.k you until I exhaust you. And this doesn't work for me because it's had time to cool off, and a running truck on a street like yours is a curiosity. I don't need your neighbors checkin' things out and seein' me doin' you. That s.h.i.+t could get back to Ethan."

"I'm suddenly finding myself very fatigued," I announced, though it was a lie. I was suddenly finding myself not giving a s.h.i.+t if a running truck in my 'hood was a curiosity.

Merry chuckled.

That, just that, in my bed, in the dark, so close, might be the most beautiful sound in the world.

I drew in a deep breath and let it go.

Merry stopped chuckling and encouraged, "That's it, baby."

I drew in another deep breath and let it go.

Merry s.h.i.+fted his arm from around me but only so he could shove a hand up my tank and stroke the skin of my back.

At first, this caused a non-drowsy reaction since no man had ever touched me like that with the intention of relaxing me, and Merry's touch felt a particular brand of good.

But surprisingly quickly, it did what he'd intended, and melting into his heat, I fell fast asleep.

I was in the kitchen making dinner. Ethan was doing his homework in the living room.

We were waiting.

Waiting for someone we loved to come home.

"Brown eyes."

I went to the doorway of the kitchen. I knew he was home. I watched my son look to the front door. I turned my eyes there.

The door started to open. I felt my mouth curve into a smile even as I held my breath.

"Babe."

My eyes opened. I blinked away my dream. Then I slid my gaze to the side and saw Merry, dressed all the way to his leather jacket, sitting on the bed beside me, his hand curled warm on the side of my neck.

"Hey, sleepyhead," he whispered.

Sleepyhead.

Merry.

Cute.

I was still half asleep, but I wasn't out of it. I was there. Right there.

h.e.l.l, I didn't know if I'd ever been as right there as I was right then, staring at a gorgeous man who f.u.c.ked good, liked my kid, my mom, me, looked after us, thought I was worth it, and called me pretty.

This filling my head, I pushed up, adjusting so I could put my hand to his abs, feeling the soft, thick cotton of his s.h.i.+rt and the tight muscle underneath, and I blinked again as I moved in. Eyes to the cords of muscle around the strong column of his throat, one of my many favorite parts of all that was him, I aimed and landed a kiss right there.

"Cherie," he whispered, his hand sliding from my neck up into my hair.

Cherie.

No one had ever called me that.

Not even my mom.

I liked it so much, it made me feel dizzy.

Or giddy.

Or both.

I didn't know, I'd never felt that feeling.

But I knew it felt good.

Riding that feeling, I slid my lips up, over his jaw, his morning whiskers sc.r.a.ping my lips in a way I felt in my c.l.i.t. I kept going even as his head twisted, angled. My lips glided over his and locked on.