Touch Me (Hart of Stone Family 5)

“Jesus, I am so glad that Emily has a vagina. I mean, sure, we did our fair share of hair pulling, never leaving marks, though. I’m not so sure how to feel about that. And I’ll give you that play, talking to me when you’re not driving. I’m sure it’s not easy even though I haven’t a damn clue as to what could hurt you so badly to put this cloud over your whole life.” I never gave Kelsey her hand back, instead holding it in mine.

“I’d ask you not talk about your sister’s vagina, even if it’s just a figure of speech.” I don’t elaborate, but meeting Emily once was enough to leave a lasting impression. I’m one hundred percent sure she’s a maneater.

“Scare you, does she?” I’m pretty sure a visible quake goes through my body.

“You have no idea, sunshine.” The laughter that leaves Kelsey’s body, the shaking of her shoulders, it’s another quality that I’m slowly coming to crave.

“Don’t worry. At least you didn’t get a talk about crabs and how it feels like when your down there is on fire. Itching apparently is involved, but hey, it’s solvable by medicine. And to answer your question, I couldn’t tell you if that’s the case or if Emily is speaking from experience.” Apparently, talking without a filter runs in the family and isn’t just a Kelsey thing.

“Christ, is this something she’ll bring up around a family dinner, too?” I ask, though maybe I shouldn’t have.

“Oh, you have no idea. Mom pretends she doesn’t hear a word, and Dad, well, I think he gets a kick out of it since there isn’t another penis in his family. Emily has always been more like him—outspoken, abrasive—so he gets a kick out of it. I might talk pretty openly around a certain person, like you for instance, or my sister, but I also know there’s a time and a place. The same can’t be said for my sister.” Our conversation keeps going, each of us telling stories about our families and the crazy they bring to the table, making the long drive pass by in a blur, neither of us wanting to stop on the way in case it puts us further behind. Apparently, Kelsey was looking at things to do in Rosemary Beach and found a new spot for us to try, but we had to get there early since they don’t take reservations. It works for me. Any chance that Kels will give me to take her out is fine with me.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

deke

“You look beautiful.” We made it to my place in time to off load our bags and grab a quick shower, which sucked because keeping my hands to myself while conserving water was bullshit. If it weren’t for us needing to get there early, I would have taken the time to appreciate just how gorgeous the woman beside me is.

“Thank you. You look mighty handsome yourself, Mr. Hart.” I lick my lips, taking her in. Her hair is pulled back on top of her head, tendrils framing her face here and there, and light makeup is dusting her cheeks, lashes thick with mascara.

“Sunshine, not a damn thing compares to you.” I turn to face her. We’re waiting at the bar, which is standing room only, both of us sipping on a bottle of beer. Kels is in a two-piece dress of some kind, its vibrant color complementing her skin tone, slashes of skin peeping through on the sides.

“Well, I can tell you one thing: I’m a sure thing.” Crazy, wild woman.

“Maybe I’m not,” I tease her. My hand is sliding around her waist, bringing us closer together. In all reality, as soon as we get the past squared away, you won’t find me without Kelsey any day of the week.

“Oh, sure. The heaviness between your legs is telling me a whole other story.” I smile down at her, enjoying our moment together. The noise of the restaurant with all the chaos surrounding us, it all is drowned out.

“It’s just for you, Kelsey.” I bend my head down and press my lips to hers, and that’s when the hostess calls out my name.

“Mr. Hart, party of two?” I pull back, grumbling about losing her lips. She laughs but has no problem snuggling closer to me. My hand wraps around her side as we follow the hostess towards our table.

“I hope you enjoy your dinner.” I pull Kelsey’s chair out, nodding at the hostess as Kels takes her seat before sitting down myself.

“Thank you,” Kelsey replies.

I no sooner take my seat than the waitress approaches our table. It’s like God has some kind of twisted fucking sense of humor.

“My name is Candice, and I’ll be your server tonight. Can I get you started on anything?” My eyes move from hers and to Kelsey’s. The girl from high school isn’t that anymore; she’s the epitome of ridden hard and put up wet, aged beyond her years.