He backs me against the door, sandwiching me between the metal and rock hardness of his body, and runs his thumb over my cheekbone. “You’re exhausted, sweetheart. I can see it in those mood-ring eyes of yours, though you’re trying hard to hide it with excitement over seeing me. It’s okay, I know you want me desperately. I want you too. But I need you well-rested when we go for more. Don’t want you tapping out, too weak to go on after round one.”
I grin at his cocky, arrogant joke and his dry delivery. He’s right, I do want him, but I would need some serious inspiration to be a good bed partner right now. I have no doubt that Bobby has that inspiration and then some, but I would like to be fully rested if he’s talking multiple rounds.
Do people actually do that? Sounds like Bobby does.
He gathers me to his chest, wrapping his arms around me, and I feel him lay a sweet kiss to the top of my head. “It’s all good. Go home and get some rest. I’ll see you tomorrow?”
For a second, I think he knows about Shay’s secret plan, but then I realize he’s talking about dinner here tomorrow night. “Yeah, tomorrow,” I agree, keeping the surprise.
Chapter 11
Willow
I get to Unc’s a little before noon, figuring he’ll be out the door to pull the opening shift at the bar. I’m maybe a bit too early, though, because his truck is still sitting in the drive, so I loop around the block, not wanting to get busted.
As I drive down the side street, I see Unc making his way from the house to his blue Chevy long-bed pickup. He’s limping, but it’s not as bad as yesterday, so maybe the extra day of rest did help a bit. I hope I have him set up well enough that today isn’t too much for him. I cross my fingers and toes that he keeps the pockets of his baggy jeans on a stool all day long and doesn’t run Olivia ragged.
Once he pulls away, I pull into his driveway spot and climb out. Stretching my arms toward the blue sky, I eye my mission of the day.
“You’re going down,” I tell the weeds in the flowerbeds. I’d like to think they cower in fear, but it’s more likely the breeze blowing them around.
I get to work, pulling weeds first then trimming up the small but overgrown bushes. It’s back-breaking work, but I’m glad to tackle it so Unc doesn’t have to, or worse, pay someone to do it. Not that he would. He’d rather let the whole place fall to shambles than admit he couldn’t handle things with his own two bony hands.
I even manage to pull out the couple of cracked edging pieces and flip them around so the unblemished side of the concrete is facing forward. I’ll sneak back over and replace them at some point, but I wasn’t sure how many I’d need so I couldn’t buy them at the hardware store this morning.
By the time I’m done, my shirt is soaked through with sweat, my shoulders are a bit pink from the sun, and my heart is full of butterflies. It looks great, maintained and cared for, but not so drastically different that Unc will pull up and immediately notice that something’s changed.
That had been my worry about adding any flowers or doing anything too major. Unc would probably have a fit, and this way, with it being such a minor update, maybe he won’t even realize it. That’s my hope, anyway—to be able to take care of him without abusing his sense of pride and independence.
I head back home, those butterflies moving into my belly. I need to shower and get dressed to head out to Bobby’s for Shayanne’s surprise plan. What do you wear to ambush your boyfriend?
Boyfriend?
A small laugh bubbles up at the idea of Bobby as a boy-anything. He’s all man, from the top of his dark hair to the tips of his booted feet and everywhere in between. Well, I assume as much from what I’ve felt through his jeans, I think with a smile.
I’d like to know for real, but the way he’s slowing us down physically while speeding us up emotionally is unexpected and keeping me on edge. Hunger, want, need, lust, and true enjoyment of his attention all bloom like little seeds he planted deep inside me, growing at a pace he sets.
In the shower, I take the time to shave everywhere because I know that it’s only a matter of time and I want to be ready whenever Bobby is. I am ready, so ready I consider taking matters into my own hands the way Bobby said he’s done. But I wait, knowing that while I’m good, I want this orgasm from him, not a weak imitation where I’m fantasizing about his fingers gracefully playing me like that guitar he loves.