Every Time I Fall (Orchid Valley 3)

I nod. “More than okay.”

He drags a hand over his beard then lifts his head to stare at the ceiling. “I might’ve gotten a little carried away.”

I take his face in both hands and kiss him firmly. I taste myself on his lips, and more warmth pools in my gut at the realization. “I liked it. Don’t apologize.”

He smiles against my mouth. “No regrets?”

“Not a single one.”

“You’re a fucking wet dream, Abigail Matthews.”

“Thanks.” I suddenly feel ridiculously shy. “For, you know, all of it.”

He winks at me. “Anytime.”

And apparently anyplace. I scurry from the bathroom to find our friends, smiling the whole way.

* * *

Dean

I think what guys like about seeing a woman dressed up is knowing she did it for him. The idea that sexy underwear on a date could mean I was hoping you’d see this. Or a low-cut dress could mean I want you to look at me. It’s probably not always that simple. There are as many reasons for a woman to choose sexy clothes as there are women, but the male ego likes to imagine it’s all about him. At least, mine does.

So today when Abbi showed up in that dress, her lips pink and glossy, her hair curled before she pulled it up off her neck? Yeah. That did it for me. If only because I like to think she made those little efforts for me—that she wanted me to look at her lips or notice the smooth skin of her neck. That she wanted me to think of the things I could do to her in that dress.

We’re all lounging on Marston and Brinley’s deck, enjoying the nice evening. Most of the girls are sipping wine, but the guys have switched to bourbon. I took a very short pour for myself, but I’ve barely touched it. My recent indifference to alcohol has made me realize just how hard I was leaning on it when things were bad with Amy. My friends were right to worry about me. I didn’t like who I was becoming. But now? Now I feel damn good, and I’m starting to wonder if maybe this doesn’t have to be temporary. Maybe Abbi’s changed how she feels about guys like me. Maybe the fact that I was raised with a piece of shit for a father isn’t a deal breaker for her anymore.

Abbi and Brinley are having a hushed conversation at the far end of the deck. I wonder what Abbi’s telling her. The truth? That we’re messing around because she has a ridiculous idea that she’s bad in bed? Or something more? Maybe she’s talking to Brinley about the same thing I’ve been thinking myself—that it was supposed to be physical, but she’s feeling something more now.

I want to punch myself in the face for being so damn hopeful, but I can’t help it.

“She looks amazing, doesn’t she?” Stella asks, and I jerk my gaze off Abbi.

“What?”

Stella gives me a crooked smile and nods to where Brinley and Abbi are standing. “Abbi. Everything she’s doing to be more confident is working. You can even see it in the way she presents herself at work.”

I swallow. What does Stella know about it? “What do you mean?”

Her smile grows and she leans toward me. “There’s this guy—Frankie something—and he was her wine supplier for a long time, but a few weeks ago, he told her he was leaving that position and training to open a wine-tasting room. In Orchid Valley.”

I frown. “I don’t understand.”

Stella rolls her eyes. “She has a massive crush on him, and he wants to take her out when he moves to town, so she’s decided to make some changes to, you know, set that relationship up for success.”

I’m gonna be sick. “She really likes this guy?”

“Really, really. And frankly, it doesn’t even matter to me if it works out between them. I’m just glad to see her happy and loving herself a little more.”

“Right. Understandable.” I push out of my chair. If I have to listen to any more, I might actually get sick.

I wander away from the group and prop my forearms on the deck railing, breathing in the cool night air and trying to shake the sick feeling in my stomach.

I wait until I see Abbi head into the house to use the restroom and follow shortly after. I wait in the dark hall, and when she emerges, I pin her against the wall and lower my mouth to hers, kissing her. Hard.

She moans against my lips and opens under me, feeding my hunger for her more. I love the way she responds to me, the way she sounds when she moans, the way she lifts on her toes and arches into me, pressing her breasts into my chest as she loops her arms behind my neck.