Cross (The Gibson Boys 2.5)
“I forgot about that. Do you remember when Machlan tried to capture a peacock? And it trashed the hell out of his arm?” Cross laughs. “Apparently it was mating season and the male thought he was competition for his woman.”
We exchange smiles as I set my ball on the little circle to start. One crack of the club and it misses the blade of a giant pinwheel, making it to the other side through a little tunnel. With one more putt, I’m in the cup.
“Beat that,” I say, marking me down for two strokes.
He takes his green ball and sets it on the tee. The club looks so tiny in his hands, and he almost bends in half to take a swing. Once he does, the ball rips through the tunnel, runs a circle around the rim of the cup, and sinks in.
“Dammit.” Narrowing my eyes, I head to the second hole. “You got lucky.”
Lining up my ball, I get into position to hit it. Before I do, I feel him behind me. My heart flutters in my chest like it has the wings of a butterfly. Holding my breath, I wait as I feel his proximity grow near, my body pulled to his like there’s an invisible wire connecting us, reeling me in.
“You’re right,” he whispers, his breath hot against the shell of my ear. “I did get lucky.”
Instinctively, I sag backward, my back resting against his chest. It takes about half a second for his arms to wrap around my waist, pulling me into him. His face finds the crook of my neck and he breathes in, the air trickling over my sensitive skin and making me shiver.
The air is saturated with the scent of his cologne, infiltrating my senses and making me lightheaded. I grab his arms where they’re locked at my belly to steady myself. His forearms are roped, thick with muscle, his skin coarse against my fingers.
A flood of emotions comes raring back. Suddenly, I’m reminded of the uncertainty of him staying out all night with Machlan, of being rumored to be with another girl every other Friday night, of him showing up late for everything and his failure to get a job.
Cross sweeps the hair off the back of my neck and presses a soft kiss just above my shoulder.
“Cross?”
“Yeah?”
“Can I trust you?”
He presses another kiss to the same spot before raising his face and resting his chin on the top of my head. “You can never go by what someone says to that question, Kal. You have to go with your gut.”
It’s the right answer, but it’s no help. I don’t know what in the world my gut is saying. I can hear my brain, feel my heart, experience the throb between my legs, but my gut? No clue.
He moves slightly behind me, just enough so his hardness presses into my back. I gulp, the length rock solid as he stills.
Everything picks up pace, my sensations overloading as I run my hands up his forearms and close my eyes. There’s not a thing about this moment that feels wrong or out of place, not one single thing that screams at me to stop or reconsider.
“How dedicated are you to finishing this game of golf?” I ask, subtly pressing my ass against him.
“All I want is a hole in one.”
Spinning around, I catch the grin on his lips. “That’s a terrible line.”
“Can’t win ’em all.” He laughs. “Ready to get out of here?”
“Depends on where we’re going.”
His gaze drags down my body, blazing a trail as he works his way back up to my eyes. Licking his lips, he takes the club out of my hands. “My house is closer.”
“What are we waiting for?”
Kallie
The door creaks as Cross twists the knob and presses it open. We enter, stepping into a little foyer that has dark hardwood floors and beige walls. He’s decorated the place sparsely, with few pictures and little else.
“Live here long?” I ask, looking at the three little images framed near the doorway to the living room. There’s one of him and Machlan on their high school graduation day, another of him and the Gibson boys at Bluebird Hill in the middle of winter. The last one is of himself, one hand raised in the air at a boxing match. “I remember that,” I tell him, pointing to the last one. “You won by knockout.”
“I did,” he says, placing a hand on my hip. “You were there, two rows up.”
“You were so good. I’d never seen anything like that before. So controlled, so careful.”
“So not like me every other minute of my life, huh?”
Turning to see him, I cup his cheek in my hand. “That’s what confused me so much. You were so talented, so cautious. Then outside the ring, you were the opposite.”