Page 9 of Finding Home with You

As I work my way back up her body, Erin turns, slinging her arms around my neck as she pushes up on her toes and presses her mouth to mine. The kiss is deep this time, her tongue pushing into my mouth as her body presses flush against mine.

I wrap my arms around her as a groan falls from my lips. “Babe,” I whisper, my hands sliding down to her ass. Erin whimpers in my arms and it’s all I need as I pick her up and back her against the wall. She wraps her legs around me, lining us up and allowing my cock to slide into her wetness.

We both groan, our kisses never stopping as I now start to slowly thrust in and out of her.

“God, you feel amazing,” I murmur, my fingers gripping her ass as I hold her in place.

“Fuck me, Ryan,” she moans. “Fuck me, please.”

I speed up a little, pushing deeper and deeper into her. Erin lets one arm fall, her fingers going to her clit where she starts to rub. I pick up the tempo, thrusting in and out of her as she works herself harder and harder.

“Oh god,” she groans, the words echoing in the shower stall. “God, I’m going to come.”

I push one last time, exploding inside her as I feel her come apart around me, her body clenching around my cock.

“Erin,” I whisper as our bodies still, our arms still clinging to each other. She leans against me, the exhaustion now catching up with her. I slowly pull out, pressing a last kiss to her lips as I lower her so she’s standing in my arms.

“Come on, gorgeous,” I whisper, pulling her from the shower and wrapping a towel around her shoulders. “Let’s get you to bed.”

“Can’t,” she mumbles, her head now covered by the towel. “Need to make cupcakes for tomorrow. Kelsey needs them for the party.”

I dry off, wrapping the towel around my waist before I take hers and finish drying her body. “How about we sit down on the couch for a few minutes, have a drink and then I’ll help you.”

Erin looks up at me, a surprised look on her face. “You know how to cook?” she asks.

I grin at her. “There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me, Red.”

She shakes her head before walking into her bedroom to get dressed. I head back to the front door, grab the overnight bag I’d left on the front porch and walk back to her room to get dressed too. Pulling on a pair of old sweats and a t-shirt, I smile as Erin walks toward me wearing the same thing.

“Guess I left that behind, huh?” I ask, gesturing toward an old Red Sox t-shirt of mine that she’s now wearing.

“Guess so,” she says, a shy smile on her face that lets me know I didn’t leave it behind, she deliberately kept it.

I smile back. “Looks good on you, babe,” I say, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Come on, come and have a quick drink and then we’ll get these cupcakes made.”

I leave Erin on the couch as I grab two beers from the fridge. Taking a seat next to her and pulling her against me, I want to ask her what that was all about earlier, but at the same time, I don’t want to disturb this peace we’ve finally found. I know something’s bothering her; I’ve spent enough time with her now to know when something isn’t right. I just don’t know what it is. Or how to convince her to talk to me about it. I don’t want to push things and if there’s one thing I do know, it’s how stubborn and guarded Erin can be.

We sit in silence for a while, Erin leaning against me as I absentmindedly run my fingers up and down her arm.

“I’m sorry about before,” she suddenly says, not looking at me as she takes a long sip of beer.

I lean down and press a kiss to the top of her head, grateful she’s the one who’s brought it up. “You wanna talk about it?” I ask.

Erin shrugs. “Just a shitty day,” she says. “Shitty week.”

I shift a little, so I can see her face. “What’s going on?” I ask, brushing my fingers down the back of her neck. Erin shrugs again but says nothing. It takes everything in me not to ask again, force her to tell me what it is that’s bothering her so much. But this isn’t an interrogation and I’m not a detective right now.

“You can talk to me, you know,” I say instead. “Tell me anything.”

Erin takes another sip of beer, before letting out a deep breath. “It’s just work,” she says. “It’s been crazy, parents cornering me everywhere I go. Worst part about living in a small town,” she adds on.

I can tell from the look on her face that while this might be true, it isn’t the real reason she was so upset before. I’ve seen enough people try to convince me of something to know when someone’s lying to me. What I don’t know is why Erin’s lying to me now. What it is that’s happened that she thinks she can’t talk to me about. I thought we were in a good place; that she knew she could talk to me about anything.

I want to ask, badly, but a part of me knows that I’m walking a fine line and whatever it is that’s bothering her is something she isn’t ready to talk about.

So instead, I ask, “But you like it, right? I mean you chose to come and live here.”

“Yeah,” she says, taking another swig of her beer as she relaxes ever so slightly, knowing I’m not pushing it. “I do. I loved coming up here when I was a kid and after everything…” She drifts off and I’m about to ask her what “everything” is when she changes the subject. “Where are you from originally?”

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