Page 50 of Catch and Release Groom

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Earlier that day, all Imogen could think about was finishing what she and Easton started in the back of his truck. Letting lust take the wheel for a while had given her brain a welcome break and allowed her to travel to previously undiscovered, deliciously indecent heights.

It was probably unwise to allow her common sense to remain disengaged for too long, but after years spent striving to be crowned the Queen of Logic, it felt freeing to lean into her impulses.

Easton was so vastly different than she’d expected him to be, and the hourglass on their time together was running low. Didn’t she owe herself a night of wild, reckless abandonment?

What good had clinging to her sound judgment ever done? She’d settled for a life and love that didn’t fulfill her, abandoning her true self along the way. To the point she wasn’t 100 percent certain who she was anymore, save a girl standing across from a boy on the very porch where they’d first met, asking him to…

Do it.Imogen opened her mouth to invite him inside, no predetermined plan of how the night would go.

But Easton beat her to it. “Anyway, thanks again for watching Gator. It’s late, and I’ve got a drive ahead of me, so I’d better get going.” The weak pat on his thigh spoke to his exhaustion. He hid it well, but she sensed the night’s rescue efforts weighed heavier on him than he let on.

She stretched out her arm, caught hold of his hand, and threaded her fingers through his. “Or…you could stay?”

Chapter Twenty-One

Easton’s muddy boots hit the wooden floor with a heavythunk, one and then the other, and Imogen kicked them aside. She closed and locked the door.

“Go wait on the bed,” she told Gator so the dog would stop anxiously pacing and getting in the way.

With the puppy settled, Imogen began peeling off Easton’s clothes, layer by layer. Until he was wearing nothing but his boxers and the grime from his mission.

Imogen nudged him onto the bed, discarded one of her two robes, and snuggled up against him while he gave her a brief recap. As he neared the end with the paramedics and the update about everyone being in stable condition, he trailed off a couple times.

Unsure whether it was from exhaustion or discomfort, she skirted her fingertips across his jaw and up through his hair. Again and again, overly pleased with herself each time his eyelids drifted shut.

His yawn caused her to yawn, too, and she felt his muscles tense as he shifted as if to get up. “I should…shower,” he muttered, and she flung one of her legs over both of his, holding him in place against the mattress. Well, giving the illusion that she could if he attempted to move again, anyway.

“What you need is rest.” She switched it up, running a fingertip down the bridge of his nose. When his eyes fell closed again, victory zinged, along with a whorl of affection. This was one of the most intimate experiences she’d shared with anyone in bed, and all they’d done so far was cuddle and talk.

Gator’s steady, almost-braggy snore swirled into the soundtrack Imogen had grown rather fond of the past few days. The whisper of wind in the trees, the babbling of the stream, and a noisy toad who never ran out of croaks. Add in the gradual slowing of breaths that corresponded to the rise and fall of Easton’s chest, and it was a serene masterpiece she wished she could record and play whenever she wanted to remember this trip and this day.

Upon first inviting him she’d been so sure that he was going to decline and drive away.

“While I’d love to finish what we started this afternoon,” he’d said instead, “I’m not sure I have enough energy to do all the naughty things I plan on doing to your body.” A light grunt accompanied his subtle glance away. “Plus, my head’s not right and—”

Imogen had pressed a finger to his lips. “All I want right now is to be your soft place to fall.”

Now here they were, holding each other as they drifted off to sleep.

…

Imogen stretched out her arms, searching for the muscular heater that’d kept her so warm and toasty last night.

Only to find cool, rumpled sheets.

With a grumble of displeasure, she squinted against the bright stripes of sunlight filtering in through the slats. Then, keeping an ear out for sounds of showering, snoring, or the tapping of doggy paws, she sat up and rubbed her eyes.

As the noticeably empty room sharpened into relief, trepidation crept in. What if she’d freaked Easton out last night?

What if they never got to have sex?

Of all the things to be fixated on, that should probably be further down the list, but acknowledging that fact didn’t magically move it lower. It didn’t prevent her dreaded second-guessing superpower from rearing its head, either.

But then she caught a whiff of coffee and…Is that bacon?

Sure enough, there, on the lamp table next to her phone was a large plate with a silver lid.Room service?

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