Page 48 of When It's Us
I shamelessly let my eyes roam from the bulge tenting his boxers, up all the ridges and dips of his abs, to the roundness of his pecs. His chest, dusted with dark hair, pink nipples, and miles of tattoos, stares back at me. His throat works over a swallow as my eyes trail up to meet his.
His gaze is heated as he stares down at me, tension palpable between us. Just when the silence is more than I can take, I think he’ll lean in and kiss me.
Instead, he reaches up and boops my nose, which only irritates me slightly, before he says, “Good morning to youandyour nipples.”
I swat his hand away and I shoot him a glare, both insanely turned on and now a little irritated by the fact that while I was so busy checking out his insane body, he seems completely unaffected.
I can’t believe I was holding his junk. How the hell had I managed to miss that anyway? That thing is massive. The cock to shame all other cocks. I’m not kidding when I say it’s a masterpiece of epic proportions. And I should know, like he said, I’ve had it in my mouth twice.
Fuck. Stop thinking about his cock and find some clothes, you moron.
Hutch chuckles in that easy way of his and moves to grab his shirt from yesterday. He pulls it on as I turn away to rummage through my bag on the passenger side seat, even though it puts my ass on display, and I’m only a little sad to see him cover up all that skin.
I locate and pull on a pair of leggings, then pull both of my arms into my shirt to slip on a bra. It’s still raining and chilly outside, so I also pull on a sweatshirt.
When I turn back around, Hutch is pulling his jeans up, and he smirks at me when he catches me watching him do up the button and then his belt.
I dip my head, cheeks heating. What is wrong with me? A handful of hours sharing a bed, and every time our eyes meet, I’m blushing like a twelve-year-old with her first crush. I have got to get my shit together. We have…however many days left in cramped quarters, and there is no way I am going to be able to share a space with him without jumping him if I don’t get my head on straight. Which reminds me…
“What happens if the rain doesn’t stop?”
Hutch sits on the bed and begins pulling on socks and boots. Without looking up, I can tell he’s still wearing that stupid cocky smirk when he says, “We’ll build an ark.”
“No, I mean, the bed situation.”
He does look up at me then, finished tying his boots. “Worried you won’t be able to keep your hands to yourself if we have to share a bed again?”
I expect him to crack that cocky grin, but he doesn’t and the intensity in his eyes has me looking away.
“No, I just…” I glance up. “You said last night you shouldn’t close the roof with it wet. Will it get ruined?”
When I look back at him, the intensity in his eyes is gone, and he’s looking at the roof as well.
“It could, but we’ll hopefully outrun the rain today, and I’ll open it when we hit the next stop. Dry things out a bit.”
I nod, secretly hoping it doesn’t.
Hutch runs his fingers through his hair, combing it back before tying it up. “I’ll put the bed up if you wanna grab those blankets and lay them out. They probably still need to dry.”
“Sure.” I sit on the captain’s chair and pull on my socks while Hutch quickly folds the bedding and tucks the bed back into a bench. Then he slides open the side door and ducks out, shutting it behind him.
The van falls quiet. I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. He’s so damn distracting—annoying, but unexpectedly sweet. Normally I hate it when he teases me, but this morning it was almost…endearing?
Footsteps crunch on gravel. I jump up and swipe open the curtains, revealing a dreary, drizzly day. The last thing I need is for him to catch me daydreaming like some lovestruck idiot.
I finish folding the blankets—still a little damp from the leak—then flip thechair back around.
Hutch opens the door and climbs in, starting the ignition. I crawl over the center console, careful not to step on it, and settle into the front seat, tucking my fuzzy blanket around my legs.
He glances over, chuckling and shaking his head before pulling out of the campground.
Hutch
Lastnight,whenIclimbed back into bed next to Ginger, I thought I’d have difficulty sleeping. I mean, I sleep alone most nights, if you don’t count my dog, Oakley. Which I don’t because he usually only lasts an hour or so before he gets too hot and retreats to the floor to stretch out.
And I absolutely could have slept on my back. In fact, it’s my preferred sleeping position. But once I had her in my bed and pressed against the side of me, I knew there was no way in fuck I was going to be able to sleep that way.
Typically, I’m not a cuddler, but with her… I don’t know. Something made me do it. Ginger might be prickly, but I’m pretty sure under all that bluster, she’s soft as fuck. Her curves certainly are.
