170
" Tell me," he demanded as he pushed me further under the water so he could share it with me too. "Tell me what the look was about," he added so I couldn't use confusion as a stalling tactic again.
"It's nothing it's just..." I exhaled loud enough to call it a sigh as I shrugged a shoulder. "I'm... happy."
"Really?" he asked, rolling his eyes. "Happy? That's what all the fuss is about? Pretty sure I wouldn't want you to be miserable around me, sweetheart."
"It's not that. It's..." I trailed off, uncomfortable. How do you tell someone that you had only known a couple weeks that being around them gave you a soul-deep kind of contentedness? I was pretty sure there was no way to say that without coming off as clingy or batshit crazy.
"I make you happy," he guessed, no inflection in his voice pointing at anything but understanding.
"I guess that's how I would put it."
"And that'd be a problem because," he prompted, reaching past me for a bar of soap and sudsing it up in his hands. When I didn't say anything, he reached out toward me and started soaping up my shoulders, breasts, belly. "Look Maddy, that's the point of being with someone, isn't it? To find some kind of happiness there?"
"Yeah, it just seems a little, I don't know... soon."
"Because of the break-up or just in general?"
That was a good question.
Maybe both.
"Can I ask you something?" he asked at my silence.
"Sure."
"We've known each other for weeks. Granted, the physical part of this is new, but we've talked about everything from food and TV to books and politics. How can this feel too soon?"
He had a point.
"I guess you're right," I admitted as his soapy hand moved lower.
"Good, now we got that shit out of the way," he said as his fingers slid between my thighs and up, working soapy circles over my clit until my hands had to slap down on his shoulders to stay upright.
So then he made sure I was thoroughly clean.
And then we went to bed and he made me dirty all over again.
I fell asleep thinking he was right; it wasn't too soon.
And while it was smart to be prudent, as Brant yanked me onto his chest and fell asleep with his hand in my hair because he had been absentmindedly stroking it when he passed out, I decided to remember that I couldn't let fear make me ration out my feelings.
I wasn't going to sabotage something that made me happy. "
― Jessica Gadziala , Peace, Love, & Macarons
175
" Why are you single? There isn't exactly a surplus of eligible men in town. The single women must be throwing themselves at you."
I realized that comment was a mistake pretty much the second after it was out of my mouth. Because his smile went wicked; his eyes danced. I knew exactly what was going to follow.
"Think I'm hot shit, huh?" he asked, leaning back in his chair, looking way too self-satisfied.
"I mean... by small town standards," I shrugged, hoping I was coming off as casual and collected plates to bring to the kitchen.
I had scraped the plate and was standing at the sink running water over it when I suddenly felt his entire body press up behind mine, making my hips push against the cabinet as my breath whooshed out of me.
I hadn't even heard him follow me in.
But there he was, touching me from feet to shoulder.
One of his hands moved out and settled on my hip, fingers pressing into the hipbone hollow as his other hand slid gently up my arm and brushed my hair from one side of my neck to the other.
Before I could guess his intention, I felt his lips press in to the column of my neck, making my entire body do a shiver at the unexpected contact that shot from the touch to directly between my legs.
My head tipped to the side, giving him more access as his mouth moved slowly upward, the hint of his tongue tracing over the skin he kissed as I shamelessly leaned back into him. His arm on my hip slid across my lower belly, anchoring me to him as his lips went around my earlobe, his tongue tracing the outer edge and ripping an almost pained moan from between my lips.
My skin felt electric, buzzy, humming, begging for more of the sensation.
But he wasn't in the mind to give it to me.
Instead, his lips left my skin entirely and I felt the side of his face press into my hair. When he spoke, his voice low and rumbling, causing another rush of desire so strong it was borderline painful; his breath was warm on my ear. "By small town standards, how wet are your panties right now? "
― Jessica Gadziala , Peace, Love, & Macarons
176
" Are you taking this bath alone?"
I felt my lips tip up. "Take your clothes off, Jasper."
"Well," he said with an eyebrow wiggle. "If you insist..."
I laughed at that, kicking out of my other boot while he lifted his shirt off. It had only been a few days, but it felt longer. Hell, being away from him for five minutes would probably be painful from this point forward. It seemed if I turned my back, he disappeared.
"I'm not going anywhere," he promised me, making my head jerk up a little guiltily. "I had to ask for asylum too. So you're stuck with me now, like it or not," he said with an almost vulnerable smile.
"Oh, I think I can learn to... tolerate you," I said, leaning into his naked chest.
"You know, I think I know a cure for that smart mouth of yours," he said, making me smile into his neck.
"Mmmhmm," I said a little dreamily, having forgotten how calming his presence could be.
"But let's get you bathed and fed and then we can talk about it."
"Boo... talking," I grumbled and his chuckle reverberated through my body, turning my insides liquid. "
― Jessica Gadziala , Into The Green (The Green, #1)
179
" All those songs I used to pretend to understand, all the angsty, heartbroken songs I had heard all my life, they suddenly made so much more sense.
"Well, then she probably needs a giant coffee, a huge box of your creations, and some time to nurse her feelings in private, don't you think?"
Brantley Dane, local hero, saves girl from sure death brought on by sheer mortification.
That'd be his headline.
"Come on, sweetheart," he said, moving behind me, casually touching my hip in the process, and going behind counter. "What's your poison? Judging by the situation, I am thinking something cold, mocha or caramel filled and absolutely towering with full fat whipped cream."
That was exactly what I wanted.
But, broken heart aside, I knew I couldn't let myself drown in sweets. Gaining twenty pounds wasn't going to help anything.
There was absolutely no enthusiasm in my voice when I said, "Ah, actually, can I have a large black coffee with one sugar please?"
"Not that I'm not turned on as all fuck by a woman who appreciates black coffee," he started, making me jerk back suddenly at the bluntness of that comment and the dose of profanity I wasn't accustomed to hearing in my sleepy hometown. "But if you're only one day into a break-up, you're allowed to have some full fat chocolate concoction to indulge a bit. I promise from here on out I won't make you anything even half as food-gasm-ing as this." He leaned across the counter, getting close enough that I could see golden flecks in his warm brown eyes. "Honey, not even if you beg," he added and, if I wasn't mistaken, there was absolutely some kind of sexually-charged edge to his words.
"Say yes," he added, lips tipping up at one corner.
"Alright, yes," I agreed, knowing I would love every last drop of whatever he made me and likely punish myself with an extra long run for it too.
"Good girl," he said as he turned away.
And there was not, was absolutely not some weird fluttering feeling in my belly at that. Nope. That would be completely insane.
"Okay, I got you one of everything!" my mother said, coming up beside me and pressing the box into my hands. She even tied it with her signature (and expensive, something I had tried to talk her out of many times over the years when she was struggling financially) satin bow.
I smiled at her, knowing that sometimes, there was nothing liked baked goods from your mother after a hard day. I was just lucky enough to have a mother who was a pastry chef.
"Thanks, Mom," I said, the words heavy. I wasn't just thanking her for the sweets, but for letting me come home, for not asking questions, for not making it seem like even the slightest inconvenience.
She gave me a smile that said she knew exactly what I meant. "You have nothing to thank me for."
She meant that too. Coming from a family that, when they found out she was knocked up as a teen, had kicked her out and disowned her, she made it clear all my life that she was always there, no matter what I did with my life, no matter how high I soared, or how low I crashed. Her arms, her heart, and her door were always open for me.
"Alright. A large mocha frappe with full fat milk, full fat whipped cream, and both a mocha and caramel drizzle. It's practically dessert masked as coffee," Brantley said, making my attention snap to where he was pushing what was an obnoxiously large frappe with whipped cream that was towering out of the dome that the pink and sage straw stuck out of. "Don't even think about it, sweetheart," he said, shaking his head as I reached for my wallet.
"Thank you," I smiled, and found that it was a genuine one as I reached for it and, in a move that was maybe not brilliant on my part, took a sip. And proceeded to let out an almost porn-star worthy groan of pure, delicious pleasure.
Judging by the way Brant's smile went a little wicked, his thoughts ran along the same lines as well. "
― Jessica Gadziala , Peace, Love, & Macarons
180
" This isn't coffee," I accused immediately as the rich smell of chocolate met my nose, making me almost want to groan. Okay, I totally wanted to groan. Just not in front of him. Fine, I absolutely wanted to groan in front of him. But in a private setting with his hands and mouth all over me.
"Figured you needed a pick-me-up."
"You told me you wouldn't give me something like this again. Not even if I begged," I reminded him.
"Well, it's made with water, not full-fat milk and there is only a tiny bit of whipped cream," he said, casual as could be. Which was why I took a sip as he leaned across the counter toward me, not thinking anything of it. Until he went ahead and added in a voice low enough that only the two of us could hear, "And the next time you beg me for something, Maddy, it's gonna be my cock."
I nearly choked to death.
And he just casually walked away, wiping the counter. "
― Jessica Gadziala , Peace, Love, & Macarons
