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“I’m getting close,” he warned. “We can take this to the bedroom.”
I’d never been the kind of girl to swallow. But I’d also never had Hayes Madigan standing over me and telling me how amazing I was either.
So I held on to his hips, refusing to let him pull away from my mouth, making sure he came all over my tongue, and I swallowed every drop as he uttered my name and tangled his fingers in my mane.
“God, Della,” he whispered, lowering himself to his knees to kiss me. “Are you trying to kill me?”
I smirked. “Didn’t work. Guess I’ll have to try again.”
54
HAYES
ONE YEAR LATER
I drove down the street toward my house, warm air wrapped around me, making my shirt ripple. The air wound over my muscles, stinging the fresh tattoo right next to the one dedicated to my mom.
I’d gotten a butterfly for Della. Every stroke the artist made reminded me her ink was on my skin forever, just like she’d imprinted herself on my soul. I wasn’t the same guy as when we first started dating; I was better because of her love, changed forever just like this tattoo altered the canvas of my skin.
There was just one more step to take to make her mine for just as long.
I pulled up to my house and walked in, thinking just how different it looked now to when I first met Della.
The leather furniture stayed—since I owned a garage and grease was bound to find its way home. But there were now throw blankets layered over the back of the chairs and throw pillows for resting on. A bookshelf stood by the TV with framed photos of Della and me and even some of my family.
There was a photo hanging in my hallway of Della and me on our first vacation to Galveston, where we spent hours upon hours hiding under an umbrella on the beach so her pale skin wouldn’t burn.
My house was fine before. But now? Everywhere I looked reminded me of her in the best possible way. Even the shampoo bottles she kept in my shower for when she stayed over. We hardly spent a night apart but hadn’t yet decided where to make our home together.
All in due time.
I showered up and got dressed, then grabbed the supplies I needed from the kitchen and put them in a cooler. Then I gave Chopper a quick pet goodbye and drove back to the garage, finding her car parked and running in the empty parking lot.
I watched through her window as she sang along to a song I couldn’t hear, her head bobbing—no doubt out of sync with the beat. Her fingers tapped against the steering wheel and red curls fell across her face with the performance.
I grinned at the sight, and when she turned to see me, she smiled back.
Over the last year, I’d gotten so many of those smiles. I wanted to keep seeing her smile forever.
I got out of the truck, grabbing the cooler, and met her at the front door to the garage.
“What is this?” she asked, glancing at the cooler as I unlocked the door.
“A surprise,” I said with a small smile.
“Ooh, what is it?” she asked, her eyes wide.
I pushed the door open then carried the cooler to one of the tables as she followed me. “Turns out our favorite brand released three new flavors of hot chocolate.”
“They did?” she asked excitedly. “What are they?”
I pulled one thermos out of the cooler and read the label. “Fruity cereal. Sounds terrible,” I said, setting it on the table.
She laughed.
“And this one is... dandelion. What the fuck?”
Her giggle warmed my heart. “Maybe they read about the medicinal effects of so-called weeds.”