Page 40 of Beautiful Desire (Blossom Beach #3)

Fletcher

“ D id you get any queso?” Georgia asks, doing the little happy dance I’ve noticed she does anytime she’s about to eat. It’s fucking adorable.

“Yes, Peach. I got the queso,” I drawl with a chuckle as I set the Styrofoam take-out containers on the coffee table.

Opening them up one by one, she gives an appreciative hum as she goes. “God, everything smells so good,” she groans. “Where’s this place at? I’ve never heard of it.”

“North about twenty minutes, right outside of town.” Handing her a set of plastic silverware, I say, “A guy I met at the gym, his family owns the place. He’s been telling me about it.”

“Aww, Fletcher made a friend. How cute.” She smirks, and it makes my stomach do a flip. “You didn’t have to go through all that trouble, though. We could’ve just ordered something to be delivered.”

“Figured you’d be hungry when you woke up and wouldn’t want to wait.” I shrug. “Wasn’t a big deal.”

Georgia chuckles. “I can’t believe I slept so long.”

Neither can I.

After we had sex earlier, we both passed out. I woke up an hour later, while Georgia slept for closer to three. She didn’t wake up until right before I got home with the food. Talk about perfect timing on my part.

Holding up two different containers, she asks, “Did you get the chicken or the ground beef enchiladas?”

“Whichever.” I wave her off before grabbing a tortilla chip and dunking it in the queso. “I didn’t know what you preferred, so take what you want, and I’ll eat the other.”

“You sure?” Her brows raise.

“Positive.” I nod, taking a drink of my sweet tea. “I’ll eat either, honestly. I’m starving.”

Looking between the two for a moment, Georgia hums to herself before handing me the one on the left. “I’ll do the beef, if you’re sure.”

Digging in, the conversation stays at a minimum, mostly because the TV’s on, and we’re watching one of the Housewives shows.

Even with the distraction of the television, my mind is still running rampant, replaying everything that happened earlier, and I don’t quite know how I feel about all of it yet.

It was easily one of the most intense experiences I’ve ever had.

But it wasn’t something I ever saw myself doing, let alone enjoying.

Another thing that’s throwing me for a loop is how connected I feel to Georgia.

I have never felt as in tune with a partner the way I do with her, and it’s confusing.

Sex has always been just sex for me. And don’t get me wrong, I’ve had great sex with some sexy-ass women before, but it’s never been this .

I’ve never been one to feel anything emotionally or get attached to somebody, simply because we fucked.

Never even really felt a desire to cuddle afterward.

I’d do it because it’s what the woman wanted, but it wasn’t something I necessarily cared for, but earlier…

that was something else. I needed to hold her after what we shared.

I’m starting to realize, sex with Georgia is so much more than physical, it’s more than chasing a release. It’s deeper. And that realization is confusing as hell, not only because it’s so far outside of my norm, but also because it’s probably just another hot hookup to her.

“How’s your wrist?” Georgia asks as we finish our food.

Looking down at my arm, I chuckle. With everything else that’s happened today, I completely forgot about the bee sting. “It’s fine,” I reply with a shrug. “Not bothering me too much.”

“That’s good. At least you know now you’re not allergic.

” Standing up, Georgia grabs some of the empty take-out containers as I do the same, and we bring them into the kitchen to toss in the trash.

Resting her hip against the counter, she peers over at me, and asks, “And how are you feeling”—her eyes drop down my frame before coming back up to my face—“below the belt?”

My cheeks flame as I look away from her curious gaze. “A little sore, but fine.”

Reaching into the cupboard, Georgia tosses me the bottle of ibuprofen. “Take a couple of these. They’ll help with that.”

“Thanks.” Clearing my throat, I say, “I’m gonna go work on school stuff in my room for a while.”

“How’s the project coming?” she asks, wiping down the counter.

“Pretty good.” I nod. “Got the introduction and the industry and market analysis portion completed, and I’ve been working on the location analysis section.”

“That’s great, Fletcher. I’m proud of you.” Glancing over at me, Georgia’s mouth curls into a smile as she adds, “Let me know if you need a second set of eyes or any more help.”

“Appreciate it, Peach.”

As I head to my room, I rub at the dull ache in the center of my chest with my knuckles.

Thinking back, I can’t remember the last time somebody told me they were proud of me, and she’s done it more than once now.

Granted, I haven’t exactly been doing a whole lot to be proud of, but still, it’s kind of pathetic how good it feels hearing Georgia say it.

Sitting on my bed, back against the headboard and computer in my lap, I’m somehow able to turn my mind off as I lose myself in the project.

I’ve still got a ways to go until it’s finished, but I feel pretty good about the progress I’ve made already.

Georgia and I were able to lay out a solid outline the other day when we were at the bookstore, and from there, I’ve been chugging along, a little bit each day, and for the first time all year, I don’t feel like I’m drowning in schoolwork and in over my head.

After a while, a knock sounds at the door. “Come in,” I call out.

“Sorry, didn’t think you’d still be working.” Pushing the door open wider, she steps into the room, her hair wet, like maybe she just got out of the shower.

That’s when I realize it’s dark outside. “Damn, what time is it?”

“A little after seven,” she offers. “You’ve been at it for a while, but I can let you get back to it.”

“Nah, it’s cool. I should probably call it for the night.” Closing my laptop, I set it beside me on the bed. “What’s up?”

Her gaze is soft as she watches me with an expression I can’t quite place. “Can you come with me?”

“Uh, sure?” I chuckle, climbing off the bed. “Is it a spider?”

“No, it’s not a spider.” Georgia snorts as she leads me into her bedroom.

The small lamp on her nightstand illuminates the space in a soft, warm glow.

She walks over to the bathroom, the door cracked and the light already on, and I’m so confused.

Stepping inside, there’s a vanilla sugar candle burning on the counter behind her, and music playing quietly from the Bluetooth speaker beside it.

Closing the distance, Georgia’s fingers come to the hem of my shirt, her gaze meeting mine as she pulls it over my head.

“You mentioned you were sore earlier,” she murmurs while slipping her hands inside the back of my sweats and shoving them down.

“And I know from experience that soaking in an Epsom salt bath can help.”

My pulse races, mouth dry, as I stand naked in front of her, trying to make sense of this. A bath. Turning my head, I notice the tub filled up, and my stomach flips.

“You put a lot of trust in me earlier and did something you’ve never done before. I should’ve done this as soon as we finished, but obviously, we both crashed.” Slipping her warm, soft hand into mine, Georgia leads me over to the tub.

“Should’ve done what?” I ask, my mind simply not understanding.

“Taken care of you and made sure you’re okay.”

“I am okay,” I rasp, my chest tight as she peers up at me. “You didn’t have to do this.”

Ignoring me, she nudges me in the arm and says, “Get in.”

None of this makes sense. She wants to take care of me ?

Why? The tub in here is one of those nice clawfoot ones, unlike the small, regular one in the main bathroom, and as I step inside and sit down, the water feels incredible.

It’s hot, but not too hot, and there’s a light lavender aroma floating around—I’m guessing from the Epsom salts.

Reaching for the plastic cup sitting on the counter, Georgia comes up behind me and kneels down, dunking the cup in the water to fill it up.

“Head back for me.”

Heart beating a mile a minute, panic rises as the pieces finally come together in my mind. “This isn’t necessary, I’m fine.”

“Head back,” she repeats, tone sterner this time, so I do it. After she soaks my hair, she grabs a bottle of shampoo— her shampoo —from the shelf next to the tub, squeezing a glob into her palm.

“Georgia, you don’t have to wash me. I promise, I can do it myself.”

Breathing out a laugh, she says, “Will you just hush and let me do this? My gosh, you’re even worse than me at this.”

I clench my jaw and roll my lips together, saying nothing, as she brings her hands to my head.

She massages the shampoo through the strands, fingernails gently scraping along my scalp.

It feels fucking good, I’ll admit. After rinsing the suds, she works conditioner in next, occasionally humming to the music.

Neither one of us says anything for a while, but by the time she moves to the side of the tub and begins washing my chest with a washcloth, I can’t take the silence anymore.

“Do you bathe all the men you peg?” I blurt out. That’s what I went with?

Her gaze lifts to mine. “No, actually, I don’t think I’ve ever bathed anybody before.”

Why does that make my stomach flutter? Goddamnit, Fletcher. Get it together.

“What about you?” I then ask. “Let people do this to you?”

She snorts. “God no.”

Georgia is thorough as she cleans my chest and arms, making sure to even get my armpits.

Then her hand disappears under the water, running the sudsy washcloth lower , and suddenly, I can’t breathe.

My body heats, and it has nothing to do with the temperature of the water as she reaches my groin.

She washes my cock and balls, her touch gentle.

Gritting my teeth, I will myself to think of anything to keep from getting hard, but it’s no use.

My body is on fire as my dick swells up right beside her hand, and when I glance at her, I notice the flush to her cheeks, but neither of us acknowledges it.

Working her way down my left leg, she washes it before switching to my right.

As she comes back up, the washcloth brushes over the tip of my cock, and I suck in a sharp breath through my nose.

Georgia’s heated eyes find mine, full lips parted as she wraps her hand around my stiff dick.

Pleasure swims through my veins as she holds my gaze and strokes me from base to tip.

Her grip is firm as she pumps me slowly.

Her nipples harden against the tank top she’s wearing, which only turns me on more.

Sitting up, I wrap my hand around the back of her neck and press my mouth to hers.

A moan falls from her as my tongue parts her lips, and before I know it, we’re both standing up, the kiss turning feverish as I climb out of the tub.

Neither of us seems to care that I’m dripping wet as we work our way into her bedroom.

Hands coming to her shirt, I tug the material over her head and let it fall to the floor before ridding her of her shorts.

We make it over to the bed and climb on, my body covering hers as she wraps her legs around my waist. My lips leave hers, kissing along her jaw and down to her neck, and her soft moans fill the air as she scrapes her nails down my back.

Rolling my hips, the underside of my cock glides along the length of her hot, slick pussy.

“Fletcher,” she moans, the sound sending heat to my balls.

Pulling back just enough to look her in the eyes, I reach my hand down between us, lining myself up to her.

Her brows pinch, and she nods, giving me all I need to ease inside.

We both groan as I bottom out, the feeling of her wrapped around me like heaven.

Bringing my lips back to hers, I lick into her mouth, kissing her deeply as I pull my cock out to the tip and sink all the way in again.

Georgia moans into my mouth as I pick up the pace, my pelvis slapping against her ass as her nails bite into the flesh on my back.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” I growl before nipping at her bottom lip. “Does this tight cunt like being stuffed full with my cock?”

“Yes,” she moans. “Yes!”

“That’s right, Peach.” Sitting back, I look down at her as I pound into her soaking wet pussy. “Look at you,” I groan, grabbing a fistful of her tits with both hands. “Your fucking body was made for me. It was made to take my cock. God, I can’t fucking get enough of you.”

Georgia holds my gaze, whimpering as I tweak her hardened nipples between my fingers. She brings her hand between us, rubbing on her clit as I continue to fuck her, my strokes deep and hard. Sweat drips down my back as my heart thrashes against my ribs.

“You’re fucking perfect, Peach,” I grit out, my balls tightening up as pressure builds low in my spine.

“I’m close,” she moans. “Don’t stop, I’m… Oh, fuck , I’m gonna come!”

Her walls contract around my cock as she cries out, jaw going slack and her eyes rolling back. Feeling her come around me sets off my own release. My balls are full and tight against my body, and a moment later, my cock throbs as I empty myself inside her, a throaty groan ripping from my chest.

Leaning down, I press my lips to hers again, kissing her softly as we both come down.

After I grab a washcloth and clean her up, I climb back on the bed beside her and pull her into my chest again.

She doesn’t fight me like she did earlier, instead nuzzling her face into my neck as I run my fingers through her hair.

As we lie here, wrapped up in one another, I realize how fucked I am. I don’t know when it happened, or how, but I don’t want this with anybody else. I want Georgia , and it goes way beyond fucking her. I have feelings for her.

Fuck me.