Page 17 of Snake Eyes (Out of His League #2)

I hum beneath my breath, buzzing around the bar like a happy little bumblebee, going from plant to plant with my watering jug. The water’s been sitting for more than an hour now, so we’re safely away from the glacial temperature that came out of the faucet.

It’s been more than a year since I officially decided to stay in Cedar Hill, but I may have already gone a little crazy with my new plant collection.

Pots hang from above the bar, greenery tumbling down onto the polished wooden surface, both new and rehomed.

A satin pathos, Burro’s tail, string of hearts, a pink paradise transcendentia, whilst a huge Madagascar jasmine climbs up from below.

In pride of place behind the bar, surrounded by a myriad different Christmas snow globes, is one of the many thriving babies from my Nonna’s Christmas cactus plant, its flowers a bright pink.

I had more luck than I could have ever dreamed of propagating from its leaves.

I kept four or five of the biggest, healthiest babies, but gave the others away to anyone who wanted one, meaning I get to see little snippets of my Nonna around Cedar Hills.

Most of them are where I expect them to be—at Shane’s diner or the pet shop or Kurt’s garage, but occasionally I’ve seen them sitting on the windowsill in people’s houses or even the local elementary school, still in the cute planters I potted them in.

Light puddles onto my skin like the living embodiment of holiday cheer as I bend to water the four-foot high potted Christmas tree—carefully avoiding the lights, of course.

We held a Christmas evening on the 1 st December, inviting all the local kids to come and hand-make their own baubles to put on the tree, and every time I look at them it puts the biggest grin on my face.

When the watering is done, I prop my hands on my hips. I accomplished a lot this evening. Deep-cleaned all the surfaces, put up some more Christmas decorations, refilled the speed rail, wiped down the windows.

The only thing I haven’t done this evening is pull any pints.

Ducking beneath my purple shamrock plant, I peep out of the curtain, exhaling at the sight of the snow drifts almost completely covering my poor car.

The moment we heard about the approaching blizzard, Garrett and I decided it was safer to hunker down in town rather than risk being stranded at home in the woods.

And I have to admit, it’s been fun. Like a slumber party, except instead of mattress-surfing down a staircase like Mia Thermopolis I’m repotting plants and scrubbing toilets.

“Hunter, baby?” I call, placing my hand on the door, dreading having to push it open. “You wanna go outside?”

His tongue lolling to the side of his jaw, Hunter trots around the bar, having finally left his cozy little den behind it.

“Who’s the goodest of boys with the squishiest of faces?” I say, squeezing his cheeks and scattering kisses on the top of his head. If someone woke me up to tell me to go outside to pee in a freaking blizzard, I know I wouldn’t be this happy.

Despite the weather, Hunter happily trots outside to do his business beneath one of the patio heaters next to the front lawn before coming back inside—and thank god, because I was about to freeze solid.

“Come on then.” I watch as he shoves his nose against the staff only door to push it open, disappearing through it into Garrett’s shop.

The heady scent of leather is almost overpowering.

An array of terrifying-looking tools are neatly arranged on the walls, whilst the wide workspace contains everything from an anvil to a coffee machine.

On my right is what I originally thought was a floor-to-ceiling wine rack on first glance; instead of wine, however, there’s seemingly endless rolls of leather.

Before meeting Garrett, I hadn’t realized how much variety there was in leather. Cowhide, pigskin, deerskin, sheepskin, vegan leather. Hair on, hair off. Hell, he even gets hunters bringing in raw animal hide for him to work with.

Does it creep me out slightly? Yes, not going to lie, but thankfully I’m not the one working with them.

One of the new additions to Garrett’s workshop is a stand containing the neediest and, in the case of the Calatheas, most ungrateful plants in my collection—the ones I had to bring from home, just in case we were cut off for more than a day or two.

They’re sitting on capillary matting to ensure they don’t dry out, but I’m surprised to find that their rainwater is already topped up for the evening—meaning someone’s already done it for me.

Smiling, I catch sight of my prime suspect, sitting with his back to me, feeding a partially-made leather jacket into his heavy duty sewing machine. Hunter reaches him before me, laying his head on Garrett’s pants.

He’s working far too late—but then Christmas is rapidly on its way. It seems like half the town has placed orders for everything from jackets to dog leashes.

“Hey, buddy.” Garrett abandons the jacket in favor of giving Hunter the pets he deserves, swiveling his chair around to face me, his safety glasses making him look even cuter than usual. “Hey, baby. I was wondering how long it was going to take you to check your phone.”

“My phone?” Confusion pinches my eyebrows together.

With a roguish smirk, he pulls me between his spread legs, his free hand resting on Hunter’s scruff. “Maybe you should have a look.”

I slide my phone out of my back pocket. The screen flashes on, displaying a photo of Garrett and Hunter cuddled up together on the sofa at home. A text is sitting there, innocently waiting for me.

Want to find out how long you can ride my face for before I turn you into a shaking mess?

Garrett

“Hmm,” I say, removing his safety glasses and draping my arms around his neck. The first glimmers of heat spread through me, amplified by that heated glint in his eye. “I might as well, seeing as I’m already here…”

Garrett reaches over to the sewing machine, flicking the off switch with a satisfying click .

He gets to his feet, his hands coming to rest just beneath my hips, slowly walking me backwards towards the storage room we’ve turned into a temporary bedroom.

The space is fairly…chaotic. Rows of transparent plastic boxes sit on the far end, but Garrett’s managed to squeeze in a pull-out bed for us and a dog bed for Hunter.

I don’t see more than a brief glimpse of it before he sweeps me into a blisteringly hot kiss.

His touch is every bit as urgent, desperately tearing at my clothes as we hit the bed.

I gasp as his lips travel to the edge of my jaw, his hungry kisses pausing only long enough to pull my dress over my head.

I lift my hips as he slides my panties down my legs, throwing both them and my dress clear across the room.

My yelp fills the room as he flips us with an ease that’s a simultaneous blend of arousing and impressive. “Show off,” I chide, shifting until I’m straddling him. His cock is a rigid length beneath my ass, and I can’t resist squirming around on top of him, itching to see the pleasure on his face.

He doesn’t disappoint, gripping my hips tightly and rocking beneath me with a clenched growl. “Get on my face before I change my mind.”

I take my time, partially unbuttoning his dark plaid shirt to reveal an equally dark trail of hair leading into his pants.

Half of me wants to rip the rest of the buttons open, but the other half sternly reminds me that I bought him this shirt for his birthday, damn it.

Pressing a kiss to his chest after opening each button, I gradually make my way up to his neck, inhaling the delectable mix of leather, the sandalwood leather conditioner he favors, and Garrett .

Suddenly, his hands grip my ass, hauling me up his chest as he slides down. I brace my hand against the wall in the same moment that he lets out a wickedly dark chuckle—but then he finally gets what he wants, seating me on top of his strong jaw and delving his tongue between my thighs.

A heavenly sigh leaves my lungs as he alternates his movements; long, languid strokes of his tongue, dipping inside me to collect the evidence of my arousal, followed by gently sucking my generous labia into his mouth, teasing me as he works his way up near my clit.

My fingers curl around the back of the pull out sofa, willing him to go that little bit further, to finally lave his tongue against my clit. “Garrett,” I plead.

He hums as he plays with my folds, the sensations almost making my eyes roll back in my head. He comes so close to my clit a shiver travels up my spine. On his next pass, I prepare my body for failure, for him to pull away at the last moment—

But he doesn’t.

I let out a ragged moan of surprise as he sucks on my clit, fastening his muscled arms around my thighs and holding me captive. The intensity is almost torturous. I want to rock my hips to break up the pleasure, but he has me bound tight. It’s agonizing and overwhelming and wonderous .

I don’t even have time to warn him before my climax hits me. It sets me ablaze, leaving me crying out in ecstasy, my body beyond my control as it’s wracked with pleasure, wave after wave after orgasmic wave.

When it’s over, I sag slightly, sapped of strength. My heart pounds a fierce beat beneath my heaving lungs, but Garrett’s there to guide me down to the bed, rising over me to take my lips in a soft kiss.

“About eight minutes, by my count,” he murmurs, draping my legs around his hips and nodding at the clock on the wall.

“What?” My voice hikes up halfway through the word as he slides his cock through my slick pussy.

His eyelids flutter as he notches himself at my entrance. “That’s how long it takes for me to turn you into a shaking mess.”

I want to respond that he could have gotten the job done a lot faster if he didn’t tease me until I was out of my mind with need, but the words don’t come—because his hips push forward in a maddeningly slow thrust. Instead, my head falls back on the pillow as I moan, those first few inches emptying me of thought. “ Garrett.”

When our hips meet, he leans down, interlocking our fingers as he braces his forearms on either side of my head, prominent veins carving out routes along his tattoos. The weight of his body pins me beneath him as his lips brush against mine with overwhelming softness.

And then he begins to move.

I tighten my grip as he sets a sublime rhythm, rolling his hips so that he hits me exactly where I need it.

Garrett is no less affected, huffing out groans as he plunges into me, pushing me a little closer to the edge each time.

“Don’t stop,” I beg, my eyes frantic and each desperate breath coming out as a moan. I lift my hips to meet his thrusts.

There’s a hint of amusement in those eyes, almost lost in lust. “Not a chance, Charlie baby.”

My spine arches as the dam breaks, a tidal wave of bliss rushing forth to drown me. I can barely lift my head up, doing the only thing I can do—hold onto the man I love. Unlike my last orgasm, this one is slow to recede. It ebbs and flows, until at last it leaves me on an exhausted sigh.

The moment it disappears is the moment Garrett picks up the pace once again, driving me into the bed. Sweat begins to glisten at his temple. Even now, though, he’s unstoppable, his eyes holding mine as I watch him descend towards his release.

His fingers tightening around mine are the first sign that he’s reached it—quickly followed by a deep, hoarse groan as he shudders, emptying himself inside me.

In the quiet moments afterwards, the room’s only sound is our heavy breaths.

Until, that is, the tell-tale sound of paws make their entrance.

Garrett sends me a knowing smile. Although Hunter quickly got over his initial dislike of me, he absolutely refuses to be in the room with us when we’re having sex.

If he’s already in the room, he’ll simply let out a disgusted grumble and beat a quick exit, only to promptly return when we’re finished.

Not that I’m complaining or anything. The last thing I want is Hunter sticking his enormous nose anywhere it shouldn’t be.

We may be in a storage room in the back of Garrett’s workshop, but as he tucks me under his arm. A smile spreads across my face as I listen to his steady heartbeat, our fingers locked together tight.

I don’t think I’ve ever been more content.

I remember the first time I saw him, when I was dazed and terrified after crashing my car in—seemingly—the middle of the woods.

I could never have imagined what we’d become, or the little things I’d learn about him along the way.

Like the fact he collects snow globes in memory of his late mother.

That he likes to hold my hand after we make love.

That he’s terrified of scary movies. That he was the first one to say the ‘L’ word.

That he would fight to the death for my Nonna’s lasagna recipe.

That he doesn’t bat an eye when I tell him I want to go pick up a huge variegated Cotyledon pendens from two states over.

That when I was looking for a missing sock the other night, I found a ring box in his sock drawer, emblazoned with the name of the jewelers a few doors down from the bar. A ring box that definitely hadn’t been there the last time we’d put away washing.

I bite down on my smile as my eyes begin to droop. The last thing I remember before they close is Garrett sighing as he presses a soft, lingering kiss to the top of my head.

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