Wrapping Up: A Rainier Family Novel Page 8

  “It’s not… I’m making dinner for someone tonight,” I say, remembering that Garrett’s her cousin, and “someone” isn’t the best descriptor I could use.

  “Really?” she asks, eyebrows going up, smile growing. “A special someone?”

  Despite myself, I feel the heat of embarrassment creeping across my cheeks, over my nose. “I dunno. Maybe? It’s early still, I guess.”

  Scout squeals, starts to go for a hug, then remembers the meat-juice-covered gloves on her hands and thinks better of it.

  “I’m so excited for you, Eli! I didn’t even know you were looking for anyone.”

  “I wasn’t really…”

  “That’s even better,” she exclaims, still grinning ear to ear, her smile infectious, buoying my mood even more. There’s way more to be excited and happy about right now than upset or worried. That’s what I’ve got to hold onto.

  “So?”

  “So what?”

  “Are you gonna tell me who it is?” she prompts, my throat tightening in an instant.

  “Uh… Garrett?” I say, pulse pounding in my ears.

  Scout’s eyes go wide, then a high-pitched squeal starts in the back of her throat until her jaw drops and it turns to a big gasp.

  “Seriously? Oh my gosh, that’s amazing! Does May know? She better not. If she knows and didn’t tell me… Oh man, I’m so happy for you guys! Garrett deserves a sweet guy like you.”

  I chuckle nervously, not sure why she’s so excited really. It’s just a date. It’s not like we’re getting married or anything.

  “It’s not serious or anything, just so you know. This is like… date number two,” I say, trying to temper her expectations. Scout’s expression falls a fraction, but she’s not letting it get her down for long.

  “That’s okay. It’s still good for you both. I’m happy for you.”

  “Thanks,” I mutter, grabbing the package of sausage I came over for. “I should probably get going and get this started,” I say, waving at her.

  Scout’s barely holding in another happy squeal as I retreat. I’m wondering if telling her was a huge mistake.

  She would’ve found out sooner or later, though. Nothing stays quiet for long when a Rainier’s involved.

  It’s nearly six thirty when I get home and start working on the lasagna. It’s just going in the oven when Garrett arrives—right on time, but also too early.

  “Hey,” he says, roguish grin plastered through his five o’clock shadow. He doesn’t wait for me to answer before he’s dipping down, kissing me, his lips soft and firm, persistent and gentle. I melt right into him, and then he’s pulling back, still smiling.

  “Hey to you too,” I breathe, head swimming, toes tingling. “Dinner’s gonna be a bit. How about a glass of wine?”

  “Sounds great,” Garrett says, kicking off his boots like he’s at home, ripping off his coat to give me a glimpse of the hard lines of his body that make my mouth water and my blood run hot. I swallow and nod, turning away and dipping into the kitchen before he can see my reaction.

  “Smells great,” he says, following me into the kitchen, his nose up in the air.

  “Here you go,” I say, passing him a glass of wine, hoping he doesn’t see how my hands are shaking just from being so close to him. He has this effect on me though. This way of making me hot and bothered, nervous and anxious all at once. It’s unsettling, but somehow also addicting?

  Garrett takes the wine, his fingers slipping over mine as he does. He does it on purpose, I know he does, because there’s a glint of heat in his eyes, a quirk to his lips when I gasp slightly.

  “Been a long time since I shared a glass of wine with someone like this,” he muses, swirling the dark red liquid around in the glass, looking over at me with unmistakable hunger in his eyes. I lick my lips, mouth going dry.

  “Oh?”

  He nods, and even though that’s all I get, I get the feeling that he wants to share more. That there’s something begging to burst free from him.

  Then he sighs.

  “Shit,” he grumbles. “I’m not good at being aloof, Eli. The last person I was with… The only real serious relationship I’ve had…” He sucks his teeth and shakes his head, looking angry, but I don’t know who that anger’s for.

  “Her name’s Amanda,” he says. “And, she cheated on me. Not just once, either. Enough… Well, I was a damn fool. I believed her excuses, her lies. I looked past a lot of warnings. Decided I wouldn’t make that mistake again.”

  I nod slowly, swallowing. That makes a lot of sense, actually. Puts into context some of the things he’s said and done. I can tell just by looking at him though how much this girl’s betrayal hurt him. She’s made it hard for him to trust anyone anymore. The wound’s still raw on the surface.

  “I know it doesn’t mean much,” I say, “but I’m not a cheater.” I’m a lot of things. A lot of things that it would be better if he never found out about them, but cheating isn’t something I’ve ever done.

  Probably because relationships aren’t something I’ve ever done.

  “I wouldn’t reckon you would be. You seem like a good guy, Eli. Maybe one of the few left,” he says, drinking his wine, moving a little closer to me, the air between us getting thicker.

  “Look who’s talking,” I tease, breathless instead of coy.

  I feel like we’ve crossed some kind of bridge, him telling me about Amanda. I know we didn’t dwell on it or talk about it at length, but him letting me into that part of his life, sharing that hurt from his past… It means something. It’s a step toward something serious, I think, and all this time I’ve been mostly worried about him using me as a means of exploring himself or something.

  But you don’t share relationship history with someone you’re just fucking around with. Right?

  He’s kissing me before we even finish the first glass of wine, his tongue doing a better job of making me drunk and dizzy than the alcohol, and he’s so damn good at it that I nearly let the lasagna burn. It’s not till I smell smoke from the element that I pull away with a yelp and rush to rescue my casserole.

  Garrett

  I can tell Eli’s nervous. He practically shoved me away to rush over to retrieve the lasagna from the oven. I’m trying not to laugh at him—he’s so flustered, it’s adorable. If someone didn’t know any better, they might think that he’s the one that’s a “virgin” to this kind of relationship. He’s the one with shaky hands and a quaver in his voice.

  Me? I’m feeling pretty damn relaxed, and it’s got nothing to do with the wine we’ve been drinking. To be honest, I’m relaxed because I’m not worried about this anymore. I don’t need to be. I’ve made up my mind—I’m going after Eli. He’s the first guy I’ve ever wanted, the first person to ever drive me as wild as he does. I made up my mind before coming over that I’m just going to let whatever happens, happen.

  “Hope you like lasagna,” he says, carefully putting the bubbling pan on a trivet on the table.

  “I’ve always got a big appetite,” I say, topping off his glass of wine. Eli glances at the glass like it’s poisoned or something, then starts to cut and serve his meal.

  “I should probably warn you, I ran into your cousin at the grocery store earlier,” he says, chewing on his bottom lip.

  “Oh? Which one?” I can’t imagine why it would warrant a warning.

  “Scout,” he says. Obviously. She works there. That makes sense. But it’s not filling in all the blanks and I’m pretty sure he can tell I’m having trouble piecing together what he wants me to get from this. He sighs.

  “Somehow I let slip that I was making dinner for you, so I wouldn’t be surprised if the whole family knows by—”

  “You think I care about that?” I ask suddenly, cutting him off.

  “Well… I just…” He trails off, looking thoughtful. “Not everyone wants their parents knowing about things before it’s serious.”

  I have to laugh at that, shaking my head.

 
“Eli, I already brought you to meet my parents. I told them you were my date. There’s no ambiguity here, and I’m not ashamed of being with you. I’m not trying to keep you a secret.”

  The look he gives me is hard to read, but I see something in his posture soften, maybe another portion of that wall around him coming down.

  “She seemed annoyed that she didn’t already know, to be honest,” he adds.

  “I bet she was. Can’t believe May didn’t tell her. They’re normally two peas in a gossipy pod.”

  “Hope I didn’t cause any trouble between them,” he mutters, poking at the lasagna.

  I frown. “No way. You’ve got nothing to be worried about, seriously. Whatever’s between them is just that—between them. You start trying to solve other people’s problems and you’re just gonna make more for yourself.”

  “I guess.”

  “This is really good lasagna,” I say, not liking the turn the mood’s taken. I need to lighten things up. Bring some levity to the night before it goes off the rails and I lose my chance.

  “Thanks,” he says, trying a smile that doesn’t look totally sincere.

  “Family recipe?” I ask.

  Eli makes a face, then shakes his head. “No, one I picked up a couple of years ago. My family and I don’t speak.”

  “Shit, I’m sorry.” Way to put your foot in it, Garrett.

  “Don’t be. You’re not the bigots that kicked their teenage son out when they found out he was gay.” There’s bitterness in his voice, but mostly sadness, loss, and rejection.

  But it’s not Eli that’s lost something, his parents have. They don’t know what they’re missing out on. The wonderful, amazing, generous, kind soul he’s become.

  They don’t deserve him.

  “No one should have to face that kind of judgment from their family. I’m sorry it happened to you,” I say, reaching across the table to cover his hand with mine. Eli flinches, but doesn’t pull back.

  I can’t keep quiet about it anymore though. I have to know if it’s real reluctance or something else. I don’t want to pressure him, to push him, but I want this to go somewhere.

  “You know, I’m the one that hasn’t done this before,” I say, my voice light and teasing. “You don’t have to be so nervous about us having sex.”

  Eli’s eyes go wide, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows thickly, then licks his lips.

  “That right?” he asks, voice still shaking, but he’s doing a good job of masking it.

  “It is,” I say, fingertips sliding over the back of his hand, over his knuckles, tracing the outline of each of his fingers. His eyes watch my every movement, transfixed, breathless. I turn his hand over in mine, and trace the lines of his palm, my touch light and feathery, enough to make his fingers start to curl inward on their own. “I’m not going to hurt you,” I promise.

  Eli licks his lips again, his eyes heavy-lidded, looking down at his palm, at my fingers there drawing teasing patterns on his sensitive skin.

  “And wh-when are you planning for this to—” He sucks in a breath as my fingers slide up his wrist, his eyes fluttering closed as he sighs.

  “I’d say now, but I wouldn’t want all your hard work to go to waste with the lasagna getting cold,” I tease, dragging my thumb over the beat of his pulse on the inside of his wrist. It’s fast, unsteady, the way I feel right now. I’ve barely got better control than him, my cock throbbing in my pants, blood like lava in my veins, the roar of it deafening.

  “It’s better as leftovers,” he says, eyes fluttering open, lips curling into a sensuous smile. It takes me a second to figure out what he’s saying, but the moment I do, there’s a growl rumbling up through my chest, and my fingers close around his wrist tight, pulling him to his feet as I stand.

  “C’mere,” I groan, dragging him into me, crushing my lips against his.

  Eli whimpers, but recovers quickly, grasping at my shirt, his tongue dancing with mine in a tango that makes me need to rip his clothes off. Now.

  “I mean it,” I tell him. “I want you.” I kiss down the side of his neck, each press of my lips eliciting another soft moan from him, and when I drag my teeth over the ridge of his collarbone, Eli’s hips thrust toward me on their own, a desperate cry, a plea for more, ripping ragged from his throat.

  “I… Oh God, Garrett… I want you too,” he pants, hand between us, cupping my thick erection through layers of fabric. Blood surges to my cock, making it pulse hot and hard, almost painful with how bad I need release—need him.

  “What’re we waiting for then?” I ask with a grin, dragging his shirt up over his head. He’s pale and freckled—scarred too, more than I would’ve expected for someone with a job like his—with the hint of definition along his muscles, not an ounce of fat on him. Hands on either side of him, I drag my thumbs along his ribcage, exploring the grooves in his ribs, the ridges of each bone, the way a swipe of my finger can make him catch his breath and go rigid all at once.

  “You next,” he mutters, clawing at my shirt, yanking at the fabric like he’s never seen how buttons work before. He’s desperate—desperate for me—and it’s hot as fuck. Who fucking cares about buttons? I rip the damn shirt off and let him get his hands on me.

  His touch is cool at first, and I hiss, goosebumps racing up along my body, but then my warmth seeps into him, and his fingers don’t stop moving. The way he’s exploring me, the thoroughness, the deftness, it’s like there’s more than two hands on me. Like there’s two or three Eli’s covering me with their soft, maddening touch. Putting my hands on his hips, I drag him tighter against me, our thick cocks sliding against each other through layers of denim and cotton.

  I don’t know which I want more: to be inside him, or to have him inside me.

  I shiver at the thought, a whole new flush of heat racing through me. Lightning shoots through me, and the warmth of Eli’s tongue flicking over my nipple makes my knees weak.

  “We’ve gotta get outta the kitchen,” I growl, pulling him with me a step, stopping when he sucks on my other nipple.

  “Fuck,” I groan, reaching between us to cup him, squeezing just enough to get a gasp out of him.

  “Okay, okay, you win,” he pants, separating long enough to lead me to his bedroom. We’ve both got the same idea, though, because we’re stripping on the way there, leaving pants and underwear in a trail down his hallway.

  It’s not until we’re in his bedroom that I get a good look at him in all his glory. There’s a bedroom here too, but I don’t notice anything about it other than the fact that it’s got furniture suitable for fucking on. Eli’s whole chest is flushed red when he looks at me, his cock standing proud, thick, fucking beautiful, as strange a thought as that is to me.

  “Can I taste you?” I ask, the question, the concept—all of it new and uncharted territory.

  “Only if I get to return the favor,” he answers with a cheeky grin, finally in familiar territory.

  He crooks his finger at me, beckoning me closer with a sly, sultry grin, then he pulls me into his embrace, our lips tangling together, tongues warring for supremacy. Eli’s hand travels down the length of my body, sliding over the groove of my hip, until his fingers are wrapped around the base of my dick, everything in the world going fuzzy and white from how good it feels to have him touching me like that.

  “Eli,” I whisper, voice breaking as he strokes me root to tip.

  “Oh, Garrett,” he groans when I take him in my hand, stroking him just the same. Fuck, it feels so good to be with him like this. I’m not sure anything’s ever felt as good, as right as this does.

  And then Eli pushes me down on the bed, climbing in after me. His lips slip around the head of my cock, and I think I’m going to explode right then and there. It’s sudden and quick, hot, and perfect, and I’ve got to clench my toes to hold back the wave of sheer bliss that rushes through me.

  That’s not all, though, because Eli knows what he’s doing. He’s positioned over me in a way that
he’s able to have his mouth on me, while putting himself in the perfect place for me to reciprocate. And I can’t resist any longer. I start with just a little swipe of my tongue. It’s so quick, so barely-there, I’m not even sure he’ll notice, but he notices. Eli’s whole body jerks at once, a tight whine coming from the back of his throat as he flicks his eyes down at me.

  I tease the underside of his head with the tip of my tongue, exploring the salty flavor of him, the way his cock twitches, precum dribbling out from my touch alone.

  “Garrett, you’re killing me,” he whines, as I drag just the tip of my tongue around him again. Just when I’m sure he’s going to revolt, I wrap my lips around him, taking his cock as deep as I can, and it’s crazy how it makes me so much harder, makes me so much hornier to have his cock in my mouth, the taste of his cum on my lips. I don’t think about it as I’m sucking his cock; I suck him the way I’d want it, and he matches me, or I match him, I don’t know. But we’re in perfect sync and I can’t tell where my pleasure stops and his starts. We’re just one writhing mass of pleasure and moans, sweaty bodies, and cries for more.

  Eli pulls back suddenly, turning to look at me, fire in his eyes. “Inside me… I want you inside me,” he moans, the sexiest damn sound I’ve ever heard.

  “Don’t have to ask me twice,” I tell him, giving him one last long lick before he pulls out of my grip, shuddering.

  He turns around, straddling me, and leans forward, chests pressed together, his lips on mine. I could lose myself in the way he kisses, the way his tongue knows just how to tease me, to make my eyes roll back, to make me forget everything about the real world. But then there’s the sound of a wrapper, and the click of a bottle opening and Eli’s sitting back, sliding a condom down my length with expert precision.

  The lube’s cold, but his hand warms it up fast, slathering it all over me, then sliding his fingers between his legs, circling his fingers over his asshole.