Stirred: A Love Story (21 page)

“Oh my,” fell from her lips as she pulled him back toward the wedding to say their good-byes.

Garrett smiled, the same way he had the day he’d been on his knees, and Sage wondered how long it would take to get to his house. “Never ever” had turned to “right now” and she was prepared to run there if necessary.

Chapter Nineteen

H
is house was tucked away near the orchard, and unlike the main house, this one was not painted white—it wasn’t exactly painted at all. The wood, weathered gray and a golden color, blended together. It almost looked like a quilt. Opening the door, he gestured for her to walk ahead of him while he turned on the lights. The short drive from the barn had been quiet and filled with expectation. Standing in the entry to his home, her breath was unsteady.

“Can I get you a drink?”

Sage shook her head and walked into his living room. Two leather sofas the color of strong coffee sat near a table that appeared metal in the dim light. On one wall, a large flat-screen television was surrounded by floor-to-ceiling shelves. What looked like a river rock fireplace sat opposite. She stepped closer to the shelves and noticed pictures: some faces she recognized and others she didn’t. Black and white, color, drawings that she knew were from Paige and some others with Spanish words written in crayon. Books on soil and plants. Several on plant pathology, but also more fiction than she had thought he would read. The shelves were full; pillows and blankets were arranged on the couch. She could feel Garrett behind her, but he was quiet, so she walked to the fireplace.

“This is beautiful,” she said, breaking the silence and noticing her voice carried in the high-ceilinged room. “Did you build it?”

“Sort of.” He moved next to her. “These”—he ran a hand along the wall—“are all of the rocks we collected from the topsoil when we prepped the off-site acres. That land was a bitch and took us twice as long as it should have, so I knew I wanted to see these rocks every day.”

“A reminder that things could be worse?” She smiled.

“I guess.” His eyes softened and he reached out to take her coat.

“This is a real home,” she said, not even sure what that meant.

“Were you expecting something different?”

She shrugged. “Maybe. I don’t have a very good idea of what a man living alone looks like, I suppose. Four sisters. And our society sort of leads you to believe men live with the minimum until they find a woman to warm up the place, but this is full and rich.”

“Thanks.”

He showed her the rest of the house, which quickly led to the upstairs bedroom. Sage stopped at the door, trying to process exactly what she was looking at. Garrett’s bedroom had a large attic feel to it, or maybe, she thought, a hayloft. She noticed a dresser off on one wall and a chair near another door she assumed led to the bathroom, but her eyes kept returning to the bed. King size and sitting front and center, it was made of the same wood as the rest of the house and positioned under a huge hole in the ceiling. Moving closer to get a better look, Sage glanced up and saw the night sky.

“My God,” she said on an exhale.

Garrett laughed. “If I had known I’d get this reaction, I would have brought you here sooner.”

“This is the most unbelievable bed, room for that matter, that I have ever seen. What made you, I mean, did you have a designer put this together?”

“No. I told the builder I wanted a big bed. That I need to watch the weather, and I like to watch the stars. The room came out of that discussion and a couple of beers.”

Sage nodded, taking in the ink dark sky flooded with endless stars. She felt as though she were outside of her body in a different place or country instead of an hour away from her own house. Once again, he made her think of those twelve-dollar magazines, but this time, she was standing in the middle of one with him. When he turned to her, her hands went to his chest and Garrett kissed her, slow and deep. She’d always imagined he would be sexy anywhere, but surrounded by his home and the life he’d created for himself was overwhelming. Right when Sage thought it impossible, she loved him more.

Whispering into her neck, he unzipped her dress and as the sparkly fabric pooled at her feet, they both looked down and realized she was standing in nothing but lace and black rubber boots.

In the middle of all the heat, all the need, they laughed and he pulled her into bed as she kicked off the muckers.

Garrett had never been a romantic when it came to sex. Sex was sex and as long as the woman he chose to get naked with had a smile on her face when he made excuses and negotiated a quick exit back to his life, he never questioned his motive or his abilities. Sex was fun. Sometimes, it was slow and easy and other times, it was a quick fuck, but it was always a good time. While he was occasionally sappy and did admit to crying at the end of the movie
Rudy
, he had no delusions that sex meant love. It was bodies moving and satisfying one another. He knew that to be true until his hands touched her skin, until his chest was pressed against hers, until she was under him and he was wrapped in her. As she reached up to kiss him, her eyes barely open and her lips panting his name, Garrett had no idea what was happening, but it was the furthest thing from sex he’d ever experienced.

He moved over her naked body, past the places that were still chilled by the night air and the parts that were warm and silky. She was stunning in his bed, under the stars and uninhibited. There were no more games for them to play or fantasies to joke about because this was it. Her hands claimed the ridges of his back, around his shoulders, and as his entire body grew taut with need, he hoped like hell he could give her what she wanted because never before had he wanted something so completely.

“Please,” she whispered, and whatever plan he had for teasing her all night would have to wait as he slid into her and lost himself once again in the liquid silver of her eyes.

Sage woke to the expanse of Garrett’s back. It was early and the blue light of morning misted over them. She touched his shoulder. The man was a mountain of worn muscle that had nothing to do with a gym and so much to do with who he was, what he did. A faded scar ran across his left shoulder blade and a thicker, newer one on his elbow. No tattoos, only sun-kissed skin that was surprisingly soft in comparison to his hands.

Carefully turning under the weight of his arm, Sage thought it appropriate that all of Garrett’s soft parts would be covered up. She’d seen him hundreds of times elsewhere, in motion, but there was something so intimate about watching a man sleep. She knew that sounded silly considering everything they’d done to one another last night, but watching him sleep seemed as sensual. Well. . . almost. Rolling onto her back, she pulled the covers up to her nose as if she could somehow contain the eruption of happiness as it spread across her face. Garrett shifted and pulled her closer into the warmth of him.

Sage had never thought about sex as giving herself to someone before. The two other partners she’d had were both more. . . experimental. One had been fumbling and figuring things out the whole way through, which was a fine experience for a first time. She wasn’t complaining. She’d been a freshman in college and although the relationship hadn’t lasted long, that time stood out as an education and milestone since most of her friends had reached it in high school. Missionary, simple, and perfectly un-bottom-drawer-worthy. After college, she met, and after the customary time, got naked with Brad Pierce, VP of development. Their relationship had been one-sided and what her very first self-improvement book called toxic. Sex with him was a series of internal monologues that went something like—
Am I doing this right? You want me to put what, where?
Brad, while starched and pressed in their staff meetings, had leaned toward kinky in his bedroom. For Sage, it had never been enjoyable. Things with Brad were always too much work for her and never exciting enough for him, which was fine because if sex with him was adult sex, she wasn’t interested.

What she’d wanted, what she’d imagined it could be, was what had happened with Garrett. He had undressed her and touched her as if she were a present he never expected to receive. There was passion and need mixed with the hesitation of getting to know someone for the first time. It wasn’t only about discovering what he could do to her or moaning and talking dirty to get him off. What had happened under the stars of his bed was a series of questions they asked one another with their bodies. He was gentle and then he wasn’t as they melted together, teased, and let go. Sage finally knew what all the fuss was about as she burst into hundreds of tiny pieces and he held them all together.

She’d given a part of herself to him, knew she loved him, and that had made all the difference. There was a time she’d hung onto his every word, but this wasn’t something as frivolous as all that; this was breathless sex with someone she knew she’d still enjoy once they put their clothes back on.

“I’m not going to lie, the whole fantasy thing is messing with me right now,” Garrett said softly because he knew she was awake.

He rolled over onto his back to find her naked in his bed, laughing. Letting out a breath, he kissed her shoulder, and in the muted light of early morning, tried desperately to silence the voice in his head.

What the hell did you do? You don’t know the first thing about having a relationship or giving her more. But that sure didn’t stop you last night, now did it?

It was true he’d been prepared to promise her anything to get rid of “never,” but he’d expected they’d get to his place, have rushed, back-scraping sex, a couple of times maybe. She’d scream his name, throw her head back and forth, and he’d tell her how fucking hot she was. That’s how he’d pictured it in his mind. His male mind would have gladly sacrificed a limb for that, but that’s not what had happened.

The word hot felt stupid now like something left behind at a bar. She had stolen his breath and been achingly responsive. Every time she touched him, it felt like she was handing him a part of herself. Her eyes were open, looking into him as she arched off his bed and ran her hands over his body. Her lips were urgent and, when he thought he might go back to calling her hot, she’d soften and show him something he didn’t feel good enough to take. They’d gone down to the kitchen sometime in the middle of the night and had eaten cold spaghetti. He would forever have the image of her, legs pulled up on the chair, tucked under his sweatshirt, smiling and teasing him until she’d climbed into his lap and made it impossible for him to ever look at his dining room again without seeing her in it.

“You’re safe. You have nothing to worry about,” she said, thankfully taking him out of his thoughts.

“Yeah?” He rolled on his side to face her.

She nodded slowly, turned toward him, and there went his breath again.

“How do you figure?”

“Are you looking for feedback?”

He laughed. “Not exactly, I
was
wondering how I measured up”—he pushed up on his elbows—“so to speak, to the fantasy.”

Sage made a show of thinking. She was teasing. No way all of those moans were fake.
She’d had fun, hadn’t she?