“Okay,” I agree. I stall for a few seconds, drying myself off with the little towel and trying to collect the thoughts leapfrogging over each other in my brain. “I guess to start, I wrote ‘Jonesin’’ about you. I know you knew I wrote it, and everyone in the world seems to know it’s about you, so ergo or whatever, but…”—I pull my hand out of my hair and let it fall to my side before meeting her eyes—“I wrote it after we slept together. And before you say anything, I know that was always supposed to be a onetime thing and I swear I never expected more from you. I wasn’t even honest with myself back then, but I wrote the song, obviously, in a rare vulnerable moment. And I never meant for Drake to get it, but it was in this notebook of lyrics I threw at him when I left and anyway…” I exhale. “Now you know for sure.”
“I meant what I said,” she tells me. “In the interview. The bridge is my favorite. Probably because I hoped it was about me, and it felt like a little piece that was untainted by Drake and everyone else. Just a secret message from you to me.”
I grimace. “That I put on social media.”
She shrugs one shoulder, seemingly unbothered. “We’re artists and musicians, Huck. We’re constantly figuring out how to walk the fine line between privacy and publicity. Besides, I did you one better and played my confession on national television.”
“Yes, thank you for that. I nearly had a stroke, followed by a spontaneous ejaculation. Arlo’s lost all respect for me.”
“I was trying to get your attention.”
“It worked. In the interest of clearing the air, I should also probably admit that I accidentally heard the first part of that song a week ago.” Her eyes widen and I nod. “Yeah. You were playing on the balcony when I walked up. You didn’t see me. It was dark out. I left before I heard the rest. Or maybe you hadn’t even finished it yet. In my defense,” I say in a soft voice, “I could never resist listening to you sing.”
Lorelai blinks and I can tell she’s running it through in her head, making quick work of the lyrics, because her eyes grow impossibly wider before she cuts off with a frustrated groan. “Huckleberry, no.”
“Yeah,” I repeat. “So that was my bad. I should have stuck around. But look how much more dramatic this has all been…” She bites her lip, her eyes dancing. “Also, that song is definitely being added to your album.”
“Jesus, we’re hopeless,” she says. “Maren did say something about people in love acting like idiots. I can’t wait to throw it back in her face one day. So is that why you ran off to the cabin. Some kind of self-loathing exercise?”
I sigh. “Something like that. But Dustin asked for some man-to-man time at the cabin, too. It wasn’t all self-loathing.”
“Convenient.” Lorelai smirks.
I grin, folding the towel in my hands. “He’s my favorite nephew for a reason.”
“Well, you know I wrote the song for you, but I guess I should concede, in the interest of clearing the air…”—she mimics my man-drawl in a falsely deep voice, and it’s so fucking snarky—“and confess to loving you a lot longer than I wanted to admit to myself. It’s just—I don’t know. You’ve been a friend for a long time, and in the beginning, even if I might’ve found you attractive, I was with Drake.”
My “What?!” strangles in my throat.
Lorelai blushes and it takes all my strength to force myself to stay in place. The talking portion isn’t over yet.
“Yeah. Well, I mean. I was young. I didn’t understand what I really wanted—what really did it for me, you know? I thought it was … him … and I was committed, but once things fell apart, it didn’t take long to realize you and I fit.” She sighs. “I relived that night for years, Huck. I never dreamed I’d see you again, but even so, I knew, deep down, he wasn’t ever gonna be enough for me. I was yours.”
“All this time,” I say weakly, still reeling over the idea she might have chosen me over Colter years ago.
“You didn’t miss much. Things have largely been a shit show up until very recently.”
“I missed all of it,” I insist. “But I refuse to miss another minute.”
Lorelai presses her lips together, her eyes dark with want, and I feel my pulse kick up a notch in response. “Petition to table the talking portion for now?”
“You love me?” I can’t keep from checking.
She beams. “More every second.”
“Good. One day you might even catch up to me, if you’re lucky.”
I don’t know who moves first. All I know is one moment we’re across the room from each other, and the next, Lorelai is pulling off my damp T-shirt and I’m slipping my hands under her waistband. Her tongue dances with mine and I’m unhooking her bra. It falls to the floor and she’s reaching for my button fly. I kick off my boots and step out of my sopping jeans before her hands are gripping and stroking me, lighting me on fire. I dip my head and suck one perfect dark pink nipple between my lips and swirl my tongue around her tip. She cries out and my cock strains in response.
“Bedroom,” she pants, her fingers buried in my hair. “I want you to make love to me, Huck.”
34
LORELAI
TO HELL AND BACK
Huck follows me to my bedroom and I thank all the stars that I stress-cleaned after taking Maren to the airport.
Sure, we’ve just confessed years-long feelings and he told me he loves me, but that doesn’t mean I let him make love to me on dirty sheets.
I’m not that far gone.
Confession: I’m pretty far gone.
Head over ass doesn’t quite cover it.
Huck makes quick work of my underwear and his and is kissing his way between my aching breasts toward the place where dreams come true when he freezes.
“Fuck. I don’t have a condom. I was in such a hurry and…”
“I have an IUD,” I tell him in between panting breaths. “It’s okay. I’ve been tested, and it’s been ages since I was with anyone besides you.”
“Me too,” he says, his blue eyes clear and tinged with something like awe. Whatever it is makes my heart squeeze. I love him so much.
“I want to feel you. Just you. Is that okay?”
His Adam’s apple bobs. “Are you sure? I can run out. We have all the time in the world.”
I shake my head, feeling overwhelmed and … cherished. And I know I probably shouldn’t ask him to marry me right now. We just confessed our love. Proposals should wait for tomorrow.
But I’m mightily tempted to snatch up this man and make it official.
I buck against him, closing my eyes and muffling my moan against his shoulder when his cock rubs just right against my clit. Hopefully that’s answer enough.
“Fuck, Lorelai. Not yet. I want to make you come on my tongue first.”
God.
Would it be weird if I asked him to put on his glasses first?
You’re right. Next time.
I’m scooting along the bed and rolling to my back when Huck grins and shakes his head slowly, stopping me. “Not like that, baby. I want you on top.”