Paradise Hops (14 page)

They pulled up in front of a turn of the century frame house on Ann Arbor’s Old West Side, with a big front porch and grass in serious need of quality time with a mower. He jumped off and helped her dismount. Still in a haze of post-orgasmic bliss and dismay at her behavior, she followed him up the steps, nearly getting bowled over by the giant black lab. She laughed as the dog slobbered all over her, black hairs flying everywhere in an explosion of canine exuberance.

 Eli picked up a tennis ball and heaved it across the side lawn, grinning as the clumsy animal clamored down the steps after it. He grabbed her then, pulled her in for a soft kiss, his hand cradling her cheek with surprising gentleness. She gasped at her bone deep reaction, as her body re-heated to boiling yet again.

“So, about that dinner,” she ran a hand down his chest, then further, smiling as he stiffened under her palm. “Let’s not let it get cold, shall we?” She purred into his ear, flicking the small silver loop in his ear with her tongue.

“Don’t have to ask me twice.” He yanked the door open and pushed her inside. They tumbled onto the couch, shoving magazines, a guitar and empty water bottles to the floor in their haste to get at each other. “I’m gonna fuck you again, sweetness. Then we get a food break. Then a shower, then I am really gonna show you a good time. Then we might get some sleep. You game?” He growled into her neck. She giggled and held him close, shutting off that last voice of reason.

Chapter Twelve

Eli sat straight up in bed, hand on the baseball bat next to the nightstand. Trying to catch his breath, he gulped as he observed the dog, still snoring away on his lumpy cushion. For all his failings, the damn animal was like a radar when it came to noises, so he must have dreamed it—the loud banging on the door that woke him. He turned and put a hand on Lori’s bare hip, letting the smooth feel of her skin under his palm soothe him.

Good Christ, Buchanan, what have you done now? This is not your woman. She belongs to the man who signs your fucking paychecks. You truly are the king of bad choices.
He smiled as she rolled over, exposing one very tempting nipple. He crawled out of the bed they’d occupied for the better part of the last twenty-four hours, willed his cock down and his brain to click in with something resembling logic. Stumbling into the kitchen, he grabbed a water bottle. The place was its usual train wreck, shit piled everywhere on the counters, mail opened and flung aside, the general disorder of his life reflected back at him a hundred fold. He started piling dishes into the machine, wiped down the countertops, taking some comfort in the routine.

His brain still spun with a strange combination of residual lust and something he was starting to identify as regret. Lori was not meant to be his, and he knew it, but damned if the more he had of her the more he wanted which spelled disaster. She was amazing, gorgeous, sexy, smart and met his libido more than half way. And he, Eli Buchannan, with one foot out the door of this town already, was bad news for her.

Why did he care? Scratching the dog’s head as it lumbered in and bumped up against his leg, he let his mind wander as it always did, back to the first woman he’d allowed himself to love. He flopped down in front of his laptop and flipped through emails. The one from Cooperville Brewing sat, glowing. He’d been ready to delete it until last week. He glanced over towards the bedroom, then pulled up a file labeled “Denver.” He narrowed his eyes and watched the pictorial history of his failure. Visions of his younger, more naïve self made him even angrier. He closed the file and dumped it in the little trash icon. Part of him wanted to call it back, but he squared his shoulders. It was time to let the past lie.

He nearly leapt a mile when a finger touched his shoulder. His heart did a weird little flip in his chest. He had to stop this now before he really got too deep to extricate himself. He stood, noting her frown at his abruptness. “Where are your keys?” He spit out as he pulled a shirt over his head. The dog bounded in from the kitchen where he had no doubt been enjoying a meal of garbage.

Lori took a few steps back and tucked the sheet around herself. Eli looked away; otherwise, he’d wrap her up in his arms and likely never let her out of his sight. She shuffled over to the pile of their tangled clothes where they’d ditched them at some point yesterday. Handing the keys over without a word she turned and headed into the bathroom. The shower started, and he had to grip his thighs, dig his fingers deep into his muscles to keep from walking in there and taking her again, and again while begging her to stay. He looked down at the canine sad sack holding a ratty leather leash in his mouth with a hopeful gleam in his eyes.

He stuck his feet into worn running shoes, snapped the leash in place and slammed the door behind him, which didn’t really make him feel any better. A punishing run in the cool morning air did. By the time he and the panting animal made it to her car still parked in the brewery lot, he’d had an epiphany — one that would likely change his life and maybe not for the good. He had to take steps because it was his nature. Sitting around wondering “what if” simply was not his style.

After noting the truck of his second-in-command brewer and deciding against sticking his head in the door of the place, he piled the dog into Lori’s cluttered back seat and turned the key. The powerful German made motor roared to life. He jumped when the radio came to life at ear splitting decibels playing Beethoven’s
Moonlight Sonata
. He smiled, turned it down, and eased the car into the light traffic.

Once back at his house, he parked, let the dog out. Bursting in, unable to suppress his grin of excitement he hesitated when he saw her, re-dressed and sitting perched on the edge of a chair as if at a crappy office holiday party. He tugged her up into his arms. “I’m going with you,” he whispered.

Lori shut her eyes, let herself be held, as tears slipped down her cheeks. Only a few minutes ago she’d steeled herself for this moment. The moment when Eli returned, tossed her the car keys, made some flippant bullshit comment and ignored her until she left. Instead, he kept murmuring, fisting his hands in her hair when he kissed her. His rough jaw grazed her sensitized face, but she held on tighter, unwilling to let go. What did he mean “go with her?” Did he honestly think…?

“Oh, Eli,” she breathed in a gulp of him—sweat, a twinge of bitter hoppiness, more than a whiff of lust. “I can’t,” but her voice was lost in him, his lips, hands, and skin. He peeled off the clothes she’d just put back on, pressed her back onto the huge leather chair and knelt down in front of her. She cupped his bearded jaw, grinning when he caught her finger in his teeth. His eyes blazed with intensity. He kept them trained on hers, held her gaze as he eased her knees apart slowly, then dropped his lips to her skin. He traveled down her neck, sucked first one and then the other nipple between his lips, making her arch up and moan as her body caught fire in spite of her mind’s attempts to cool the blaze.

She buried her hands in his hair as he eased down her flesh. He gripped her ass, tugged her forward and flicked his tongue over her sex, teasing, his breath coming in gasps to match hers. Propping a foot on a nearby low table, she cried out as he slipped some combination of fingers inside her still latched onto her clit. She clutched the chair arms and lifted her hips, needing more.

Eli reached high, pressed hard and tugged at her with his mouth. The room lightened, then closed in, as her whole body flushed with heat. “Oh, yes, Eli,” she gasped. He moaned against her flesh. “Yes.” She hissed as the orgasm rolled over her, nearly smothered her with its strength. Her hips bucked against his mouth as she turned her face and saw a large mirror leaning against a closet door. It reflected them back at her and she watched herself, saw her body spasm and release. The actual real visual evidence of her extreme decision was there in full color, no denying it. She stared up at the ceiling as her brain clicked back into play, reminding her she had every intention of leaving. Was leaving the country as a matter of fact, in just another day. But at that moment the thought of ever even going outside the door of this house made her panicky and breathless.

She looked down. Eli staring at her, one of his hands occupied on himself.

“Bring that up here. Don’t be holding out on me.” She pulled him up and he loomed over her as she braced both of her feet on the table behind him. “I want it, Eli. I want you. Inside me. All over me. God, help me.” She put her arms around his neck as he covered her lips, thrusting his tongue inside her mouth making her taste herself. She sensed him, the heat of his cock a live, pulsing energy she had to have, now.

She wrapped her legs around him and gasped at the raw sensation of him inside her once again, moving, thrusting, filling her, stretching her tissues to accommodate his girth. He groaned and moved slowly in and out, strong arms propped on the chair. She tilted her hips higher, needing him deeper as something like fear enveloped her. Fear at never having him again, of never having this, being this way with him clouded her brain.

She clutched his arms, and struggled not to cry as another wave of pleasure bowled her under. He changed his rhythm, thrusting harder and faster as she cried out his name and held onto him for dear life. She sensed him release, knew when her own body pulled him towards his end and he closed his eyes and shuddered. He opened them and immediately pulled out of her, dropping down to his knees and tugging her into his arms.

“Lori, are you okay? Did I hurt you?” the alarmed look on his face unzipped her completely. Sobs ripped from her throat. Long, low, heaving, decidedly unsexy noises filled the room. She clung to him, unable to stop or even slow down as she sucked in shallow breaths only to tremble and lose it all over again. Her body betrayed her with shakes. Water flowed from her nose, eyes, everywhere it seemed. He held her close, ran his hand down her hair.
“Beruhigt, mein Liebling
,” she sniffled at the instantly familiar German. “
Alles ist in Ordnung.”
The soft sibilant words soothed her like nothing else. She relaxed in his arms when he shifted and pulled her into his lap, tugging a quilt over their nakedness.

“
Sprichts du Deutsch?”
She muttered into his neck.

“
Natürlich
,” He kissed her forehead, her nose, her lips once. “I want to go with you.” He carried on in the language her grandmother had insisted she speak. Lori didn’t realize how much she missed the sound of it until that second as she wrapped her arms around his neck. It represented so much about her life at one time—a life free from predatory men and from the decision she had to make now.

“You can’t,” she was a little rusty but it started to flow. “You have to stay here. Brockton needs you.” She felt so loved here in his arms. But that made her stiffen, recalling the last time she’d thought that about a different man. She traced her finger around the swirling vines, the green hop flowers on his chest and shoulder.

“Screw Brockton. I want to be with you.”

She frowned and looked up at him hoping she’d misinterpreted his German. “Surely you did not just say ‘screw Brockton?’”

He stared at her. “Yes. I did.”

She struggled out of his arms, stood and started picking up her clothes. Her mind kept blaring at her to go, to find Garrett, make up for this huge error in judgment, and stay in Michigan with him, like he wanted. She groaned and sank back to the messy couch, absently rubbing the dog’s ears when he leapt up beside her. Eli sat in the chair opposite, covered in a quilt, glaring. She tried to process but couldn’t. His naked torso distracted her. As did the hard reality that if it were not for Garrett she’d never even be able to do this, here, with Eli. She wiped away yet another damn tear and stood.

“You are a selfish bastard.” She declared crossing her arms, shifting back into English, the German somehow too intimate to bear at the moment. “I don’t know why I ever,” She gulped when he stood and gripped her arms.

“Because,” his lips grazed her ear. His bearded cheek chafed her already abused skin. “You wanted me.” He let her go, the light in his eyes flat, and angry. “The only reason I’d leave Brockton is to go with you…. Oh, forget it.” He threw the quilt down, and Lori got a lovely rear view as he stomped into the next room. She bit her lip. Had she overreacted?
Jesus, Lori you berate one man for not being spontaneous enough and the other for the opposite
. She shook her head and followed him into the kitchen.

He gulped straight from the milk carton, frowning when she wiped a drip of white from the corner of his mouth. She repressed the urge to toss the nearly empty carton into the garbage for him. “You can’t come with me Eli. We need you here.” She cupped his chin, licked at his wet lips. After some resistance his mouth softened and opened to hers. She slipped her arms around his waist. Smiling as his body started to come back to life again, she leaned back. “I’m starving. Can we order out? I don’t want to leave or face any kind of reality for another day.”