Not the Rebound Guy by Abby Knox (best classic romance novels txt) 📕

I could write in my journal. I can’t get to sleep without that. This dream tent has soft lighting, relaxing music, and nothing I do is wrong in Garrett’s eyes. He’s whispering nonsense in my ears while I’m wrapped around him. I’m seated in his lap, grinding into him. He’s making my head spin with how attentive he is to every inch of me, making sure I feel every inch of him inside me. He’s really skilled at the slow thrust, which takes some work in this position. “Eliza, you missed your flight,” he says. “I don’t miss things,” I say. “It’s in my planner, that’s imposs—“ His mouth on me hushes my words, as does his thumb on my clit. The strumming of that tight button rockets me into an orgasm so hard that I wake myself up.

When I get my bearings, I shoot straight up in bed at the realization of what just happened. I had a sex dream about Garrett. With the window open, the window within earshot of the back porch.

So help me god, if I made a noise…

Well, if I did, I’ll just pretend nothing happened. Indeed, he’s enough of a gentleman to never bring up the subject.

The following day, I rise early to help Grams in the strawberry patch.

I find the shirtless Garrett already out there, but he’s not working. As I approach, I see he’s beyond the berry patch and sitting down by the creek, cross-legged. His eyes are closed, and I realize he’s in lotus pose.

Feeling intrusive for interrupting his morning meditation, I start to back away slowly, then trip over a tree root because I’m not watching where I’m going. I fall flat on my ass in the grass.

“Ow! Dammit!”

“Whoa! Eliza, are you okay?”

Garrett has me back upright on my feet and is brushing the dirt off my outfit. “I’m fine. You don’t have to…I mean, I’m sorry if I startled you.”

I expect him to laugh at my clumsiness, but he doesn’t. Not even a little bit.

“Are you sure you’re okay? How’s your butt? That was quite a tumble.”

I instinctively cover my bum with my hands, as if somehow he’s just going to reach out and inspect it without my permission. “Fine! I’m fine. Thank you. I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing,” he says. “You didn’t interrupt me in the slightest.”

“You’re a bald-faced liar.”

He rises back up to meet my eyes, and I don’t appreciate the heat I see there. Combined with his current state of undress and the fact that the strange, woodsy-sweet feral scent is back, hitting me in the face.

“I can’t think of a better way to end my morning yoga session than to see your face,” he says.

The intake of my breath is impossible to hide. “Wow. You’re good. You come off as shy, but then you say these smooth words that can rattle a girl’s foundation.”

He leans up against the tree in a pose that’s entirely unintentionally sexy and totally unfair. So is the current state of his scruff and his messy hair. “A little bird told me it’s been a while since you had your foundation rattled. Maybe it needs a good hard rattling.”

My mouth is agape. “I…wow… so, uh …should we pick the berries now?”

He pushes off the tree and gestures for me to lead the way. “We should. A lot of ripe berries are waiting on us.”

I try to keep my distance as we trudge over to the berry patch together. Why does everything he says sounds sexy this morning? Foundations? Berries? What’s gotten into him?

“By the way, those sandals are cute, but that ain’t gonna cut it. Your Grams has a pair of rubber boots in the tool shed. Put those on.”

This strange edge to his voice feels different from the Garrett of yesterday. Still friendly. But less shy and more presumptuous. What part of last night did I miss? Did I black out and let this man spank me? Oh god, no, I’d want to be awake for that. “Bossy much?”

Garrett shrugs and looks down at my feet with a smirk. “Do what you want, Eliza. But you’re going to need those pretty sandals when I take you out tonight.”

“Who says I’m letting you take me out? I’ll have to check my planner and see if I have the time,” I tease.

The next thing I know, Garrett’s gloved hands are on my face, and his mouth is on mine. My first thought is, is he still drunk from last night? No, he’s not acting silly or slurring his words. Nor does he seem hungover.

My next thought is, the hottest shirtless man in three counties is kissing me in my Grams’ backyard, and everyone is going to see. My third thought is, oof. He’s a skilled kisser. His full lips slide over mine with the perfect amount of pressure. He didn’t ask, but I don’t care. He can have it. He can have all my kisses. Heartbreak be damned. Healing be damned. Consequences be damned. I am on vacation, and I’m kissing this scorching-hot man.

His lips over mine make my heart race like a frightened little rabbit. Those full lips of his are soft but assertive, caressing. Massaging. He’s massaging my mouth muscles. The man is serious about his workmanship, and my body threatens to burst into flames at what this kind of kiss seems to promise. The thing he said about rattling my foundation makes so much sense now. He definitely meant he’s been thinking about kissing me…everywhere. The ache between my thighs screams, “Ya think??”

I don’t know where to look when we pull away from that kiss. He brushes my hair out of my face with his gloved hands, and I have to laugh. The gloves are weathered and stiff and smell like dirt.

My mouth opens to say something, even though I have no idea what to say. Thank god for Gertie. The little bleater nudges me in the leg, and I stumble forward, Garrett catching me against his warm, bare