Valentine Nook: Chapter 14

Lando kissed me.

Kissed me good.

So good I’m wondering how I’m waking up alone.

Twelve hours later and my knees are still weak.

I’ll be amazed if I can stand, and I know without looking, there’s still a smile on my face. It’s been there since he walked me to my front door and kissed me goodnight.

If it’s possible, that kiss was even better than the first. Soft yet firm. Totally delicious. Big, strong hands cupped my cheeks, the calluses on them scratching my skin.

I could relive it all day.

I stretch out of my sleep with a long mmm.

I’ve woken up far earlier than usual. It’s not the crack of dawn, but it’s close. Early enough to hear the rooster crowing from the other side of the fields.

The city might have sirens, but the countryside could easily compete for noise levels with its loud farmyard animals, clip-clopping horses, and tractors.

And that’s not counting the church bells going off right now. Whoever thought nine o’clock on a Friday morning was a good time for bell-ringing practice needs to get laid.

I never thought church bells would be louder than a rock concert, but man, do they give it a go.

Throwing back the covers, I pad into the bathroom and stare myself down.

I stare until I see things I haven’t seen in a very long time.

The whites of my eyes are whiter, the freckles across my forehead—the ones they always cover in makeup—seem to have quadrupled in quantity, and right now, my lips are totally bee-stung, and I freaking love it.

There’s one thing missing. And that’s any sign of mauve.

I’m so busy staring at myself that I don’t immediately notice my phone going off, so I snatch it right as it falls off the edge of the sink.

Ashley’s face fills the screen.

“Hey, boss, sorry it’s early.”

I’m immediately confused. “Early? Where are you?”

“Home. I meant early for you.”

“Why are you awake? Is everything okay? What time is it there?” I fire out because there’s no way Ashley would be calling me at this time, which means something’s wrong.

The confusion gives way to a stab of panic. For more chapters visit Find_Novel(.)net

“It’s all good, nothing to worry about . . . I’ve had some queries come through⁠—”

“What kind of queries?”

“After your meeting with Marcy, you were snapped getting into a car with a guy. They just want to know who he is.”

“Oh. Oh.” Immediately, my heart rate returns to its normal pace, and I pick up my toothbrush to squeeze paste onto it and puff out the breath I’d been holding. “I thought it was something serious. Did you respond?”

“Of course not. And I’ve forwarded everything over to Patty to deal with,” she replies, mentioning my publicist.

“Thank you,” I mumble as I begin to brush.

It’s been a while since I got spotted with anyone.

There was a time when it didn’t matter who I was with, they were automatically tagged as someone I could be dating—from Tanner to a random guy who just happened to be standing next to me at the valet.

The only people I saw in London were my friends and . . .

I stop brushing and spit the paste. “Wait. Did you say after my meeting with Marcy?”

“Yeah, yesterday afternoon, London time.”

“Shit.”

“What?”

Cupping my hand under the faucet, I scoop water into my mouth and rinse. “Is there a picture?”

She nods. “Yes, but it’s literally you getting into a car with a guy. It’s cute, actually. Who is he?”

I rub against my temples at the telltale signs of an impending headache. Goddamn it. And I woke up in such a good mood.

“My landlord.”

“That’s your landlord?”

I nod. “Yeah, I ran into him in Claridge’s, and he gave me a ride home. It’s nothing.”

It was nothing. Now, it’s not nothing.

“Sure.” She chuckles, adding Liar, Liar, Pants On Fire with her tone. “You never said your landlord was hot.”

I shake my head. I’m not getting into this conversation now. “Okay, time for you to sleep. Can you email me the picture?”

“No problemo, doing it now.”

“Thanks. Night, Ash. Let me know if you get any more queries.”

I sit on the edge of the tub and wait for my email to ding with the picture Ashley sent, opening it the second it does.

There it is plain as day. Evidence that it is definitely not nothing.

There’s no denying it. There I am, staring up at Lando like he’s the jelly in my donut.

I’ve been caught unawares plenty of times, but those pictures have rarely told any more of a story than:

“Holiday Simpson Walks Down The Street Next To Someone.”

This is more in the region of:

“Irrefutable Proof That Holiday Simpson Absolutely Has The Hots For Her Landlord And Wants To Climb Him Like A Tree.”

Lando’s hand is resting on my back, and the other is on the doorframe as he guides me into the car, and we’re both laughing.

I know the exact moment this was taken. It was when I was trying to figure out who this suited and booted version of Lando was. While I want to be mad, I can’t because all I see is how he’s looking at me and how happy I seem.

Would it be inappropriate to use it as my screensaver?

Shooting off an email to Patty telling her exactly what I told Ashley—that it’s nothing and not to be commented on—I finish brushing my teeth.

Then it dawns on me that I’m going to have to tell Lando, and my panic reappears because I have no idea how he’ll react.

Is he going to be mad?

Will he regret kissing me?

Have I blown my chance with him?

I’m working through all possible scenarios when a loud knocking sounds on the front door. Another equally loud and insistent knock follows it.

Why is everyone up so freaking early today? I haven’t even had my coffee.

The third time has me hurrying down the stairs, and because my morning decided to go to shit, I slip on the wonky step. I should have stayed in bed.

If I hadn’t grabbed the banister, I’d have bumped my ass all the way to the bottom.

“Fucking bag of dicks,” I screech, shaking out my elbow, which has lost all feeling. “Ouch, fuck.”

Flinging the door open, Lando has one hand raised, and the other’s holding a huge bouquet of roses.

Black riding pants are hugging his thighs so tightly they should be illegal—the thighs and the pants. The loose black tee isn’t much better because it falls exactly right to emphasize the tightness of his chest and the thick vein running the length of his bicep.

The black baseball cap is a step too far because under the shadow of the peak, his eyes are even more piercing than usual. His scent is like a hit of dopamine straight into my brain.

I still don’t know what time it is, but it’s far too early for this.

My good mood is officially gone.

“Are you okay?” Lando asks, concern all over his face.

“Oh, yeah.” I rub at the pain throbbing through my arm. “The stairs are wonky. I always trip on the step.”

“Wonky?”

“Yeah, there’s a wonky one near the top.” I nod, forcing out a laugh. I’m still rubbing my arm, only now it feels wet and a little sticky.

Lando’s not laughing. “Shit, you’re bleeding.”

Before I can take stock, he’s dropped the flowers and tugged me by my good arm through to the kitchen, where I’m ordered to sit on one of the stools.

I watch in silence as Lando gets to work, pulling a first aid box from the kitchen cabinet I didn’t realize was there. I’m not going to lie, as gross as it is, having a guy clean your own blood off a cut and fix it with a Band-Aid is hella sexy. I kind of hope he might kiss it better too.

“It’s minor, but you’ll have an impressive bruise,” he says, only to walk off.

Without a mirror, it’s impossible to look at your elbow, so I get up and use the reflection of the coffee machine instead, where I remember I still haven’t had one.

I hear the front door close, and Lando returns carrying the roses. I think he’s talking to me, then realize his phone is crooked into his neck.

“Yes . . . Bluebell.” He looks at me. “Holiday, what stair is it?”

I blink. “Um . . . third from the top.”

“Third from the top . . . yes . . . today. Great. Thanks, James.” Lando cuts the call and places his phone down on the counter. “A couple of the guys are coming this morning to fix it, so you need to be out of the place for a little while, but that’s fine since I have plans for us.”

Holy shit, this guy. I don’t know what’s sexier right now, the way he fixed my cut or the way he gets shit done. I know it’s his place, and technically, he should fix it, but I’ve experienced my fair share of crappy landlords to know this service isn’t the norm.

“You do?”

“I do.”

“What are they?”

“A surprise,” he answers as he rounds the counter, steps toward me, and tosses his hat to the side.

Any initial next-morning post-kiss awkwardness was taken care of when I fell down the stairs, so there’s no hesitation when his hands snake around my waist.

Like last night, I place my hands on his chest, enjoying the softness of the tee contrasted with solid muscle.

“Shall we try this again?” he asks, and he’s so close I can smell mint on his breath. “Good morning, Hollywood. Did you sleep well?”

Biting down a giggle—I mean, c’mon—I reply, “Yes, I slept very well, thank you. Did you?”

“Best night’s sleep I’ve had in years. And I woke up thinking of you.” His eyes drop to my mouth as he speaks. Heat flushes over my body, and the urge to kiss him again is overwhelming.

Thank god I brushed my teeth already.

I lift to the tip of my toes and stop a hair’s breadth before our mouths touch. His stubble tickles over my top lip, and he inhales deeply, like he’s breathing me in until that minuscule gap closes.

When I open, his tongue slips inside with a quiet moan.

I didn’t imagine it. This guy can kiss. Soft, firm licks against my tongue, around my mouth, rediscovering everything he left behind twelve hours ago.

This is the reward for waking up early. My hands push up Lando’s neck while his kiss deepens.

In one swift movement, I’m scooped up onto the kitchen counter, and he steps in closer. That’s all it takes. That shift to position himself between my thighs, protected only by my flimsy pajama pants, sets off a tugging sensation deep in my core that soon radiates across my body.

Hands fist my hair, pulling me back. His lips stray from mine, traveling along my jaw, my neck.

“Lando,” I hiss, and a big hand grips my ass, yanking me half off the counter, enough that I have to wrap my legs around his hips.

And then I feel it, his dick pressing between my legs in the exact spot I need it, and I become a panting, wanton hussy, grinding on him.

My breath labors, my chest heaves, and I’m about to have the first non-battery-powered orgasm in forever when there’s pounding on the door. Lando immediately jumps back.

“If they work for me, they’re getting fired,” he snarls.

Even though the tight pants are holding it down, the bulge of his dick is impressive. And I’m still staring at it when there’s another knock.

“Holiday,” Lando croaks and clears his throat. When I look up, there’s an infuriatingly wide grin on his face. “Are you going to get that?”

Easing off the counter, I glance down at my crumpled pajama shorts and the T-shirt from my brother’s baseball team, then make a poor attempt to straighten it and re-tie my hair. By the time I reach the front door, I’ve also thrown on my raincoat, which was hanging up.

I find a FedEx guy who shoves a box at me, followed by a form to sign, then takes off without a second glance, for which I’m grateful.

Lando’s standing at the patio doors, like he needs to keep a safe distance, though I take great pride in how mussed up his hair is.

Tossing the package down, I pick up the roses and take a deep inhale. “They’re stunning.”

“From my mother actually.”

I blink in surprise. “Your mom is so sweet.”

“Oh yes. A real treat.” He laughs.

“You don’t get along?” I call back as I fetch the last vase I used for roses and fill it with water.

“We do . . . of course, she’s my mother, and I love her. But also, she’s my mother.”

I laugh because I know exactly what he means.

“However, I didn’t come empty-handed. You’ll have to come outside to see it, though.”

“Outside?”

“Yes. Your surprise.” It only takes four large strides, and he’s in front of me again. This time, when he bends to kiss me, his lips brush against my cheek, keeping it chaste. “Go and get changed, and I’ll show you.”

I turn to head back upstairs, only to hesitate. My mind rewinds the last twenty minutes to the reason I was so flustered in the first place.

“What’s wrong?”

Spinning around, Lando’s looking at me curiously.

“Um . . . I need to tell you something. My assistant called this morning. There’s a photo of us getting into your car yesterday. I’ve seen it, and it’s no big deal. I thought you should know. My photo gets taken sometimes. There were questions⁠—”

When he steps up and takes hold of my shoulders, I realize I’ve been babbling.

“I already know.”

“You do?”

“Yes, I was going to tell you, but you fell down the stairs. We have a media team, which is mostly kept busy with whatever Miles has done, but sometimes my photo gets taken too. I rarely pay attention and I never comment. We’re getting into a car. It’s not that interesting.”

I blink. The relief’s immediate, and so is the surprise. I’d expected him to be pissed at the bare minimum, but it’s refreshing, to say the least, that he barely cares.

“Now go and get dressed.”

When I see what’s waiting for me fifteen minutes later, it’s mission accomplished. I am surprised.

Thunder and a smaller brown-colored horse are tied to the fence in the field opposite the gate.

“What’s this?”

“We’re going for a ride. I need to check a couple of fields, and I thought you might like to come. You said you wanted to borrow Thunder.”

Maybe I need to work on my delivery because I was joking. Wasn’t it clear I was joking? I’m sure Lando must have known I was joking.

Because there’s no fucking way I’m getting on Thunder.

“Um, yeah, I don’t know about this. I didn’t mean⁠—”

Lando brushes his thumb across my cheek. “You’re not riding Thunder. Don’t worry. Only I ride Thunder.”

That doesn’t make me feel better. “I haven’t ridden since my accident.”

“I know, that’s why I’m going with you.” He vaults over the fence, jumps down on the other side, and pats the brown horse.

Next to Thunder, from across the road, the brown one looked smaller, but up close, he’s fucking humungous.

“This is Sunday. You couldn’t find a more passive, dopey horse if you tried. I promise he’ll look after you.”

“Sunday?”

“Yes.” Lando grins. “Because he’s lazy like one.”

I stare at Sunday. I can’t get a good read of him because he’s too busy eating grass, which I guess is better than prancing about.

Thunder nudges his head forward as if to say “you can do it”—or it could easily be “hey, donut lady, move your ass”—so I step on the fence and climb over. Sunday doesn’t even bother looking at me, but Lando sees me hesitate, nonetheless.

“You need to think of it like riding a bike. If you’ve done it once, you can do it again. But anytime you want to stop, we’ll stop.”

I wish I shared his enthusiasm or even half his confidence. Lando’s gathered up Sunday’s reins and is holding them out to me.

I take a deep breath. I’m literally getting back on the horse.

After slipping my foot into the stirrup, I grip the saddle and heave myself up.

“Okay?” I’m so high up that Lando’s head is tipped back.

I manage a nod and try not to focus on how hard my heart is pounding while I take another big inhale through my nose.

Leaving me with Sunday’s reins, Lando mounts Thunder, who immediately leaps about whinnying with excitement.

Lando doesn’t shift, just sits there laughing while telling Thunder to stop being such a dick.

I hold my breath, expecting Sunday to do the same thing.

But he stays munching on his grass.

Lando wasn’t kidding when he said Sunday was passive. I think he might be stoned.

At this rate, it will take us forever to get anywhere.

But it turns out Sunday was just waiting for Thunder to get his shit together because the moment it happens, Sunday stops eating, lifts his head, and trots after his friend.

“Sorry, Thunder gets a bit excited sometimes. Taking a long hack through the fields is his favorite thing to do.”

Sunday and I level up beside them. “What’s Sunday’s favorite thing?”

Lando chuckles. “Thunder. He has a massive crush and follows him everywhere he can.”

Poor dopey horse of mine, I know exactly how he feels.

Leaning closer to his ears, I stroke along his silky neck. “Don’t worry, Sunday, we can stick together.”

“Ready to go?”

“Sure.”

Both Thunder and Sunday have long, smooth strides, and we spend the next couple of minutes peacefully walking side by side. The heavy rain from last night has cleared the dryness and added a sweetness to the air.

We pass through fields where the grass is almost waist height. Bunnies sprint away into their warrens, while above us, birds of prey circle and dive.

It doesn’t take long until we reach the stream crisscrossing our path. It’s the one that runs through the village and is just as crystal clear. I figure we’re going to walk alongside it, but Thunder walks straight up to it and steps right in.

And so does Sunday.

I hadn’t realized how fast it was flowing until I felt it pushing against Sunday’s legs. It’s high enough to brush along the bottom of the stirrups, but he gets us safely through, and I relax back into his undulating stride.

Lando’s meticulous as he checks over the land we pass. His eagle eye misses nothing. Twice, he dismounts to examine a fence post loosened from the dry earth and calls back to the yard to have it fixed.

Just like he did with the staircase.

After riding through fields for thirty minutes, we haven’t seen a single building. It’s all horses, cows, and sheep.

“Is all this yours?”

Lando nods, and there’s gravity to him when he speaks. “Yes. Fifteen thousand acres, including the village. It’s all mine.”

I can barely manage a small backyard. I can’t imagine what it must be like to have this much space.

“A lot of work.”

“Yes, but I love it,” he replies, leaning forward to rub Thunder’s ears. And I see the love all over his face. I can hear the emotion in his voice. It’s how I used to feel when I walked onto a film set. Lando sweeps his hand around. “This is what my father left me. It’s where I grew up, and it’s why I work so hard. Alex leads the international subsidiaries because I want to stay here. I want to make my father proud.”

“I’m sure he’s very proud,” I tell him because how could he not be? “What’s your favorite place?”

“You’ve been there, remember?”

He turns to me. There’s definitely insolence to the smile curving his mouth, and I can’t stop staring at it.

It’s a beautiful mouth.

“The waterfall?”

He nods, and a heavy throb begins between my thighs. I haven’t been to the waterfall since I saw him there.

After what happened in the kitchen this morning—or what didn’t happen—the coiled spring inside me is quick to tighten.

There’s no mistaking my meaning when I reply, “How ’bout you show me why you love it so much?”

Lando’s eyes blaze. “Okay, Hollywood. You ready for a gallop?”

If it’s possible, the glen is even more beautiful and magical via the entrance Lando leads us through. Dark vines coupled with trailing wisteria create a curtained appearance, like we’re walking into an exclusive club for two, while Thunder and Sunday stand guard, tied up to an exposed root of the tree.

The echo of water hitting the pool is quieter than I remember, and the dappled sunlight breaks through the spray, creating an eerie glow around us.

The impulse to dive right in has me easing off my boots while Lando looks on in amusement.

“How deep is it?”

“Deep enough.”

Pants and tee follow my boots until I’m standing in front of Lando wearing nothing but my bra and panties. Throwing him a wink, I march to the edge and plunge.

I was expecting the water to be freezing, but it’s almost warm.

Warm and clear like bathwater.

I swim down to the bottom, to the pink rock I spotted the day I came with Clemmie, which turns out to be more quartz than stone.

When I come back to the surface, Lando’s watching me from the rock under the waterfall, wearing nothing but black briefs. The water hits his shoulders, runs down his chest, and disappears into the dark curls.

It’s six weeks, give or take, since I walked through the bramble path and discovered him here, and I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about it every day since.

He crooks a finger at me. “Come here.”

I swim over to the rungs worn into the rock and step up slowly.

Taking my hand, Lando pulls me into him, using his massive body to protect me from the water cascading down on us and the jagged wall behind me.

Both hands sweep through my hair, slicking it back. The movement forces me to look up, and when I do, a pair of bright blue eyes peer down at me.

“You are so beautiful.”

I’ve heard those words a thousand times and read them in a million press cuttings. But they’ve never been more than page fillers, lip service to a celebrity they want to flatter.

Until now, I haven’t ever really heard them, felt the weight of them. Or truly believed them.

But Lando’s gaze is so earnest as it holds mine, it has every inch of me glowing.

I run my fingers through the silky black curls covering his chest. “So are you.”

The corner of his lip quivers with the beginnings of a smile and breaks the seriousness threatening the moment. Pressed against him, I feel the thickness of him swell against my pelvis, then his mouth falls on mine.

It’s not like last night’s kiss or the kiss in the kitchen. This kiss has the power to disintegrate me.

He kisses me on and on.

And on.

Without breaking contact, Lando hauls me up in one swift movement, sets me on the ledge, and spreads my thighs. His gaze narrows until all I see is the onyx moon of his pupils.

“I’ve been wondering what you would look like spread out like this for my eyes only, Hollywood.”

I squirm under the intensity of his stare, the stillness of him—save for the rise and fall of his chest—and a shiver whispers down my spine. I’m so exposed. With my underwear on, it feels indecent almost, yet the goose bumps wracking my body aren’t because I’m cold.

“And?” It comes out more croak than word.

“Fucking fantastic,” he hisses.

The calluses on his palms are rough against my skin when he slides them up my thighs, and it’s a reminder that Lando is no Hollywood pretty boy. He doesn’t spend his days reciting a bunch of lines. He works for a living. There’s power in his hands, and right now, they’re on me, spreading me wider.

“You’ve been so desperate for this all morning, haven’t you?” Lando’s voice is steady and deep. “For me to touch you. Your pussy is aching for it.”

My nipples are so hard they poke through the lace of my bra. When his palm ghosts up my stomach, and he grazes the pad of his thumb over one, my head falls back with a groan that echoes off the rock.

“God, yes. Lando.”

Another groan from me is followed by a deep chuckle from him.

Bunching my panties, he rubs the thin cotton between my slit until the friction is almost too much to bear.

His fingers ease beneath the elastic, between my legs, and the slipperiness of my pussy is all he needs for a green light to push them inside me.

It’s everything I’ve been waiting for, and I whimper his name.

“My name sounds good on your lips, Hollywood.”

Behind me, the water pounds down, inches from my skin, the vibration ripples across my body until it aches for release.

Thick fingers stab inside me, fucking me with reckless abandon.

Mine dig into the rock so hard I can feel it under my nails.

The pressure builds in my spine, and black dots fill my vision. All it takes is a swipe of his thumb on my clit.

And there, in broad daylight, under the force of a waterfall, the orgasm that I almost had in the kitchen explodes.