Beholden: A Small-Town Standalone Romance (Carmel Cove Book 1)

by Dr. Rebecca Sharp

  I would help her. Not because Larry and Roasters deserved it, but because she did, too. She deserved to know there were people here she could lean on—with or without asking.

  “My dad and him always fought about that,” she said softly. “I mean, not really fought, but my dad didn’t like leaving the shop unlocked every night. Still, nothing ever happened.”

  Until now. The thought made my fingers tense around my fork. We were going to find the motherfucker who ransacked Roasters. Whether it was Blackman or whoever he was working for. They hadn’t just destroyed property. They’d ruined the promise between Larry and this town—to respect the man who’d do anything for them.

  The soft light from above the sink caught the edges of a few runaway strands of red, making them look like threads of flickering fire shielding around her face, beautiful to look at but willing to burn anyone who got too close.

  “Laurel,” I began, ending with a strangled groan as the pink tip of her tongue darted out to lick the lower swell of her lip.

  God, I was so hungry for her.

  But I couldn’t have her. Not now. Not like this.

  Not when she wasn’t sure what her life here held.

  Her mouth parted and for a second, I thought she was going to kiss me. And it would’ve been my downfall.

  Instead, she winced and her nose scrunched up. “What’s that smell?”

  She turned away, hesitantly moving back toward the dining table. My head cocked to the side, taking a breath. Did she mean the food?

  I inhaled again, following her direction. My eyes popped wide when I caught the scent. Low and ominous.

  Smoke.

  “Fuck,” I growled. “The fireplace.”

  Eli

  “Laurel!”

  I shoved toward her as she rushed into the living room, streaks of smoke escaping from the latched door.

  Larry hadn’t had the chimney cleaned in years. I’d offered countless times, but he always refused, saying I had more important things I could be doing other than chimney sweep.

  “Laurel, don’t touch—” I warned angrily as she reached for the door, futile words as her shriek cut them off.

  Her hand jerked back in pain, bringing the burning wrought iron door with them and a huge billow of black smoke.

  Cursing under my breath, my arm came up to shield my face as I reached blindly for Laurel. Just as I grabbed her shoulder, her small, soot-covered form reeled back into my chest, her frame shaking as she coughed and hacked into her elbow, her softness quaking against me.

  “Christ, Laurel,” I grunted, gripping the silken flesh of her arms and spinning her behind me. I didn’t want her anywhere near that thing; if it was going to harm anyone, it was going to be me. “Stay back.”

  As she kept coughing, I held my elbow over my mouth as I quickly unlatched the windows facing toward the ocean to let in clean air and take out some of the floating ash. Waving my arm in front of the still spitting fireplace, it took only a few more seconds before enough had cleared for me to see what was going on.

  “I thought—” a cough that sounded like it was bringing her lung with it, interrupted her, “—it had died down earlier… before I went outside.”

  Grunting, I reached for the poker and began prodding inside the soot-covered space. It looked like the rush of air inside had finally stifled whatever embers had caused this mess.

  “Fireplace hasn’t been used in years,” I said, my throat hoarse and scratchy from breathing in the smoky particles. “And I don’t know when the chimney was last cleaned.” Making sure there was no sign of burning life inside, I hung the poker back up with a heavy exhale. “Looks like you trapped just enough hot embers inside to reignite.”

  “Oh God…” She trailed off with a low, rough voice. “Could I have…”

  My jaw clenched. If she hadn’t opened the door, the smoke and debris could’ve built up enough pressure to make something explode or burst into flames—but when I turned and took a good look at her now that I knew everything was safe, there was no way I was going to tell her that.

  “It’s fine, Laurel,” I said gruffly, poking through the embers one more time as the night breeze sucked out most of the smoke from the room. “Everything is fine.”

  Propping the iron rod back on its stand, I faced her. She was still looking in horror at the small, blackened fireplace, imagining just how badly this could’ve gone.

  With a low growl, I grabbed a handful of tissues off the coffee table and stood in front of her, blocking her view of the fireplace and forcing those ocean eyes back on me.

  “What—” Her question was cut off when the tail of tissue covered her mouth as I began to wipe the soot from her face.

  When she’d opened the door, the burst of smoke had given her a mask of ash, mostly covering her forehead and cheekbones. I half-expected her to protest my help, but the shock of what just happened—what could have happened—kept her silent as I gently wiped her forehead clean.

  Two tissues later, I moved down to her cheekbones, the swells set high on her petite face and at the perfect angle to catch the sun. As I wiped, her freckles, like stars, began to peek out from underneath the smoky sky.

  “Thank you,” she murmured, peeling her eyes open to look up at me.

  I hated how they looked so lost. I hated how Laurel Ocean would tread water in the middle of the sea until it drowned her because she was too afraid to admit she didn’t know how to get back to shore—because she was too afraid any life raft might hit an iceberg and sink her down even farther away from safety than she already was.

  “Don’t worry about it,” I said tightly, realizing I’d gotten most of the soot off and was now just rubbing over her face because I wanted to touch her.

  I fought the urge to yank her against my chest and wrap her in a hug at the sigh that tumbled from her lips.

  “I can’t believe I almost burned his house down,” she whispered.

  “But you didn’t. And it was an accident,” I insisted, determined to halt her train of thought—and my own—of what could’ve been lost, before adding at my own expense, “At least you didn’t steal from him.”

  Her eyes jerked to mine, a spark of laughter in them and the tug between relief and lust in my body was insane, threatening to rip me apart with each passing moment.

  “I still can’t believe you were stealing from him,” she murmured as a smile tugged at the corners of her full lips, the action forcing her tongue out to moisten them from the smoke that had dried them out.

  Desire pumped hotly through my body. All thoughts of the fire vanished and there was nothing else I could focus on except how close she was, how smoky-sweet she smelled—like a campfire on a fall night.

  My hand broke ranks and slipped over the edge of the tissue to brush along her soft, bare skin. Her lips drifted apart at my touch, air rushing from her lungs as the spark of laughter in her gaze melted into a pool of need. Now, the only dangerous fire, the only threatening heat, was the one between us—growing larger and more consuming with every breath we took.

  I shouldn’t.

  I really fucking shouldn’t.

  But all I saw was her. All the hurt I wanted to heal. And then her hand, reaching toward danger. A moment when anything was possible—and anything could’ve been lost.

  The thumping of my heart was impossible to ignore. Do it. Do it. Do it. Louder with each and every beat.

  “Should I be concerned you’re going to steal from me, Mr. Downing?” she asked with her eyes trained on my lips, sending a pulse of lust straight down to my aching cock.

  I grunted. “I’d never take anything from you that you don’t want to give.”

  My words hung low, suspended in the stillness that replaced the smoke. My fingers trailed to her chin, tipping her face up to mine, and all I could see was every shred of evidence that she wanted to give me this.

  The shallow rhythm of her breath. The way heat spread up underneath her freckles. The flick of her lust-scorched ga
ze over mine.

  Do it.

  Kiss her.

  I held her eyes the entire time as my lips dropped to hers. I wouldn’t take a kiss if she didn’t want to give it. But if she didn’t stop me—there was no stopping me.

  And she didn’t want to stop me.

  She wanted to give me this.

  All the pieces were there, the mountains covered with dry and combustible need, and as soon as my lips touched the softness of hers, the wildfire roared to life.

  Consuming.

  Ravaging.

  Unstoppable.

  She tasted of laughter and longing, all sweet and smoky, overwhelming my senses and subduing my logic.

  Forget magic in the sauce. There was magic in her.

  My tongue swept hungrily over her lips, groaning when they parted eagerly for me. I’d thought to kiss her tenderly. Softly to soothe her hurts. But as her tongue darted out and demanded mine inside, everything changed.

  What I’d thought were calm shores of reverent desire was nothing more than retreating waves of the tsunami of lust building inside me. And the moment of danger that brought us here… it ripped my need forward in a crash that took me under.

  “Fuck, Laurel,” I growled.

  From an old, buried place inside of me, savage survival invaded our kiss. I tore into her mouth like it might never happen again, and she did the same.

  Because the threat of losing everything made taking everything the only option.

  I licked and stroked every corner of her delicious mouth, tasting tart tomatoes, subtle smoke, and the sweetest flavor of essential urgency. The tissue in my hand fell as I cupped her face, angling it up and threading my fingers back into her fiery waves so I could taste her deeper.

  I wanted every inch. To know every inch.

  To mark every inch safe from everything except me.

  Her small fists that had held on to me countless times since she’d arrived, now gripped my shirt with desperate need, pulling me tighter.

  My whole body ached for her. Not just to fuck her but ached to love her in the way her body… her heart… needed but her mind wouldn’t allow.

  I groaned, irony sharpening my need into the finest, painfully pleasurable point. I’d come to apologize—to make peace after this afternoon. I’d come to show her that this place wasn’t going to take anything else from her, and yet here I was. Taking.

  Stealing.

  The first kiss had been her choice. This one… this one was all my doing.

  My fingers pulled her hair free from where it was tied up, the strawberry water cascading down. A groan escaped as her hands skated down from my chest and wrapped around to my back, finding their way underneath the edge of my shirt to press directly on my skin.

  Letting out a hiss, I pulled her lower lip between my teeth as her pert tits smashed against my chest. I could feel her tight nipples prodding me, begging for attention. It would be so easy to reach up and slide my palm under her shirt, to fit her bare breast into my palm. To take some more…

  There was nothing between us—no space, no air, no rationality, no reason. Nothing but desire that forced out everything else from the world and my mind but the warm woman in my arms.

  The woman who needed me even if this was the only way she was willing to admit it.

  The woman I needed even though this was the very last way I should.

  Laurel whimpered and arched against me, rolling her hips desperately along my throbbing cock and all traces of thought fled.

  Grabbing her ass, I had her up and in my arms in no time. I swallowed her gasp as I spun and pressed her back against the bedroom door that rattled in protest.

  Fuck, Larry would murder me if he were here right now.

  But I couldn’t care.

  Not when my hands were cushioned in the soft, firm globes of her ass and the heat of her pussy began to seep through to my cock.

  Christ. For how reserved she was with every other emotion, with this, she didn’t hold back. Her hips rocked against me as insistent and unstoppable as ocean waves, sliding her wet warmth along my pulsing length, her desire steadily soaking through my jeans.

  She fit perfectly against me—a piece that had always been missing from this place, I realized had always been missing from me.

  Growling, I ground my dick against her warmth. Her lower half pinned to the door, she wrapped her arms around my neck as her mouth begged me for more.

  Her skin was warm where my fingers rested along the waist of her shorts. I tried to grip her tighter, like it would stop me from continuing this madness. Instead, her warmth seeped into me, warning that my body would freeze if I didn’t feel more.

  One hand steadying her greedy hips that arched against my cock, I slid the other underneath her tee, claiming inch after inch of moonlit skin on a path toward her bare, needy tits.

  Her stomach shuddered underneath my touch, the muscles clenching in anticipation as I crested over the edge of her ribs. I pulled the breath right out of her when my knuckles grazed the underside of her breast.

  “Fuck…” White spots burst in my vision when my fingers closed over the soft weight.

  Her breast was a warm weight that filled my hand just enough to leave no room for more, and not too much to leave any inches uncovered.

  Perfect.

  Just like I knew they’d be.

  “Eli…” she whimpered my name, her hips instantly taut and unmoving as she arched into my hand and pushed her pebbled nipple against my palm.

  She let out a small cry in pleasure as my finger closed over her nipple, pinching and teasing the swollen bud until she was writhing in my arms.

  “Please…” she begged softly, her voice wavering with her impending orgasm.

  “Fuck, Laurel,” I rasped as I jammed my cock against her hot center so hard the door groaned and shook in protest.

  A low curse rushed from my lips when I felt her small hand delving between us, reaching for the waist of my jeans. Wedging her hips to the door, I grabbed her wrist just before her fingers reached my cock.

  One touch and we’d be on the floor with me buried inside her, fucking her like a beast.

  “Just you, sweetheart,” I growled in warning.

  I didn’t give her a chance to protest as I forced her hand back to my chest. Slanting my mouth over hers, I swallowed her pleas and fought to give her what she needed. Everything she needed.

  Steadily, I ground my dick against her, pushing her soaked underwear and shorts to rub against her clit, making her wetter and needier.

  But though I lost most of my well-crafted control, my mind disintegrating with each drag of heat along my angry, aching cock, I knew I couldn’t—wouldn’t—fuck her.

  No matter how much I wanted to.

  No matter that I might not survive the restraint.

  It wasn’t that I didn’t believe she wanted me. Hell, that truth was sworn into every gasp and moan, signed with every arch and grind of her hips, and sealed with the heat pulsing from between her thighs. She wanted this. She definitely wanted me.

  But she didn’t know what she wanted for herself. She was still lost here. Searching. Questioning.

  And I wouldn’t be one more question. I wouldn’t let fucking me be one more thing she’d have cause to regret. I wouldn’t do that to her.

  Kneading her tit until she trembled in my arms, she began to jerk uncontrollably against me, and I knew her orgasm was close. My body tensed in an effort to stop myself from coming like a damn teenager in my pants.

  “Let go, Laurel,” I demanded harshly against her lips as she fought to breathe.

  Her eyes caught mine. Crystal clear and brilliantly bleeding lust.

  “Eli…”

  “Let me hold you and just let go.” And then she exploded.

  Her cry as she came was the sweetest thing I’d ever tasted. I licked and nibbled at her mouth while her body continued to shudder and melt against me. I didn’t move as she trembled, her body relaxing and growing limp. I held
her like I said I would even though my cock rammed like a caged beast against my jeans, desperate to be inside of her—desperate for my own release.

  Our breaths mixed and merged in sync, filling the space between us that was barely wide enough to accommodate them. Heavy pants ticked like a clock, counting down to the minute when reality would sink back in and the circumstances that should’ve kept us apart would start to sever the link between us that fought relentlessly to form.

  She shivered as her legs slid slowly down from my hips.

  Taking one last second to memorize the silken weight of her tit, my hand returned to her clothing-clad hips to steady her as she got her bearings.

  “You okay?” My voice raw with restrained need and self-loathing.

  Her gaze swept up to mine, the pink in her cheeks deepening almost to match the redness of her swollen lips.

  “Yeah. I’m…” She trailed off and turned her head to the side.

  I stepped back, close enough to still reach her if she needed me, but far enough that she could breathe… think… Far enough that I could try to tamp down my raging lust.

  There’d almost been a house fire, and what did I do?

  Kissed her like the only clean air was escaping from her lips and then dry-humped her on the bedroom door. What the hell was wrong with me?

  She was struggling. Struggling to be here. Struggling to know what to do, who to trust, and what her future held. And my genius fucking idea of helping—of easing those burdens was getting her off against my demanding dick. God… I bit into my cheek drawing blood.

  You promised to help her, Eli. You promised to look after her.

  Wanting her wasn’t helping her.

  Wanting her was only going to make things worse.

  She quickly checked over her clothing, tugging it back to rights before pushing her hands nervously through her messed hair. Possessiveness surged through me, knowing I was responsible for its disarray. When she pulled the weight over her shoulder, my eyes followed it down to her breast, memorizing the outline of her tit, burning the feel of it that lingered like a shadow on my palm into my memory. A memory I would pull up later because there was no way my dick was going to bed quietly.