by Mazzy King
When he’s just an inch away, I finish the distance and press my lips to his.
His mouth is lush and his beard is pleasantly scratchy against my skin. I can feel his lips curl up in a smile as he takes his time returning my kiss. The slow movements of his lips ratchet my internal thermostat up higher and higher. I might combust when I feel his tongue brush mine.
“Mm,” he says softly, nibbling my bottom lip. “Sweet, just like I knew you would be. I wonder what the rest of you tastes like.”
Maybe it’s the beer. Maybe it’s the mountain air. Maybe it’s just being with this man. But the woman I saw in the mirror at the inn pulls back and looks him in the eye.
“You can find out if you really want to.”
One of his brows arcs up along with the corner of his mouth. He doesn’t ask me to say it again. Doesn’t ask me if I’m sure. Doesn’t second-guess my decision.
“Oh…I really want to.”
Chapter 6
Leila
I walked here earlier, but now, I sit in Forrest’s truck, waiting for him to lock up. He said he’d clean up tomorrow. I couldn’t help noticing the bulge in his pants as he stepped from behind the counter. He’s as anxious as me.
He walks toward the truck, holding a brown paper bag. He jumps in behind the wheel, flashing me another smile that hits me right between the legs. My heart is pounding. Since Gary, I’ve never been with anyone. I’ve never done a one-night-stand sort of thing. I’ve never wanted to.
But then, I don’t think I only want one night with Forrest.
“What’s in the bag?” I ask, hoping I don’t sound as breathless as I feel.
“That’s for me to know and you to find out.” He smirks and heads toward the inn.
I’m starting to feel a tiny bit awkward, especially when we pull to a stop in front of the inn. I’m thinking about talking myself out of this, telling Forrest I’m going in alone, even though I want him in my bed.
This isn’t me. I’m not the sex goddess who has the confidence to pluck the sexiest man alive from the bar and bring him back to her room with the crook of her finger.
“Hey,” he says softly, leaning toward me. “Leila.”
I gulp and glance at him.
He smiles at me, and it’s not just a sexy, turned-on smile. There’s something gentle and sweet in it, and he reaches out to stroke my cheek.
“I want you,” he says in his rich, deep voice. “Bad. But if you’re having even the slightest doubt about me, all you have to do is say so, and I will walk you to your room and come back to this truck and drive my ass home. And then take an ice-cold shower.”
I giggle.
He tilts his head. “You’re so beautiful. I want you to know that. You mean more to me than some fling, okay?”
“Okay,” I whisper. Then I bite my lip. “Forrest?”
“Yes, sweetheart?” His voice is husky, gaze fastened on my mouth.
“I…want you to come upstairs with me.”
Once again, he doesn’t ask if I’m sure. I like that he trusts me to know what I want, to sense my hesitation and let me know that’s okay too.
“Then let’s go.”
I use the key Mrs. Morris gave me to unlock the door. The house is quiet and still.
Forrest and I steal upstairs to the second floor and slip inside my room. The bed has been made, and I flick on the gas fireplace as Forrest sets the paper bag down on the nightstand.
“Are you going to tell me what’s in that?” I ask.
He pulls me into his arms. “All in good time, sweetheart. All in good time.”
He lowers his mouth to mine, and in no time at all, I melt under his slow, hot kisses. The heat of the fireplace makes my skin flush and tighten.
Stepping back from him, I lift my sweater up and over my head, then drop it to the floor. His eyes reflect the flames, his lower lip between his teeth as he watches me intently. I unbutton my jeans, unzip them, and tug them off my ample hips until I stand before him in just my lacy black bra and matching panties.
“Goddamn, beautiful,” he murmurs reverently. “Come here. Let me touch you.”
I let him draw me toward him. His hands sliding all over my skin feels so good, I whimper. It’s been so long since I’ve been touched by someone who cares for me.
I reach for the buttons on his shirt. I’ve been dying to see what’s under his clothes. He helps me get his shirt off and I run my hands over his muscled chest and stomach. He’s so strong and firm. So masculine. It’s overwhelming and intoxicating, and I’m swept away by how much I want him.
He slides his hand around my back and unsnaps my bra, then slowly pulls it off. His hands immediately go to my breasts, squeezing gently and running his thumbs over my nipples until they’re hard and I feel a powerful twinge deep between my thighs. I can’t remember the last time I’ve felt true desire—I can’t remember the last time I was wet.
“Forrest,” I breathe. “I want you so much.”
“Lie down,” he says, his breathing uneven.
When I do, he slides my panties over my hips. I’m completely naked before him, but the way his eyes go over and over me and the rising heat in them makes me feel sexy and confident, not self-conscious.
He removes his jeans, and even from here I can see the huge bulge in his boxer briefs. Another rush of wetness slides through me. I want him inside me. Badly.
But before I can beg, he finally reaches into the paper bag and pulls out a can of whipped cream and a plastic container of the cherry pie filling I made earlier. I can’t help but laugh.
“It might be corny and cliché,” he says with a devilish grin, “but this is all I could think about today when we were baking and I’ll be damned if I don’t get exactly what I want.”
He settles between my thighs. With his fingers, he coats my pussy with cherry pie filling and tops it with a little whipped cream. Then his warm tongue laps my skin, leisurely licking it all off before helping himself again.
I’m mindless with the pleasure of it all.
When I’m licked clean, I nearly jump off the bed when his tongue slides through my folds and reaches deep inside me.
“Forrest,” I gasp, winding my fingers in his hair. He sucks and licks me with a new fervor, gripping my fleshy hips in his hands as he goes to town.
“Come for me, sweetheart,” he growls into my flesh. “Come on my tongue.”
I’ve been holding it back for the last few minutes, because I wanted to drag out the pleasure, but that command in his deep, raspy voice sends me over the edge. With a loud, shaking moan, I burst on his tongue, my juices splashing his face.
He drinks me down, sucking every last drop from me, then slides up my body. “Let me make you mine,” he whispers, and his thick, blunt tip slides against my wet opening.
“Take me, Forrest.” I gaze up into his eyes. “I want to feel all of you.”
Our gazes stay locked as he slowly slides inside me. I cry out softly. I’ve never felt anything so good in my life.
“You’re perfect,” he tells me, jaw tight as he begins to move. “Fuck, Leila. So fucking tight and wet. You’ll be the death of me.”
I’ve never felt so full. He’s thick and long, and it takes me a moment to get used to his size, but he strokes every delicious part inside me, and soon, I feel the familiar heat and pressure build down low.
“I feel your pussy getting tighter and tighter,” he says against my lips, swallowing my cries. “I think you want to come for me again, sweetheart. Isn’t that right?”
“Yes,” I wail softly, digging my nails into his back. “Forrest!”
A few more slow, hard thrusts, and I shatter beneath him. He pounds into me with a snarl, his hips moving powerfully against me, until he thrusts deep, grunting low in his chest as he comes deep inside me, marking me as his.
I’ve never felt this complete before.
He kisses my forehead, and the sound of our ragged breathing fills the small room. I have no words, but I hope h
e understands how he’s made me feel. I imagine it bursting out of my skin like sunbeams—a brightness inside me I haven’t felt in so, so long. Maybe ever.
“Forrest…” I whisper, struggling for words. “I—You—I just…”
“It’s all right,” he whispers back, trailing his lips along my cheek. “I-you too.” I feel his mouth curve against my skin as I giggle.
“Hold me tight,” I say softly.
“Anything for you, sweetheart.” He slides off to the side of me and wraps his big, strong arms around me.
It’s not a dream, and my imagination couldn’t bring me anything sweeter than this as I slide into sleep.
Sometime later, a jingling noise makes us both sit up straight. Forrest feels around for his jeans on the floor and digs out his brightly lit cell phone.
“Yes,” he answers, sounding like he wasn’t sleeping at all.
What time is it? I squint, feeling around for my own phone. I power it up. It’s two in the morning—we’ve only been asleep about an hour.
“I’ll be right there,” Forrest says in a tone I don’t recognize. I stare at him.
His face is blank, but his jaw is clenched so tight I can see it flex from here. He hangs up and shoves a hand into his hair for one second before reaching for the rest of his clothes.
“What is it?” I ask nervously.
He sighs heavily, then meets my gaze. His eyes are sad and worried and angry.
“That was Mrs. M. The bar—someone broke in and trashed it.”
Chapter 7
Forrest
We rush down to my truck, jump in, and speed back over to the bar.
But I sort of wish I took my time. The sight that awaits us is something I never wanted to see.
The Hawk’s Nest’s front doors and windows are all busted in. My stomach hurts at the sight of it.
Mr. and Mrs. Morris are waiting in their car when we walk up. “Forrest, honey, I’m so sorry,” Mrs. M says, grabbing my arm.
I shake my head. “I’m just glad you all waited in the car instead of going inside. What were you doing up so late?”
“Oh, I couldn’t sleep,” she says. “I was up reading my book and heard some noises from down the street.”
“She came and woke me up, nearly gave me a heart attack,” Mr. M says. “I heard the same as she did, though, and we drove over. Whoever it was must’ve been quick because we didn’t see anyone, but we didn’t go in.”
“Well, I don’t want you to now, either,” I tell him. “I’ve already called the sheriff. He’s on his way, but it’ll take him a little while.”
Next to me, Leila looks pale, surveying all the damage.
“If you’re sure,” Mrs. M says hesitantly.
I nod, patting her shoulder. “I am. I’ll come by tomorrow. Thank you both so much for calling me.”
“I’m just so sorry,” Mrs. M repeats, then hugs me. Then she hugs Leila, and she and Mr. M head back toward their car and drive off.
Leila takes my hand. “Ready?”
Not really. But I nod anyway.
Inside, tables and chairs are strewn everywhere. Bottles of booze from the shelf and bottles of my beer have been flung all over the place. Broken glass and alcohol are everywhere. The TVs I have hanging in the back corners for games and popular shows have been destroyed. One TV is barely hanging from its mount, and the other one is smashed on the floor.
I draw a long breath and exhale it slowly. To say this is hard to look at is the fucking understatement of the year.
I let go of Leila’s hand and slowly make the rounds. There’s so much damage, it’s impossible to know where to start.
Just start.
“When I first moved up here from the city, this was the only vacant place I walked in to scout a site for a bar,” I tell Leila, grabbing a push-broom from the storage closet. “I stepped one foot inside, looked around, and I saw…this. Well, not this.” I wave a hand around at the destruction. “But the way it used to be. It just agreed with me. I’ve been here ever since.”
Leila shoots me a sad look. “Forrest, I’m so sorry. We’ll rebuild. You’ll get it back.” She bites her lip. “Maybe you should check the cash register.”
I’m in a mild state of shock, so basic things like logic aren’t coming easily to me. I step over to the cash register. I normally clear out the money after counting the drawer to take it to the bank the next morning, but…I was a little distracted earlier with Leila and couldn’t get out of here fast enough.
When I open the drawer…the cash is still all there. The drawer itself doesn’t even look pried into.
“What is it?” Leila hurries over to me.
“It’s all here,” I say, puzzled. I glance up at her. “Who breaks into a bar, trashes everything, and doesn’t steal or even try to steal the money?”
Her throat works as she swallows. “Someone who wasn’t after money.”
Then what?
“Do you have security cameras?” she asks.
Oh shit. Another thing I completely forgot about in my stupor. And the realization makes me double over the counter, leaning on my elbows and shaking my head. “I forgot to set the alarm. I forgot to set the fucking alarm. Whoever did this just walked right the fuck on in.”
“They had to break in first,” Leila points out.
I sigh. “Listen, you stay here. Let me go outside and check the door. The sheriff should be here soon.”
Leila nods and reaches for the broom, resting her other hand on mine and squeezing. “I’ll start cleaning up in here. Don’t worry, Forrest.”
“Thank you.” I stroke her hand with my thumb, then head outside to inspect the damage. On the way I pull my cell phone out of my pocket and dial my buddy Loch Holmes. He’s an ex-SEAL and a security consultant who owns a cabin higher up in the mountains. He was traveling for work recently, but I’m pretty sure he’s back home now.
He answers on the second ring, sounding totally normal as if he’s been up, but I know the man prizes his eight hours of sleep. “Holmes.”
“Loch,” I say. “It’s Forrest.”
“Forrest. How are you? Why are you calling so late?”
“I have a weird request and a favor,” I say, bending down to examine the door. Sure enough, it looks like it’s had a crowbar and maybe something even heavier taken to it. “That super high-tech security system you installed for me?”
“You mean the one you constantly forget to use?” His tone is rightfully dry.
“That’s the one. Well, I learned my lesson the hard way tonight.”
Loch releases a heavy sigh. “Shit, Forrest. How bad?”
“Pretty fucked, I’d say. Weird thing is, whoever broke in didn’t even bother with the cash register. And I don’t hide it. It sits out in plain sight.”
“Anyone hurt?”
“No, no one was here. I…left in a rush with a friend. Anyway, I was calling to see if you could, uh, access my security feed.” I use a polite term—access—but what I really mean is “hack into.” And I know he can. He just doesn’t normally do it for free. But I’ve never asked before, so I’m hoping he’ll cut me a break.
“Sure,” he says. I hear rapid typing in the background.
“Were you up? Or did I wake you up?”
“I was sleeping. But I’m always up for a challenge. Besides, it’s not like I have to worry about waking anyone beside me up.”
“Still bitter, party of one?”
“Shit, like you have room to talk,” he mutters. I decide now’s not the time to point out that I actually do have room to talk.
While Loch works, I let my mind wander to more pleasant things to calm myself down—like Leila. I never knew it was possible to fall for someone so hard, so fast, but here I am. I can’t let her go, but at the same time, it’s pretty clear her time here was only meant to be temporary.
I told myself when I left Hawk City eight years ago, I’d make my return trips very few and very far between, but Leila might be a reason fo
r me to go back more frequently.
“Oh, shit,” Loch says suddenly.
I’m instantly alert. “What is it?”
“I accessed your feed. I saw you locking up, saw you and your friend leaving. And then about ten minutes later someone jogs up. Looks like a man, but I can’t see his face. He bashes the handle with something—maybe a crowbar or a pipe—then breaks in. The inside camera footage shows him running around the whole bar like he’s looking for something. Trashes everything, breaks the TVs. I’m sure you’re aware of that by now.”
“Fuck!” I shove my hand into my hair. “You can’t see his face at all?”
“He’s wearing a ball cap pulled down low.” I hear more clicking and clacking from his end. “But Forrest—I don’t see where he actually left. I had cameras installed at every door, and I can’t find the clip where he walks out.”
My stomach drops through the ground. “Loch, I gotta go.”
“Forrest, wait—”
But I can’t. There’s no more time to spare, because Leila’s inside by herself.
Or maybe not by herself…
Chapter 8
Leila
I’ve made quick progress of the mess on the floor—the push-broom does a great job of moving stuff to one side where it can be easily bagged and tossed out.
I lean the broom against a wall and head back toward the kitchen area. I know Forrest has trash bags here—I’m pretty sure I’m going to need a whole roll for that mess. I made sure to take some pictures of the damage before getting started. I can’t send them to Forrest yet for a couple reasons—one, I don’t have his number. And two, the reception up in the mountains is so spotty, I can’t get a reliable signal to last longer than a couple seconds.
My phone buzzes in my pocket just as I locate the trash bags inside the large pantry and I pull it out. I’ve had a few messages from my mom asking where I am, but every time I try to reply, I get an error message. Now it appears I have a new message.
