A Man of Honor

by Miranda Liasson

  Preston wanted to tell him he thought he should be resting his mouth, but he refrained. “You’ve had a hard weekend, losing that rowing race and all. Let me cut in and dance with Cat, okay?”

  Brady narrowed down his gaze. “You’re a little bit touchy for someone in a fake relationship, aren’t you?”

  Preston laughed. An artificial, phony laugh that sounded scary even to his own ears. “Um, about that fake relationship. Turns out that it’s not so fake.” He turned to Cat. “May I have this dance?”

  Cat looked from Brady to him. Even in the dim light, he could see that her cheeks flushed, and that was a great relief to him. He prayed that she still wanted him as badly as he wanted her.

  He wanted her with an ache that was worse than all the physical pain he’d endured since his return. Worse than all his mental anguish, and the fears that he was not a whole man and never would be again. Wanting her was larger than that, all of it.

  “Thanks for the dances, Brady,” Cat said. “But if you don’t mind, I’m going to dance with Preston now.”

  “Okay,” Brady said with an exaggerated sigh. “When he has to sit down and rest, come find me.”

  The bastard had the audacity to wink at Cat. As he walked off, Preston couldn’t help scowling at his parting barb. He must have done a bad job at hiding his intense dislike and the fact that he was ready to have it out with him, because Cat reached up and smoothed the lines between his eyes. Her fingers were cool, and her touch made some of his tension dissipate.

  Brady wasn’t worth wasting his time on. Not when he had her in his arms.

  “Do you have a fever or something?” Cat asked as he took up her hand in his and curled it against his chest, pulling her close to him and wrapping his other hand around her waist. “Because you’re acting a little strange.”

  He tightened his grip on her waist until he’d pulled her tight against his body, until her breasts grazed his chest and their hips made contact. He was certain—and pleased—that she could feel the evidence of how much he wanted her. Her scent—powder fresh and clean, flowery or something, made him want to inhale it, and her, in big gulps.

  He shot her a long, slow grin. “Yeah. I guess I am. The only cure for whatever I’ve got is you.”

  She shot him a puzzled look, but her mouth turned up in a smile. They were so close, he could feel her sigh as she surrendered to the feeling, curling in closer to him and swaying gently to the music.

  “I’m sorry I can’t move very much,” he said in a low voice. “I may never be able to dance again like Brady does. I can barely manage to shuffle.”

  “Who says we have to move at all?” She smiled at him. Her eyes were lit up and focused solely on him, too, in that way she had that made a man want to tell her all his secrets. But now wasn’t the time.

  He bent his head and kissed her. She responded by melting against him and wrapping her arms around his neck. Her lips met his, parting on a sigh, and he wasted no time in cupping his hand gently around her neck, pulling her even closer, and entwining his tongue with hers. He couldn’t get enough of her sweet taste. He pulled back just enough to speak, to tell her he was taking her to bed without passing Go, but he was interrupted by a tap on his shoulder.

  The song ended, and one with a new, faster tempo was beginning. Preston turned to find Brady at his back, grinning that blinding smile. “My turn now, Guthrie. Time to give it a rest.”

  Did this guy not get the message? Preston was about to tell him off when he saw that Maddie and Nick were herding everyone into a line, laughing and beckoning for everyone to join in on the Electric Slide. Liz was back on the dance floor, and Jenna and Derrick, too; even the Kingston parents and grandparents. Preston reluctantly let go of Cat’s hand. She looked at him with a question in her eyes. He bent close to her ear and said, “We’ll finish this later.” She only had time to nod before Brady grabbed her hand and swept her into the line. Preston bowed out, walking to the sidelines to watch the entire family having fun.

  Brady was a great dancer. Good-looking, great moves. There wasn’t much about him that wasn’t perfect for the job or for Cat except for Preston’s jealousy.

  It wasn’t just Brady that bothered him. He’d suddenly gotten reminded of more of what he was lacking in—a family. The give-and-take, the joking, the goofing around, it was all foreign to him. He suddenly felt a need for air, so he left the reception hall, leaving the dancing to those with two working legs.

  …

  Cat saw the moment Preston left the restaurant and walked out onto the expansive covered porch that overlooked the big hill leading down to the lake. As soon as she’d done her duty for Maddie and Nick and could extract herself from Brady’s grip, she went outside and scanned the porch. Its outdoor tables were full of laughing, chatting people. No Preston in sight.

  She hadn’t imagined those kisses, or the look in his eyes that she’d been dreaming of for the past year. If she had to search every blessed acre of the lakefront to find him, she would. She vowed that they were going to finish this tonight, one way or another.

  A bright white line carved the sky, followed by an ominous crack of thunder. The humidity was about a thousand percent, so it was no surprise that a storm was on the horizon.

  The dewy grass tickled her toes as she walked down the hill in her sandals, carefully lifting the hem of her gown. The night was balmy, and the crickets and locusts were competing with each other for who could sing the loudest. Then she saw him in the shadows, his broad shoulders hunched over the dock railing, looking out over the lake.

  More like brooding, but she wasn’t going to allow that.

  She was going to be bold and risky and put herself on the line. Preston had been right when he’d said some part of her was bold. Bold or just plain desperate, she wasn’t sure. Maybe it was the deep-in-her-soul need to fight for a man she simply could not give up on.

  “There you are,” she said. “Why’d you run off?”

  He stood up, the corded muscles of his back tense beneath his shirt. He placed his cell phone into his pocket. “I was wishing my brother a happy birthday. And doing some thinking,” he said.

  She rolled her eyes. “Thinking or reconsidering?”

  That caught his attention. He turned around, frowning.

  She tossed up her hands in exasperation. “I don’t want to dance with Brady. I don’t like Brady. I like you.”

  “I know that.”

  “Oh. So you’re not jealous?”

  “Yes, I’m jealous, dammit,” he said. “That’s not the issue. My feelings—”

  “Don’t matter because you came back wounded? Should be shut off because you’re having some problems?” She snorted, and a big fat raindrop plopped on her back. Followed by another and another.

  “We should head back up to the lodge.”

  He was so damn…impassive. His face was a wall of thick safety glass, and she had no idea how to put a crack in it.

  She poked him again. “I don’t want to go anywhere. I want to talk to you—really talk. I want you to stop using dumb excuses like Brady to push me away.”

  He put his hands on her arms and looked at her. This time, there was no mistaking the conflict in his eyes. The crack she was looking for. “I’ve tried to make you understand that it would be a lot better for you to leave. So help me, Cat, you’ve got to turn around and walk up that hill without me, or you’ll regret it.”

  “Regret what? That I want you? I’m an adult now. I’m not Derrick’s baby sister anymore.”

  “I came back messed up, and I’m not just talking about my leg. You deserve more than to get saddled with my problems. Please, I’m begging you, just turn around and leave.”

  Splat, splat, splat. Messy droplets pinged on the trees overhead.

  She crossed her arms. “I’m not leaving.”

  Lightning sizzled through the sky and thunder cracked. Preston took her arm and pulled her along the field toward the gazebo. “Run ahead. I’ll meet you in the shelt
er.”

  She shook her head. “I’m staying with you. Whether we get wet or not, you’re stuck with me.”

  Halfway across the field, the rain let loose, dousing them with sheets of cool water. Cat took off her shoes and ran barefoot the last remaining distance to the gazebo. By the time they reached it, they were soaked and out of breath.

  Preston leaned up against the whitewashed railing. In the dim light cast from the lodge on the hill before them, she could see the strong features of his face—the squarely set jaw, the determined set of his mouth. The fight in his eyes. She moved closer, but he held his hand up.

  “If you touch me again, I can’t promise to be in control of my behavior.”

  She laughed.

  “I wasn’t being funny.”

  “It’s a little funny.” She inched closer.

  He shook his head. “Cat, please. I don’t want to—”

  She wrapped her wet arms around his waist. Looked into his eyes. He was a big guy, a warrior, all brawn and hardness. A man who was so severely hard on himself that he couldn’t even see it, but she swore she saw a glimmer of his marshmallow insides.

  His posture was rigid, his thick brows pulled down in a frown, but he didn’t back away from her touch.

  Good, because this time, she wasn’t giving up. “I lost a fiancé and a job, and I walked out of my only job interview. And I’m living with my parents. If we wait for life to be perfect, we’ll be waiting forever.”

  She acted on impulse to cup his cheek and didn’t miss the brief wince he made at her touch. She touched him anyway, running her fingers along the roughness of his five-o’clock shadow, enjoying the contrast between smooth and rough. Stubborn and soft. Holding the line and giving in. She was determined to make him cave.

  “I’m damaged,” he blurted. “I’ve never felt my faults like I do since I’ve been back. I-I don’t know what I can offer you. All I know is I want to wrap my hands around that guy’s neck every time he touches you.”

  “Take me home,” she said softly, standing on tiptoe and placing her lips against his ear. “Make love to me, Preston. Do it because you’re an honorable man, and it’s the right thing to do.”

  His grip on her arms tightened, and his eyes lit up with agonized feeling. “So help me God, Cat. I’ve tried but I can’t stay away.” With one quick movement, he pulled her to him, his lips crushing hers, his tongue sweeping inside her mouth in strokes of hot, pure pleasure. He pulled back long enough to murmur against her lips, “Let’s get out of here.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  As they crossed the threshold of his house, Preston kicked the front door shut behind them with his foot, not wanting to let go of Cat for even a second. They were out of breath and sopping wet. Cat gave an involuntary shiver as the air-conditioning hit her wet skin.

  “Are you cold?” he asked, running his hands up and down her arms to make her warm. As he did, Harriet skittered past. He was glad Cat didn’t see the animal, because right now he wasn’t about to share her attention with anyone.

  She shrugged. “A little.” There was a slight change in her from the bold confidence she’d exhibited at the gazebo. She’d been quiet in the car, and now her mouth was drawn in a troubled line.

  “I’ll get us some towels,” he said. If she had something to say, this would give her time to say it.

  She held him back with a troubled look that stopped him in his tracks. “Wait, before we do this I—I need to tell you something.”

  His heart plummeted. “What is it?” He tried to sound casual. Please, God, don’t let it be this is wrong or I’m having second thoughts. We’ve come too far.

  “It’s—about Robert.”

  A bad sign. Bringing up the ex as they’re about to make love. Very bad.

  “What about Robert?”

  “He said some things to me that I think you should know.”

  “Like what?” That gnawing feeling was back in his gut again. The feeling that made him want to strangle the son of a bitch.

  A scarlet flush crept up her neck, and she kept gnawing on her lower lip. She looked so uncomfortable, he wanted to take her in his arms right there and tell her anything she had to say didn’t matter, couldn’t matter. Didn’t she know that? “He said I—well, I had a problem when we—when we made love.”

  “A problem?” He raised a careful brow. On second thought, strangling was too kind.

  “Yes. I wasn’t ever able to…come. When I tried to talk to him about it, he said it was my problem, that he’d never had that issue with anyone else.”

  He smiled slow and predatory, wanting her to see how little anything that idiot said meant to him. Her eyes went wide with surprise. “Honey, the only thing wrong was that you were with that asshole.” He ran his hands over her chilled arms. “Let me get you those towels.”

  He moved to go, but she held out a hand to stop him. “I have a better idea,” she said. “You make us warm.”

  “I can do that.” He wasted no time undoing his buttons and shrugging his wet shirt to the floor. Then he pushed her up against the wall and held her there, arms on either side of her head, his good knee fast between her legs, surrounding her with masculine heat.

  He smiled as he slowly took in her dripping wet hair and her streaked mascara. He traced a drop of water that had fallen from her hair down her cheek, reveling in the fact that, running makeup or not, she was hands down the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. She was beautiful on the inside as well as out, and he would prove it to her, starting right now.

  With a quick flick, he pushed the strap of her bridesmaid’s gown over her bare shoulder and lowered his lips slowly to the fine curve between her shoulder and neck. He nuzzled there, dropping soft kisses on her wet skin until she shivered and tipped her head back against the wall to give him better access. “Let’s get you out of these wet clothes,” Preston said in a low voice.

  She turned willingly around and lifted her hair so he could undo her zipper. He unzipped it slowly, relishing every glimpse of her finely arched back. The undone zipper gave him access to her bare skin, and he couldn’t help slipping his hands under her dress and caressing her, circling her waist with his hands, tracing over the sweet curves of her hips. Finally, his hands wandered upward to slowly skim over her lacy bra, memorizing the feel and shape of her breasts while he kissed her shoulders and back.

  She placed her hands against the wall. “I—I’m afraid I’m going to fall.”

  “I’ve got you tight,” he said. “Where was I? Oh, yes, here.” Still standing behind her, he unclasped her bra, which freed him to circle each breast with his hands. He rubbed slowly over her nipples until they grew taut under his touch and she squirmed, pushing her sweet ass against him until he thought he’d died and gone to heaven.

  “They’re small,” she said.

  “Beautiful,” he said, devoting his attention to gently fingering each tip. With his teeth, he tugged down one side of her dress, then withdrew his hands from her body long enough to pull it and her bra off the rest of the way. Before she could turn around, he pulled her gently toward him so that her spectacular ass ground into his crotch. His hands roamed her body freely, memorizing her curves as he glided from her breasts to the edges of her lace panties, where he paused at the waistband for just a moment. “I love having you in my arms,” he whispered in her ear. “I love the feel of you, your beautiful lines and curves. I’ve been dying to make love to you from the moment I saw you last fall at that wedding. After all this time, Cat, I can’t believe you’re really here.” His fingers traced the waist of her lacy panties where they rested against her flat abdomen. He teased around one leg opening, lightly grazing her skin with his fingers until he heard her sweet gasp.

  His arm encircled her, holding her tightly against him as he worked a finger under her panties. Her breath grew ragged, and he was thrilled at how she trembled under his touch. “Cat,” he said softly, dropping kisses on the back of her neck.

  “What is it
?” she asked in a throaty whisper. He swept his fingers lightly around her feminine folds, loving that she was wet and slick for him. He continued to tease her until her head rolled back on his shoulder and she fought for equilibrium, her breath coming in soft sobs. “Oh God, what are you doing to me?”

  “Making love to you.” His fingers teased back and forth, homing in on her intimate core. “I was a fool not to make you mine before I left. I’ve regretted that every day of my life since.”

  He gave her shoulder a playful bite as he slipped his finger into her hot wetness. She quivered under his touch, arching her back against him. The feel of her soft, smooth skin against him made him crazy, but he focused on his task. “Enjoy it, sweetheart.” Relentlessly, he added a second finger to the first and was thrilled when she moaned aloud, her body tensing.

  “Preston—no—I—I need to see you. Don’t want to come like this.”

  “Why not?” He nipped her earlobe playfully. “We have all night. I want to feel you come apart in my arms, baby. I want you to let go for me.” Showing no mercy, he worked magic with his fingers, caressing a breast, rubbing a taut nipple as she clung helplessly to the wall. He loved every minute of it, loved how responsive she was, reveled in her soft whimpers and moans as she reacted to his touch.

  At last her hips bucked against him, and she let go, crying his name into the dim room. He held her, drawing out her climax as long as he could, until she collapsed against him. When she turned around, she had tears in her eyes.

  “You were saying something about some idiot?” he said, grinning, as he held her close, kissing her neck, taking in the sweet scent of her hair, the soft feel of her skin, trying to comprehend that she was here with him, really here. And nothing else mattered.

  “It—that wasn’t supposed to be about me.”

  “Honey, that was just an appetizer,” he said, pulling back and looking into her eyes. “Wait till we get to dessert.”

  …

  Cat’s whole body felt shaky, like if she stopped holding on to him, she’d collapse into a boneless pile on the floor. She felt safe in his arms, secure, yet free at the same time, something she’d never felt with Robert, who’d do a play-by-play about their lovemaking and critique her every move.