Make Me Yours: The Bellamy Creek Series

by Harlow, Melanie

  We lay there for a moment, tangled and clutching, our skin slick with sweat I hadn’t even noticed before, our breath slowing down, our muscles gradually relaxing.

  I buried my face in her hair and inhaled, my entire body humming with pleasure. She stroked my back, pressed her lips to my shoulder, wrapped her legs around me. For a few minutes, we said nothing and just held each other, the only two souls in the world. In the universe. In existence.

  Eventually, I lifted my chest off her and looked down at her face, my heart beating hard. Those brown eyes threatened to undo me. “Hey.”

  She smiled. “Hey.”

  “You okay?”

  The smile widened, and she nodded, eyes drifting shut. “Yes.”

  “Am I crushing you?”

  “Yes. Never stop.”

  I laughed, shifting onto my side so that she wasn’t bearing any of my weight, but taking her with me so we were face to face. “I just got here. Suffocating you is not part of my plan.”

  “I didn’t know there was a plan.”

  “Actually, there isn’t. Not beyond this anyway. My plan was to get you to listen to me, tell you how I felt, and then see if you’d let me take all your clothes off.”

  She giggled, her fingertips brushing against my chest. “It worked. Well done.”

  “But now I need a new plan.”

  “I’m good with more of the same,” she said. “I liked every single part of the old one, even if you did cover my mouth to get me to shut up.”

  “I had to—you would not stop talking.”

  “I thought I was protecting myself.”

  “I know.” I brushed her hair back from her face. “And you were right to stop things last night. It’s not that I didn’t feel this way then—because I did—but hearing you admit your feelings made it impossible to ignore mine any longer.”

  “Tell me again how you feel,” she said shyly, her eyes on my chest.

  I gathered her in close, tucking her head beneath my chin. For once, the words flowed easily. “I feel a lot of things. I feel like I want to hold you all night. I feel like all the oxygen goes out of the room when you enter it. I feel like I’m the only guy in the world when you look at me. I feel like there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to make you smile.”

  She snuggled closer, putting an arm and leg over me. “If this turns out to be a dream, I’m going to be so fucking mad.”

  I kissed the top of her head. “It’s not.”

  “I wish I could go back in time and tell twelve-year-old me not to give up hope, that there’s a reason she has all those feelings for you that won’t ease up.”

  I chuckled. “Did you really have a crush on me all the way back then?”

  “Yes,” she said, laughing. “And it never ended.”

  “Get out, you’ve had plenty of boyfriends over the years. And I secretly hated every one of them.”

  “Did you?” She sounded surprised.

  “Yes. I would tell myself it was just me being protective, but there was probably more to it. Especially that asshole you brought around at Christmas a few years ago. What was his name . . . Jake?”

  She groaned. “Don’t remind me. I only dated him because he was the total opposite of you. I was trying to distract myself.”

  “He pinched your ass at the tree lighting, and I wanted to fucking punch him in the face.”

  Pushing back from my chest, she propped herself up and looked down at me. “You saw him pinch my ass at the outdoor tree lighting ceremony? In that huge crowd?”

  I rolled onto my back and put my hands behind my head. “Maybe.”

  “Were you watching me?”

  “Maybe.”

  Her face lit up, and she slapped my chest. “You were!”

  “Well, I could tell he was an asshole. I felt like I needed to keep an eye on you. You know, for your own safety.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “For my own safety?”

  “Yes. Definitely not because I wanted to touch your ass.”

  “Of course not. Because you were always a perfect gentleman.”

  “Aren’t I still?”

  “Well, I don’t know.” She pretended to think about it, tapping a finger to her chin. “Now that I know what you were thinking, I might have to reconsider my assessment of you.”

  I reached out and grabbed her by the forearms, and she squealed as I flipped her beneath me. “Haven’t you been reconsidering it since the moment in my bedroom when you insisted on seeing my belt?”

  A sly grin took over her face. “Oh yeah. That.”

  “I warned you.”

  “You did.” She wrapped her legs around me. “It was still a bit of a shock.”

  “I remember. You tried to leave through the closet door.”

  Her giggle warmed me all over. “God, that was embarrassing.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  “However, it took my fantasies to a whole new level. So thank you.”

  I grinned. “Like the one where I arrest you for being a bad girl?”

  She nodded, catching her bottom lip between her teeth. “Uh huh.”

  “That text message fucking blew my mind.” I leaned down and rubbed my lips against hers. “Will you do that again sometime?”

  “Sure. I’ve got plenty of fantasies to choose from. There’s this one where you bust into the bedroom on Prom night where Brody Nichols is pawing me and trying to talk me out of my virginity, and you kick his ass. Then you pop my cherry for yourself, of course.”

  My jaw was hanging open, anger shooting through my veins. “Wait a minute. Is any of that story true? Did that little shit Brody Nichols actually paw you?”

  “Relax, it was years ago. I’m thirty, remember? And it was very minor pawing. Second base stuff.”

  “I will fucking tear him apart,” I seethed. “I don’t care how long it’s been.” I’d never liked Brody Nichols—he’d been a jackass as a teenager, and he was still a jackass as an adult. “He deserves an ass-kicking.”

  “He probably does, but it’s not necessary on my account. I handled it.”

  “How?”

  “I kneed him in the balls and told him to go fuck himself.”

  I laughed, shaking my head. “I cannot picture the sweet little Cheyenne Dempsey I knew doing that.”

  “You didn’t know everything about me,” she said coyly, bringing her hands to my chest. Her fingertips teased my nipples, making my blood rush faster.

  “That’s true.” I lowered my mouth to hers, protectiveness and possessiveness igniting the fire in me again. “But from now on, the only hands that get near you are mine.”

  “Or mine,” she whispered, “while I pretend they’re yours.”

  “We’re done pretending,” I told her, rolling onto my back and bringing her on top of me. “From now on, we’re the real thing.”

  Sixteen

  Cheyenne

  Even my fantasies weren’t this good—and my fantasies had been pretty fucking awesome.

  But this—this—his hands in my hair and on my skin. His mouth open against mine, his tongue between my lips. His body, strong and muscular beneath me, sculpted with the kinds of curves and edges and lines I’d only imagined. His bare cock, thick and long and hard, hitting me so deep it stole my breath.

  As I slid down onto it, slowly and carefully, my hands braced on his chest, I couldn’t take my eyes off him. He watched me with a combination of lust and reverence in his blue eyes, his hands tight on my hips, his breathing ragged and heavy. Beneath my palms, his heart beat hard and fast—for me.

  I couldn’t believe it.

  For me.

  As if the threads to the past and all its hopelessness had been snipped, I raced ahead, unashamed and unafraid and unencumbered by worry and doubt. He wanted me, he wanted this, he wanted love.

  “Cheyenne,” he said, his jaw tight. “We need to stop so I can put a condom on.”

  “I’m okay with this if you are. I’m on the pill, and I haven’t been with anybody
else in over two years.”

  “I haven’t either.”

  I smiled. “So we’re good.”

  With that, I let go of my inhibitions and moved the way my body wanted to, riding him with reckless abandon, enjoying the way he groaned and gripped my hips to slow me down, or filled his hands with my breasts, or sat up and took them in his mouth, his tongue driving me crazy. When he got too close, he begged me to stop, but I didn’t, intoxicated with the power I had over him in that moment—finally—the way I was in control. In fact, I moved my hips a little faster, rocked my body a little rougher, cried out a little louder, until I felt him stiffen and throb within me, which set off the billowing swells of my own orgasms—yes, yes, yes.

  I was his, and he was mine, and we were finally, unbelievably, real.

  * * *

  “Can I ask you something?” Cole’s tone was quiet and intimate, his hands gentle as they swept lazily up and down my back. Our bodies were still connected, and my cheek was pressed against his chest, where I’d collapsed.

  “Sure.”

  “Why haven’t you been with anyone else in so long?”

  “It hasn’t really been that long.”

  “You said over two years.”

  “True. But I guess that doesn’t feel like that long. I haven’t really missed it.”

  “No?”

  “Uh huh. To be honest, sex never fulfilled me that much. There would be all this buildup, and then afterward I always ended up feeling disappointed in some way. It was never what I was looking for. At some point, I decided to stop sharing so much of myself with guys who didn’t care enough.”

  “Good.”

  “What about you?” I asked, looking up at him.

  He exhaled. “It took me years to even attempt being with someone after Trisha died. And even then, it never felt right.”

  “But there were . . . others?” I hated the jealousy that threatened to intrude on my happiness, but I was too curious not to ask.

  “Only two. One random hookup at an out-of-town conference. And one woman I met at a coffee shop when Mariah was visiting her other grandparents in Indiana. She was newly single and lonely, and so was I. But like you said, it wasn’t what I was looking for. Not at all.”

  I nodded slowly, the jealousy fading away. “What were you looking for?”

  He cradled my face with his hands and kissed my forehead. “The girl next door.”

  * * *

  Neither of us wanted the night to end, but eventually we wore ourselves out and fell asleep. When I woke up, I looked over at him, almost like I was afraid he wouldn’t be there. But he was. My heart started to race as I took in his messy hair, his scruffy jawline, his bare chest. He was asleep on his back, one arm overhead, one hand at his waist. His armpit was hairy, and I stifled a laugh.

  He opened his eyes. “What the hell? Are you laughing at me while I sleep? What kind of good morning is this?”

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I just suddenly remembered the summer you and Griffin suddenly got hairy.”

  “Great.”

  “You got super tall, and then your voice changed, and I remember your hands suddenly seemed massive.”

  “That wasn’t the only thing.”

  I laughed again, my belly swooshing. “I remember I could hardly look you in the eye because Mary Ellen Meyer and I had read about nocturnal emissions, and we were simultaneously fascinated and grossed out.”

  He shook his head. “Girls are so lucky. Everything is hidden away. And if it isn’t, it’s beautiful anyway. Boys can’t hide anything.”

  “Don’t even try to tell me that it’s easier growing up as a girl. I will argue that.”

  “How about we agree that growing up is hard, period?”

  “Deal.”

  “Good. Now come here.”

  I happily snuggled up against his warm side. He pulled the covers up to my shoulders and wrapped his arms around me. “Do we have to get out of bed already?”

  “Maybe not quite yet. It’s only eight.”

  “What time is breakfast?”

  “Not until ten.”

  “Excellent. That is two hours I can keep you all to myself.”

  I giggled. “I do have to take a shower and clean up.”

  “Hm. I guess I need to do that too.”

  “We could conserve water,” I suggested. “You know, for the environment.”

  “Oh yeah? Fight climate change? Save the turtles?”

  “Well, I’m not sure we’ll save any turtles by showering together, but I think it could be fun.”

  “Except that it would require me to get out of this nice warm bed, put my suit on, and go get clean clothes from my room. With my luck, I’ll run into my mother.”

  “Or mine.” I sat up. “Shit. I need to know how to handle this. Are we sort of a secret? You should probably talk to Mariah, right? Maybe you shouldn’t shower here. I don’t want her to—”

  “Hey.” He silenced me with a finger over my lips like he had last night. “Slow down. First, I’m a grown man. If I run into anyone’s mother, I’ll deal with it. Next, yes I need to talk to Mariah, but I don’t need her permission to take a shower—alone or otherwise.”

  I circled his wrist with my hand and tugged it away from my mouth. “Will she be upset about . . . this?”

  “I don’t know. She adores you, no doubt about that, but she’s terrified of losing me. I need to tread carefully.”

  “She knows how much you love her.”

  “I hope so, but she’s learned that love doesn’t protect you from loss.”

  Something about the way he said that sent a shiver of concern up my spine, but I brushed the worry away. “I understand. Let’s not spring this on her right away. I can be patient.”

  “What if I can’t?” His voice was gruff as he yanked on my arm, tucking me against his body again.

  Grinning, I rubbed his chest. “You can sneak over to my house in the middle of the night.”

  “You live with your mom.”

  “So we’ll be quiet.”

  “Like we were last night?”

  “Ummm . . . good point.”

  “In the meantime . . .” His hands began to wander. “Can we still shower together?”

  “Yes.” I planted a kiss on his chest. “But why don’t you go get your stuff now before we get carried away and lose track of time?”

  He groaned. “Fine.”

  Laughing, I sat up and watched him drag himself out of bed and start to get dressed—pants, shirt, tie slung over his shoulders, jacket draped over his arms. Surprisingly, it was almost as intimate as watching him get undressed.

  He sat down and tugged on his socks and shoes, then stood to kiss my forehead. “I’ll be right back.”

  “Hey,” I said as he headed for the door. “Take a key—there’s one next to the television. I’ll be waiting for you.”

  He pocketed the key, then turned around and grinned. “And I promise it will be worth the wait.”

  * * *

  Once Cole was gone, I allowed myself a moment to scream happily into my pillow, kicking my feet and pounding my fists against the mattress. “Best! Night! Everrrrrr!” I yelled.

  Then I sat up, breathless with excitement. I touched my hair, which had to be matted and tangled. Had I even taken my makeup off last night? My dress was still on the floor like a ruby-colored puddle. When I moved off the bed to hang it up, my muscles groaned—I was sore in all kinds of places.

  But I couldn’t keep the smile off my face as I slipped the velvet gown on a hanger and headed into the bathroom, where I took a few minutes to freshen up before turning on the hot water. With my face clean of makeup and my teeth brushed, I stepped beneath the spray.

  I’d already shampooed my hair and had just rinsed out my conditioner when I heard the door to my room open and close. A minute later, Cole knocked on the bathroom door.

  “Come in!” I called.

  He entered and pulled the glass door open. “Room ser
vice,” he said with a grin. He was completely naked.

  I grinned too. “Just what I ordered. A hot breakfast.”

  “Hope you’re hungry,” he said, joining me.

  “Ravenous.” I stood aside and watched him get wet, my core muscles clenching and nipples tingling as I followed the rivulets of hot water streaming down his body. He wet his hair, and the movement of his arms over his head made his ab muscles do things that made me lick my lips. I wanted my mouth on him.

  Dropping my gaze lower, I stared as his cock began to thicken and rise. It was mesmerizing.

  “You know I’m dying to make some kind of sausage joke, right?” he asked, reaching for the soap and tearing off its paper wrapper.

  I groaned. “Do you have to be an adolescent boy right now? I might have loved teenage Cole, but I don’t necessarily need him in the shower with me.”

  “Come on,” he said, running his soapy hands all over his body. “I’m funny.”

  Laughing, I reached for my shower gel, squirting some in my hand. “You’re funny.”

  He rinsed off, watching me rub the gel over my skin. “Jesus Christ, that smells good. What is that?”

  “Peach and honeysuckle.”

  He tipped his head back and moaned. “Can I lick it off you?”

  “Sure, but I don’t think it will taste as good as it smells.”

  “That is a risk I am willing to take.” He pulled my gelled-up body toward him and kissed me as the water ran down our skin. His mouth was warm and firm and tasted like mint.

  I looped my arms around his neck, pressing my chest against his, feeling his erection between us. His hands roamed across my back, down my spine, over my ass. He squeezed, pulling me against him, sending pulses of desire shooting from my core to the farthest reaches of my body, fingers and toes.

  “I’ve thought about this,” he whispered, his fingers slipping between my legs, teasing inside me.

  “In the shower?” I wondered, because I had too.