by Jamie Magee
A laugh he wasn’t known to give busted free from him, causing everyone to glance in their direction.
“Small towns really do give you paranoia don’t they?”
She shrugged. “My mom hated them, she said they were for people who were alive but not living.”
“You believe that?” he asked, losing his grin a bit. Years ago he would have said the same.
She slowly looked up at him. “I don’t think it’s the place you live that gives you life, it’s the people you let in.”
“Are you living now?”
“In this moment, yes,” she said with a slow smile. “Tomorrow when the mailman comes with a stack of bills I’ve never had before or when I look around and figure out I have more responsibility than I ever have…I might freak out. But I’ll get through the moment and move on to the next…and somewhere in the up and down chaos I’ll figure me out.”
Angst flashed in his jade stare.
“Wrong answer?” she asked with a lifted brow.
“I just remember how hard it was to get used to being back home for me. The switch up can throw you a bit, make it hard to settle at first, make you doubt your choice a time or two.”
She glanced away then back to him. “Easton, you came back home. I came home for the first time. There’s a difference in where I am and where you were.”
He leaned in and took her lips with his. He meant for it to be a sweet kiss, near innocent, but they both felt the heat of their flesh colliding, the want behind each movement.
The music stopped and the restaurant lights went out. They pulled away from each other, held their sultry gaze for a second before they bothered to notice they were alone in the restaurant and the staff was waiting for them to leave with weary eyes.
He took the long way back just because he didn’t want the night to end.
In her driveway, she hopped out of his truck, keeping up her conversation with him about the appointments she had booked for the next week.
She stopped at the front door to see if he’d heard what she said and saw him lingering on the front steps like he wasn’t sure if he should climb them.
And he thinks I’m the runner? She hitched a thumb to the door. “It kinda looks like a real house now. You want to see what I’ve done so far? Tonight is my first night here.”
He smiled boyishly and followed her up the stairs. When he saw the couch and TV, he shook his head. “Memphis has attacked.”
“He’s instant.”
A glance around had memories flickering in Easton’s head. He recognized these pieces, a few of them. He didn’t fail to notice Georgia showed him every room, including the unpacked bags in the attic, before she strolled to the master bedroom.
He’d already seen her office and dining room. Both times he went to say something but never managed to form the question. Standing just inside her bedroom, his lips parted as his eyes flicked to every piece, even the low beam lamps on each side of the bed, and the mirror above the fireplace.
Georgia was beside him, wringing her fingers together like she was nervous. He wasn’t sure if it was because of where they were or what was in the room. “It looks familiar, doesn’t it?” she said as her cheeks flamed.
“Looks like my first truck.”
“Do what?”
He grinned sheepishly. “I worked my ass off restoring this bedroom suit, that desk, and dining room table and chairs one summer. The money Mom paid me, I used to buy my first truck.”
She was still fidgeting with her hands, seemed uncomfortable, and he wanted to ease her. “I know it probably seems like small town conspiracy, entrapment or something, but I promise you, it wouldn’t matter if we were seeing each other or not. We could be strangers and my mother still would have done this for Lucas’s daughter.”
Georgia nodded dismissively. Memphis had sorta said the same thing, only with not as many words.
He glanced to her hands she was still unconsciously twisting together now and again. “I guess that didn’t make you feel any better.”
She glanced away. “I’m good with the gift, love it.”
“What’s wrong?”
She shook her head.
“Something is,” he said as he took a step closer, but halted when he saw her tense and try and twitch a smile.
“Georgia? What’s going on?”
She huffed a breath. “I want to touch you but I don’t know how?”
“You don’t know how?” he repeated, completely thunderstruck. His eyes flicked to the master bath where the girl had owned him days before, then back to her, finding her crimson.
“I don’t want to fight with you, and so far that’s what gets us going, gets me amped up.” A shy smile came to her. “I have crazy butterflies right now.”
Carefully, he approached her. She held his gaze but the very reserve she’d spoken of was there.
When his hands feathered down her arms, she let out a breath and closed her eyes as if she had found ecstasy. He leaned closer to her, and left a whisper of a kiss on her forehead, one side of her mouth. As he moved to the other, she caught his lips with hers. They both breathed in a hiss of air, feeling the aching pull to one another.
His arms reached around her, pulling her against him. Her hands slid up his chest, over his broad shoulders, and found their way to his hair as she arched her back, pressing into him as hard as she could. Those strong hands of his slid down her sides and down to her thighs, spreading her as he lifted her and wrapped her around him.
Her thighs squeezed into his body. Giving her leverage. She pushed up in his arms so her lips were above his, where her hair was canopying around them. His hands moved up her shirt, taking it with him, baring her as she grasped the hem and pulled it over her head.
She arched her head back when his lips landed on her chest. Craving his kiss and feeling restricted, Georgia unfastened her bra and let it drape from her shoulders. She couldn’t figure out how he brought this boldness out in her, but he did. She felt like a skilled lover in his arms, her shyness was overtaken by the sensations that would wave over her, whisked away by his touch.
Within two strides, he moved her to the bed and laid her across it as if she were precious cargo. His long arm reached back for her boot, sliding it off, then moving to the other as he pushed out of his own.
Hungrily, hands moved up the sides of her body, teasing, circling, but never touching the parts of her, which were aching for him, begging for him. She grasped for him, pulling him to her lips as she tore at his shirt. He only broke from his tortuous path on her body long enough to pull it over his shoulders. Her hands were already at his belt as her teeth nipped at his lips, and she writhed her body against his.
He moaned as her hand slid down his hard, thick shaft, not being able to help it, he rocked forward. His lips dipped to her neck, then moved down as his hand wisped away the bra from her shoulders. Like his hands, his lips teased, kissing around but never where she wanted him. He would smile against her flesh every time she arched, every time her body begged. Finally, he settled a deep, wet kiss over the hard peak of one of her nipples. She grasped and moaned, clutching his shoulders.
Because her body had wanted it for so many agonizing moments, because he teased, the sensation was amplified; the touch was like an orgasm by itself.
He had her near numb long before his hand slid down her stomach, then reached for the slick heat of her. Her eyes flutter closed as she felt the rhythmic sway of deft fingers against her clit, the first wave of ecstasy slammed into her without warning. Utterly aware of every sound, every breath, every movement of her body, Easton slowed his touches, absorbing the high washing over her.
The ferocity between them started the moment she recovered. She wanted him to feel the way he made her feel, wanted to explore every inch of his body. She rolled him to his back.
As she sat astride him, her kiss went deep, carnal. Her hands moved down his chest, teasing him the way he’d teased her, daring to brush against his erection
only to move away.
His hands were not still; they were cradling her face, sliding down her chest, her sides. He hooked his thumbs in her tights and panties and pulled them down. With help from her, he found a way to get them off her long legs.
She rocked against him, as she slid his jeans down even more.
He wanted her now. His body was demanding it. He leaned forward, pulling her lips to his, pressing her bare chest to his.
As he devoured her mouth, he pulled her legs around him, holding her just above his lap as his lips dipped to her chest, then trailed up her neck.
This was a threshold, a new beginning, a first. They both took in the surreal emotion as their eyes met in the dim room. They were staring soul to soul, more than their bodies, more than this passionate fire between them and all the years of want, of need were coming to a head. Which made the scorching passion seem beautiful, enhancing every sensation.
Working together, never losing eye contact, he lowered her onto him. The sigh was simultaneous, and they were still for the briefest of seconds as their bodies fit together, accepted one another. When she reached to caress his face, she shifted her hips; the slight movement was the undoing for both of them. Sensual passion began, the rhythm was intense, and their skin was glistening as hands that were gentle one moment and powerful the next moved, explored.
Holding her firmly against him so they would not lose contact, he rolled her back to the bed. It was like the first moment all over again, a brief second as they adjusted to one another before an erotic ferocity took its place.
He felt the wave of ecstasy move across her body just as she flexed around him. He followed her almost instantly, their eyes connecting as their humming bodies slowed against one another. His lips fell on hers, stealing another kiss as his hands moved down her body. He fell to her side, taking her with him. Exhausted, out of wind, and completely satisfied, they lay there catching their breath.
A deep relaxed laugh left him. Not understanding it, Georgia caught his amused gaze. “I can’t believe I hated this bed as much as I did.”
She playfully pouted. She had fallen in love with it the moment she saw it.
“I hated restoring it.” He pulled her closer. “If I knew I’d find an end like this, I would have gave a damn.”
A lax grin ghosted across her lips as she moved to lie across his shoulder so she could stare into him. His smile faded, but it never really left his eyes.
It took a lot to make Easton feel this alive, this electrified.
This girl was his one in seven billion.
Chapter Fifteen
The next morning, Easton had left an hour before dawn. She knew he wanted to be home when Grace woke. One of his biggest goals was to give her stability, for her to know he’d always be there. He went to explain why he was slipping away in the night, but she stopped him with a kiss and silently told him she understood.
She’d seen him two days later, too, not long after Grace’s bedtime, but they weren’t alone long. Wyatt and Memphis were installing her new washer and dryer, and when Harley came by to the see the house it turned into a late dinner, then a furious poker game.
The next few weeks went by much the same, them talking through text near constantly, and him coming over on his off nights after Grace was sound asleep.
Needing a break from her marathon of graphic projects, which she seemed to double up on when Memphis and Easton were on shift, she decided it would be a good idea to resurrect one of the gardens on the side of the house. She knew she could use it in a few photo shoots she had lined up.
On purpose she had bought more lavender to plant among other things, and she was making it a point to breathe them in as she worked. She was doing good with the responsibility she had taken, with being in a relationship again—learning to trust, but at times, if only for seconds, she felt the weight and missed the freedom she once had to just vanish and find a new world of people to explore.
All at once, one of her breaths nearly made her gag. She glanced to her side, seeing a lanky shadow next to her accompanying the aroma of smoke and sour beer.
Hunter.
Hell. No.
At first she only stared, thinking it was a dream, a haunting one she’d had a time or two where she woke up in a Motel Six to the sound of Hunter tuning his guitar, half naked as a cigarette dangled from his lips.
She wasn’t dreaming—he was there. His dark hair was a bit longer, but he had it brushed behind his ears. There were ominous shadows under his eyes. He’d never been able to really grow a beard, but she knew he hadn’t shaved in weeks because there were patches of fine auburn hair here and there.
It wasn’t cold out, but he had a long sleeved black shirt over his band T-shirt. His jeans were dirty and sagging just so on his waist which seemed narrower. Georgia wasn’t sure if he looked more run down because she’d been around Memphis, Easton and all the guys at station thirty-two, or if he really was the walking dead these days.
“Look at you,” he said with a nostalgic glint in his eyes. “All domestic and shit.”
Georgia slowly rose from where she was kneeling. It felt like it had been lifetimes since she had come face to face with him, and maybe it had been because though she knew she still had love for this boy, sympathy, she couldn’t remember who she was when she was his.
“What are you doing here?”
He shrugged. “Friend of mine’s visiting family.”
“What friend?”
He shook off the question. “You don’t know ‘em.”
“How in the hell did you find me?” she asked as her head started to clear and the shock wore off.
He nodded back to the driveway. “I was just walking, saw Memphis’s truck, thought what the hell, why not say what’s up.”
“You hate Memphis. You’re scared of him.”
He smirked, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I don’t hate you, and he’d know where you were.”
Georgia crossed her arms.
“Why can’t you answer the phone?” he asked in a broken tone.
“Why can’t you figure out I don’t want to know you anymore?”
He looked away. The same crushing expression that pulled her to him over and over was present. “Three years, the shit we saw, what we did, what we got each other through…” His gaze met hers. “You don’t end shit like that with a note on a mirror.”
She stepped up to him, rage she didn’t want to feel because it meant she gave a damn washing over her. “You fucked a road whore—how can you not see that is wrong? Are you that high?”
“I didn’t,” he snapped. “Not that night.”
“That night,” she spat.
“What? You left me months ago. You trying to tell me you ain’t hitting it with someone? That’s a lie and we both know it.” He lifted his brow as if to underline his last point. The certainty he had was throwing her, making her think she was being watched, tabs were being kept on her. The idea wasn’t a crazy one, it just didn’t make sense in Willowhaven or with her and Easton. The people around them didn’t even know for sure they were hanging out late at night.
“Let’s call a spade a spade—I left you over a year ago.”
“Looks like someone’s counting,” he said as he gently looked over her, the same heart-wrenching emotion visible.
“Hunter, we’d been breaking up for a long time before that night. We were in the middle of a fight—and you got trashed and fucked the first girl you found.” She lifted her chin. “That’s a hard limit and you know it.”
He shook his head. “We fought and I got high—that’s all I’m guilty of. She had some stuff and she wanted to share.”
“Stuff that apparently makes you strip.”
He pulled out his phone.
“What are you doing?’
“Calling Randy. He will tell you when he left that night I was already passed out, dressed. I woke up the way I was.”
Randy was his band buddy, the worst influence ever. “Like he
wouldn’t lie for you, like it would change this today.”
He pressed end on his phone and shoved it in his pocket. “You saw me fall off the fucking wagon and you left me to keep falling, Georgia. At this rate—I don’t think I’m gonna see thirty.”
“Whatever the hell you’re into is not my fault, Hunter—you know that. It’s not my problem anymore.”
He looked up at her house, then back to her. “This shit ain’t you.”
“You don’t know me.” She wanted her voice to sound more solid but it quaked because he spoke a fear that rushed through her thoughts constantly.
“I know you love what you do. I know you’re good with that camera and making shit look right.” He cussed. “I know I shouldn’t have told you not to work with other bands—it was wrong. I got a way to fix it.”
She was moving her head side to side as he went on.
“James wants me sign on with him, but not unless you’re apart of it. He said if I go through rehab, he’d move us to New York. He’s got a ton of people lined up that want to meet you with the label. Big money, Georgia.”
Georgia pulled in a sharp breath. If he had said this to her a year ago she would have been in his arms, squalling with joy, ripped with bliss. It was a goal they both wanted. A big city they could never grow bored of, an adventure every day, both of them lost in their creative passions—good influences surrounding Hunter constantly.
“Are you lying to me?” she asked quietly.
He shook his head. “That’s why I’ve been tryna call.”
She glanced to her house, Memphis’s truck, then back to him. “I can’t…”
He stepped forward. “You have to.”
She shook her head, more so to tell herself to shut up than him. The doubt she had about making it in a small town, the part of her which said to watch for signs was telling her to stop and think for a second before she told him to get the hell away from her.
“No, you do,” she said with a flinch of a smile. “It’s good for you.”
“Us.”
Tears welled. “I can never trust you again.”
“I didn’t fucking sleep with her that night—you know that girl has hated you every time we came ‘cross her. She was tryna piss you off and fucked my life instead.”
