by MJ Fredrick
“You wanted me to slow down,” he reminded her, capturing her hands and pinning them over her head, so that every slide of his body into hers stroked her whole body.
Her nipples tightened with each thrust, wanting his attention, trapped inside the dress. She rubbed her top against his chest, hoping to loosen it, to free her breasts, to invite his kiss on her aching flesh. Between her movements and his, they found a rhythm and danced to it, moving faster as desire built, and his hands were beneath her bottom, lifting her, holding her. With her freed hands, she tugged at the top of her dress and bared her breasts, then pulled his head down, wordlessly showing him what she needed.
His mouth was hot and eager, moving from one breast to the other, kissing, sucking, scraping his teeth over her tender skin until she twined her fingers in his hair, needing, needing. Then he pulled her nipple deep into his mouth, and despite the two orgasms he’d already given her, she wrapped her legs tighter around him and climaxed a third time. This time, she felt him still over her, heard his groan, felt the pulse of his own orgasm.
When he dropped onto his back on the mattress beside her, she wanted to curl into his side, wanted to slide her hand over the damp skin of his chest. But the way he’d made love to her—no, not made love to her, exactly—made her wonder if her touch would be welcome.
He turned his head and smiled, then popped up—with more energy than she would expect him to have—to dispose of the condom. He spent a few more minutes in the bathroom, then she heard the toilet flush, and he reappeared in the door.
“Why are you still wearing your dress?”
“I, ah.” She wasn’t sure if she was staying.
“Here. I’ll get it.” He sat on the edge of the bed and motioned for her to turn her back. It took a moment, but he tugged the zipper down and slid the dress down over her hips, leaving her naked. His nostrils flared. “Will you stay with me tonight?”
Panic flared in her chest. She’d never stayed, never spent the night with a man. “I—my mother will—I’ve never stayed out all night.”
“Text her, call her, let her know that you’re not coming in, that you’re staying with me.”
It was logical, of course. Her mother knew her reputation, but they had never given voice to it, never acknowledged it. She didn’t know if she wanted to open that door, not even to stay the night with Killian.
“I don’t know,” she hedged. “People will see me leaving in the morning.”
“They already know we’re sleeping together,” he pointed out. “I’ve never spent the night with a woman. Let this be a first for both of us.”
Something else flared then, something warm and needy. He’d never be her first—anything, except her first night. Could she give that to him? She looked into the blue eyes of the man who saw more in her than she understood. Instead of answering, she turned to pick up his landline from beside the bed and dialed her mother’s cell.
“Mom. I’m staying at Killian’s tonight.”
Her mother was silent for a long moment. “Do you know what you’re doing?”
No. “I just didn’t want you to worry. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Liz. He’s not like the others.”
“I know that.” Funny how even her own mother was more worried about Killian than her. “Good night.”
After she hung up, she had trouble looking at Killian. Was she making a mistake here? She was risking too much, letting him in too far. She needed to protect herself, protect him. She should leave.
When Killian came out of the bathroom the following morning, Liz was in the kitchen wearing nothing but his shirt. The tails barely covered her very fine bottom as she stood in the open refrigerator door. When she heard him, she turned, closing it.
“What are we supposed to do for breakfast?”
He didn’t stop until he had her pinned to the closed door. He stroked her hair back over her shoulder and bent to kiss her. She opened for him, wound her arms around his neck, and it took a moment after the kiss ended for him to remember what she’d asked.
“We can call down to the Coyote and I can go pick it up.”
“What do you usually do?”
“I usually go to church and head to Mom’s afterwards.”
She glanced over her shoulder at the clock. “I think we slept through church.”
He chuckled and pressed his face to the curve of her throat. “Slept? You felt wide awake to me.”
She stroked her fingers through his hair as his hands slipped beneath the hem of the shirt she wore.
“Again?”
An hour later, he padded barefoot down the stairs to collect the delivery from the Coyote. Cassidy Simon looked from his unshaven jaw, his stretched-out t-shirt to his bare feet and arched her eyebrow.
“Feeling sick?”
“Ah. Just…taking it easy.”
She handed over the plastic bag with two foam containers. “Okay, well, don’t eat this all at once. Unless you’re working it off.”
With that, she skipped out the door and back down the sidewalk to the Coyote. At least he had a pretty good idea she wouldn’t go spread her suspicions.
Liz and Killian ate their late breakfast on the leather couch, curled up together watching the Texas Rangers baseball game. He’d never expected her to be so vehement in her support of the team, and he kissed her after she nearly vaulted off the couch going for the refs. He pulled her under him, and made love to her on the leather couch, with the sunlight streaming down on them. Damn, she was beautiful as she arched beneath him, then rose over him.
After the game, she dressed in her rumpled sundress from yesterday, though he offered to give her one of his shirts to wear, kissed him good-bye and headed downstairs.
It wasn’t until he checked his phone that evening that he saw all the missed calls and messages from his mother, wondering where the hell he was. As he scrolled through, the messages becoming more agitated, he realized this was the first thing he’d done for himself, without thinking about anyone else but Liz, in a long time.
And it felt good. Okay, there was a little guilt, but mostly it felt good.
*****
Killian had never had trepidations about going to the Coyote for lunch, to make himself available to the people of Evansville. Never before had he hesitated at the door. But today, after a morning of phone calls from people with questions about his relationship with Liz, especially since he had missed church on Sunday to stay in bed with her, he was a little hesitant. Norma had screened a lot of phone calls, and was none too happy with him. But phone calls were one thing. He dreaded having to defend his decisions face to face. He was actually amazed his mother hadn’t been waiting for him in the office this morning.
So much for feeling good about doing something for himself.
He checked through the window to the table and saw David wasn’t there yet. Great. Stay positive. He pushed the door open and walked in.
Almost instantly his sister was at the table with him.
“Don’t you work anymore?” he asked, picking up a menu even though he knew everything the Coyote offered.
“Are you serious about her?”
“Not your business.”
“Killian, she didn’t go home all weekend.”
He felt a flush creep up his throat. It was going to be tough staying positive if he was blushing. “How do you know that?”
“Everyone knows that.”
“I thought everyone already knew we were sleeping together.”
“But at least before you did it on the sly.”
He folded the menu shut and leaned forward to look at her. “Are you going to tell me this is a mistake? Because she’s your friend.”
“People are upset, Killian.”
“Why? Why do they need to be upset? We’re not hurting anyone. We’re having a normal relationship.”
“The whole problem is that Liz has had ‘relationships’ with most of the men in town.”
Now he felt himself go pal
e, and his stomach pitched. He didn’t let himself think about it. “That’s not true.”
“Okay, maybe not most, but a lot. Do you think they’re going to take either of you seriously when she’s been there, done that with, hell, I don’t know who. Do you?”
“I’m not going to ask her who she’s slept with.”
“Maybe you should. Maybe you need to wake up and see what people are upset about.”
He opened his mouth to say something but she held up a hand.
“If you were a regular guy, like a cowboy or an oilfield guy or something, it would be different. But you’re the mayor, so it’s not. You opened yourself up to this public life. You gave them the right to judge you.”
Sheriff Treviño opened the door then, looking as worn as Killian felt.
“Do you want me to stick around?” Maggie asked.
“You don’t have to.”
She stood up, and he thought of something, stopped her with a word.
“Do me a favor. Will you check on Liz? The shop is closed today, but maybe you should give her the heads up that it might be a rough day tomorrow. Maybe show her some support.”
“Killian.” She drew her lower lip between her teeth. “I’ll show her support, but maybe you should be the one to let her know she’s in for a bumpy ride.”
Damn, he hated that she was right, hated that Liz was in this position because he put her there, because he asked her to do something and she did it, to make him happy. Now she was in the spotlight.
“How’s it going?” David asked, sliding into his regular chair.
“You mean you haven’t heard?”
“First rule of secret romances—you don’t drag the lady to your apartment in front of the whole town.”
“It’s not secret, and I thought we were discreet.”
“And then not to show up for church the next day, and your mother kept turning her head around every two minutes to look for you…” The older man shook his head. “Man, I know there’s nothing like a warm willing woman in your bed, but you messed up.”
“So I’ve been hearing all day.” His vow to keep it light and charming was fleeing. Resentment and anger was taking over, and for the first time in his life, he wished he lived in a big city, somewhere he could be anonymous, blend in, and discover if this relationship with Liz would work without the whole damn town having a say. “All they can say is that she’s been with every guy in town.” The thought started to choke him. “Has she?”
“I guess that’s a question you want to ask her.” David leveled his gaze at Killian. “Do you really want to know that bad?”
“I don’t care!” The words exploded out of him, and drew the attention of other diners. Shit. He leaned toward David and lowered his voice. “I don’t care. She makes me happy. I lo—” He broke off when the older man lifted his eyebrows.
“Do you?” David asked. “Do you really?”
He knew what David was asking. Was he in love with her, or with the idea of making love to her? But that was why he’d waited, held off, made himself crazy, because he wanted to know. Needed to know.
And he knew, but the first person he told wasn’t going to be the sheriff.
*****
If anyone would have asked her weeks ago, Liz would gladly have handed off planning the quinceañera to anyone. But now that it was around the corner, and all anyone at her house talked about, she felt a little left out that she hadn’t helped make any of the decisions. Yes, their father had made it easy for Brianna to have the quinceañera of her dreams, but he’d kind of taken all the fun out of the plans they’d had. Sure, they’d complained about being too busy, but as Brianna painstakingly addressed the special-order invitations and passed them to her mother to stamp, Liz felt kind of left out.
She was all kinds of off-balance today, though, after her weekend with Killian. Maybe that was why she was reacting so strongly to the whole quinceañera thing. Add to that the fact that Sage, of all people, had come by the shop this afternoon. The salon was closed, but Liz had gone in to get some paperwork done. Sage had seen her through the glass door and pounded on it until Liz dragged herself off the stool where she’d been sitting and let her in.
“What do you want?”
Sage walked over to the counter and waited until the bell had stopped echoing in the empty shop before she spoke.
“I’ve come to invite you to join the Festival Committee.”
Liz blinked. “You’ve come to what to the what?”
Sage rolled her eyes and shifted her weight impatiently. “You and Killian are obviously getting serious. You may want to start thinking about how to best serve the community.”
Liz stepped back. “Joining your committee is not the way. I own a business.”
“So do I. Look, yes, it’s a lot of work, but it’s only a few times a year—the Bluebonnet Festival, the Fourth of July, Thanksgiving and Christmas.”
“When I’m already plenty busy.”
Sage folded her arms under her breasts. “Look, I’m reaching out to you here. Most of the town is pissed off that you spent the weekend with Killian, but I’m thinking, well, he’s serious about you, or he wouldn’t have made such a big deal about taking you to the festivities, then taking you home with him. So I’m thinking you’ll need a place to start, since you’re part of his life.” She pushed away from the counter and headed for the door. “Call me when you’re ready to join. We’ll start meeting about Thanksgiving in two months.”
Liz had just stared after her as she strode across the square and back to the Sagebrush. A committee? Her? With Sage and Allison and all those women who’d been doing activities like that since they could walk?
And what did Sage mean that the town was pissed?
“Killian’s here,” Gracie said from the sink, looking out the window, pulling Liz back to the present.
None of them had discussed Liz being gone all weekend, though they had to know she’d been with Killian. She wondered if her mother had told the girls anything, if she had warned them against Liz’s behavior. She wished she could ask, bring it out in the open. Keeping it inside made her feel farther away than not being involved in the quinceañera.
She looked at her mother, then stood to open the door. Watching Killian walk up the drive made her heart skip, and when he lifted his head to smile, well…
He stepped up on the stoop and kissed her, softly, sweetly, before entering the kitchen.
“Wow, you look busy,” he said in his usual cheery tone. “Did I come at a bad time?”
“No, of course not,” Sophia said quickly. “We finished dinner. Would you like something to drink?”
“No, I came to steal Liz again, if that’s okay. Unless you have something for her to do.” He nodded toward the stack of invitations.
Sophia’s mouth tightened. “Will she be home tonight?”
Killian glanced at Liz.
“I’ll let you know,” Liz said, not wanting to have this discussion in front of her sisters.
Killian took her hand and led her toward the door. “Good to see you ladies.”
He didn’t speak as they walked to his car. “Too tired for a drive?” Without waiting for an answer, he opened the car door and she slid in. He kept the top up—it was still hot though the sun had gone behind the hill—and drove out toward the highway. She began to salivate as they approached the drive-in, but he shot past it, heading south, toward the coast, about an hour away.
She shifted in her seat to look at him, saw the tightness in his jaw, an unusual expression for him. “Killian, what’s going on?”
“Gossiping bullshit. People thinking they have a right to comment on what I do with my life, on what I do with you.”
She blew out a breath. “I knew you should’ve gotten up for church.”
“Yeah, well, that’s only part of it.” He struck at the steering wheel. “I wish my dad was here and I could talk to him about this, you know? I mean he went through this when he met my mother.”
>
“He was married, so it was different,” she pointed out, a little stung that he would think it was the same.
“Right, I know, but I’m talking about dealing with people thinking they belong in your business.”
She remembered the conversation with Sage, the terror that had risen with it. She was not a committee person. She didn’t want the responsibility. She wanted to stay in her own shop and do her own thing and if people wanted to talk about her, fine. She just didn’t want to give them a chance to do it to her face. “There’s an easy solution to this,” she said past the lump forming in her throat.
“Yeah, I resign.”
“What? No! That wasn’t what I was thinking at all.” She took a deep breath. “I was thinking we just end this.”
The car swerved a little as he jerked his head around to took at her. “Is that really what you want?”
“It’s probably the smartest thing.” But God, her chest hurt at the thought of not seeing his cheerful smile, at missing out on these drives. Of not anticipating him walking through the door of her salon. But this would be best for both of them. They could go back to who they really were, and stop pretending. “I mean, really, what are we doing here? Where are we going? Do you really think this can end in a happily-ever-after? Your father loved your mother, that’s the difference here. We’re just…having fun.”
He blew out a long breath, then flipped on the signal and took the next exit, not slowing until they got on the frontage road, then slamming on the brakes, sending the back tires skidding on the gravel at the edge of the road.
“Are you kidding me right now?” he demanded. “Sure, we’re having fun, but you don’t think that’s all I want, do you? Hell, yes, I think we have something more here between us, more than sex and ice cream and fireworks.”
His temper roused her own. “What, Killian? You’re the mayor and I’m a beautician. You went to college, I didn’t. You’re the favorite son, and the only reason people tolerate me is that I have some skill with scissors.”
