by LuAnn McLane
Dazed, she did and held on for dear life. Bending his knees slightly, Oliver thrust upward, filling her with his steely hard erection.
“God!” Belinda cried out.
“You okay?” he asked in a rough, throaty, sexy tone.
“Not yet,” she said, panting. “But I will be.”
Oliver held her up by her bottom, pressed her back to the wall, and made sweet love to her. She felt his muscles bunch and quiver and she thought he must be in damned good shape to hold her up. Just having her in this position was the sexiest thing on the planet. “Faster,” she said in his ear. “Babe, don’t hold back.”
“Belinda . . .” With a groan, Oliver thrust fast and hard and she loved it.
“More,” she said in a throaty voice and he gave it to her. Hot, hard, deep . . . wild.
And then she climaxed with an intense ache of pleasure that seemed to drift above her head and go on forever.
“Ah babe.” He kept going and then suddenly stiffened, pulled nearly all the way out, and then plunged deep while squeezing her ass cheeks. He must have touched a place where no man had gone before because a sharp climax rocked her world.
With a whimper, Belinda collapsed against him and they both ended up in a heap on the cool tile, her head on his heaving chest. She ran a calming hand over his body, loving the sheen of sweat, the quiver of muscle. She noticed the condom. “When?”
“While I was on my knees . . . you know.”
“Driving me wild?”
“Yeah.”
“Unreal.”
“I can multitask.”
“Can you ever.” She circled his nipple with her finger and explored his body with lazy caresses.
“And by the way, you sure know how to greet a girl.”
Oliver chuckled and kissed the top of her head.
“I was expecting this later. Well, not expecting, but hoping,” she admitted with a hint of shyness.
“Babe, this is just an appetizer.”
“Mercy . . .”
“None will be given.”
Belinda’s heart thudded harder. She put her palm on his chest and felt his heart racing too.
For a long time her world had felt loveless, joyless. And she’d felt she’d not only let her family down but disappointed an entire town that had always been pulling for her success. There was a sign when entering Brookside Bend, Tennessee, that proudly proclaimed: HOME OF BELINDA BEAL. And now that her career was dead, and her parents were about to lose their home, she’d felt anything but proud of herself.
But right here, right now, all she felt was mindlessly, supremely, happy.
She knew the feeling wouldn’t, couldn’t last, because sooner or later she’d be moving on. But with her head resting on Oliver’s chest, she pushed all thoughts of leaving to the back of her brain and basked in the afterglow of red-hot, seductive sex.
“What are you thinking?” Oliver asked.
“That I can’t wait for the main course.”
When Oliver chuckled, she could feel the vibration beneath her cheek and she couldn’t hold back a satisfied sigh. She didn’t think she’d ever truly been in love, but surely this was what it felt like. Knowing their time together was going to end in a few weeks, she held this giddy feeling close and tucked it inside her heart to revisit when all was said and done.
“Are you ready for a cocktail by the pool?”
“Mmmm, yes, I am.” She reluctantly untangled herself from Oliver and stood up on wobbly legs.
“Whoa there,” Oliver said, and put steadying hands around her waist.
“Guess you made me weak in the knees.”
“I hope it’s the shape of things to come.” He pulled her close and gave her a sweet kiss. “Now it’s time for you to sit on a barstool and sip a cocktail while I put on a spectacular cooking show for you. How’s that sound?”
“It sounds like I’ve fallen into the pages of a romance novel.”
“Nope, that’s fiction.” He took her hand and put it over his beating heart. “This is very real.”
“Except for the pretend part.” She didn’t mean to utter that out loud and could have clapped a hand over her mouth. Not that it wasn’t true, but she didn’t want to break the spell until it had to be broken. Until then, she had her sexy fairy tale, thank you very much.
Something flickered in his eyes. And for a moment she imagined him telling her that this was all very real, pretend romance be damned. Her heart gave a little lurch of warning and she suddenly felt as if this was spinning out of control.
Oliver tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “We can’t know what the future will bring. I don’t even want to think past tonight because I’m enjoying this . . . you, a lot. So let’s get outside and continue where we left off. How’s that sound?”
“Perfect.” Belinda nodded, thinking that he must be the nicest guy on the planet.
“What?” he asked, and she realized she’d been staring.
“Just wondering why some cute girl hasn’t snatched you up yet,” she said honestly.
“Maybe because the right girl hasn’t come along.” He reached down and picked up her dress. “Here, although I like you better without it.”
Belinda slipped it over her head and searched for her thong, but he held it in his hand.
“May I have that, please?”
“Nope.” He tugged on his shorts and put the thong into his pocket. “I guess you didn’t get the memo about going commando.”
“Uh, no.”
“Well, you just did.”
“Hey, I thought I was the queen.”
Oliver shrugged and failed to give up the thong.
“Okay then, no shirt for you.” She kicked the shirt out of his reach and he laughed.
“Deal.” He took her hand, raised it to his lips, and kissed it. Damn if that simple gesture didn’t cause a flutter of sweet longing. Hot sex was one thing, but how could she begin to resist all the rest of him?
The answer was simple: she couldn’t. So why even try?
Belinda took a sip of her second crisp, cold appletini and watched shirtless Oliver cook from her perch on a tall barstool. This was better than any entertainment she could begin to think of. As he worked, the shorts slipped lower on his lean hips, and by the end of her drink she just might muster up the gumption to tug them off, and then she’d get to watch him cook in the buff.
Wow.
“This outdoor kitchen is really sweet,” she said, trying to distract herself from evil deeds.
“I put it in about a year ago.”
“Do you use it much?”
Oliver paused from drizzling asparagus with olive oil and looked over at her. “Not as much as I would like.” He shrugged. “I enjoy having someone to cook for, and that doesn’t happen very often. When I get together with my brothers we usually go to Grady’s, our old family home.”
Belinda derived some pleasure that he didn’t bring women here to entertain, at least not recently. “Well you did a great job designing it.”
“Thanks. I’m a detail kind of person, as you know.”
“It certainly shows.”
Oliver grinned. “I sometimes drive my brothers crazy with my need for perfection. The Heartbeat reunion nearly made them go batshit. Luckily, I convinced Arabella York to come here and take over the choreography.”
“She’s the best, but not even she would have been able to teach me many dance moves.”
Oliver took a drink of his beer. “I remember you doing fine in the music video with us.”
“I did those few little moves over and over so I wouldn’t screw it up and . . .” She paused, wondering if she wanted him to know that she had been trying to impress him back then. “Piss you off,” she said.
“You wouldn’t have pissed me off, Belinda,” he said wit
h a measure of hurt.
“Okay, I wanted to try to impress you with my slick moves.”
He came over to the stool and gave her a lingering kiss, but then backed away a step. “I’m trying my best to focus on the meal but you’re distracting me. It sure as hell doesn’t help that I know you aren’t wearing panties.”
Belinda arched an eyebrow and showed him a little leg.
“Stop or we’ll be having dinner sometime in the middle of the night.”
She took a sip of her tart appletini. “You have that kind of stamina?” she asked with a hint of sass.
“I have no idea, but with you, I think there’s a strong possibility.” He held her gaze for a moment. “I’m being truthful,” he added before turning back to the asparagus.
Belinda knew he was trying to let her know that he wasn’t a player and she appreciated his honesty. “I believe you.”
“Good.” He went back to performing the sexy cooking show, doing a dance move here and there to the music. Cable TV had nothing on this.
Dinner was perfection. They began with chilled shrimp cocktail followed by Caesar salad and crusty bread slathered with Irish butter. He drizzled the grilled grouper with lemon caper sauce and placed it over a bed of angel-hair pasta. The grilled asparagus was crisp yet tender and she ate every bite, sure she’d burn off the calories later.
When Belinda offered to clean up, he flat-out refused, telling her she was his guest.
“I have chocolate éclairs from the bakery for dessert.”
Belinda groaned and stuck out her bottom lip. “I am really full. Everything was so delicious that I couldn’t stop eating. Thank you, Oliver.”
“My pleasure. Well, how about a walk on the beach before it’s totally dark? If you think your ankle is okay.”
“It’s fine after all your TLC.”
“Good. We don’t use flashlights out there so as not to confuse the turtles laying eggs.”
“A walk on the beach sounds nice,” she said, and he offered his hand. “This has been like one of those dream dates on The Bachelor, except I don’t have any competition.”
Oliver smiled at her. “You’d get a rose from me. Isn’t that how it works?”
“Yeah,” she said, and took his hand. “Well, I’d be a total fail on that show because I wouldn’t be able to share.”
Oliver stopped and pulled her into his arms. “Share me? Or did you mean in general?”
Belinda hesitated. “Well, I’m an only child, so I never truly learned the concept of sharing.”
“You just dodged the question, but I’ll let you off the hook. Look, I get it,” he began, and was about to say more but then kissed her lightly before taking her hand.
The walk on the beach was just as magical as the dinner. She lifted her dress from the edge of the water, laughing when the waves came too close. The soothing sound of the surf, the cool ocean breeze . . . and Oliver’s endless kisses.
Who could ask for anything more?
CHAPTER ELEVEN
EMOTION
Oliver woke up in Belinda’s bed for the fourth day in a row. He stretched, trying to ease the kinks. After the marathon of squeezing every ounce of pleasure from each other’s bodies, his muscles protested loudly, but it was well worth the pain. And yet the feminine slope of Belinda’s bare shoulder had him up and ready all over again.
They hadn’t left his property except for long walks on the beach, and Oliver had ignored Devin’s and Julie’s attempts to contact him. At this point they were supposed to be going public, but Oliver thought doing so would somehow ruin the private world they’d created and end this existence of pure bliss.
Oliver shoved his fingers through his hair. No, he wasn’t ready for that, not just yet. Or maybe at all.
But Belinda was counting on him to help her career, so very soon they would have to head out and face the world. Damn.
He kissed her shoulder, smiling when she sighed, stirred, but remained asleep. Not surprising, since they’d made love into the wee hours of the morning. One would think he would be sated, but he gently tugged the sheet from their bodies and looked at Belinda’s sensual back, the curve of her hip. Her wavy hair had taken on a life of its own, dark against the white pillow. He lifted a silky lock and inhaled the sweet scent while recalling how her hair slid over his body when she trailed kisses down his chest before taking him into her mouth.
His dick stirred, thickened, and he wrapped his arm around her, spooning her close. When she moaned lightly, he slipped his hand between her thighs, kneading, caressing. He felt her breath catch, but she seemed to hover somewhere between slumber and alertness.
Scooting away, Oliver gently rolled her to her back.
“Mmmm, what are you doin’?” she asked without opening her eyes.
“Looking at you.”
“Will you ever learn to sleep in?” she asked with a hint of fake irritation. “Mercy me.”
“With you by my side. Why waste time sleeping?”
“Ol-i-ver,” she protested, and opened her eyes slightly. “I’m plumb wore out.”
“Then just lie there and relax.”
“Oh no, don’t you dare—” she began, but he cut her off by parting her legs and kissing her intimately. She sucked in a breath. He knew she was sensitive, sore, so he was very gentle. “I can’t even . . .”
He lifted his head. “Yes you can.” With the tip of his tongue, he licked oh so lightly, barely touching her pink, swollen core. She twitched, made a weak sound of protest, and grabbed at the sheet. He blew on her and she shivered and arched her hips. “Relax. Enjoy.”
“I’m too sensi—mmmm, God.” She bucked her hips slightly.
Oliver looked up to see her chest rise and fall with quickened breaths. Her perfect breasts needed his touch, but he concentrated on the task at hand . . . and mouth.
He slipped his tongue gently inside her heat, tasting her silky sweetness, loving her. She whimpered. “This is too much, Oliver. I . . . oh . . .”
“Never, babe,” he said, and when he gently sucked her he felt her tighten, and then she came, hard, with a hoarse cry. He pressed his mouth to her, wanting to feel her ride it out.
Breathing hard, Belinda let out a weak moan.
“I knew you had it in you.”
“I would reciprocate but I am incapable of moving. Seriously. No moving parts.”
“No problem. Just watching you is enough . . . for now.” Oliver scooted up and pulled the sheet back over her.
“Why can’t you embrace sleeping in? It’s a beautiful thing,” she said, and yawned. “Has the sun even come up yet?”
“I told you, I have better things to do . . . to you.” He leaned over and kissed her cheek. “But you get some rest.”
“Where you goin’?”
Oliver smiled at the protest in her question. “Heading over to my house to round up breakfast. I’m going to make you my mother’s famous sausage, egg, and cheese casserole.”
“Sounds delish.” She moaned. “But I won’t be ready for breakfast anytime soon. Didn’t you know that lunch is the new breakfast?”
Oliver chuckled. “No worries. Sweet dreams,” he said, and located his shorts. After one last lingering look at her, he left the room and headed outside into the bright sunshine.
As he walked past the pool, Oliver whistled an old Heartbeat tune. He should be physically exhausted, but he had a spring in his step and a smile on his face.
He got a pot of coffee going and then gathered the ingredients for his mother’s best breakfast casserole. With four kids, casseroles became a common go-to for his mom, and this sausage, cheese, and egg concoction was one of his favorites. As always, he felt a pang of sadness when thinking of his mother.
He’d just started browning the sausage when he heard the doorbell ring. Turning the heat to low, he hurried to ans
wer the door and found Jesse and Jimmy standing there looking pissed off.
“Well, at least you’re answering the door if not your damned phone,” Jesse grumbled as he entered the house.
“Like you always pick up,” Oliver countered.
“Uh, maybe not, but damn, I’ve been trying to get ahold of you for days. You are currently winning in that category. What in the hell have you been doing?”
Jimmy, usually the calm brother, appeared more concerned than angry. “You okay, Oliver?”
“I’ve just been busy,” Oliver replied.
“Doin’ what?” Jesse asked as he poured himself a cup of coffee.
“Stuff,” he said, wondering if Grady had told them that Belinda was staying with him. He guessed not, or they would probably have been taking a different tack in their line of questioning.
“Getting ready to launch a solo career takes some time and planning,” Oliver said with an edge of irritation. “And you know I like to—”
“Micromanage? Overthink, obsess over details?” Jesse asked. “Yeah, we know.”
“Jesse,” Jimmy said, shooting him a look of warning.
“You know I’m right,” Jesse said, and sat on a stool by the kitchen island. “Oliver knows I’m right too. Come on, Oliver, fill us in,” he said, and then noticed the skillet of sausage on the stove. He spotted the glass baking dish beside it. “Wait, are you making Mom’s favorite breakfast casserole?”
“I might be.”
Jesse glanced at Jimmy. “Something’s up.”
“Why do you say that?” Oliver said, trying to appear nonchalant.
“You don’t make that for just yourself.”
“How do you know?” Oliver asked while getting a coffee mug from the cabinet. He was close to being busted.
“Come on,” Jesse persisted. “What gives?”
“Jimmy, you want coffee?” Oliver asked calmly, ignoring Jesse.
“Please,” Jimmy said, studying Oliver closely. Too closely.
Oliver turned around and gave all his attention to pouring his coffee. Jimmy had a knack for reading people, and that ability was especially attuned when it came to his brothers. After handing Jimmy his cup of coffee, he leaned against the counter and braved facing his inquisitive brothers. He didn’t have a particularly good poker face, but he gave it a try.
