by Lucy Score
Her carefully chosen thong was admired by Beau’s heated green gaze for nearly a full second before he was dragging it down her legs.
“It’s not enough,” Beau whispered reverently, his breath hot on her thigh.
“What’s not?”
“One night.”
Her heart wept at the tender words.
He stroked a hand up her thigh, and Bristol’s hips jacked up from the floor when he skimmed blunt fingertips over bare flesh.
“We’ll have to make the most of it,” she gasped.
“Open for me, gorgeous.”
She let her knees fall open to the sides and threaded her fingers through his free hand while he gently parted her already wet folds with his other. She felt his erection throb against her thigh, and when he slid two long fingers into her center, she sighed out his name.
“God, you’re so ready for me,” Beau whispered. He leaned in and down and traced his tongue over her folds. The breath in Bristol’s lungs exploded out in a hiss.
“Is this okay?” he asked.
“Only if your goal is to murder me with pleasure, and at this point, go right ahead.”
Beau’s soft laugh was lost when he dipped his head to taste her again. His tongue laved that delicate bundle of nerves while his fingers drove her higher. Over and over, he lapped and licked at her and when she felt herself sliding toward the edge, her muscles already quivering, she grabbed his wrist.
“Beau, stop. You’re going to make me come,” she whispered desperately.
“I’m not seeing a problem,” he said, placing a gentle kiss on the inside of her thigh.
“I want your cock inside me the first time you make me come.”
Beau froze as if trying to understand what language she was speaking. Judging from the amount of fluid leaking from the crown of his penis, that part had caught up faster than his brain. She took matters into her own hands, pushing him down on the hard floor, and when she swiveled, when he understood her intent, Beau growled his approval.
She lay opposite him on her side, facing his throbbing erection. She felt his hands on her, gently opening her legs. His breath was hot against her, and she knew he would force her over the edge, but she was determined to take him with her.
Impatiently, she shoved his briefs down those spectacular thighs, freeing his achingly hard cock. Without preamble, she gripped it by the base and brought her wet mouth to the crown. When her lips parted, flowing down the solid column of flesh, he bucked reflexively against her, forcing himself further down her throat.
Beau’s grip tightened on her inner thigh to the point of pain. He dove into her, stroking and teasing with his tongue. Again, he eased his fingers into her. He followed the brutal pace she set.
She hummed her approval with his hard-on deep in her throat, and she heard his low rumble in return.
They were animals for each other, giving in to the ages-old drive to mate. He was making her mad, shredding every boundary, drowning her in sensation even as he fought against the pleasure she sought to give him.
“Bristol, baby, slow down,” he ordered. The easy-going man she’d fallen for was gone, and in his place was one hell bent on torturing her with a pleasure so excruciating Bristol knew she’d never recover.
She had no intention of slowing down. She wanted him as hot and as frantic as he made her, and she wanted to taste him. But just then, the long jagged peak she’d been sprinting up dropped out from under her. The orgasm detonated in her core and radiated outward in waves of ecstasy. She could only moan around his thick member as her release leveled her.
He tasted her as she came, holding her still when she would have pulled away. Beau steadied her, worshipped her, until the last of the quaking subsided.
“There’s no way I can do that again,” she gasped, nuzzling his cock.
“Oh, gorgeous, you are so wrong.” She could hear the cocky smile in his voice just before the sound of cardboard shredding. Bristol managed to pry open one eye to see Beau tearing open the box of condoms. Seeing his desperation to have her ratcheted up her own need. He hadn’t even touched her again, and she was already halfway there. She watched him slick on a condom and prime himself with his hand. The empty ache between her legs was suddenly unbearable. Her body was begging for him.
“Here?” he asked.
“God, yes, Beau. Here.”
And then he was ranging himself over her. She felt him hard and hungry prodding her center. “Yes,” she whispered her plea. And then he was easing into her. The pressure, the fullness, shocked her when he sank into her, and his cry of victory had her clenching around him.
“Relax for me, baby,” he demanded, his beard tickling the skin under her ear.
When she did, slowly, purposefully, the last inch of his cock slid into her.
His groan was another aphrodisiac. Testing, he carefully pulled out before lazily sliding back home. Beau was moving with care, but Bristol could feel his body demanding more. The need vibrated under his sweat-slicked skin. She bit into his shoulder and tasted the salt.
He sank into her again, a little faster, a little more desperately, and buried his face in her neck. Bristol let the flood of sensation carry her away. Ignoring the bite of the floor, her hips rose to meet his powerful thrusts. His chest hair tickled her and the muscles bunched under her fingers.
Now, she knew he was right. She could go up again. She was practically there already.
“Hold onto me, gorgeous,” he murmured, and when her arms locked around his shoulders, he pulled her up. Still joined, she found herself straddling Beau, his back against the wall. “I need to see you.”
Sex had never been this intimate before, Bristol thought as her eyes locked with his. Not wanting to lose their momentum, she used her thighs to rise up before sinking down on him. They sighed together over that pleasure, and Bristol picked her pace. Beau’s arms held her locked tight in place against him so that her nipples brushed his chest as she rode him.
She was so full inside, so hot. It was as if making love to Beau had unleashed the feelings that had been locked up for so long.
It was beautiful, it was painful, it was cathartic.
Bristol rode faster, and when those longer fingers dug into her flesh, she knew she was carrying him past his limits. They breathed together, the same steamy air.
Those gorgeous green eyes glazed over in front of her, and Bristol felt powerful. The delicate muscles in her channel began to quiver.
God, it was happening again.
“Beau?” His name was a question on her lips.
“I’ve got you, baby. I’m yours,” he gritted out the words, and the first flutter of her release set him off. He jerked inside her, the cords of his neck taut with the effort. She was coming fast and hard with him. Wrapped around each other, they shattered from the inside out with the wild pumps of his cock controlling her own brutal orgasm.
“Bristol,” he whispered her name over and over again into her neck until he was finally empty.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Minutes or possibly hours later, Beau gathered her up in his arms and carried her to the bedroom. He placed her gently on the thick-striped comforter of the bed.
He’d been emptied and left raw and satisfied. Judging from the smug smile that hovered on those rosy lips, Bristol felt the same.
He sat next to her, against the upholstered headboard and mountain of pillows, and brushed her hair back from her face. “Bristol?”
“Mmm?”
“How do you feel?”
She didn’t open her eyes, but her smile bloomed smug and satisfied, her dimples winking to life. “Good. Sleepy. Hungry.”
“I brought dinner.”
“In the bags you threw on the stairs when I jumped you?”
“It’s frozen pizza,” he said. “I’m sure it’s fine.”
“Mmm, pizza,” she yawned. “Let’s eat and then do that again.”
He gave in to the urge and stroked his fingers through tha
t glossy brown curtain of hair. “You liked it?” he asked.
The pillow hit him in the face. “Now I know you can’t seriously be asking because you don’t recognize earth-moving, body-shattering sex when you have it.”
“Just looking for a verbal confirmation that it was a mutually satisfying experience,” he grinned.
“Oh, and me screaming your name was too subtle?”
“I’ve never heard anything better in my entire life.” Beau’s life had just changed, and he wasn’t about to pretend to deny it. His entire world was in Chicago and on hold. And the woman who had single-handedly changed all that thought he was someone else.
He could fix this, somehow. He just needed a little more time to figure things out.
“You look phenomenal naked,” Bristol announced. “Does yoga really do all that?” She waved a hand at his torso.
“How about you stay here, and I’ll make the pizza?” he offered, ignoring her question.
She curled on her side, hugging a pillow to her spectacular chest. “Mmm, ’k.”
Beau dropped a kiss on her forehead and then one on her lips, which went further than he intended. By the time he broke away and escaped, he was hard as stone again and couldn’t zip his jeans.
When he returned minutes later, he found Bristol in much the same position he’d left her in except for the fact that she was guiltily shoving her phone under her pillow.
He handed her a glass of wine and put his on the nightstand. There he found the matches, and he worked his way around the room lighting the clusters of candles she’d placed everywhere.
“So of the entire population of Hope Falls, what percentage is aware of what we just did?” he asked.
“The night is young, so probably only fifty to fifty-five percent,” she guessed. “And I swear, I was just mostly just checking on Violet—she’s making pumpkin roll with Grammy, by the way. I wasn’t gloating about our dirty deeds. Except to Vanna and Lissa.”
“Are your parents going to want me in their house tomorrow after word spreads?” he asked, sliding onto the bed next to her and pulling her into his side.
She propped herself on his chest. “Relax, Beau. Hope Falls may be nosey, but we know enough not to tell people things they don’t need to know. Besides, I think they’re looking forward to a new plus one. It’ll help take everyone’s minds off of Hope.”
The name of the woman who had brought him here had him tensing. “If there’s anything I can do to help, Bristol, please let me know.”
She gave him a sad smile. “Thanks, Beau. I feel bad for you walking into this. We’re a wounded family. All those traditions we established over the years, every single one of them was built on the whole. But we’re not whole anymore.”
She stared into her glass of wine. “We’re missing so many puzzle pieces. Hope was the one who insisted we wear pajamas for Thanksgiving. Every Christmas Eve, she and Violet made the cookies for Santa. There are so many holes where she should be. I think the whole town is going to feel it. She always helped organize the Christmas Eve Carnival.”
“You have a carnival on Christmas Eve?” Beau asked, picking up his glass of wine.
“That’s what all the outsiders say until they go to one,” Bristol joked. “Every year on Christmas Eve, the whole town turns out at Riverside Park for hot chocolate and carols and a walk through the lights. There’s a pie contest, too. It’s just a small town way of taking a break from the chaos so we can all really enjoy the holiday, the community.”
“It sounds nice,” he admitted.
“It is. And every year, Hope was there, doling out hot chocolate, organizing the choir, judging the Santa contest. But not this year.”
“I’m sorry, Bristol.”
She sighed heavily. “I’ve been thinking about her a lot lately. Everything seems to remind me of her. You know the building next door?”
The building next to Early Bird was an exact replica of its three-story brick neighbor.
“Yeah, the hardware store. Mr. Maybry, the out-of-work handy man.”
Bristol nodded. “Good memory. Pollard’s. They’d been in business for sixty-plus years, and when Mr. Pollard Jr. died, Hope wanted to buy the building and keep the retail downstairs and do lofts on the top two floors. ‘We’d be neighbors for life,’ she’d say.”
“And you can’t help but think of that every time you walk outside,” Beau predicted.
“All the ‘what might have beens’ are really crushing my holiday spirit.” She shook her head. “I’m sorry. I don’t know where all of that came from. I seem to dump sad on you every time we’re together. Let’s forget I totally brought the mood down.”
He stroked her hair again. “Bristol, you don’t have to pretend everything’s okay with me. I don’t need you to be strong for me.”
She looked up at him, her brow furrowed. “You see a lot with those sexy green eyes.”
“I hope to see a lot more before the end of the night.”
They ate pizza and made love—several more times—and laughed and slept. And when he woke in the morning, with Bristol still in his arms, Beau knew there was no going back. He was in love with Bristol Quinn, and he wasn’t letting go.
––—
“Are you sure it’s okay that I’m here?” Beau asked for the third time since getting out of Bristol’s car in front of Bristol’s parents’ house. They lived in a cozy brick bungalow on a corner lot. There was a wreath on the door and an inflatable Santa on the tiny patch of lawn.
“Beau, you brought enough food and booze to feed an army. My mom’s going to be impressed, and my Dad is just happy you have a penis,” Bristol said, her chin holding the top casserole dish in place.
“What about the pajamas? Does everyone really wear pajamas, or are you punking me?” he asked, looking down at his flannel pajama pants.
“Beau, trust me,” Bristol grinned. “Everything is going to be fine. Now, are you ready for chaos?”
Beau swallowed hard. He’d faced disappointed fans, aggressive reporters, and jacked up opponents. He could do this. “Let’s do this.”
Bristol gave the front door a well-placed kick, and it swung open. It sounded to Beau like there were a thousand angry people inside.
“Remember that my mom’s Italian?” Bristol shouted over her shoulder at him.
“Yeah.”
“Well, so are her sister, her aunt, and her mother.”
He followed her through the foyer, past the living room crowded with furniture, and down the skinny hallway toward the chatter and the scents of turkey and gravy.
He watched her disappear into the kitchen and heard the chorus of greetings.
“There she is!”
“Doesn’t she look beautiful?”
“I hope you made those sweet potatoes!”
“Hi, Nana! Aunt Cara, Aunt Lia, you’re looking beautiful as always,” Bristol’s greetings rang out.
When he stepped into the kitchen, just one foot on the green linoleum, a hush fell over the room. It was a small kitchen, but they’d managed to squeeze in the entire female population of the family. The windows were steamed up from all the cooking and body heat, and everyone was wielding wine glasses.
Lissa and Savannah, thankfully in colorful pajama leggings and sweatshirts, looked up from the mountain of potatoes they were peeling at the small table. They waved and smiled as if they knew exactly how he’d spent the last eighteen hours of his life.
Mary, in a pair of pink pajama bottoms covered in kittens, shoved a glass of wine at Bristol and directed Violet in the potato mashing department. Bristol gave her daughter a kiss on the top of the head and admired her potato handiwork.
But the other three women with their dark hair and eyes like Mary’s watched him warily. He felt as though he’d just stepped into the lioness’s den.
“Everybody, this is Beau,” Bristol said, making the introduction. “Beau, this is everyone. My nana, Ludavine.” The woman dressed in head-to-toe black nodded imperiously.
Her graying hair was cut in a sleek bob, and though she had to be hovering around seventy, her face was mostly unlined. “This is my Great-Aunt Cara,” Bristol continued, pointing at the woman in plain flannel pajamas sitting on the barstool and stirring the pot on the stove that bubbled. “And my Aunt Lia.” Lia, a carbon copy of Mary, in pink puppy pants, smiled cheerfully.
“Hi, Beau,” they said as one.
“Hi, everyone. Thank you for inviting me, Mrs. Quinn,” he said, handing over the fall-themed centerpiece he’d gotten her.
They all began speaking at once, but to whom and about what he couldn’t tell. Lia grabbed the bags out of his hands and started unloading. The bottle of wine went straight to the corkscrew, he noted.
When Lia returned, it was with the six-pack she’d dug out of the shopping bag. “Okay, you’re going to take this, and you’re going to go outside to the garage. Take your coat, too.”
Not sure if he’d just been kicked out or given a reprieve, Beau trudged back down the hallway, the sounds of female chatter seeming only to get louder behind him.
He let himself out the front door and wandered around the side of the house. At the back of the lot was a one-car garage in the same brick as the house. When he peered through the glass of the door, he spotted salvation.
Big Bob Quinn himself in fleece plaid pants waved Beau inside and became even more cheerful when he spotted the six-pack. “Thank God. You just saved us a trip back into that she den.”
“Us” consisted of Nolan, Bristol’s affable ex, and a tall, skinny guy hunched over the rabbit-eared thirteen-inch TV shouting profanity at a referee who couldn’t hear him.
“Glad I could help.” He should have gotten a case.
“Grab a chair,” Bob said, helping himself to one of the beers.
“Hey, I’m Vince, Savanna’s fiancé,” the skinny guy said, offering his hand when he was done yelling.
“Vince, nice to meet you. I’m Beau.”
“Crazy in there isn’t it?” Nolan said, pulling up an extra camp chair for Beau and grabbing a beer out of the pack.
“I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“You ever see that movie My Big Fat Greek Wedding?” Vince asked.
