by Scott, D. D.
Well loved.
He sat back on his heels as his phone popped to voicemail. What the hell was he doing? Considering something this intimate with a woman he barely knew anymore. He wasn’t a one-night stand type of guy, and this was one-night stand behavior. He never would have moved this quickly with a woman he didn’t love.
“Justin?” A tiny wrinkle appeared between her brows, and she pulled her hoodie together with shaking hands.
Rising to his feet, he drew away from her, apart from her, and glanced frantically around his kitchen, the past and present tangling in his mind, a sudden fury. This wasn’t his parent’s house or her father’s. He wasn’t some stupid kid in love for the first time. The only time.
He wasn’t in love. He. Was. Not. In. Love.
His mouth opened, but no words came out. He dragged his hand through his hair and the carnal scent of her lifted to his nose, trickled down his throat like wine. He stepped back, releasing her completely, off-balance with himself, with the world. Every rule he had written about this woman in the past thirteen years, he’d just broken.
He was a fool and Justin True no longer suffered fools lightly.
“Don’t pull away from me, Just.” She fumbled with her zipper before it caught, wrapping her up, out of view. “I can see the wheels spinning in your mind. Please, don’t. Don’t go away.”
All the angry words lit his mind like an electrical charge, all the things he wished he had shouted as she walked away from him. They raced along his skin, shocking and painful. He stumbled back, everything in that moment he didn’t want to be, everything he hated. Scared, vulnerable, alone. And instead of saying what would sound cool or proud or strong, he told her the goddamn truth.
“You went away, Lainey. In fact, you broke my fucking heart, and I won’t risk that again.”
Five
The night shimmered beneath a full moon. Lainey glanced at the sky, a velvet tapestry shot with stardust. She drew a breath scented with all the wonder of childhood: hotdogs, cotton candy, roasted peanuts, candy apples. The planning committee had done an excellent job; Pine Bluff had been transformed. Twinkling white lights were wound around each tent pole and tree trunk. Colorful paper lanterns hung from the branches, swaying gently in the breeze. Music floated through the night, light, melodic and haunting.
Or perhaps it was her past that was haunting her.
Lainey’s mind circled back to Justin’s kitchen this morning, flooded with bright sunlight, passion, disbelief and suspicion. Hurt wrapped tight, a package unopened until she’d returned to Pine Bluff. She could not forget the stunned look on his face, like he had made a grave tactical error. She would have felt worse, perhaps, more foolish or embarrassed if Justin had not looked like the experience had shaken him as much as it had her. The way he’d touched her, his very faint moans mixing with his staggered breaths…
Lainey tossed back the rest of her wine with a muttered oath, a hot flush sweeping her cheeks. Her skin was still aglow, the area Justin had been headed to when his damned phone rang, still warm and throbbing. She’d never wanted an orgasm more than she’d wanted that one. She could just picture it: his head between her thighs, her fingers tangled in the dark strands of his hair. God, she’d never envisioned a more erotic picture in her life.
It only made the episode better, special, because she still loved him.
Of course, she did. And she’d broken his eighteen-year-old heart and ruined everything.
It didn’t appear he would ever forgive her.
Did he ever think that she’d broken her own heart, too? And that was worse, really, because the guilt, the remorse, sat on her shoulders like a rock. She was the idiot who had rejected the greatest guy in the world.
Across the way, the greatest guy stood perched against a picnic table, long legs hooked at the ankle, the plastic cup that had not left his hand all evening balanced on his flat stomach. Heavens, he looked good. Dark jeans riding low on his hips, a white V-neck sweater hugging every dip and swell of his broad shoulders and chest. He had not shaved and the stubble dotting his cheeks and jaw made him look just a little bit dangerous. Absently, she wondered if his jeans were button fly and imagined how wonderful it would be to unhook them with her teeth. Definitely the best part of his ensemble graced his feet: stylish, absurdly cute suede loafers. Lainey was very much a shoe girl. Her lone date since her divorce had started badly when she got a look at the guy’s dirty white Adidas.
Justin seemed absorbed in conversation with the group of women circling him, including the odious Samantha. He’d studiously avoided Lainey all evening while managing to stay close, or close enough, to the brunette. She could tell from his body language that he was bored; she even guessed he knew she sat at a picnic table close by. But any time their gazes had locked all evening, and it had happened more than once at the wine tasting, his expression remained flat, completely indecipherable. He stripped her bare with his penetrating look while revealing zero of himself. It was a great trick. He worked hard to maintain, well, whatever it was he worked to maintain.
Lainey was working to maintain a nice buzz. Two glasses of wine down, perhaps two more to go. She wanted to sleep for one night without dreams of the past or worry over the future plaguing her. Even if she paid for her indulgence with a raging headache. Her life had changed radically in the past two years and if getting a little drunk helped, just for tonight, then she admitted to being weak. No husband, no lover, no family, no job. She was utterly and absolutely alone.
She had not told anyone, not even Fontana, her true reason for coming here, about the child she had failed to protect. The last day of the trial, she’d packed her desk, knocked on her supervisor’s door and handed in her resignation. Her savings would last long enough for her to figure out what she needed, not wanted, to do with her life. Being a child psychologist had taken its toll, and she wasn’t sure she had any more to offer. She wasn’t strong enough at the moment to save anyone but herself.
Loose ends, she thought. Loose damned ends.
“Anyone sitting here?”
Lainey glanced up to find a man standing next to her table. He smiled and gestured to the empty bench. His blond hair was swept from his face in a style that looked as if it had taken time to master. Crisp white button-down, pressed jeans, polished black oxfords. A lawyer, she guessed. Or a doctor. She was about to tell him her friend was coming back soon, which was true as Fontana’s shift at the vinegar fry tent was over at nine, but she chose that moment to sneak a glance at Justin. He looked from her to Mr. Doctor/Lawyer, a flash of anger lighting his golden eyes before he turned away. A-ha. She amped-up her smile until she felt like she was posing for a dental ad. “Actually, I was headed for another glass of wine. Can I bring you one?”
“Sure. I would love that.” He sat and offered his hand. “Terrance. I’m new in town. Insurance.”
Insurance. Lainey held back the laugh and shook his hand. She had to try out this single thing eventually, even if her heart wasn’t in it. Unfortunately, her heart sat in the hands of the brooding man across the way. “Lainey. Retired psychologist.”
He laughed, his eyes lighting. “You’re too young to be retired.”
She walked backwards two steps. “You’re right,” she agreed.
The line at the wine tent wasn’t as long as it had been the first two runs. Perhaps that was a clue that she was indulging when others were deciding enough was enough.
“You couldn’t let the guy buy the drink?” Justin asked as he moved into place behind her.
She drew a breath. Be cool, Lainey. You don’t want to scare him off this time. She looked over her shoulder. He stood with his hands in his pockets, his shoulders hunched, a frown riding that lovely mouth of his, like he was being forced to converse with her. “I thought you were never going to talk to me again.”
“Let’s just say I’ve sworn off women for the moment.”
She dug in her pocket for her drink ticket. “Since?”
His li
ps took on a wry twist, close to a smile but not quite. “Since this morning.”
“Does that include the brunette?”
He stared at her for a long moment, then laughed beneath his breath. “Yeah, it does.” His gaze slid the length of her, and she felt it as clearly as she would a caress. “You look nice.”
Turning with a smile, she stepped to the counter. “Two glasses of house red.” Okay, it was true, she had dressed with Justin in mind. A shift dress that clung in all the right places, a simple cardigan and boots, she was shooting for the I-didn’t-try-too-hard-but-I-work-out-and-have-a-good-figure-and-hope-you’ll-notice look. Also, and her cheeks warmed as she admitted this to herself, the outfit could be removed quickly if necessary.
“How do you know he’s a red man, Lai?”
Cups in hand, she moved to the side to allow Justin to order. “Excuse me?”
He nodded to the wine. “The guy sitting at your table hoping like hell you’ll come back. He’s looks a little buttoned-up for red, if you ask me. You should have gone with a beer. And nothing heavy, light all the way, that one.”
Lainey leaned one shoulder against the tent post and watched Justin slide his hand deep in his front pocket, dig around and come out with a wrinkled ticket. She licked her lips and let her gaze crawl the length of him while images of them, carnal and very detailed, roared through her mind. When she reached his face, his eyes had darkened to a tawny brown, and the lines around his mouth dug deep, as if he held himself back from saying something. As if he’d read every dirty thought.
“You’re awfully touchy tonight, Just. Maybe you would feel better if you had taken care of business in the shower this evening.” She took a sip of wine, gazing at him over the rim of her cup. “That’s what I did.”
He paused, blinked. A full stunned minute. “Put the cups down, Lainey,” he said and tossed his in the garbage bin at his side.
She swallowed. “What?”
“Put the cups down before I knock them out of your hand.”
When she continued to stare, he cursed beneath his breath, snatched the cups from her, and walked to the picnic table and the insurance agent she’d left behind. “Enjoy,” he said and popped them on the table. “The extra one is on me.”
She heard herself make a sound, a gasp or a squeak, when he was a stride away, then Justin’s hand was around hers, and he was dragging her down the line of tents and across the high school parking lot. “Just, wait…”
“No, Lai, I’m not waiting.”
“Are you mad?” She struggled to speak as she raced to keep up with him, his long legs eating up the distance.
“Yes, mad, as in crazy,” he said in a harsh tone. They passed a utility shed on the north side of the school, and Justin turned them into it. Her back was against the metal wall and his hands tangled in her hair before she had time to blink. His eyes as he sank into her were bright, his cheeks flushed, his breathing staggered. Then his lips were covering hers, the kiss consuming, and yes, in part, angry. It perfectly fit the mood she had witnessed this evening, part yearning, part payback, part desperation.
She let out a sigh, a breathy, dreamy sound so unlike her, and he responded with a groan, tilting his head and deepening the kiss. She rose on her tiptoes, slid her hands from his shoulders to his jaw, cupped his face and tangled her tongue with his, giving him all he gave her. He smelled so good, a tantalizing mixture of sandalwood and soap, that she considered stripping him bare right there beside a freaking utility shed.
What would he do if she did?
The first burst in the sky had them breaking apart. Lainey saw the firework’s explosion in his pupils before he groaned and dove back in. His arm went low, then he brought her up on her toes and against his body. She felt his stomach contract on an inhalation, his arms flex as he shifted her higher. His hips moved in time with his kiss, his tongue and the hard length of his penis serving to drive her mad.
As in crazy.
As the sound of exploding rockets reverberated around them, she slid her hand into his hair and tugged, bringing his mouth down, thinking, lower, just a little…lower. Take me. Her nipples were hard as pebbles beneath her shift, chafing against the lace of her bra. They almost hurt for lack of attention. She began to get impatient, frenzied. He’d left her hanging this morning. Would he again? “Just, come on. Please.”
Instead of soothing her, he laughed, his mouth halting at the sensitive area just beneath her ear. Sucking skin between his teeth, he whispered, “The masturbation comment, was it true?” His stubble rasped her skin, a pleasurable abrasion.
“Hmmm…” She grabbed his hand and brought it to her breast. Her legs almost gave out when his fingers settled, his thumb beginning to torture her nipple. His lips, his hands, were too gentle for what she wanted right now. She pulled his sweater up and met the warm skin of his back. Digging her nails in, she rocked her hips into his, rolling back and forth, back and forth, until colors that matched the ones going off in the sky burst behind her eyelids. Unbelievably, because it wasn’t the easiest thing for her to achieve, she felt an orgasm building. The tingling and heat between her legs did not lie. Please, please, please, don’t let me lose it.
“Was it true? The masturbation comment?” He tugged aside the collar of her shift and kissed his way across her collarbone, his other hand still working hard on her nipple. She wanted to connect the dots, draw his beautiful lips to the axis point now furiously alive beneath his thumb. His breath raced over her skin, increasing the temperature until she felt as if she stood naked beneath a blazing summer sun.
“And if it was true, did you think of me?”
She worked another hand beneath his sweater, raising it, questioning if he would take it off if she asked. “You, me, on that orange drafting table in your house. You standing and me sitting on top…and boom. Three minutes, maybe less.”
She felt his hesitation, his laughter and the warm breath expelled burning her skin like the flaming end of a match. “You’re killing me, sweetheart, simply killing me. But I want to die if this is what it feels like.”
Six
In the far reaches of his mind, Justin realized that his uncertainly, his fear about getting involved with Lainey Prescott, had been swallowed whole by desire. The vulnerability he’d never encountered with another woman lost to his overwhelming need. Just like before. Even with his fairly generous experience, he felt poleaxed. He’d never had a woman discuss masturbation so openly, especially a fantasy involving his drafting table.
What was he supposed to do with that information but find his way inside her in the quickest manner possible?
A group of people, laughing and calling to each other, sounded in the distance. “Not here,” he said and moved back a step, letting her slide slowly down his body. She hung on even when her feet touched the ground, her eyes finding his and searching.
“Where?” she asked, a husky edge to her voice.
A vision of snatching her up and running as fast as his legs would carry them to his damned drafting table swept through his mind. He had no idea if it would support the activity…but he was willing to buy a new one if the experiment failed.
Leaning in for one last kiss, he whispered, “My house is closer than the hotel. And there is the matter of the table.”
Her shoulders relaxed as she released a breath, and he worked hard to hide his smile. She’d been afraid he was going to refuse her? Silly girl.
He leaned in for one last kiss, then glanced over his shoulder before pulling her into the night. They spoke not a word during the three-block hike, their pace somewhere between a New York walk and a gallop. The heat between them shimmered as pure and rich as he remembered.
And as potent.
He wondered what it was about this woman that crept past his defenses, under his skin. Perhaps part of his attraction was due to the fact that she’d seen him at his most defenseless, black and blue from his father’s hand, tangled up inside, and loved him not for it but apart from it. H
er own family life had been challenging to say the least, and he thought perhaps they understood each other in ways he had yet to understand, and love, anyone outside his brothers.
He halted a block from his house and watched moonlight slide and settle over her, spark crystal bursts in her hair and in her steel-gray eyes. “You are beautiful, Lainey Prescott, more so than in my dreams. I’ve wanted this, you, for so damn long, I’m almost scared to think it’s really going to happen.”
A cool smile, lovely and certain, curved her lips. Without a word, she took his hand and led him home. They made it inside the house before bursting into flames or action. “I’m just warning you. This is going to be rough,” he said and shoved her against the door. His lips found hers, his hands going to her face to tilt her head for better access.
“Take this off,” she said and fumbled with his sweater. “Off.”
They backed across the foyer, stumbling in their haste to stay connected and disrobe at the same time. His loafers, jeans, sweater and T-shirt hit the floor. Lainey braced her hand on the wall and pushed her shift from her shoulders. His gaze followed as it slithered down her slim body to pool at her feet. The black bra and matching thong were new, expensive and worth every penny when she saw his expression go from zero to sixty in two seconds. She was in his arms before another moment passed, her legs circling his waist and anchoring behind his back. His lips found her breasts, her nipples, and even through lace she felt the sensation to the tips of her toes.
She got a glimpse of the room as they staggered into it, bold colors and masculine furniture, artwork and the scent of pine. He placed her bottom on the drafting table and popped the clasp on her bra, his hands filled, his thumbs diving in and locating, circling, maddeningly concentrated circles. She felt wild, reckless, unable to satisfy the need drumming through her.
