by Susan Arden
Water droplets splattered the floor beyond the tub. Showering without a curtain in place drove home the idea that yeah, he needed more than paper plates and cups, or relying on his mother to outfit his home. The next time he went into town. Guess he’d start a list of what were absolute requirements. After he had to use the dish soap to bathe with, he had an idea of more than a couple of things to add to his list.
Didn’t seem like anything Sommer would want to include on that hot list of hers. What the heck had she called it?
Some sort of laundry list.
He changed into shorts and walked down the hall toward the living room, his towel draped over his shoulders, catching the water dripping from his hair. “Hey baby, what did you call that list of firsts—” Rory stopped. “Girl, you’re more than beautiful.”
“DLL,” she answered. “Short for my dirty laundry list. Care to do something to add to that list?”
“Hundreds of things.” He crossed the room, his mind on lock-down as his blood surged in his dick with the force of stampeding cattle.
Sommer had a tablecloth spread over the quilt with a picnic basket off to the side. Fried chicken was laid out, plus all sorts of small containers of sides—but it was the sight of her, in an apron and without her dress that had him tied up in a knot. The sides displayed the curves of her tits, and she had the thing tied so tight, the tops of her nipples teased him at the neck. She was on all fours, wearing a thong, and her ass cheeks bared. From his vantage point, the ties of the apron spilled over her luscious hips and down the cleft of her ass, a pathway for his eyes to travel.
“Hottest apron. Ever. That goes on your list. For sure.” He tossed his towel on a counter in the kitchen as he knelt. He needed something to occupy himself with, or no way this side of hell could he ignore his hunger that had nothing to do with food. “Hand me the champagne, sugar.”
Her eyes sparkled. “Let’s go christen your place.”
“No way am I letting you go outside, dressed like that,” he scoffed.
She laid her hand on his arm and laughed. “Cowboy, there isn’t a person for miles.”
“We’re a stone’s throw away from the pond. Someone—”
“No one is around.” She rose and held out her hand to him.
Okay, now the sexiest apron became a hundred degrees hotter still with those high heels she had strapped to her ankles. He reached for her fingers, but in lieu of getting up, he pulled her down to him. “How about we both follow some directions,” he growled. “I learned early. Maybe you need a lesson or two.”
“Huh? I don’t follow.”
“That’s my point. Follow mine and I’ll follow yours. See here, your apron says kiss the cook.” He trailed his fingers along the neckline and abruptly drew her closer, devouring her mouth. When he managed to relax his grip on Sommer, he pulled back, staring down into her eyes. “I want to do more than just kiss you.”
“Are you sure?”
“Never been more certain,” he replied ready to eat her up. “Tonight’s the night. If you’re game.”
Bam-bam-bam. They both looked toward the door.
“Are you expecting anyone?” Sommer squeaked.
“Not a soul, but this is Evermore.” He stood, hauling her upright against him.
“I’d better go change. And you’d better do something about…that.” She pointed to his tented shorts, but instead of backing away he planted a kiss on her lips.
“Baby, don’t change and I’ll deal with this. Now and later.” Adjusting his cock, he watched her slip away, down the hall with her dress in her hands. He called out, “Sommer, I’m serious.”
He wanted to follow her and whoever was on the other side of his door was about to get trounced. Gritting his teeth, he opened the front door, and stared at his brother. “What the heck do you want?”
Brandon held out his cell. “You need to hear this message on your phone. I didn’t mean to play it. It went off.”
Rory stepped outside and shut the door. “What the hell Bran, this couldn’t wait until tomorrow morning?”
“Not with what you’re up to in there. Take this.” Brandon thrust the cell in his hand. His brother’s eyes were hard, and his whole demeanor seemed on edge. “Listen to the message. Don’t use the speaker.”
Rory hit play and raised the phone to his ear. The voice on the message was Sommer’s, but clearly it wasn’t meant for him. A butt dial from what he could tell. Some dude coming into the ink parlor for a tattoo. He snorted, “You interrupted me with this?”
“Listen,” Brandon retorted sharply.
Shutting his trap, he did as his brother suggested, and from mildly irritated, his temper torqued. “Holy fuck,” he snarled when the call finished. Within his rage soaked brain, only one fucked up concept blared: he was going to kill Mike Harris. “Sommer is being blackmailed. Not gonna happen. And why is Clayton Bell involved?”
“I don’t know. If the Sheriff’s department is involved, we need to do something about it, but this is your life. Your call.” Brandon held his gaze. “But truthfully, it involves lots of folks. Sommer can’t be the only one they’re shaking down.”
His muscles knotted over his bones as the air inside his lungs condensed. His brain flushed out options and scenarios. None good if a Giles county deputy was involved. In a heartbeat, the panoramic scope hit him. Unable to stow his rocketing anger and frustration, he glared at the empty field. All too clearly, Rory saw how he’d contributed to this wholly fucked-up mess.
“Can’t say I don’t have a hand in this,” he spat out, curling his fingers into fists. “Blame can stop right here, at this doorstep. If I hadn’t made those bets with Mike, the motherfucker wouldn’t have the credence he does. I opened the doorway.”
“Don’t go there,” Brandon said. “What’s done is done. Now we gotta make this right.”
“How? I’ll go to the ends of the earth for Sommer. But you already know that,” he replied.
“How much have you won?”
“Not more than a couple thousand. Maybe five or six.”
His brother’s eyes widened. “Shit, Mike just rolled into town. You ever lose?”
“Not once.” He ground his back molars in disgust at the thought of his past winnings and what that meant. “But I didn’t get into it like it was anything other than a fucking past time. Shit, nothing serious. Not like other folks. And Mike isn’t the only one taking bets around town.”
“But he’s the only grifter I’d bet. Faking that he’s from around here. That’s what those pricks do. They hear of a place that’s easy to take and they come on through. We never would have known it, without this proof. Maybe the Sheriff’s department is working on a sting, but frankly I doubt it.”
“Well, what are we going to do? If the Sheriff isn’t equipped to deal with these SOBs.”
Brandon leaned against the side of the trailer. “This would be an FBI matter and we’ll talk tomorrow. Push comes to shove, we ‘ll get Miller involved. He helped me out before.”
Too easily, Rory recalled when Mia went missing. The police sure as hell didn’t lift a finger, late on a Sunday evening. Not around here. “What if Sommer’s already told Mike she isn’t going to do it?”
“To save her father, I doubt she’d be able to say no. It’s twisted, fucked up. No way around it. Look, I didn’t mean to interrupt you and her, but I thought you might want to know in case. I’m sure you can fill in the blanks.”
Rory held out his fist to his brother. “I’m not letting her leave tonight. Thanks for coming by and being fucking nosy enough to care.”
“I’ve got your back. Same as you for me.” They bumped fists.
“Always.” Scrubbing his hand along his jaw, Rory exhaled heavily.
Descending the steps, Brandon said over his shoulder, “That’s what being a brother is all about.”
Chapter 22
Inside Rory’s bathroom, Sommer stared at herself in the mi
rror after she’d fumbled with the strap of her dress and couldn’t tie a bow to save her life. She dropped the strap and focused on her trembling fingers. Okay, let’s can the over the top reaction.
Did her degree of denial conveniently just forget a crucial piece of reality? Once Rory found out about this bet she’d agreed to be part of, he’d tell her off so fast, her head would do a three-sixty?
This wouldn’t end as just another temporary break up. After this, he wouldn’t want anything to do with her ever again. Her pulse raced—deafening heartbeats thundered in her ears. With each beat, her stomach twisted tighter. Smart stomach.
Seconds ago, Rory had been rock-hard, aroused, and HE SAID, he’d wanted to do more than kiss. It wasn’t like she was some femme fatale out to take advantage of an innocent. Reason eight thousand and one why she was overjoyed he was a McLemore, coming from a long line of badasses, enough to fill up the Diamond. Rory understood all too well how to make her lose her mind. She wasn’t teaching him a thing. Most assuredly, if there were a teacher here, it was him.
She bit the corner of her mouth, re-tying her dress strap with a poor excuse for a bow. Why not tell him? If he was already okay with the idea of going all the way, then they could and she’d be able to save her dad from those goons…
I’ve lost my mind if this is the solution! Clearly, no matter how she spun her involvement—regardless of the why—she was prostituting herself and selling Rory out. She leaned over the sink, filled by the awful knowledge of what she’d almost done.
Rory was wrong. There was nothing about her coming here tonight that was clean. She needed a thousand baths to wash away this type of filth and ugliness. She felt dirty, and this degree of dirt went straight to the bone, sinking all the way into her marrow.
Inside this bathroom, she suddenly felt caged. A car door slammed outside and she jerked upright. Pinpricks of perspiration sprang up along her hairline, then more and more beads of sweat erupted as her skin felt scorched. She couldn’t breathe. She had to get some air.
Grabbing the door handle, she twisted the knob and yanked so hard, the door slammed open, hitting the wall. It bounced back almost knocking into her as she stormed out of the bathroom and into Rory’s chest.
“Whoa, where’s the fire?” He captured her by the shoulders as she tried to wrench away. “Careful, darlin’.”
“Please. I gotta go,” she choked out.
Instead of releasing Sommer, he gripped her tighter. “What happened?”
“Nothing. I don’t feel well.” She lifted her chin and stared into his blue eyes. Mistake. Big mistake. She scrunched her eyes closed. “Just let me go.”
“Not going to happen, especially if you’re sick.” He refused to budge and slightly shook her. “Open those beautiful eyes and tell me why you want to leave.”
Slowly, she opened her eyes, encountering his unwavering stare. A gaze so potent—so palpable as though he’d crawled inside her mind and she in his. “I’m not who you think I am.” Aching for him, she rasped, “I don’t come from a family like yours. With your brothers and parents who act normal. Reasonable. I wish I did, but I don’t. Go find a girl who you can trust.”
“Check that off your laundry list, little girl ‘cause I did. A long time ago.”
Feeling her heart splinter and burst apart at his words—his touch—their love, she had to leave. She blinked against the rising tide of tears threatening to drown her.
“That girl is long gone,” she said in a broken whisper, and went to move past him.
“Don’t think so.” Rory chuckled darkly, holding her in place. The sound rumbled deeper in his chest than usual. More growl than laugh and it wasn’t the kind she was accustomed to hearing from him. This was primal.
“I don’t want you to go. Sommer, you’re so far into me—part of me. I love you. Since the moment I saw you, and it wasn’t in high school. That’s only when I had the sense to tell you. I’ve loved you way back since we were little. Too young to know it, but I did. I’ve loved you for longer than I haven’t. That won’t ever change. Baby, trust me and tell me what’s wrong.” His blue eyes gleamed like molten glass, and the totality of what she’d brought to Rory’s new home, the one she’d almost christened with him, was unforgivable.
“This isn’t a testimony to my trust in you.” She flashed him a pleading look. “You deserve better.” Oh God. What had she done by agreeing to seduce him? Opening the door for Mike. Worse for Carlo. They were criminals. And had guns!
If Carlo believed for a second there was a connection between her and Rory, he’d draw a line toward him and try something. Exactly as he’d done with her. Carlo would always find another mark he’d lure into his horrible web of clearing a debt. Someone who he’d threaten with the knowledge that if they didn’t act, then the retribution was on them. They owned the outcome, their hands tipped the scale.
From what she could tell, Mike hadn’t divulged his little gambling network scheme to his so-called partner. Otherwise, that man would’ve been roaming around Annona. Grapevine news and talked about. Nothing this dangerous stayed under the rumor wheel. Some form of animosity lay between Mike and Carlo. Easy to observe it was so entrenched, not that she understood the basis. Those two weren’t the brightest crayons in the box. Cogs in a gambling scheme. They were part of a god-awful plan she had to get free of. But how?
“Don’t leave,” he said, tipping her chin upward. “Pretend I’m wearing the apron and kiss me.”
She craned her neck, not wanting to hold back from him, but knowing that one kiss was the gateway. One kiss and she wouldn’t be able to resist him. “I can’t do that.”
“Sure you can,” he murmured softly and lowered his head, running his jaw against her cheek. “You smell so incredible. Just one taste.”
“You aren’t playing fair.” Torn, she curled her fingers over his roped forearms. He knew her. Understood her. Could write a book about her. Their connection was beyond haptic—their emotional link was hardwired into her brain. Deeper! A voice seemed to whisper. He swam in her blood.
“Fair no. Not where you’re concerned. What matters is you’re safe here. With me.” As unyielding as a brick wall, he held her in his warm arms.
The one place she felt safe. Pressing her fingers on his arms, she was desperate to convince him to let her go, but also to make him understand how much he meant to her. “Rory, I love you with all my heart. I feel so safe with you. Always.”
“I know that,” he growled in her ear. Pushing his hips against hers, he ghosted his lips over her jaw, coming closer to her mouth. “Just want you to give me what I asked for. One kiss.”
“And nothing more?”
“Baby, I won’t take anything from you by force.” His bare chest rose and fell in a rolling rhythm in front of her.
Was it a pipedream to believe it was that simple? She wanted to as she lifted up on her tiptoes, holding onto Rory’s waist, and pressed her mouth to his. Warm, wet, and so achingly hedonistic, she crushed her breasts to his chest, longing to bring them heart-to-heart. Their lips fused, opening and insistent. The sweep of his tongue into her mouth, his hands on her body, and his cock nudging her belly—everything he did began to dissolve her resolution.
“Sommer,” he hissed into her mouth, moving his hands to her hips and drawing her to him. “You’re mine. I’m going to get inside you so deep. All the way. Tonight.”
Rory pressed against her mound and she gasped at the spark of pleasure he unleased with one swipe. Only a pair of shorts and her panties separated them. He pumped his hips, holding her to him, and nudging the head of his cock against her cleft. An erotic sample of what he intended, shattering her resolve. All of it. Primal hunger unleashed inside her. Hard to resist him—it was impossible.
“I love you. Give yourself to me,” he whispered his demand against her lips as his fingers lifted her dress.
Her body felt torched. She journeyed her hands up the miles of his ripped musc
le, twitching dips and valleys, enticing under her fingertips. He walked them to the wall, pressing himself into her as he grunted his desire into her mouth. She moaned, sucking his tongue and arching under his hands curved over her ass cheeks.
Rory’s touch tangled her thoughts into a tumbling whirlwind. She grappled, unable to define what was right or wrong, good or bad, when the only thing that mattered was letting go, and him thrusting inside her. She’d waited—he’d waited—wasn’t it time?
As if in silent answer, he swept his fingers over her mound as she opened her legs, granting him access to her. He tugged on the elastic of her thong, allowing cool air to swim over where she throbbed to feel his fingers, his tongue, his cock. Arching against him, she whimpered, “Please.”
“Open your legs wider, baby. I want you wrapped around me. Tonight, I’m going to sink into you so hard, and for so long.”
His finger swiped down her swollen sex and she bucked, on fire from his touch. He didn’t pause to tease her. Grazing his finger to her opening, Rory thrust inside her. All the way. Sparks of pleasure shot through her body. Hotter and deeper as he rubbed her clit. Slowly, he withdrew his finger, hoisting her body upward then down, impaling her pussy and making her cry out.
“Rory.” His name echoed inside her.
He finger-fucked her. Pounding and unrelenting, using two of his fingers is how he hijacked her lust.
“Yes,” she hissed as he bit the side of her neck, nipping her skin and pumping his hand between her legs. She molded to him as he rubbed his erection against her, enticing her to give into him completely. So near the edge, if he tempted her, she’d leap.
