The Pleasure Principle

by Kimberly Raye

  As nervous as she felt, the minute Brady stared over at her and smiled, she seemed to relax. She felt his heat seeping across the truck seat to her and the way he stroked the steering wheel hypnotized her. Her reservations faded and the truck ride ended up being much more pleasant than she’d ever imagined.

  She felt comfortable. At ease.

  And excited. She’d never actually been to the lake with a boy. Another first for her, thanks to Brady Weston. He was showing her all she’d missed out on. All the normal teen girl stuff.

  But you’re not a teenager. You’re a woman. You know the score.

  She did, but at that moment, she couldn’t help but pretend. And with the fantasy came the rush of feelings she would have felt way back then. The excitement. The anticipation. The happiness.

  She held the feelings close and relished them as she watched the sun creep toward the horizon.

  The ride was short and sweet and soon they pulled up to the shimmering lake and climbed out. Brady popped the tailgate and they both settled down. The radio filtered from Bessie’s cab, filling the growing darkness with a slow country song.

  Unscrewing the bottle of wine, Brady filled the two Dixie cups he’d pulled from the Piggly Wiggly bag.

  He downed his with one long gulp while Eden sniffed and took a tentative sip. She grimaced and he laughed.

  “How’d you ever drink four entire glasses of it?”

  “It was a dare.”

  “Then I dare you.”

  She eyed him and then eyed the wine. “What do I get if I do it?”

  “What did you get back then?”

  “Kasey’s brand new tube of Viva La Pink lipstick.”

  Brady rummaged in his pocket. “Would you settle for some Chap Stick?”

  She eyed his offering. “What flavor?”

  “Cherry.”

  “You’re on.” She took a deep breath, held her nose and downed the entire contents in one long, sputtering drink.

  “Ugh. That was just as awful as I remember.” She held out her hand. “Gimmee.”

  “Not so fast. You owe me three more glasses. It was four glasses, remember?” He filled her cup to the brim. “Drink up.”

  “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were trying to get me drunk.”

  “Actually,” he said before filling his own cup and downing it in one gulp. “I’m the one trying to get drunk.”

  Don’t ask, she told herself. Just drink your wine and keep quiet.

  The last thing she needed to do was sit next to Brady Weston while he poured out his troubles. She had her own to contend with. But at that moment, with the lake shining in the moonlight and Brady suddenly looking so dark and troubled, she couldn’t help herself. She felt his worry even more than her own. His fear. She couldn’t help herself.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.” He shrugged. “Hell, everything.” He stared out at the still water. “You don’t need to hear this.”

  “No, but I want to. And you probably need to say it. Haven’t you heard that confession’s good for the soul.”

  He shot her a quick grin before turning his attention back to the river. His expression fell. “No matter what I do, it’s not good enough. He won’t forgive me.” Brady took another drink of his wine and shook his head. “Maybe coming home wasn’t such a good idea. Christ, who am I kidding? This isn’t my home. Things have changed.”

  The irony of what she was hearing struck her and she couldn’t help herself. She laughed.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “I’m sorry. It’s just that if anyone belongs here, it’s you.” She shook her head as the past welled up inside her and where she would have kept her mouth shut with anyone else, she felt a closeness with Brady. An intimacy. Not just in a physical sense, but an emotional one. Because Eden Hallsey knew what it felt like to be an outsider.

  She’d spent the past ten years striving to be just that, and succeeding. The fact had always given her comfort before, until now. Now a sense of longing bubbled inside her and floated to the surface. The regret. The desperation to have it all back again and be the way she’d been before. Soft and approachable and likeable.

  “I don’t think things have changed so much, as you’ve changed.” At his sharp glance, she went on. “That’s it, isn’t it? You’re not afraid that Cadillac is different. You worried that you are. That you don’t fit in, not because people won’t accept you, but because you don’t really want to fit in. You don’t like the same things you did ten years before. You’re not the same person you were when you left.”

  “That’s crazy.”

  “Is it? Who has ad sheets spread out across his apartment when he’s supposed to be working in the production department? It’s not the same person who used to skip classes so he could hang out over at the factory. You don’t like being in the production department.”

  “That’s bullshit. I like it. I love it. I always did.”

  “Did, as in past tense. But this isn’t the past. It’s the present. You’ve changed, but that’s not such a bad thing, Brady. You’re a better person now. Stronger.”

  “I feel like a failure.” The word were soft and quiet and so full of heartache that Eden couldn’t help herself. She covered his hand with her own.

  “You left here and made it when all the odds were against you. Sounds like success to me. And you’ve got courage too. When things didn’t work out, you found the strength to come back, to set things right.”

  “But they aren’t right.”

  “Not yet. Your granddaddy’s stubborn. Give him time.”

  Brady didn’t want to ask the question that had haunted him ever since he’d rolled back into Cadillac, but he couldn’t help himself. “And what if that isn’t enough? What if I’m not enough?”

  “You’re his grandson. His blood. His family.”

  “And you do belong here,” she went on, her voice so full of conviction that Brady actually believed her. “This is your home and Weston Boots is your legacy, whether you like hammering soles all day or figuring out ways to beef up business.”

  “It’s just that I never used my brain back then. I was too busy having fun. Too eager to please my grandfather.”

  “That’s something that hasn’t changed,” she pointed out. “You’re still vying for the man’s favor.”

  “And failing.”

  “Didn’t you learn anything working your way through college?”

  He gave her a slow, easy grin. “Never give up, even when there’s just bologna in the fridge and no bread in the bread box.”

  “Exactly. If you want him to forgive you, you have to keep trying. Most of all, you have to stop beating yourself up and trying to pretend that you’re something you’re not.”

  As she said the words, he turned his hand palm up. Strong fingers twined with hers and Brady drew comfort from the woman sitting next to him. Comfort and warmth and courage, until the future didn’t look so dismal. He had changed, and while he wasn’t so certain his grandfather would support his new interests, he wasn’t going to give up working for the man’s forgiveness.

  “And what about you?”

  “What about me?”

  “Why do you stay in a town that’s ripe with rumor about you?”

  “Same reason as you. This is my home.”

  “Your parents are gone. You’ve got no family here.”

  “I’ve got the Pink Cadillac. It’s all I have left of my parents now that they’re gone. They worked hard to keep it going, and I intend to do the same, no matter who runs their mouth. I don’t care what people say about me.”

  “You know what I think?” He eyed her. “I think you do care. I think you want them to say things—outrageous things—on purpose because you want people to think you’re a bad girl. But deep down inside, you’re not so bad. You miss being accepted. You’re desperate to hang one of those T-ball banners in your bar and line your walls with pictures of the team you sponsor.”

  He saw
a flicker of regret in her eyes, before she averted her gaze and fixed it on the bottle in his hands.

  “You’re also drunk.” She picked up the bottle. “I wouldn’t rely too much on what you think right now.”

  “Is that so? For your information, I’ve only had two glasses and I’m as sober as ever. Sober enough to walk a straight line with my eyes closed.”

  She plopped the Chap Stick between them and he knew their conversation was over. “Go for it.”

  “And sober enough to hop in place on one leg.”

  Eden pulled a keychain from her pocket and slapped it on the tailgate. “Let’s see it.”

  “And sober enough to kiss you senseless.”

  The comment hung in the air between them for several long moments and Brady thought for a split second that he’d crossed the line. This wasn’t about another rendezvous. It was a walk down memory lane. A heart-to-heart talk between friends.

  The thing was, it didn’t feel like another tryst. This was different. There was just something about the darkness, the moonlight, the closeness he now felt with Eden that drew them together on a deeper level.

  And he could no more resist than he could have jumped up on the tailgate and snagged the moon hanging overhead.

  He kissed her. Soft and slow and easy, his tongue gliding along her bottom lip, dipping inside, tasting the blueberry wine she’d just drank. The kiss was slow and thorough and breath stealing, and it stirred him even more than the fierce, hungry kisses they’d shared in the past. Because it wasn’t planned or anticipated. It simply happened.

  “This isn’t ringing a bell,” she managed to gasp when he’d finally pulled away. “What movie is this from?”

  He grinned. “Brady and Eden Waltz Down Memory Lane.”

  She managed a smile despite the trembling of her lips. “I don’t think I’ve seen that.”

  “I have. It starts like this.” He kissed her again. This time the kiss was even deeper, more mesmerizing and when it was over, they were both gasping for air.

  “And how does it end?” she asked him.

  He leaned over and murmured, “You tell me,” and then he claimed her mouth again.

  11

  EDEN TOOK a deep breath, gathered her courage and reached for the hem of her tank top. She pulled the covering over her head and let it slip from her fingertips. She wished she could see his expression, but the moonlight glittered behind him, casting his face in shadow.

  She could only hear his reaction. His sharp intake of breath as she reached for the clasp on her bra.

  Her fingers faltered and she damned herself for the rush of insecurity. But old habits were hard to break and while she was determined to do this, she couldn’t help but put off the inevitable.

  Nervous fingers went to the snap on her jeans. She slid the fastener free. A long, slow zzzzziiippp and her jeans parted in a deep V that revealed the lace of her panties.

  She slid the material down her legs and stepped free. She still had on her bra and panties, but as she stared deep into Brady’s eyes, she might well have been wearing nothing at all. He made her feel open and vulnerable.

  His eyes. That was the difference now. Jake Marlboro had been too busy ogling every inch she’d revealed, but Brady stared into her eyes, held her gaze, gave her strength and courage and fed her desire.

  She reached behind her and worked at the catch of her bra with trembling fingers. The undergarment came free and the straps sagged on her shoulders. Sliding the lace down her arms, she freed her straining breasts. Then her hands moved to her panties.

  He was on her in an instant, his hands catching hers. Warm, strong fingers closed over hers. “You don’t have to do this.”

  “I want to.” The words were out before she could even think about them. Not that she needed to. They were true. However frightened, she wanted Brady to be the man to see her completely naked.

  She knew that no matter how hard she tried, she would never, ever find another man like Brady Weston. Tonight was their last night together and she wanted it to be special. Memorable.

  He’d given her something special tonight. He’d trusted her enough to open up to her, to talk about his feelings. His fears. And Eden wanted to do the same.

  “I really want to,” she added, sliding her fingers from his to push the panties down over her hips. Lace slid along her flesh and pooled at her ankles. She stepped free and stood before him, open and honest and frightened.

  The urge to cover herself was nearly overwhelming, but she fought it back down, determined to stand her ground, to be as honest with him as he’d been with her.

  Just this once.

  She fixed her attention at a point just beyond his shoulders as his gaze left her face and made a slow trek down her body and back up again.

  The air lodged in her chest as she waited for his reaction. Crazy. She shouldn’t care what he thought one way or the other. She’d never cared what anyone thought.

  But she did. She cared about Brady, his feelings, his thoughts, his hopes, his dreams, his desires.

  She cared.

  She didn’t want to think about why. Instead, she focused on holding her shoulders back, her head up, her arms down by her sides.

  “Well?” she finally asked, her nerves pushed to the edge. She needed to know what he was thinking, and he summed it up in one word that sent her heart soaring.

  “Beautiful.” And then with one swift motion, he pulled her into his arms.

  His kiss was fierce and deep and drugging. She wasn’t sure when he got rid of his own clothes. She was only aware of his strong touch moving over her, his mouth eating at hers.

  His hands slid down her back, cupped her bottom and urged her legs up on either side of him. With quick lift, he set her on the edge of the tailgate. She would have teetered forward, but he was right there in front of her, between her legs, his arms locked around her.

  A few tugs on his zipper and his erection sprang forward, the tip nudging her slick opening. He rubbed the head along her slit, stirring her into a frenzy before pushing just a fraction inside.

  Her arms snaked around his shoulders as she tried to cling, but he pulled her away and urged her backward until her back met the bed of the truck.

  “I like to watch you, darlin’. I like you to watch me.”

  He pushed into her, a slow glide that stole her breath and refused to give it back until he was buried deep, deep inside her.

  She gasped as he withdrew. Then the delicious pressure started all over again with another long, leisurely stroke that took both their breaths away. One thrust led to another and another, until he was pumping into her, pushing them both higher and higher up the mountain until Eden reached her peak.

  She screamed out his name and it was all he needed to send him over the edge. He buried himself one last and final time and she felt the hot spurt of his seed deep in her womb.

  The sensation, so sharp and sweet, brought tears to her eyes. Or maybe it was the way he pulled her into his arms and held her close as if he never meant to let her go.

  Maybe both.

  Either way, her tears were bittersweet because, as Eden lay there nestled in his arms, she finally admitted the truth to herself. She really had found her knight in shining armor, and she’d fallen in love with him.

  The trouble was, Brady Weston didn’t love her back.

  MERLE WESTON RANG the doorbell of the sprawling ranch house and stepped back to wait. He wiped his grease-ridden hands on his overalls and mentally calculated the work still left back at the garage. He had four cars waiting and number five was parked back at his house thanks to Brady’s Porsche which had been taking up prime space in his garage.

  Nothing was wrong with the blasted thing as far as Merle could tell, and he’d been servicing cars since he’d gotten his first job pumping gas at the age of fifteen while his older brother had been following their dad around the boot factory.

  Darkness had settled and the porch light pumped out bright light. June
bugs flittered and bumped at the bulb, crickets buzzed and Merle waited.

  At one time, a long, long time ago, he would have walked right in. He’d been born and raised in this house, right alongside his older brother. But things were different now. Zachariah had inherited the house and the company, while Merle had forfeited his share.

  He remembered the day that his daddy had delivered the ultimatum.

  If you go through with this, you can call yourself something else besides Weston.

  Merle couldn’t help but smile. He’d gone through with it, all right, and it had been the best decision he’d ever made.

  And the hardest.

  Even so, he didn’t regret his choice. He had something more to show for his life than a wood and brick structure and a factory full of cowboy boots. Merle had the family he’d always dreamed of. The warmth. The acceptance. And neither hinged on his life choices. He could sell his gas station, which his younger boy loved with all his heart, and his son would still love him. Along with the rest of his kids. And his wife. Their family ties involved love not money.

  If only the Westons felt the same.

  “This is what I get for staying at home while the entire house goes out for a nice dinner—” The words came up short as Zachariah Weston hauled open the front door.

  Merle grinned. As much as he hated seeing Zach, he loved it, as well. Because he loved his brother, even though the older man couldn’t stand the sight of him. And, of course, Zachariah put on no airs when it came to his feelings.

  Merle thought of Brady and what the boy had been putting up with. Thanks to Ellie, who still dropped by for a Coke and a tank of gas every Friday, Merle knew all about Zach’s silent treatment and the fact that he had his college-educated grandson hammering soles from dusk ‘til dawn.

  “What do you want?” Zach grumbled.

  “Hello to you, too.”

  “Hello,” Zach grumbled. “Now what the hell do you want?”

  Merle indicated the Porsche parked at the curb. “I can’t catch Brady, so I thought I’d leave the car out here. I need more room in my garage.”