Nashville Boxed Set #1-3

by Bethany Michaels

  “What? Aren’t I allowed to call my ‘girlfriend’ an angel?”

  “You are. For tonight. My girlfriend status expires when we leave your parents’ house, though.”

  A shadow passed over his features but before I had time to wonder and worry about it, he tugged me close. “Then I’d better take advantage of it while I can.”

  He tugged the sweatshirt off my arms and dropped it in the truck bed. My sweater was next and my bra, until I was standing there naked from the waist up. I shivered a little, my nipples going even harder.

  “I want to see you. All of you,” he said, and moved to pop the button on my jeans. I let him do as he wanted and dutifully lifted my legs so he could tug the jeans off to add them to the pile of discarded clothing.

  He sucked in his breath when he saw me standing there in nothing but a very skimpy black silk thong. He got to his knees, heedless of the mud, and grasped my hips. Hooking his pinkies under the strings of my underwear, he tugged them down.

  I’d never been in totally in the buff outdoors and the play of the night air across my skin was a foreign but very heady sensation. It was freeing being out here all alone with Dillon, not another human within shouting distance, and totally naked. All those nudist campgrounds I’d seen advertised suddenly made a lot of sense.

  “Too bad it’s too chilly for a swim,” Dillon said, his voice gone husky and low. “I’d love to see you all naked and wet in the moonlight, like a sea goddess coming out of the water.”

  “You’re very poetic tonight,” I said, breathless myself.

  Dillon kissed his way up my thigh, his hands following, caressing.

  “I’m allowed, remember? Until we head home tomorrow night.”

  “Right, tomorrow night,” I sighed and dropped my head back as Dillon flicked his tongue over my clit.

  He grasped my hips with his hands and licked at me gently until pressure built throughout my body and my teeth clenched. I grasped the edge of the pick-up’s bed and widened my stance to give him better access.

  Dillon slid a finger inside me and we both groaned.

  “You’re so wet, Becca, so perfect and warm and wet.”

  He moved his finger in and out in a slow rhythm, then put his mouth back on my clit to suckle gently.

  I gasped, blood racing through my veins. All sensation centered on that one little area Dillon was manipulating with such skill. I bit my lip to keep the scream in.

  “Let it go, Becca, Dillon said, raising his head to look up at me. “There’s no one to hear. Let yourself go. Come for me. Let me see you.”

  He put his mouth on me, drawing a little harder. He added another finger and thrust deeper, hitting the perfect spot.

  I groaned out loud, panting with the pleasure coursing through my body. My skin was on fire, and I felt hot and wet all over. My nipples tingled, my belly clenched, and another long, low groan escaped from my lips.

  “That’s it. Groan. Scream if you want to, Becca. I want to see you let go. I want to hear you scream my name when you come.”

  He increased his rhythm and I let out a high-pitched squeal I was sure scared some insects in the woods into silence as the wave after wave of pleasure washed over me.

  My fingers dug into Dillon’s hair and I did scream his name then. In pants and squeals and breathless half-sentences I told him what I wanted and how I wanted him to do it to me.

  When the wave subsided, my knees were too weak to support my weight. Dillon stood, gathering me into his arms.

  “God, that was sexy.”

  He kissed me and I could taste my own musky essence on his lips.

  I put my hand on the front of his fly, tracing the length of him.

  I worked the button on his jeans and carefully eased the zipper down. Running my hands around his body to cup his luscious backside, I forced his jeans down until they crumpled around his ankles.

  He grunted deep in his throat and pulled back to watch me. His eyes were huge and dark and he looked a little like the big bad wolf I suspected lurked in the trees, no matter what Dillon said.

  Never breaking eye contact, I slid my hands inside his boxer-briefs and touched him.

  His hands tightened on my shoulders. I stroked him gently at first, with just a fingertip. He was hard and hot and already seeping at the tip. I rubbed the moisture with my finger, wetting his whole tip before grasping him in my palm.

  “God. You’re killing me.”

  “Well, I don’t do poetry, so I figured I’d have to come up with something else.” I stroked him in a gentle rhythm, loving the way I could control his pleasure at the flick of a wrist.

  Dillon kicked out of his jeans and underwear and shrugged out of his shirt. He lifted me to sit on the tailgate of the truck and moved between my thighs.

  “Are you okay? Not too cold?”

  “I’m burning up,” I said, running a fingertip down his bare chest.

  “Good.” He rolled on the condom he’d snagged from his jeans and entered me in one hard thrust.

  I wrapped my legs around his waist and my arms around his neck and hung on. He pulled back a little to give my nipples another nip with his teeth and I threw my head back giving up on any chance of holding back.

  The pressure built all over again. Dillon was good with his hands and his mouth, but this was what I really loved—Dillon inside me, filling me with his warmth, his heat, grinding against me and clinging to me like I was the one thing on Earth he couldn’t live without.

  Dillon withdrew a little, forcing me to lie down in the bed of the truck while he still stood on solid ground. The blanket beneath my bare back protected me from the cold metal of the bed. Not that I would have noticed.

  He entered me again, in a slow, deep slide and began a new rhythm. He let his hands trail over my bare breasts, over my belly and down to the thatch of curls where we were joined.

  “I can’t believe this,” he whispered. “It’s always so good with you. So perfect. But this. This is amazing.”

  “I know.”

  “I don’t ever want to stop.”

  “Then don’t.”

  He groaned and increased his rhythm, one hand on my hip, the other gently gliding over my clit.

  My body exploded in a lightning bolt of pleasure and somewhere beyond my haze of ecstasy, I heard Dillon give his own shout, thrust once more into me, and shudder his own release.

  He leaned heavily on the tailgate, gasping for breath.

  “You okay?” I asked, when I could speak again.

  “Great. Just a little light-headed.”

  He climbed up in the bed with me and pulled the blanket around us both.

  “Shouldn’t we head back to the house? Your mom might worry,” I said, snuggling into his warmth. Getting dressed and heading to my bed alone was the last thing I was looking forward to at that moment.

  “In a minute.”

  I held Dillon as tightly as he held me and thought about how good it felt to let someone in close, to let go like I had. Dillon just felt safe, somehow, like no other guy—no other person, for that matter—ever had.

  But I had to remember it was only temporary. This whole thing. It was a nice fantasy, but it was all pretend for his family’s benefit. We’d celebrate Thanksgiving with his family, me playing the smitten girlfriend, then we’d go back to Nashville first thing Friday morning.

  Things would go back to normal, whatever that was. Dillon would do his thing and I would do mine. We’d continue our sexual relationship for as long as it worked for both of us, then go our separate ways, eventually. Dillon would bring some other girl home to meet the family next holiday. A real girlfriend, not an imposter. Maybe even a fiancée one day.

  My chest clenched at that thought, though I knew I had no right. I had no claim on Dillon other than on his body, and that was only temporary. He was free, as was I. That was the way I’d wanted it. Great friendship, great sex, but no commitment. No trapped, confined feeling, no belonging to another person until he dumped
you for something better.

  Yes, I was sure I’d have to give him up one day so he could find what he was really looking for. But for tonight—tonight the fantasy was firmly in place and I could pretend he was mine.

  Chapter Eleven

  I cut into my giant stack of pancakes and took a huge bite, letting the rich buttermilk flavor mix with genuine maple syrup and the tart bite of fresh raspberries make love to my mouth. I closed my eyes, wondering if you could actually come just from eating good food.

  “Geez, Becca. Are you all right over there?”

  I opened my eyes and looked at Sydney, who was cutting her pancakes in small bites before daintily eating each piece.

  I swallowed. “There is nothing in Nashville like these pancakes. It’s worth waiting in line for an hour.”

  Sydney nodded. “Agreed.”

  I glanced around the restaurant. It didn’t look any different than any other breakfast joint. Scarred wooden table, gingham curtains, tacky low-pile carpeting, and lights that made reading the menu a real challenge. But there was magic in the kitchen that kept people coming back for more, perfectly willing to stand in a line that often wound around the block, even on a weekday.

  It wasn’t uncommon to see a celebrity or two drop in for a plate of flapjacks or a bowl of Miss Patty’s famous grits, but today, there were just regular folks like me and Sydney pigging out on the best pancakes in the South.

  Sydney wiped her mouth and took a drink of her coffee. She looked perfect, of course. Her blond hair was pulled back into a low ponytail and even without makeup, her skin was nearly flawless. Dex definitely agreed with her. Of course, who wouldn’t he agree with?

  “So when’s Dex getting home?”

  Sydney sighed and got that dreamy, disgusting, totally head-over-heels in love look on her face. “Two more weeks.” She cut another bite and swiped it through the puddle of syrup on her plate. “He’s in California for a few more days, then they head back east.”

  I knew the touring was hard on Sydney, but she had plenty going on with her songwriting thing. I hadn’t seen her since the charity ball.

  “That’s cool. He’ll be home for a while then?”

  “For a little while. I’m thinking of traveling with him on the next leg of the tour.” She shrugged. “I don’t know if I can do the whole tour bus thing, though. It seems like being on a bus that long would get boring”

  “I’m sure Dex can think of a few things to occupy your time,” I said with a grin.

  She flushed a little. “True. He’s very…creative.” Syd wiped her mouth on her napkin. “So what about you? How’s the demo business?”

  “Great. I just upped my hourly rate and I’m getting even more work than before.”

  “Pretty soon you won’t even need a roommate. But I’m glad Dillon is there with you. I felt bad about leaving you all by yourself.”

  “It’s fine. I don’t blame you wanting to spend as much time with Dex as possible when he’s home.”

  “So things are good between you and Dillon?

  I cocked my head. “Well, he hasn’t pawned any of my stuff and doesn’t use the last of the TP without replacing the roll, so, yeah, he’s good roommate.” He was good at a lot of other things, too, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to share that just yet. I also knew she’d freak out if she knew I’d gone to his parents’ house with him over the holiday.

  Syd looked at me hard, as if she was trying to read my mind. Finally she put down her fork and gave me her full attention.

  “There’s been something I’ve wanted to ask you, but if it’s none of my business, just say so, okay?”

  “Sure.”

  “Are you two…you know?” She raised her eyebrow and I couldn’t resist a small, secret smile.

  “Fuck buddies?”

  “Well, I was going to put it a little more delicately, but yeah.”

  “What makes you ask?”

  “Well, I know I teased you before about dating, but the night of the ball, the way you guys were so chummy, and the dance…” Syd shook her head. “I think Mrs. Millbury was right. You really did look like a couple. Way more than just roommates, or even friends.”

  I couldn’t hold in my smile. “Let’s just say we’re on very intimate terms.”

  I expected Sydney to be happy for us, or at least surprised. But she wasn’t. Her brows drew together and she looked away.

  “What?” I asked, twirling my fork through the syrup. “It’s just sex. No big deal.”

  “No big deal.” Syd crossed her arms.

  “No.”

  “So he’s just another guy to you.”

  “Why are you so angry about this? We’re both adults and it’s just sex.”

  “Dillon is a nice guy, Becca, not some guy you picked up at a bar. It might be just sex for you, but I can’t imagine Dillon being intimate with someone he didn’t care about.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Oh, please. Sometimes sex is just sex, Sydney.”

  “And sometimes it’s not.” She forked two bites into her mouth and swallowed the rest of her coffee, all in short jerky movements. “And how does it end, Becca? Someone is going to get hurt and I don’t think it will be you.”

  “Come on, Syd. We’ve talked about all that. He’s single, I’m single. We’re friends. It’ll be fine. We’ll go our separate ways when it’s right and that will be that.”

  “I saw the way he looked at you. Everybody saw it. Everybody but you. He’s going to get hurt when you decide you’re tired of him and move on to the next guy.”

  I ignored the zing of guilt that pricked my conscience. “So I’m just the bitch using him for his dick.”

  “That’s not what I said.”

  I dug a few bills out of my purse and tossed them on the table. “I have to go.”

  “Becca, come on,” Sydney said behind me as I stalked towards the exit. I pushed through the double doors, ignoring her.

  Sydney didn’t get it. I mean, I was having a good time with Dillon and he was having a good time with me. We were friends. Friends who had sex. So what? We both knew what our relationship was and it wasn’t romantic. Just physical.

  We’d had a great time at his parent’s house and Thanksgiving dinner was like nothing I’d ever experienced before. But once we got back to Nashville, things went back to the way they were. Friends with benefits. That’s all we were, no matter what game we’d played for the benefit of Dillon’s family.

  I walked back towards downtown. But what if Sydney was right and it meant more to Dillon than it did to me? What if he did develop feelings for me—girlfriend feelings? That made me shudder. I couldn’t imagine being someone’s girlfriend. Having to consider someone else’s needs and feelings before I made the smallest decision. Checking my schedule with him, not being able to do exactly what I pleased when I pleased. And whom I pleased. Nope, wasn’t for me. I was definitely not the relationship type.

  But Dillon was.

  I stopped in my tracks and frowned down at the dirty sidewalk. What if Syd was right and he ended up getting hurt? Maybe I should just go ahead and end it now before that happened, because whatever happened between us, I valued our friendship and didn’t want that to go away.

  Dillon and I needed to have a talk, just to make sure we were on the same page. Sex, good. Romance, bad.

  My cell phone started playing a tinny version of “All Shook Up” and I checked the caller ID. It wasn’t a number I recognized.

  “Hello?”

  “Rebecca?”

  There was only one person who used my full name. I got a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach.

  “Hi, Sherri.”

  “It’s happened again.”

  Cold fear laced through me, stopping me in my tracks. “Which hospital?” I was jogging towards home now, my heart beating like it would thump right out of my chest and not because of the exercise.

  “Western Baptist.”

  “How bad?”

  Sherri paused and I could picture he
r, cell phone to ear, deep frown lines creasing the bridge of her nose.

  “Just get here.”

  * * * *

  I banged the door so hard in my rush into the apartment that Dillon, who was reading the newspaper on the couch, jumped.

  “Becca? What’s wrong?” he asked, following me into my room.

  I grabbed a duffle bag out of my closet and stuffed a couple of changes of clothes into it. Sherri hadn’t said how bad off Mom was and I didn’t know how many days I’d be living at the hospital.

  “Nothing. It’s…nothing.” There was no way I could explain to Dillon the sheer terror coursing through my body. There was no way after seeing how normal and non-dysfunctional his family was that I could possibly explain mine. It was embarrassing and he wouldn’t understand.

  I grabbed my hairbrush and a couple of pairs of underwear and tucked them into my bag. Makeup, hairspray, and my purse and I was ready to go. I’d have to take the bus or rent a car to get to Paducah. I mentally calculated the amount in my bank account. Car, definitely.

  Dillon grabbed my arm before I could dash out the door.

  “Becca. You’re scaring me. Where are you going?”

  I looked up into his face, at his brows drawn with concern, a rare frown marring his perfect mouth.

  I took a deep breath. “It’s my mom. She’s been in an accident. I have to get up to Paducah. My sister is there.”

  “Let me grab my wallet,” Dillon said, releasing me and heading for his bedroom. “I’ll come with you.”

  Sheer terror filled my voice and I trailed him into his bedroom. “No!”

  “Don’t be silly. You’re upset. I’m coming.”

  I took a deep breath. It would be too humiliating for him to see this side of me, of my family, that I’d hidden away so carefully. No one knew about the shit that went down when I was a kid. How my mother went through this same cycle over and over again. She’d hook up with some loser, thinking he was the greatest thing since Pay-Per-View. But eventually it would all come crashing down and she’d end up in the hospital with bruises or broken bones or worse.