Wild Love

by Lauren Accardo

  With great care, he slid his fingers out and looked up one last time. “You’re totally sure?”

  “More than sure,” she said, leaning forward to touch the hair at his temple. “Please, Sam. Please.”

  A nervous thrill ran through him, his lips tingling with fear. Pressure weighed squarely on his shoulders. If she didn’t enjoy it, he’d feel terrible. And that would make her feel worse in return. All he could do now was listen to her body and give her more of whatever she liked.

  He traced his tongue in the space at the crook of her thigh while pressing his broad shoulders against her legs for maximum access. His thumb rested at the base of her entrance, where her blood pulsed like crazy.

  Once she pressed her own thighs back until she was nearly in a split, he knew he was doing something right. He placed his mouth over her sex and rolled the tip of his tongue back and forth, back and forth. She squirmed underneath him, gasping, while barely perceptible yelps escaped her lips.

  “Holy shit,” she breathed. He closed his lips around her clit and sucked while sliding a single finger across her seam. She pulsed against him, and her thighs spread wider still.

  He removed his finger and placed his mouth over her sex again, returning to the gentle tongue strokes, while he reached both hands up to lightly pinch her nipples. With a few more expletives, she clutched the bedspread underneath her and began to lift her hips.

  “Oh God,” she groaned. “Oh God . . .” He dragged his hands down the front of her, hooked his forearms under her thighs, and squeezed as his tongue dragged across her from one end to the other.

  One more time, he covered her sex with his mouth, inhaling the sweet scent of her as it flooded his nostrils, and pumped out a rhythm on her clit.

  With a deep, guttural groan she shouted, “I’m coming.” Her hips pressed up against his mouth, and as he continued to stroke her with his tongue, her pussy throbbed against him with the rapid-fire release of an orgasm.

  He placed a delicate kiss on her inner thigh and sat up slowly, savoring the dramatic rise and fall of her stomach and the way her skin glowed in the soft yellow lamplight.

  “Oh. My. God.” Her head hung back as if a puppeteer had dropped a string, and Sam crawled across the mattress to lie next to her on his back. He turned his head, waiting for the review.

  “You’re not faking it, are you?” he teased.

  Her head rolled to the side, and a wide, drunken smile covered her face. “No. Hell no.” She ran a hand through her hair and held the tangled strands in a mass on top of her neck. “I think you melted my brain.”

  “That’s what I was going for.”

  As he watched her breathing, the rise and fall of her chest slowing over time to a normal rate, thoughts of Liv slipped into his mind. He’d never felt anything close to this with Liv. And yet he’d made so many sacrifices for her. Sydney hadn’t asked him for a thing.

  “What’s that look for?” she asked, trailing a fingernail across his brow.

  “Nothing,” he said. His thoughts were too much for the moment. He wanted to hunker down in this room, this space, this settled corner of the world, and enjoy her over and over again. At least until tomorrow.

  chapter twenty-one

  The clanging noise of jingle bells startled Sydney from her daydream. About time she took this stuff down. Karen struggled to cram the last of the Christmas decorations into a clear plastic storage bin as the snow swirled outside.

  “This is my least favorite day of the year,” Karen said for the fifteenth time that afternoon.

  “Most people take their Christmas decorations down on New Year’s,” Sydney said. An older man poked around the bookshelves, a befuddled stare on his face. “Sir, can I help you with anything? I’d be happy to make a recommendation.”

  “Oh, no. I, um—” His weathered face dropped in surprise. “Well, I was thinking maybe something for my wife. I don’t know. Maybe it’s too . . . salacious?”

  A grin spread over Sydney’s lips. She loved proving people wrong when it came to romance novels.

  “Not all romance is salacious.” She hopped off her stool behind the register and joined him at the shelves. “Some is faith-based, some is rated ‘PG,’ if you will. Do you know what your wife typically reads?”

  He rattled off a few titles, and Sydney plucked some suggestions from the Amish-romance section. The front door of the shop opened, and Jorie rushed in, nervous energy vibrating out of her limbs. She blinked rapidly and waved at Sydney.

  “I’ll leave you to browse a bit on your own,” Sydney said, leaving the man with a stack of suggestions. She hurried over to Jorie, a gnawing sense of dread in her gut.

  Tonight was the second meeting of the book club. If it drew a sparse crowd for the second time, she’d start to consider her next steps. With all the online promotion she’d done, business had increased slightly but not nearly enough to cover the debt.

  What they needed now was a slam-dunk promotional gem that would draw people out of the surrounding tourist areas for something they couldn’t get anywhere else in the North Country region. Sydney so badly wanted that “something” to be a warm, welcoming shop featuring a wider selection of romance novels than ten bookstores combined. But at this point, it seemed like a distant dream.

  “What’s going on?” Sydney asked.

  Jorie nearly bounced out of her winter coat, her eyes sparkling. “You’re gonna flip. Remember my cousin? The one with the weird taxidermist husband?”

  “Sure.” Sydney remembered the evening she and Jorie spent nearly an hour on Facebook giggling over photos of squirrels wearing raincoats.

  “Well,” Jorie continued. She clutched Sydney’s forearms. “Her former coworker is a romance author.”

  “No shit.”

  “Yes shit! Her name is Sophie Miller. But guess what her pen name is?”

  Sydney’s stomach retracted, afraid that her guess was a leap too far. Her gaze flickered over to the cover blowup positioned near the shop door of tonight’s book-club read: The Duke’s Deal by Rowena Willow.

  “It couldn’t be,” Sydney said, her voice barely above a whisper. But Jorie’s head was already nodding so furiously Sydney was worried it might bounce clear off her neck.

  “Rowena Willow!” Jorie shrieked. “And listen to this. When my cousin realized the connection, she called Rowena to tell her about what you’re doing here at the shop, and Rowena freaked out. She thought it was such an amazing idea. She’s coming. Tonight. To the book club.”

  A shimmering breeze fluttered over Sydney’s skin, raising layers upon layers of goose bumps in its wake.

  Rowena Willow was one of the romance genre’s most sought-after authors. Her social media following was a tidal wave of influence, and a tweet from her was worth its weight in gold. Sydney froze in place.

  “Tonight,” she whispered. “Rowena Willow. Here. Tonight.”

  “Yes, babe.” Jorie’s eyes glistened with tears. “She can’t wait.”

  The next three hours dissolved in front of Sydney’s eyes as she raced around the shop, dusting and straightening and tearing down the last of the tinsel hanging across Sam’s bookshelves.

  The pressure of tonight’s meeting weighed on her chest like a brick. What if Rowena Willow walked in and Sydney and Jorie were the only meeting attendees? What if their talking points were unintelligent drivel? What if Rowena Willow anticipated Aspen and realized upon arrival that Pine Ridge had none of the charm or beauty?

  At six forty-five, Sydney watched with horror as the snow fell in curtains outside the front window of the Loving Page. While residents of the town were used to the weather, she also knew some of the older folks liked to stay home when the roads were as bad as they were now. She feared she wouldn’t see Edith O’Hare or her sister tonight.

  She shook out the nerves in her hands and fidgeted with the platter of dec
adent cookies Jorie had delivered for the evening. Swirls of pink frosting topped each petite blond sugar cookie. Prosecco chilled in champagne buckets on top of the coffee table along with stacks of Rowena Willow’s newest title. Sydney was as ready as she’d ever be.

  “Phew, is it shitty out there,” Jorie said as she entered the shop. She hung her snow-spattered coat onto the coatrack and shivered. “I passed by Sam’s truck towing somebody out of an embankment about a mile back.”

  Sydney ran a hand across the back of her neck, pinching to ease the tension that had settled there overnight and refused to quit. “What if Rowena Willow can’t get in?”

  “Oh, she’s here!” Jorie said brightly. “I spoke with my cousin half an hour ago. She’s all settled into her B and B, and she’s planning to walk over in a few.”

  Relief flooded Sydney’s chest. The guest of honor had arrived. Now all she needed were a few attendees. She’d been tweeting and posting on Facebook and Instagram all day, hoping that at least two or three interested readers would be suddenly compelled to attend.

  “You look hot,” Jorie said, touching the sleeve of Sydney’s black silk dress.

  “Thanks,” Sydney said. “It’s not too much?”

  She’d dug deep into the recesses of her suitcase for tonight’s event and selected a ruffled black silk dress that cinched at the waist along with opaque black tights and lace-up high-heeled booties.

  “Not at all,” Jorie said, despite her own sweater and jeans combo. “You’re the emcee of tonight’s festivities. You have to look the part.”

  Sydney cracked her knuckles and tugged at the collar of her dress. She thought the holiday party and the first meeting of the book club would loosen her up a bit for tonight’s main event, but the nerves churned all the same. To top it off, today was Liv’s court date.

  Sydney had heard through the Pine Ridge rumor mill that Liv spent the week at her sister’s trying to prepare for the court date while also dealing with her relapse. Sydney knew that as soon as the court made its decision, it wouldn’t be long before the news made its way to the bookstore.

  “Oh, look!” Jorie pointed at the front window as a small huddle of women shuffled along the sidewalk and burst into the Loving Page. Edith O’Hare, her sister, and her daughter looked as if they’d been out in the storm for hours, although Sydney suspected they’d simply walked a few feet from Edith’s car.

  “Isn’t this cozy?” Edith said, her pink-lipped pout pulled tight into a grin. “Oh, Sydney, I’m so glad you didn’t cancel tonight. I’ve so been looking forward to it.”

  Tears threatened, and Sydney looked upward at the overhead lights to keep them at bay. Maybe, even if she couldn’t pull her mother out of debt, she’d still done something positive in this town.

  As Jorie helped the older ladies get settled into the reading nook, the shop door opened again, and two more Pine Ridge residents walked in.

  “She forced me to read tonight’s book,” the taller of the two women said with a roll of her eyes and a thumb at her friend. “And I, uh . . . I kind of liked it. So here I am.”

  “She loved it!” the other cooed. “She read it in two freaking days. Look at her face. When I told her Rowena Willow was coming tonight, she almost cried.”

  The first woman’s cheeks filled with an embarrassed blush, but she simply shrugged and pushed past Sydney with a dog-eared copy of The Duke’s Deal tucked firmly under her arm. Maybe it’s working. Maybe this crazy idea is actually working.

  As two more readers entered the shop and then two more, Sydney took a moment to stand back and soak in the scene in front of her. Someone plucked a lip gloss from the front counter and handed it to Karen behind the register to purchase. Edith O’Hare’s daughter snatched a T-shirt that said A Well-Read Woman Is a Dangerous Creature from the clothing rack, eyes aglow, and checked the price tag before hurrying over to pay Karen.

  “Excuse me? Are you Sydney Walsh?” A lilting female voice carried over Sydney’s shoulder, and she turned expectantly. The face from the back cover of The Duke’s Deal grinned at her from behind brightly painted red lips.

  “Rowena Willow,” Sydney said. She extended her hand, and Rowena shook it, bringing with her a fresh, floral scent that Sydney breathed in without thinking. “I can’t tell you what an honor it is to have you here. Thank you so much for making the trip from New York.”

  “The pleasure is mine,” Rowena said. Sydney knew the woman was in her fifties, but her impeccable makeup, flawlessly colored bright red hair, and tailored blazer made her look forty, at most. “When Anna told me what you ladies were up to, I had to see it for myself. I think it’s fantastic that you’re bringing romance readers together.”

  Sydney tucked her bottom lip between her teeth and breathed deep. Her nerves hummed like generators. “Please come in. Can I get you anything? We have prosecco and cookies for the meeting, but I also have water, coffee, tea . . .”

  “Prosecco and cookies!” Rowena said, clapping her hands together. “Out of my way.” She winked at Sydney and passed by on another cloud of perfume.

  A rap on the window caused her to jump. Sam stood just outside, snowflakes swirling around him and his cheeks bright with color. A grin occupied half his face.

  “Hey,” he said, slipping in the front door and keeping his voice low. “Just wanted to pop in before the meeting got started and let you know that Utz’s is packed. Hank said the keg is almost kicked already, and if you ladies want to come over after you’re done, he’ll whip up something special for you.”

  “It’s working,” she said, all the emotion from the past three months stuck in the base of her throat. Tears threatened again. “I don’t know what changed, but it’s working.”

  “You did it,” he said. The pull between them was magnetic, but Sydney hung back.

  “What happened today?” She couldn’t avoid the question any longer. “With Liv? Did you hear anything?”

  A dark cloud passed over his face, and his chin dropped to his chest. When he looked up again, he pressed his lips together. “Yeah, her sister called me about an hour ago. They denied her shared custody. I guess they’re going to appeal, but it doesn’t look good.”

  The air whooshed out of Sydney’s lungs on one gust. After everything that had happened, she still couldn’t feel good about this. “Wow. That sort of breaks my heart.”

  “Yeah. Between the social worker’s visit last week, and Kevin testifying that he thought she was drinking again, she didn’t have a shot. So Jay’s gonna be with Kevin and his parents in Akron for now. Probably for the best.” His jaw worked back and forth, and he forced a tight smile. “But, um, I’ll tell you about it later.”

  “Sydney!” Karen’s voice called over the low din of voices.

  Sam’s grin widened. “Go. Have fun. I’ll talk to you after.”

  He touched her elbow, and searing heat traveled through the thin fabric to her skin. Maybe they’d finally be able to touch in public. The possibilities made her dizzy.

  He raised his eyebrows, and with one more tug of his lips, walked out.

  * * *

  • • •

  Come on, come on. Sydney and me. Is here good? This is cute, right? In front of the historical romance section?” Rowena Willow placed a hand on her hip and posed as if she’d been doing it all her life. Sydney dropped her chin in a vague attempt at looking as confident as Rowena.

  “Beautiful!” Karen snapped the photo and handed Rowena back her phone.

  “Smart move with the stamp inside the books,” Rowena said.

  Sydney had stamped each purchased romance novel with the store’s social media handles, encouraging readers to post when they were finished reading. Rowena tapped at her phone, using the stamp as a guide.

  “So,” Rowena said, a bright smile on her face. “I hear there’s an after-party.”

  Edith O’Hare hooke
d Rowena’s elbow, promising to lead her across to Utz’s herself, and Sydney surveyed the room. All sixteen of the book club’s attendees milled around the shop, purchasing additional books and buzzing about the next meeting’s title, Broken.

  “Maybe the author of this one will show up, too!” someone behind Sydney trilled.

  She grinned. At this point, anything seemed possible.

  “We’ll clean up later, right?” Sydney asked her mother as Karen finished ringing up the last of the evening’s sales. The last shred of cynicism had officially vanished from Karen’s demeanor. Tonight, even she’d been won over.

  “Heck yes,” Karen said. “Tonight, we celebrate. If we keep having nights like this, we’ll be all right, Suds. I can hardly believe it.”

  Sydney, buoyed by the positive outcome of the evening, followed the stream of people from the Loving Page across the street to Utz’s, and when she entered, the crush of people pushed her back. The place was busier than she’d ever seen it. Hank’s wife joined him behind the bar to help with that night’s onslaught of patrons, and on the specials board, Sydney’s keg was crossed out. Warmth rolled over her.

  “Hey.” A strong, calloused hand grasped hers from behind.

  Sam drew her in, no doubt using the crowd as an excuse to be close. His body heat radiated outward, warming her extremities and begging her to be closer.

  Since their first tryst in the lean-to, they’d kept their relationship quiet. No matter how the town or Sam felt about Liv, he’d wanted to remain respectful until everything came out in the custody hearing. But even now, she didn’t know how far to go.

  “Congratulations,” he said, lowering his dark eyebrows. She licked her lips, wishing they were his.

  “Thanks.” The word disappeared in the mess of voices. She breathed in as he breathed out, catching the scent of him on her tongue. “We’re still probably not allowed to kiss, huh?”