by Lacey Baker
Boy, could she, Heaven thought with a sigh. She turned back to face the water, letting her head rest against his chest. She’d folded her arms so that they were atop his at her midsection, and together they stood there for silent moments.
“I think I’m growing attached to this little town,” she admitted.
“It’s a nice little town to grow attached to, if that’s what you’re looking for.”
And that was a very noncommittal response that only surprised her minutely. Preston didn’t seem like he really wanted to be in Sweetland—and yet he hadn’t left to go back to the city, either.
“I don’t really know what I’m looking for.”
“Are you running from something?”
She shook her head immediately. “Running never solves anything,” was her quick reply, even though she was positive she’d done something akin to running all her life by refusing to stand up to her parents and submerging herself in work instead of going after the things she really wanted in life. Things that had been on her mind a lot in the weeks she’d been in Sweetland.
“You’re right about that, but sometimes you need the escape.”
“Escape can be dangerous. It’s healthier to stay in the here and now.”
“You sound like a shrink,” he said with a chuckle.
She gave a wry laugh in return. “I’ve spent enough time with one.” Heaven knew that admission was a mistake the moment it slipped from her mouth.
Behind her Preston tensed, but he didn’t let her go.
“One’s mental health is very important. If therapy is needed, it should be utilized.”
“Are you giving me permission to be crazy?” It was meant to lighten the suddenly somber mood. Heaven decided to turn in his arms, lacing her arms around his neck.
He looked down at her, his brow furrowed. “I’m giving you permission to let yourself go, to be who and what you want to be honestly and freely.”
Preston made that statement so seriously, she could almost visualize him in a courtroom leaning over a witness and telling her the same thing—he’d never use this tone with a male witness, she was sure.
The funny thing was, he couldn’t possibly know how truly liberating those words were for her.
“You’re giving me permission?” she asked with a smile, then pressed her body closer to his.
He nodded. “Let go and be who you want to be.”
“You sure that’s what you want?”
For a moment she thought he would say something like Why not? Do you want to be a mass murderer or something? Instead he stroked his hands up and down her back until they rested just above the curve of her bottom.
“There’s only one thing I’m sure about right at this very moment,” he whispered.
“I would ask what that one thing was, but it might jeopardize my taking your advice.” She came up on tiptoe then, until her face was just inches away from his. “I want to let go, Preston. I want to totally let go with you.”
Chapter 15
Preston had tried.
He really had.
Just ask the floor to his room where he’d paced back and forth for hours because he couldn’t sleep. All night long he’d wanted to go to her, to slip beneath the covers and simply hold her. Hell, he’d even wished Coco was in his room; at least then the puppy would have kept him company in the wee hours of the night.
But Coco now resided with Heaven, upstairs in the Sunshine Room. Heaven walked Coco and fed Coco and played with Coco while Preston spent his time trying not to think of either of them. It was a battle he felt like he was losing.
He’d known she would be at the parade, had known he’d have to be near her all day long but keep his hands to himself. And after a quick run and a cool shower, he’d thought he could handle that.
Then he saw her.
And everything, even the sun, had paled in comparison. It was at that point Preston wondered if he should panic, if the casual attraction he thought he had to Heaven was turning into something a little more dangerous. He kept himself occupied with the politicians of Sweetland—town council members, the mayor and her family, and of course the Redling brothers, who were beginning their promotional efforts for their resort. Preston was a firm believer in keeping your enemies close, even the suit-and-tie, dangerously polite ones.
Still, he hadn’t been able to keep his mind off her for more than a few minutes at a time. Eventually his don’t-think-about-her mode shifted into gotta-get-close-to-her, and he’d hurried dinner with his family.
Now she was looking up at him, her pert lips parted slightly, eyes dim in the evening but still etched with passion. Her body was so soft and fit against his so perfectly. It was no wonder he grew hard instantly, no question that he would lower his head and touch his lips to hers.
Preston loved kissing Heaven. She was always so compliant, as if she’d been waiting just as long as he had for this moment. And when their tongues collided it was like a reunion, a sweet, intoxicating reunion that left him feeling aroused, a little bit weak, and a lot protective. The protection part came because he knew there was something she was holding back from him. He hoped that whatever Parker could find out from his cop friend would fill in all the gaps. But somehow Preston wasn’t so sure. And he wanted to be sure, desperately. He wanted to know that Heaven was going to be all right when he returned to Baltimore. When she returned to Boston, or rather if she returned to Boston. He couldn’t help but assume that since he didn’t have all the facts.
For now, however, he was just content to feel her softness pressed willingly against him. She tasted sweet, like the homemade raspberry sorbet they’d had for dessert.
When she sighed into the kiss and let her fingers grip the back of his head, a wave of lust struck him so powerfully he almost couldn’t breathe. His hands tightened at her waist, then of their own accord moved down to grasp her buttocks. She moaned, tilting her head so that he could deepen the kiss. His chest tingled where her breasts were pressed against him, his erection hard and desperate to be inside her.
But they were outside, exposed to any of his siblings who might wander out back. Or more likely Mr. Sylvester, who loved to sit out here on the old bench because that’s what he and Gramma used to do on nice evenings like this.
Reluctantly Preston broke the kiss, but he couldn’t pull completely away. Instead he rested his forehead on hers while they both struggled to catch their breath.
“This is unexpected,” she whispered.
He pulled back to look at her, an act he knew would only heighten his desire.
“I agree.”
“I don’t really know what to do about it.”
It was an admission he’d already made to himself.
“Right now I’d say we should take it inside. We don’t need an audience.” With that said, Preston reluctantly released his hold on her, but took her hand to keep the connection.
She threaded her fingers through his agreeably, and they walked toward the house.
“I’ve always wondered what it would be like to have siblings,” she began when they were almost to the back steps.
“Crowded,” was his light reply. “Especially if one is a twin.”
“You two look almost exactly alike,” she told him. “but you act so different.”
“That’s a good thing for you, believe me.”
Preston let her take the steps ahead of him, but kept his hand in hers. She reached out and opened the screen door, then the back door as if she’d been here much longer than two weeks. And when she moved through the house, it was with the ease of a resident and not a guest. He wondered how he felt about that.
“Are you saying Parker and I wouldn’t be a nice fit?” she asked when they were heading past the powder room and entering the front foyer.
“I’m saying you’re getting the better twin,” he told her, refusing to even think of his brother with Heaven.
Preston and Parker had never fought over the same female; their tastes in tha
t department were drastically different. Where Preston looked for the more intellectual and attractive females, Parker was driven completely by his hormones and followed wherever they led him regularly. The one thing they did share—aside from their obvious love for the opposite sex—was their aversion to commitment. Long-term entanglements were completely off-limits for both of them, and that was an undeniable fact, ask any of the females they’d ever been involved with.
“That sounds pretty conceited.” She continued the conversation when they’d arrived at her room and she’d let them inside.
Closing the door behind him felt familiar in a good way, and when she headed directly to the bed, slipping off her sandals, a scene flashed across Preston’s mind.
It was after a long day at the office for him, at work for her. Dinner had been meat loaf and mashed potatoes—Preston’s favorite—from the restaurant, and now they were ready to settle in for the night. She would undress and slip into her nightgown, then go into the bathroom to do whatever it was women did before getting into bed. He would take off his clothes and put his cell phone on its charger on the table beside the bed. He slept on the left side and she the right, they’d agreed on that early on. Then they would lie in bed and talk about the events of the day, the plans for tomorrow. In the morning they would awake and start all over again. It was comfortable, fulfilling, stable.
And scary as hell.
“Preston?”
He jolted as if someone had shaken him awake from a dream. Clearing his throat to cover his unexplainable actions, Preston started to walk across the room.
“I don’t want to talk about my brother anymore,” he said, then placed his hands at her waist, pulling her up close to him.
“Okay.” She looked momentarily confused.
“I don’t want to talk at all.” His words were rough, and so was the way he pulled her closer so that he could grind his burgeoning erection into her center.
She flattened her hands over his chest and looked up at him. “We don’t have to talk anymore,” she whispered.
“Good.”
He kissed her then, dragging his lips over hers and thrusting his tongue inside to conquer. She sighed and leaned into him, and his mind was filled with her. The way she felt, sounded, tasted—everything about Heaven here and now was absorbed in that kiss.
She pulled at the hem of his shirt, pushing it up his chest until he tore his mouth from hers long enough for her to yank it over his head. The dress that had been taunting him all day long came off in a quick motion that he barely registered. All Preston knew was that he wanted her naked. Now!
His wish came true in a matter of minutes as they both tore at each other’s clothes urgently. Cupping her face in his hands he kissed her again, loving the feel of her hands lacing around his waist, palms flattening on his buttocks as she pulled him closer.
He wasn’t sure which one of them gave the safe-sex reminder, but he moved like time was of the essence to grab a foil packet from his wallet only to fumble trying to open it.
“Let me,” she said with a nervous chuckle, taking the packet from his hands.
Any other time Preston might have argued but now he sensed it would only waste valuable moments. Moments he certainly did not want to lose as he wanted desperately to be inside her.
His entire body tightened as she gripped his length with one hand, then slid the latex over him with the other. A few quick gulps, and a second of entertaining thoughts of a baseball field with three men on base, and him up to bat, held his release at bay. The moment he was covered he grasped Heaven at the waist and lifted her off the floor. With her arms snaking around his neck, she instantly wrapped her legs around his waist. It was that little move that may have been the beginning of Preston’s end.
He didn’t hesitate but pulled back just enough so that his erection was perfectly positioned and thrust inside her waiting moistness with a fervor that had both of them crying out.
And that’s how it proceeded. Fast and furious, a give-and-take, tit-for-tat, do-or-die type of lovemaking that both of them seemed to thoroughly enjoy.
When they finally fell onto the bed, it had been Preston’s intention to rise above Heaven and enter her once more, taking them to the glorious release they so desired.
“I want you this way,” she told him in a husky tone as she pushed him flat on his back.
“Your wish is my command,” he told her after only a moment’s dazed hesitation.
She straddled him, raised her hips, and guided his length deep inside her. Then she moved and he moved; she set the rhythm and he matched it. She let her head fall back as she moaned his name. His fingers clenched at her waist as he cried out hers. Through half-closed eyes Preston stared up at her, saw the generous swells of breasts moving with their gyrations, glimpsed the lovely curve of her torso as it stretched to the flaring of her hips. The line of her neck seemed softer as her head lolled to one side, hair cascading in dark contrast to the honey tone of her skin. When she cried out once more and stiffened atop him, Preston held her steady, waiting a beat to shift her so that she lay on her side. He kept them both in that position, his length still hard and deep inside her, and began to stroke.
Heaven lifted her leg to drape over his thighs, and he continued to thrust in and out of her, their breaths coming in quick pants, pleasure escalating.
And then there was nothing else. There was no bottom to hold him, no firmness to ground him as Preston slipped over the edge of desire into the gentle abyss of pleasure. He felt like he was falling and couldn’t grasp onto anything to break that fall. As his body tensed, his release seeping quickly from him, Heaven wrapped her arms around him once more, holding him tightly against her.
She cocooned him—that’s the only way Preston could describe it. Her inner walls had clenched so tightly around him he couldn’t retreat even if he wanted to. And her arms held him with a certain totality he didn’t know if he could explain. It was as if she didn’t want to let go. And when his arms wrapped around her, it seemed to seal some type of unspoken deal, like maybe he wouldn’t let her go, either.
* * *
The next day was the Summer Bake-Off. As reported by Michelle, the Summer Bake-Off was the second of Sweetland’s annual baking competitions. This one was always held during the Bay Day celebrations, while the Winter Bake-Off was held Thanksgiving weekend. Of course Michelle was entered into the competition that she’d claimed honors at for the last three years. This year she’d vowed to use only recipes handed down to her from Mary Janet Cantrell, without any deviations, and if she won it would be in honor of her grandmother’s memory.
Heaven had been touched by that declaration, and so it was no wonder she’d awakened just before dawn, showered, and headed down to the kitchen to help. What was a wonder, however, was that she’d left a sleeping Preston in her bed.
He’d held her all night long. In fact—she was going to admit it, even though it sounded funny to her own ears—Preston hadn’t stopped touching her all night. Whether it was the soft intimate caresses that preceded sex so intense she’d almost shed a tear at one point, or to hold her close to him as they slept, the first moment she’d been without contact with him had been when she crept out of the bed.
Gazing down on him, she noted how even in sleep he looked intense, like something was running rampant through his mind that probably kept him from dreaming. Preston Cantrell did not strike her as a man who dreamed. He planned, yes; she had a sense that he’d planned his departure from Sweetland and his entire career before he’d actually graduated from high school. And to date he’d stuck to that plan perfectly. So there was no room for dreams.
That was a dismal thought, and she’d tried to push it from her mind as she’d dressed. But before leaving the room she’d been drawn to him once more. With a feather-light touch her fingers traced the strong outline of his jaw up to the lobe of his ear, and then stroked the softness of his hair. He lay on his back, one arm resting on the pillow atop his head, the
other hidden beneath the sheet that lay precariously at his waist. His chest was bare and magnificent, clean-shaven and magnificent. Had she already said that?
A gentle tugging began in her center, and she backed away quickly before that gentle nudge shifted to an immediate urge that she would have no choice but to act on. As she closed the door behind her, Heaven smiled to herself, wondering exactly when she’d become insatiable. Probably the moment she walked into The Silver Spoon.
Heaven had gotten into the habit of not traveling every step with her cell phone on her hip. It had happened right after her mother’s first call insisting that she return to Boston to have dinner with Geoffrey. She’d looked at it every day, answering messages from the agency that wanted to confirm everything was going okay with Coco after the adoption had been finalized. Her therapist had called for an update and she’d returned her call. Other than that, Heaven had no contact with her world in Boston, which seemed strange. For years she’d been dedicated to her job; she’d hardly been able to think of anything but her work and the progress she’d been making toward finding a cure or at least a substantive treatment for Alzheimer’s. Until she’d arrived in Sweetland.
Now none of that seemed as important.
Sure, she was still interested in helping people through her work. Her research had been groundbreaking, with several universities asking her to lecture on the subject. She’d even published a paper outlining some of the steps she’d taken to finding what they thought might be a viable serum. She’d been flattered by the offers and had actually entertained the idea of lecturing on a freelance basis. But her parents had connections to Larengetics; they knew the founders of the company and had already promised Heaven and her research to them. She’d gone along because earning a six-figure salary at the age of twenty-five didn’t happen to people like her. She wasn’t an actress or singer or superstar of any type, and doing something illegal had never crossed her mind. Accepting the job at Larengetics was a given.
And she hadn’t heard from anyone there since the explosion.
