The Rebel Daughter (Daughters Of The Roaring Twenties Book 2)

by Lauri Robinson

  “I’ve been rich,” she whispered. “I am rich. But it’s nothing compared to how much I love you.”

  “I love you, too, Twyla Nightingale. The best hostess in the country. This town isn’t going to know what has hit it on the Fourth of July.”

  She giggled. “I hope so.”

  He kissed her nose. “And I hope you say yes, that you’ll marry me.”

  She squealed and leaped forward, pushing him onto his back. Wiggling until her body rested perfectly atop his, she asked, “You mean it, Forrest? You really, truly want to marry me?”

  He framed her cheek with a hand and relished the way her breath merged with his as he whispered, “Yes, I mean it. You are, and forever will be, exactly what I want. If you marry me, I promise to never go anywhere again without telling you or taking you with me.”

  Her smile was so bold, so beautiful, its glow spread across her entire face. “Oh, Forrest,” she whispered. “You make me so happy. It’s like my heart is so full it’s singing. I love you so very, very much.”

  “So,” he said, running a hand down her back to press her hips deeper against him. “Will you marry me or not?”

  “Of course I’ll marry you.”

  Their kiss started with a few slow gentle pecks, which quickly escalated into a passionate exchange that should have scalded them both. When it ended, knowing he couldn’t wait much longer, he asked, “On the Fourth of July?”

  Unexpectedly, she crawled off him and jumped to her feet. “I’d marry you right now if there was a preacher handy.” She grabbed his hands to tug him upright. “But since there’s not, get up.”

  To say he was disappointed was putting it mildly. Lying on the hot sand with her, married or not, had instantly become a favorite pastime. Forrest stood and shook the sand off his pants and shirt, trying to also shake away a small portion of the desire still blazing through his veins. He could wait. It might kill him. But he could wait.

  “Grab the picnic basket and follow me,” she said.

  The flame in his blood flared again, so strong his breath caught. “To where?”

  “The other side of the island,” she said even more saucily than usual. “Where there are no houses and no balconies where someone is standing with a pair of binoculars.”

  He laughed. “Josie?”

  “That would be my guess.”

  “She packed the picnic basket.”

  The twinkle in her eyes said she knew something he didn’t.

  “That’s what I hoped,” she said, giggling.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Twyla wasn’t blindsided by love. That would have been impossible. She’d been in love with Forrest forever. However, the freedom of being able to admit her love was spectacular. And knowing wholly, inside out, that he loved her in return was the best thing of all. Who said a girl couldn’t have her cake and eat it, too?

  They ran hand in hand to the other side of the island. Past the spot Forrest had carried her ashore several days ago to where a large cluster of boulders made a tiny, enchantingly private alcove. He set down the basket, and she wound her arms around his neck, kissing him freely, openly, and laughing to the heavens above when it ended. The happiness inside her was so great, so phenomenal.

  She was full again. No emptiness, no longing.

  Trailing kisses down his neck, she started unbuttoning his shirt. “Let’s go for a swim.”

  “A swim? You just swam across the lake.”

  His hands roamed up and down her back, creating a swirling and wondrous storm inside her. An energy she only felt when he touched her formed, and she wanted to experience it all the way to a thunderous end. “Not just swimming,” she whispered against his neck. “Skinny-dipping.”

  “Skinny-dipping?”

  She stepped back to pull his shirt out of the waistband of his pants. “Yes. You have heard of skinny-dipping, haven’t you?”

  “I’ve heard of it, all right,” he said, grabbing the hem of her dress.

  Twyla lifted her arms, aiding in the swiftness of the green material’s departure from her body. As Forrest dropped the dress, she pushed his shirt off his shoulders, running her hands over his fascinating bare skin. She kissed the center of his chest, where a cluster of hair tickled her nose.

  Laughing, and more delighted than a robin in spring, she stepped back. “Last one in’s a rotten egg!” Swiftly, she pulled off her camisole, stepped out of her tap pants and ran toward the water.

  “Hey, hold up!” he shouted. “I have on more clothes than you.”

  A glance over her shoulder showed him struggling with his britches, and she laughed, loving how the sound echoed over the water. She ran until the water was deep enough and then arched her arms over her head to dive in.

  The water here was crystal clear. The sandy bottom whizzed past and sunfish darted out of her way as Twyla glided forward, arms at her sides and paddling her feet leisurely. She didn’t see him, but sensed Forrest’s arrival and held out one hand, which he clasped. Together, as one, they swam forward a measurable distance before a silent, mutual consent made them surface at the same time.

  He kissed her, and Twyla knew she’d never tire of it. She wrapped her arms around him, and then her legs. The awareness of his flesh merging with hers caused such pleasure, a gravelly moan rumbled inside her throat. They sank beneath the water, and the lack of air finally forced them to separate in order to swim back up to the surface.

  Forrest grabbed her waist and gave her a playful shove back toward the beach. She swam a few strokes, and then went under. After a few strokes, she flipped around to swim behind him, where she jumped on his back.

  They sank again, and came up kissing and laughing. They dunked each other, kissed and frolicked in the water until they were almost back to shore. Forrest was ahead of her and dropped his legs to stand in the water that was chest-high. Twyla swam right into his arms, and, knowing they wouldn’t sink this time, she once again wrapped her legs and arms around him.

  “I haven’t gone swimming in years,” she said. He held her with both arms, so she used her hands to wipe the water off her face and comb back her hair, and then his.

  “Why not? You live on the lake.”

  “Because you weren’t here,” she said. “Nothing was fun without you.”

  It seemed so natural, and so easy, for her to rub the tips of her breasts against his chest. The connection caused the muscles down low in her body to flex and quiver, and a hungry need inside her tripled.

  Forrest lifted her higher, until her thighs were around his waist, her center flush against his stomach, and her breasts no longer beneath the water. He kissed her shoulder first, then her collarbone.

  A craving, as unique and wild as she’d ever known, had her leaning back just enough so that her nipple brushed his chin. The simple contact was so spectacular tiny shivers of delight spread over her.

  He kissed her nipple and licked it, leaving Twyla too enthralled to speak—or think. But she was anxious, so very anxious, for more. And Forrest provided more, just as she’d known he would.

  Twirling his tongue around her nipple, he closed his mouth and sucked. The pleasure was so grand, if he hadn’t been holding her she’d have sunk beneath the water and probably drowned. For she certainly wouldn’t have wanted him to stop. Not even in order to breathe.

  “Goodness, Forrest,” she said, almost whimpering. “Whatever you do, don’t stop.” She dug her hands into his hair, holding him where he was as her leg muscles tightened around him and her center throbbed.

  Forrest released that nipple, but only because he turned slightly to lick the other one. “But I don’t want this one to get jealous,” he said.

  “You’re right,” she said, arching against his mouth. “You must be fair.”

  He provided the same pleasure to that nipple, a
nd the other one again, and that one again in turn, until Twyla was in such a state of frenzy she lost track of whose turn it was. She was burning with an agonizing yet pleasurable tension she couldn’t describe.

  “Forrest. Forrest.” She grabbed his head and pulled his lips away, not sure she could take much more. Her toes were curling and little, very distinct jolts sped through her, making her arch against him. “I—I—” She had no idea what she wanted to say. It was all too splendid.

  Forrest kissed her, over and over, and when he started to lay her down, she panicked for a brief moment, believing they were still in the water.

  They weren’t. Her fingers found warm sand, as did her back. She spread her arms out at her sides and dropped the back of her head into the sand. Those crazy, wonderful little jolts were still making her squeeze her thigh muscles.

  Forrest unhooked her legs from his waist one by one, and lowered them onto the sand. Water washed over her feet and ankles. As it dawned on her that her eyes were closed, Twyla opened them and smiled as Forrest leaned over her. She wrapped her arms around his neck and luxuriated in a long kiss.

  When he broke away, he whispered, “I’ll be right back.”

  “No,” she whimpered, but he was gone.

  However, true to his word, he was back a moment later.

  She held up her arms to wrap around his neck again, but as she tried to pull him down, he lifted her off the ground by sliding both arms beneath her.

  “Where are we going?” she asked, when he stepped into the water.

  “I’m just going to rinse the sand off you,” he said. “I laid out the blanket from the basket.”

  Holding her in his arms, he glided into the water and swam a small circle. Then he stood and carried her onto the beach. The little jolts had lessened, and were no longer stealing all of her attention, so this time when Forrest laid her down, she was able to fully appreciate the view. Him, in all his naked glory.

  Unabashed and unashamed, she let her gaze roam over him, knowing he was doing the same to her. In silent communication, their eyes met and their smiles grew.

  “You are so beautiful,” he said, his voice a bit raspy as he lay down beside her.

  Knowing he’d never find fault in her, she admitted, “My boobs aren’t very big.”

  Propped on one elbow, he chuckled and cupped one breast with his free hand. His hand and thumb had almost the same effect on her as his mouth had.

  “I think they’re perfect.” He kissed one peak, and then the other. “More than a mouthful is a waste.”

  Twyla had no response because he’d started to taste one nipple, and all those sensuous and wonderful sensations he’d created had leaped to life all over again. She grappled for some sort of control, but it was useless, and suddenly, for the first time that she could ever remember, she realized she didn’t want to control anything.

  Forrest stroked the length of her side and her stomach, which sent those fiery little jolts into such chaos she released a pleasure-filled moan and arched her hips. His hand slid lower, igniting turmoil inside her like she’d never have believed.

  Twyla gave herself complete freedom to experience each nuance of the pleasure Forrest brought forth. Legs spread, arms stretched at her sides, she encouraged him to caress and kiss her at will.

  Her eyes were closed, soaking up the sweet agony of those toe-curling jolts, when the heat of his breath blew across the juncture of her thighs. She opened her eyes, let her smile assure him of her consent and lifted her hips off the blanket.

  The first brush of his tongue sent a zip of sweetness clear to her toes. She’d had no idea this was part of lovemaking, but trusted Forrest completely. She bent her knees, giving him more room, but then she lost all train of thought.

  Forrest took her to uncharted regions, licking her, kissing her, until she hooked her legs around his shoulders and arched her back as a cry of pure gratification left her throat.

  The jolts were huge now, swirling and growing bigger, and multiplying by the thousands. Her breath was uneven, her heart racing, and the strain inside her was massive. She was sure she couldn’t take any more, but Forrest continued. He was a flyboy, and it was as if she was his plane, soaring higher and higher until there was nowhere else to go.

  Then it happened, an inner explosion that released all the pressure within. It was as if she floated there for a moment, on some majestic cloud that cradled her in its softness as it slowly started to descend.

  Just like his airplane, she returned to earth as smoothly as she’d left, and there was nothing to compare to the satisfaction swimming in her veins.

  Too weak to lift an arm, she sighed heavily. “Forrest, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you lit a firecracker inside me.”

  He didn’t answer right away, and she opened her eyes, wondering why. Another bout of excitement shot through her as she watched him roll on a rubber.

  A second later, he poised himself over her. “That firecracker is you.”

  “Well, come on, flyboy,” she said, hooking her heels to the backs of his knees. “I’m ready to take off again.”

  His entrance was a single long stroke that stole her breath. Not because of the tiny snap of pain; that was nothing compared to the long, gratifying rapture of being completely connected to him. Mind, body and soul.

  Knowing what to expect this time, Twyla participated for all she was worth. Every thrust Forrest gave, she welcomed, and lifted her hips to prepare for the next one. This flight was more fulfilling than her first one, more rewarding knowing that Forrest was enjoying it just as much as she, and when she found herself skyward, she rejoiced by shouting his name.

  His body was rock-hard, driving into her with stamina and precision, and she cherished every second of climbing higher and higher with him. Together they flew past all their dreams and fantasies.

  Twyla was at the point she could go no further, but wanted him at her side, and asked, “Now, Forrest?”

  “Now, Twyla,” he growled in response.

  Their joint completion left her speechless, and satisfied, and happy, and, most of all, full. There was no emptiness inside her heart now, and she knew there never would be again.

  With the sun shining upon them, they lay there for some time, doing nothing more than holding hands and watching the clouds roll by. Forrest then pulled the picnic basket closer and they fed each other strawberries and bits of cheese. Afterward they took another swim to rinse away the sand and put their clothes back on.

  Twyla couldn’t imagine a more perfect afternoon.

  While Forrest shook out the blanket and folded it, Twyla dug to the bottom of the picnic basket. “What are you looking for?” he asked.

  “I want to make sure there aren’t any more rubbers in here,” she explained. “I wouldn’t want the kitchen staff to find them.”

  “There was only one,” he said.

  “Leave it to Josie to only give us one,” she said, brushing the sand from her knees.

  Forrest put the blanket in the basket and closed the lid. “Let me preface by saying I was happy to see it, because I hadn’t thought that far ahead when I left town, but does your father know Josie has rubbers?”

  Twyla grinned at the way his cheeks turned faintly pink. “Of course he doesn’t. She keeps them hidden in her closet.” Stepping closer, she kissed him. “Cases of them.”

  He grabbed her shoulders. “Cases?”

  Twyla nodded. “I’ll get a supply from her.”

  His eyes widened, and then he closed them for a minute, as if to catch a thought. “Why would Josie have cases of rubbers in her closet?”

  “From her Ladies Aid Society.”

  “Her what?” He looked shocked. “Those little old ladies bowling today? The ones I had to ask to move their cars so that I could leave?”

  Tw
yla hooked her arm with his and gestured for him to pick up the basket. Once they started walking, she said, “I don’t know all the ins and outs of it, but I know that group does more than grow flowers, watch birds and throw birthday parties for eighty-year-olds.”

  “Like what?”

  “I don’t know. Josie never talks about it.”

  “Do they have anything to do with her arrest?”

  “I believe so,” Twyla said. “But Josie said she can’t talk about it, and she won’t. She’s always been the quiet one. I think that’s why the group let her in. She is the youngest member by ten or more years. Maybe twenty. Gloria recommended she join.”

  “Gloria Kasper, the doctor?”

  “Yes. That’s where the rubbers come from.” Growing tired of the conversation, Twyla hugged his arm. “Have you ever flown over fireworks before?”

  “Not directly over them,” he answered. “That would be dangerous. But close enough. It’s an amazing sight.”

  “I can’t wait.” A dreamy sigh escaped her as she leaned her head against his shoulder. “It’s going to be fabulous.”

  “Is that enough time for you to plan a wedding?” he asked. “If not—”

  “Don’t think you’re getting out of this one, Forrest Reynolds,” she said sternly. “You said the Fourth of July and I’m not letting you change your mind.”

  He swung her around in front of him. “I’m not changing my mind. But I know you. You’ll want a new dress and shoes.”

  “Yes, I will,” she agreed. “I’ll buy them tomorrow. The only other thing we’ll have to do is call the preacher. We can do that today. Nothing else matters.”

  “Except for the fact I haven’t asked your father’s permission.”

  She stretched on her toes to plant a brief kiss on Forrest’s lips. “He’ll say yes. He likes you. He always has.” A flutter happened in her belly, and she bit down on her bottom lip.

  “What?” Forrest asked, frowning.

  “What about your mother?”