by Leaona Luxx
COPYRIGHT LEAONA LUXX 2016 CHERRY GROVE
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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, establishments, or organizations, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously to give a sense of authenticity. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. Cherry Grove is intended for 18+ older, and for mature audiences only.
Leaona Luxx
Cover Design by Cover Luxe Design
Editing and Interior Design by Masque of the Red Pen
DEDICATION
Dad, you believed in me. You loved me when I couldn’t love myself.
The hole in my heart will not heal until I see you again.
CHAPTER ONE
Lea
Who would have thought a woman my age would have to start over? Wondering what the future holds is driving me crazy. I have taken care of every aspect of this move I could think of or consider. Still, the thoughts of moving didn't sit well with me.
Most people would look at it as a new adventure, but I don't want one. I want my life back. I want to be me again. Not that my life was all roses, but I knew who I was and nobody or nothing knocked me off kilter.
Pulling away from my home, I find myself looking back in the rearview mirror until it fades in the distance. It’s done.
As the hours pass and the road stretches before me, the landscape changes. Morphing from my comfort of the majestic mountains that once held me as if I was captured in loving arms, fading into flat land, barren of hiding places. Driving past large green signs, one after the other, blurring as I think of what I've lost and how I must start again.
How many times in life have we wished to start again? Here I am, not just with the opportunity, but faced with the fact; I have no choice in the matter. How does one start again? At this point in life, how do I just stop being me?
All I've known, all I’ve been my whole life is now gone. So, to those of us who have no idea, let’s learn together. Against my will, I have no other choice but to start a new life. The comfort of the known was what grounded me, rooted me. Lost in the thoughts that tangle me in life’s web, I continue on this road into the unknown. Slowly coming out of my haze of self-loathing and doubt, things begin to look familiar.
Pulling myself out of automatic, I take the twists and turns to the small house hidden just off the main road, nestled in a cove off the east coast shoreline. If you have to start over, why not start at the beach? Yeah, that’s a smirk on my face.
The only thing I've ever wanted more was a cabin, tucked into the cozy mountains by a lake but alas, no mountains, no comfort zone. Rip that band-aid off, pull up those bootstraps, and get this done. If nothing else, I’m a strong woman—or dumb and numb. I'm just waiting to see which it is.
Sitting there, I slowly look around and try to get my breathing under control as I think to myself, “You have to do this. You've been through too much to just quit.”
I grab my purse and water bottle stepping out to take the first leap in my new life. Why did I come all the way down here? What is so different that it will be any better? Sinking my teeth into my bottom lip, I release it with a sigh.
This is it. My new start. Will I be any better off? I can’t help but wonder what I’ve gotten myself into. But before I can settle on one thing, I have to ask myself again, “How the hell did I even get here?”
After taking stock of my home, I walk over to my car and start pulling everything out. I knew the movers would not arrive until tomorrow, so I brought what I needed for the night. However, the utilities were turned on, and I’ll be thankful later when I sink into a hot bath. For now, though, I have to sort out the contents of my SUV.
A simple, small A-frame house surrounded by pine trees with a few palms scattered around. The southern tip of North Carolina shoreline has always been a favorite of mine, nestled in a small community just feet away from South Carolina. Just down home enough to be small town, and fifteen minutes south sits a frenzied epicenter of all that is sand, shore, and vacation.
I enter my new three-bedroom home and make mental notes as to what needs to be done internally. I unload what I packed, taking out that inflatable mattress. Sleeping has become a thing of the past after the last two years. Besides, everyone has told me as you get older, it all goes downhill.
I just haven’t gotten to the top of said hill quite yet. No sleep, can’t see, things sag… well not actually. The one thing I have managed to do for myself is shed some pounds and tone up. Working out became an escape, something I dreaded in the beginning and now was happy to have started.
After cleaning, sorting, and then preparing my bed for the night, I step out into the sunroom to take in the sparse landscape; this would have to change. Trees line the perimeter. The best thing about this property, besides being mine, is the small hidden path at the back corner leading down to the beach.
The days go by quickly, and I find myself still living from boxes. I had no need to get comfortable with either living in this house or my skin. I have never been, so why start now? I know who I am. I own it, but I’ve never been me. I’m okay with my demons and who I am because of them. Moving here should’ve given me a clean slate, a fresh start. I didn’t tell anyone where I was going. I kept that close to the vest, except for the few people I could trust.
Trust? There’s a concept that will never be mine completely. Women like me learn quickly, trust is usually misplaced and never given freely. No matter, there is no one to place it in anyway. I moved here for specific reasons, and any other relationships that require trust are not on the agenda or in my future.
Busying myself so the days go hurriedly, the nights’ crawl. I never feel more alone than when night falls.
Gloom consumes me, allowing the memories to drag me under the current of who I am. How do I go on? Where do I start? I’m always asking the same questions, yet never have an answer.
Most importantly, it keeps me rooted to this spot, not moving, not growing. Those who were unlucky enough to be close, though being caught in this quagmire I continued in, are my choice. I knew I possess no other alternative, and they hadn’t a clue. If at all possible, they never would.
I’m good at keeping secrets. I have to be. Secrets tend to creep up on a person. I guard mine closely.
The sounds of the ocean call to me, wanting to clear away what pulls at me like an undertow. Rising to my feet, I take a long, cleansing breath and heed to the call.
In the distance, a low rumble of thunder beckons to me. Meandering the small path, which is now overgrown, my heart knows this is what I need. Battling the foliage that tangles and tries to ensnare me, I’m brought to the place where I can face my crazy life.
Once my feet hit the sand, I rip my shoes off, knowing I'll find tempered water and cool sand. Lightning and thunder play in the distance across the ocean, giving way to dark skies, troubled waters, and miles of empty beach.
It’s vacation season, however, weather like this takes sightseers inside for dining and shopping. I walk, a not so straight line, as the sky grows darker and night descends further, giving me the shroud I long for.
> I turn to sit, staring mesmerized at the angry skies and rolling waves. Consumed, I scream an earth-shattering cry of grief for my old life. Retching out my vacant soul for the gods and the ocean to hear and hopefully soothe.
A cool mist coats my body, making it glisten in the moonlight. The winds pick up and push the tide up the beach. The night sky flashes as the storm continues brewing off the coast, scooting ever closer.
I can’t help but think of all the storms that have tossed me from side to side in life. I am in desperate need of healing. Why is it, when we think we have it together, our past comes back? Like it has permission? Or is it vengeance it’s after? I have cracks in my armor. Cracks with abscesses that need to be cut open allowing the infection to seep out, to escape. I just need to be okay.
Giving way to the demons that tear at me, I relent. Inconsolable, I sob, sinking further into my own darkness. Something has to give. I can no longer live like this because I feel as though I’m drowning. The undertow taking me. I’m dying. I stopped living a long time ago.
I’ve never been in greater need of a life saver. I don’t want people to think I’m weak; I act as if I’m Teflon.
The water batters the shoreline as the storm draws closer, swelling the ocean and changing it into a dark pit; one that mirrors my life, my soul. The churning of the storm causes the tide to become rough and angry. I lay there, cathartic and maddening, and cry. As the current rages onto the shore and the ocean roars, I allow the sins of my past to overtake me, and I fall apart.
Completely.
Hearing a small sound that seems to be getting closer, my eyes fly open, but I dare not search for it. I fear being noticed and I refuse to move, holding my breath and praying whoever it is will go away.
Why is someone out here? No one should be!
My eyes blink away the tears still gathering there. I try to wipe my face dry, and finally, when I can no longer put it off, I take a deep breath and sit up. A man, standing close enough to be seen—too close. My fight or flight instincts overwhelm me, and I start to panic. Should I jump up? Stagger to my feet and then run…somewhere? The figure is so close to me now that I have no doubt I would be caught if I tried to flee.
So, what do I do? I freeze in place with uncertainty paralyzing me. Oh, the intelligence. I can't quite make out the face, but it’s obviously a man. A very well-built man. Good Lord, stop it! My mind shuts down, unable to focus or process anything, but I can hear the rumbling of his voice.
The light mist on the surface of my skin begins to bead, running in different directions, as a quake of nervous energy ripples through me. Smooth like cream, deep and delicious. The nuances, subtle yet defining, from his chest as he begins to speak fills me with desire. Desire making me squeeze my thighs together. Why am I quivering?
He walks closer with his head tilted, and as he gets closer, the sky lets out a streak of lightning illuminating his body, making my lower body ache. He’s titillating.
Another flash affords me a better look. Perfectly sculpted calves lead to thighs so delightfully formed shown off by white running shorts which cling in all the right places. They hang in such a way that the most perfect ‘V’ forms just above the band, spreading into tight abs that have been worked on, honed to perfection. His broad shoulders and chest glistens with sweat.
At this point, I’m not sure if it’s him or the lightning sending this charge through me. Our eyes finally lock and I can see much more than I should be able to see. A smile stretches across his features and I lower my gaze, discreetly surveying his hard body once again. Gasp! Holy crow, he is one built man. Lean muscle lay across a solid form standing about 6'4 and hot as hell.
Another blinding strike flashes across the sky, and I feel as though I’m being pulled by an unexplainable force. It’s something I’ve never felt before.
Again I try to get a better look as the angry night sky lights up like the fourth of July. What is that I see? A burning? It must just be the self-induced lack of sex fogging my vision, and yet, I can easily picture him taking me hard and fast here and now. Debasing me, making me his completely.
Who am I kidding? I've never deserved to be owned in such a way that my body and soul are claimed by anyone. Like the storm brewing off the coast, a hurricane force of desire forms deep in my core.
My body reacts and I am unable to stop the wetness pooling in my panties. His eyes, his whole presence, draw me to him as if he is a magnet. There is no escape. I’ve waited my whole life for someone to gaze upon me like he is. I’ve longed to be wanted, desired, and deserving. That was never going to happen though because I am me. My life did not afford me opportunities at anything resembling love and desire.
Forcing myself to focus once again, his voice cuts through the fog, “Excuse me, ma’am. Are you okay?”
It booms through the air toward me as the twang of a southern drawl hangs in the air. An intense feeling sweeps through me, making my mouth go dry. Deep within me, my core spasms and tightens, shooting a sexual desire throughout my body. The overwhelming need to climb this man like a tree and impale his long, thick cock in me, has me squirming where I sit.
Shaking my head in an effort to clear my wondering thoughts, I find my voice, "Yeah. I'm good. Fine… okay…. I'm okay."
Heat floods my face in both embarrassment and desire. Mother of all that’s holy! Here I sit with bare feet, short shorts, no bra, and an oversized t-shirt. I’m definitely not dressed to be seen. Needless to say, my nipples are so erect that if I stand, I might poke his eyes out.
He reaches for my hand as I squirm in the sand, probably believing I’m uncomfortable and need help getting up. The fact is, I'm pretty positive my khaki shorts have a wet spot the size of California and that is the last thing I want him to see.
Retracting his hand awkwardly, he continues. "I'm sorry to disturb you. I thought I heard crying. Are you all right?"
I'm horrified at my wayward thoughts and embarrassed by my current physical state. Swollen eyes, snotty nose, and husky voice laden with both want and depression.
“It’s okay. Thank you," I admit as I force a wide smile, which draws his eyes to my mouth. He pulls the tip of his tongue across his bottom lip, wetting it in the process. My eyes follow that tongue.
“Did you hear or see anything? Considering you and I are the only people on the beach."
Mute. I'm mute, but he’s waiting for an answer and I repeat, “I'm good. I- I mean, yes. I was, but it's okay. I'm okay, it's fine. It is perfectly okay that you came over. I needed to stop,” I finish with a huff.
His head tilts to the other side and asks sincerely, "Why?"
I need to get out of here. I keep staring at his mouth and can’t seem to keep up with the conversation. "What?" No one has ever had this embarrassing effect on me.
Furrowing his brow, which produces a small smirk with a perfect dimple appearing on one side that absolutely needs to be kissed, he asks his questions again, slowly – too slowly, “Why do you need to stop crying? Or better yet, why were you crying? Did someone hurt you?" Looking me up and down, his gaze assesses my physical well-being.
I’ve got to get out of here. Standing abruptly, I dust the sand from my butt and adjust my shirt over my shorts. And with my luck, the shirt, damp with the moisture from the air, pulls tight over my erect nipples.
"Umm, it’s just time," I mutter as I hurry away.
He’s beside me in no time. "Time for what?"
His southern drawl coats his words like honey, while his question brings my focus to his perfect mouth. Full lips, pink tongue…I blatantly gasp, silently pleading for something to come to my mind so I can reply without sounding like a complete moron.
"Are you staying around here?" he asks, looking in the direction of the small path as if he knows it sits there under the bramble. As if he’s been on it, down it, followed it.
Flicking my eyes from him to the path, I stutter a response. "I, umm, yes. Just moved in a few weeks back."
As if cued,
thunder rumbles above us and the heavens let loose a torrent of rain. Just great! My already damp white tee is now clinging to my bare skin. I’m only grateful that the darkness swallows us or he would be able to see everything instead of just the hints and peeks the lightning offers. My humiliation is now complete. I continue walking as he jogs to catch up.
"What are you doing?" he asks, forcing me to stop again.
"Walking home."
There it is, pure energy. As he touches my hand, shocks run through me, deep into my soul; without waiting for my acceptance, he begins pulling me down the path. The clearing is just ahead, and I can see the glowing light in my sunroom.
"I'm really glad you live close by," he announces when we crowd under the overhang of my house to escape the downpour.
Jerking my head around in order to see his face clearly, he flashes me an all-American boyish smile making me dream of being the girl next door. "Why?"
His smile grows. “The rain,” he motions to the downpour.
Frowning, I ask. "The rain?"
“Yes. It’s coming down hard and with your shoes off, it was bound to get slippery.”
The walk home hadn’t given me a chance to really see him, but even with the shadows the night created, I can somehow tell he embodied pure perfection. His sodden body still hid in the shadows, but his scent permeates the air around us taking my breath away as the hair on my arms stands on end.
Dismissing the wayward cravings of my body, I remember my manners. “Umm, would you like a towel?"
I can barely see the smile on his face since approaching me spreading at my offer. "Yes, thank you. I'm soaked."
Walking up the steps to the deck, he pushes open the door after I twist the handle and takes my hand, helping me inside. “Be careful, you’re wet.”
Once again electricity shoots up my arm, exploding inside me, searching out ever molecule in my body. But the moment he releases my hand, I'm left feeling cold and empty.
"Would you like to come in?"
He grunts, stepping through the door. “Do you often leave your door unlocked or invite strange men into your home late at night?"
