Gypsy Hope: A Gypsy Beach Novel

by Jillian Neal

  Trent’s body seemed to deflate. “She wouldn’t sleep with me. I just wondered …” He shrugged. “You know what, never mind. Tell Hope I stopped by.”

  “Wondered what?” Brock wasn’t letting that one go. He wanted to hear the douchebag admit that he knew Hope was extremely inexperienced, and he’d only asked her out so he could be the one that broadened her horizons.

  “Nothing.”

  “I don’t think so.” Brock stepped out onto the porch and towered over Trent. His biceps flexed and tugged against the worn sleeves of his t-shirt. His jaw tensed rhythmically before he opened his mouth to speak. “You stay the hell away from Hope. As far as you’re concerned, she’s mine, all mine in every possible way you could imagine. You got that?”

  “So you are sleeping with her?”

  Fury flared Brock’s nostrils. “I’m going to give you half a second to get back in your fancy, red, pansy-ass Mercedes and leave before I make you unable to walk, talk, speak, or think.”

  “Fine. Geez. What the hell, man? It was a simple question.”

  As Trent made his escape, Brock actually considered his question. Why the hell was he so territorial with Hope? He’d never reacted that way over any other woman, ever. No one had ever made him jealous or possessive like this. Telling himself it was because he wanted to protect her, he headed through the front door just as Hope entered the back, weighted down with bags of food from Montgomery’s.

  Rushing to help her, Brock quickly decided not to tell her about Trent’s visit. He wanted her focused on their evening, and if he were being completely honest with himself, he wanted her focus to only be on him.

  “What’s wrong?” Hope demanded. She could read him like one of those books she devoured. Dammit. What do I tell her?

  Reminding himself that he wanted to be honest with her as often as he could, he rolled his eyes. “Your friend Trent came back by. Guy’s getting on my last nerve.”

  “Are you serious? I don’t get what has come over him. He acted completely uninterested in me after our first date—which was lame—and now he’s showing up here constantly. We ran out of things to talk about five minutes into dinner. I actually took my book out of my bag and started reading at one point.”

  Very pleased to hear that, Brock decided that he could perhaps educate her on a few things outside of the bedroom. She was so fucking sweet, but her innocence combined with her far too kind heart were going to get her into trouble. He’d never allow that.

  “He ask you to come back to his place after your first date?”

  Hope’s brow furrowed as she picked a bite of the chicken breast out of her sandwich and allowed herself a taste. “Yeah, but I wanted to go home. I had a glass of wine with dinner. He asked me to come have a drink with him, but I didn’t want to have anymore alcohol with him nearby. He creeped me out. I told him no. What does that have to do with him coming by here?”

  “He didn’t want you to have more wine with him, sweetie. He wanted to bed you.”

  Air escaped her lungs in an audible huff. “Yeah, I know, but shouldn’t he have tried harder? He talked about himself and his family’s sailing business, cut me off if I tried to say anything, acted like I bored him to death, then all of a sudden he wanted me to come to his apartment. The whole thing was bizarre.”

  “Why’d you go out with him again?” Brock asked between bites of the best cheeseburgers in town. The guy was an asshole of epic proportion, but he couldn’t quite come up with a way to tell her that men who were only interested in getting between her legs once probably weren’t going to put a lot of effort into getting themselves there.

  “I figured the second date couldn’t be as bad as the first, and Jana said I should give him another chance.”

  “You need to start listening to yourself, and stop listening to Jana Douglas.”

  “Okay, fine, but can we talk about something else?”

  “Sure. Anything. You know that.”

  “You know how Molly kind of always seems to know stuff about everyone? How does she do that?”

  Brock chuckled. Absolute fascination made Hope’s beautiful emerald eyes light like she was staring into a campfire. “Ryan says Sienna can do that, too. I don’t know. I’m like one eighth part Romani, or something. I didn’t get all of the Gypsy blood that’s flowing around here. I roofed Grady Havens and Nadya Montgomery’s new house a few weeks back. Nadya’s kind of like that, too. She probably gets it from Molly. It’s both cool and a little freaky.”

  Hope stole a few of his fries while she considered. She giggled at his mock irritation. “Okay, so it’s cool and freaky, but do you believe them when they predict stuff?”

  “Not sure. I overheard Grady and Ryan talking about how Nadya had sensed that someone was after her when all of that stuff was going on a few weeks ago with the police and the Beach. I heard that Sienna’s grandmother cursed some local politician and that afterwards he never won another election. So, maybe.” He shrugged. “Why, though? What did Molly say that got your mind spinning like a rope?”

  Grinning up at him, she wrinkled her tiny adorable nose. “Nothing, but you’re cute when you say stuff like that.”

  “Stuff like what?” Brock wasn’t certain cute was what he was going for. Unless cute turned her on.

  “Like, ‘spinning like a rope.’ I thought it was spinning like a top, but I’m guessing that’s one of Uncle Ev’s sayings.”

  Chuckling, Brock nodded his agreement. It always shocked him that he’d lived on the beach for over a decade now, but there wasn’t a day that went by that he didn’t long to return to his aunt and uncle’s ranch. He’d heard that expression most of his childhood. Moments of his past that he never wanted to forget often perforated his present. He couldn’t go back to Nebraska, so he wanted to carry it with him everywhere he went.

  They discussed their upcoming camping trip, whether or not any decent bands would ever come to Gypsy Beach for a concert, and how some state senator had accidentally tweeted a dick-pic, meant for his mistress, to thousands of people. They agreed that the guy got what he deserved, but their usual banter was tensed with desire. Their upcoming dinner and planned events for the evening seemed to have taken over both of their minds. Brock could think of nothing but pressing into her and fulfilling his every fantasy. He tried to keep up his end of the conversations, but every ounce of blood and electricity in his body was heading to points south of his belt buckle. His brain didn’t stand a chance.

  At five, he finally dropped her off at her house and headed to his apartment to get ready. He added taking a cold shower and picking up flowers to his plans, and promised to be back to get her in an hour.

  Seven

  “Okay, I am officially freaking out!” The words flew from Hope’s mouth as soon as Jana answered the phone.

  “Well, this is what happens when you give your best friend no details and don’t call her later like you said you would.”

  “Sorry. He picked me up early for breakfast. We finished packing the books up. He’s going to get the shelves moved out Monday, but we’re going to Blue Surf tonight, and you’ve now arrived at my personal freak out.”

  “Okay, okay, whoa. What happened last night?”

  “Well, we’re kind of dating, sort of. We’re dating and sleeping together, but it’s definitely a short-term thing. We pinky swore we wouldn’t let it ruin our friendship.”

  “Interesting, but I thought you only pinky swore with me.”

  “Jana!”

  “Kidding. I’m kidding. Okay, well, this is exactly what you wanted, so why are you freaking out? Go get something sexy on, and in the morning you’ll know first hand just how good Brock Camden is in bed. He has quite a reputation.”

  “That is why I’m freaking out. He knows what he’s doing. I have no idea.”

  “Hope,” Jana sighed. “You’ll be fine. Just follow his lead, and for me, try to actually have fun. For once don’t over-think this.”

  “Follow his lead. Okay. I can do
that.” Hope wasn’t certain that was true, but she needed to get ready soon. “What should I wear?”

  “Something that says I’m sweet-but-available, but not in a slutty way.”

  Hope rolled her eyes. “I honestly do not know why I ask you stuff.”

  “Thanks a lot,” Jana huffed. “Oh, I know. Wear that cute little hunter green dress with the flared skirt that matches your eyes and those cowgirl boots that we got last year on Black Friday. Do something cute with all of that hair of yours. Wear it down. He’ll love it.”

  “Why will he love that?”

  “Uh, I’ll let Brock introduce you to the long hair pull. Just trust me on this.”

  Hope decided not to think too much about that. “Are you sure about the boots?”

  “I’m positive.”

  “Okay, thanks, and I’m sorry I said I don’t know why I ask you stuff.”

  “Yeah, yeah, I’m used to it. Now, go have fun, and I want lots of details tomorrow.”

  “Not a chance. Bye.” Hope ended the call before Jana could continue. She may not have a clue what to do that evening, but she knew she would never share what happened between she and Brock with anyone else. That would be for her alone. That would be what she used to keep herself warm this winter when Brock was no longer her boyfriend and no longer keeping her hot.

  She raced through the shower, but paused to shave her legs again even though she’d shaved the morning before. If her legs were going to be coming in contact with Brock, she didn’t want them to be prickly. She debated shaving her pubic hair as well, but decided against it. Sophie had said something about some guys not liking that, and she didn’t know what Brock’s preferences were. Plus, knowing her luck she’d cut herself, and that would be disastrous for their evening plans.

  She attempted to make loose waves in her long frizzy hair and applied a little make-up. Her aunt believed only hussies wore make-up, so she’d never really been taught how to put it on. She’d tried to follow advice from magazines and YouTube videos, but didn’t quite have the knack for it. Deciding less was probably more, she applied a little blush, touched the mascara wand to her lashes, and smeared a rosy lip gloss on her lips before rubbing them together. Stepping back, she tried to study herself in the mirror. Definitely not bad. Pretty, even. She grinned, and before she could contemplate if she looked completely ridiculous in boots with a short sundress, the doorbell buzzed twice.

  Just follow his lead. Just follow his lead. She repeated the mantra in her head with every quick step she took down the hallway. You can do this. With a deep breath, she opened the door and smiled.

  His mouth hung open for a split second. “Damn, Hope. You look amazing.” His gasp had a heavy dose of carnality to it, but she wasn’t certain she liked the slight shock in his voice.

  “Really? You like this?”

  “Like it? You’re drop dead gorgeous, sugar. I’m gonna spend my whole night keeping other guys away from you.”

  That sounded very interesting. “You are not. Come on let’s go.” Hope grabbed her purse, checked her make-up in the mirror once more, and straightened her dress.

  “Well, wait just one minute. Impatient tonight, aren’t we?” Brock winked at her and pulled the bouquet of wildflowers out from behind his back. She wasn’t a champagne and roses kind of girl. Hell no, she was perfect, natural, and as if the universe was trying to make up for the shitty life he’d endured the last decade, tonight, she was his.

  “Aww thank you! They’re beautiful. Did you pick these?” She sounded astonished.

  “There’s some fields near my apartment complex. I thought you’d like them better than something from the grocery store.

  “I love them. Thank you.”

  After she arranged them in a glass with some water, Brock opened the door for her, guided her out, and wrapped his right arm around her shoulders.

  “No other guy on the planet would ever take the time to pick me flowers. You’re amazing.”

  “I’m far from amazing, and any guy lucky enough to be taking you out sure as hell should pick you flowers. Never settle for less than what you deserve.”

  She groaned when he cranked his truck and Garth Brooks bellowed from the speakers. Brock laughed at her outright and turned up the radio. “Sugar, this is a classic.” He then proceeded to sing I’ve Got Friends in Low Places off-key to her for the next several miles. God, he loved her laugh. Anxious to keep it going, he attempted to make the low, rumbled, tone of his own voice sound like a high-pitched female whine for Delta Dawn. By the time they arrived in Wilmington, Hope was laughing hysterically and he’d gotten her to loosen up a little, which had been his primary goal. As they were pulling into the large gravel parking lot of Blue Surf, Mamas Don’t Let Your Babies Grow Up to be Cowboys started playing.

  Brock rolled his eyes. “Now, this. This is complete crap. You can groan at this one. Who wouldn’t let their kid be a cowboy?”

  “Would it make you feel better to know that I definitely still think you’re a cowboy even if you don’t live on the ranch anymore?”

  He couldn’t halt the grin that formed on his features. My God, she was a lethal combination of adorable sweetness and sexy-as-sin, and he hadn’t even gotten her undressed. “You’re sitting there staring up at me in a tiny little dress that gives me a peek of your thighs whenever you move, wearing knee-high cowgirl boots, and telling me you still think I’m a cowboy. You’re turning me on, Ms. Hendrix. I may not make it through dinner. I may drag you back out here half way through and have you in my truck.”

  “I think I like the sound of that.” Her tempting offer was filled with challenge and just a hint of nerves.

  He reminded himself for the hundredth time to take this slowly. “So much you haven’t done, sweetness. Let’s take them one step at a time. The first time I have you will be in your bed. Then we’ll explore other locales. I promise.” He edged closer to her, unable to stand the ardent temptation. “But for right now, come here to me. I need another kiss.”

  A quick gasp of breath escaped her when he mated their lips in soft seduction. He wanted to fill his every sense with her. His right hand traced her thighs between the hem of the dress and her knees. She slid closer and a hungry moan raced from his lungs as his hand traveled under the skirt. He couldn’t have stopped himself if he’d wanted to. He grasped her upper thigh.

  Suddenly, she let her hand rub over the jeans he was wearing. A dozen directives formed on his tongue. He longed to command her to grab him and feel what she did to him, but she needed to explore.

  He began kneading her thigh. His thumb teased at the elastic band of her panties beside her pussy. The heat of her arousal loaded his mind with intent. It was almost unbearable. She needed relief. That was painfully obvious. Timidly, she let her thumb trace upward over his denim-covered cock.

  Brock jerked his head away with another guttural groan he couldn’t quell. His eyes flashed and then locked on hers as she made another hesitant caress.

  “Does it feel good when I do that?” Curiosity and fear perforated her tone this time.

  “My God. You don’t even know, do you?” Deciding to give her another lesson, he tenderly covered her hand with his own. He pressed harder over his cock, using more pressure than she would have done on her own. “It’s incredible, sugar, absolutely incredible.” He urged her onward and felt himself throb and expand against her palm. His head spun and some semblance of his brain took back over. He had to stop her. Gently, he slid her hand away.

  A storm of desire and frustration mixed in a seductive cocktail in her beautiful emerald eyes. “I stopped you because if you kept that up I was going to come in my boxers, and that would make getting out of here and going into that restaurant really embarrassing. And also because we’re in a parking lot, and it’s not even dark yet. Sure as hell not because I didn’t want you to keep going. Okay?”

  She tried to blink back tears and swallow down the desire and the frustration. Dammit! He shouldn’t have stopped her,
but he couldn’t let her go on. Not there in his truck, but he would not allow her to go into this dinner thinking he didn’t want her just as badly as she clearly longed for him.

  Wrapping his hand around the back of her neck, he guided her close again. “I want you so damn bad, Hope.” He brushed kisses along her right cheek until he reached her ear. “Every time I get my hand near your hot little pussy, I can feel how wet you are for me. I can feel how badly you need me to open you and set you free over and over again. It drives me insane with pure fucking desire and I want to lay you out, touch you, stroke you, make you swell up so damn tight you choke my cock when I’m inside of you. You make me so hard I burn for you, darlin’.

  “I want to see your beautiful breasts. I want to squeeze them and suck them until you beg me. Watch your nipples darken and get so nice and tight they ache and throb for me. I want to watch your body respond to me. I want to taste your juices. I bet you taste so fucking sweet with just a drip of spice, and I intend to find out when you come in my mouth and let me drink you. I’m gonna show you what sex is supposed to be and how good I can make you feel. I intend to own your pleasure, sugar. Make it all mine, all for me. But I need to do this right.” He brushed another kiss along her temple. “Let me take you to dinner, and let’s dance. I want to feel you move against me on that dance floor, but I promise you, before this night is over, there won’t be one part of me you don’t feel all over your beautiful body. I’m gonna fit you to me and show you how you should have been loved all along. Now,” he brushed his lips over hers again in a hesitant caress, “can you be patient for me? Have no doubt. I’ll make it worth your wait.”

  Her body trembled in his arms, and he almost gave up the fight. He could keep his hand up the sexy little skirt portion of that dress until he brought her some relief while he flew back to her house, then he could keep her going all night long.

  “Come on, sugar. Let’s get on with this supper. My patience is wearing thin.” He winked at her as he forced himself from the truck, headed to the passenger side, and opened her door for her.