Hungry Heart: Konigsburg, Texas, Book 8

by Meg Benjamin

  She raised her eyes, deep green in the lamplight, then stood watching him a little nervously, her arms folded beneath her breasts.

  He took hold of her hands, opening her arms so that he could look at her. “You’re a beautiful woman,” he said softly.

  Her forehead furrowed slightly, as if she wanted to disagree. Then she blew out a breath. “Thank you.”

  He stared a moment longer, memorizing this first sight of her—high, full breasts, gently rounded hips, long legs. A woman’s body. The kind of body he’d always preferred, even when he was mostly a boy himself.

  “Beautiful,” he repeated.

  She reached for him, her hands dropping to the waistband of his jeans, unfastening the button and pulling down the zipper. He didn’t try to stop her, although he had a feeling she’d want to stop soon. Instead, he pushed his jeans and underwear down his hips and kicked them away.

  Andy did stop then, staring.

  Which was pretty much what he’d expected. Some women thought his size was cool. Some were scared shitless. Even the most resolute usually seemed to need a couple of moments to fortify themselves.

  “It’s okay,” he said slowly. “It’ll work.”

  She nodded. “I know that. I’m just taking a moment to appreciate you.” She smiled up at him then, reaching toward the erection that strained toward his stomach.

  He shook his head, catching her hand. “Nope. Not if you want the first time to last more than a couple of minutes. That’s something I want, believe me.”

  He caught her around the waist, lifting her to her toes so that he could bring his mouth down on hers. She opened to him, winding her arms around his neck, her body pushed against his so that his cock was pressed between them.

  She tasted of beer and summer, with a faint hint of roses, maybe from her soap. He felt slightly dizzy all of a sudden, not surprising since all the blood in his body seemed to have rushed to a single point.

  He had one last fleeting moment of sanity. “I don’t suppose you’re on the pill.”

  She shook her head. “Maybe I should be, but I’m not right now.”

  “That’s okay.” He bent briefly to pull a condom out of his jeans pocket. “We can talk about it. Later.”

  Andy fought down the vicious butterflies that were attacking her stomach. Yes, he was big. Very big. Huge, even. It didn’t matter. They’d fit together perfectly. She knew it now.

  She loved the feel of her breasts pressed against him, the slight prickle of his chest hair against her nipples. His erection throbbed against her belly and she moved closer, pressing her thighs against him as he took her mouth again.

  His tongue rubbed against hers, his hands dropping to her buttocks, his fingers kneading. She fought to keep her eyes open, to keep watching, feeling, all of it real and hot.

  He lifted her again, his hands on her hips, as he sank back on her bed. She stared down at him, her hands braced against his shoulders.

  “Easier this way,” he panted. “Okay with you?”

  She nodded. She didn’t think her voice would work if she tried using it.

  He tore open the condom, unrolling it quickly and smoothing it in place. She thought about offering to do it for him, but she had a feeling she might get distracted if she tried it.

  He lifted her hips again, then brought her down on his erection, slowly, slowly, letting her open to him a bit at a time. She brought her knees along his hips, watching his face as she dipped lower, then rising again, still slowly. Then down, easier now, feeling him fill her, all of him. A perfect fit. He was right. They fit perfectly.

  Heat pooled in her belly, moving upward, a hot bubble expanding in her core. She moved more quickly now, sliding up and then down again.

  He reached up to touch her, rubbing his fingers across her clitoris, and her body seemed to explode as the heat overwhelmed her. She dug her fingers into his shoulders, moaning as she leaned forward.

  He brought his hands to her shoulders, stroking her back gently. “Okay,” he whispered. “It’s okay.”

  Yes. Definitely. She smiled down at him, thinking that if she ever ran into Lew Burke again, she’d spit in his eye.

  Chico was still hot and hard inside her, his chest rising and falling as he fought for breath. She dropped her hands to his sac, cupping him as she rose up again and slid back down.

  His breath caught and he stared up at her. She had the feeling he was fighting to keep his eyes open.

  “Now,” she whispered. “Now, Chico.”

  His hips jerked up against hers, his hands grasping her hips tight. He growled deep in his throat, losing all rhythm, his hips slapping against hers.

  She closed her eyes, feeling the heat rise inside her again, then brought her hips down, taking him in again, all of him, her muscles straining against him.

  “Christ,” he muttered through clenched teeth as he gave way. “Holy Christ.”

  Suddenly, her arms went limp. She collapsed against his chest, hearing the thunder of his heartbeat beneath her. Say something. But she couldn’t think of anything to say. No words she could come up with came anywhere near to describing what had just happened to her. To them both, if she was any judge.

  His hand rubbed up and down her backbone. The warmth of his breath tickled her ear. “Okay?” he asked finally.

  He seemed to ask that a lot. Either he’d had trouble in the past, or he’d decided she was a fragile flower. She couldn’t do anything about the first possibility, but she could take care of the second. She put a hand on his chest, pushing herself halfway up so she could look at him. “I’m absolutely okay,” she said flatly. “In fact, I don’t remember the last time I was this okay. In fact, okay is definitely not the right word to describe this, but I’m damned if I can think of anything else.” She sank down on his chest again. “My brain has been liquefied.”

  His chest shook beneath her cheek and she realized he was laughing. “Well, that’s good to hear, Ms. Wells. I mean, not the liquefied part, you know. The rest of it.”

  She propped her chin up again so that she could look at him. His long, dark hair was tangled on her pillow, his eyes hooded as he watched her.

  “Are you staying?” She supposed she could have put it a little more subtly, but she wanted to know. And she was still trying to get away from the whole okay thing.

  “Are you asking?” One of his dark eyebrows arched up.

  She nodded. “Yes. Definitely. I make a good cup of coffee. And I’m pretty sure I have two eggs.”

  “Then I wouldn’t miss it.” He rolled her gently to the side, running a hand along her cheek. “I’m a decent hand with bacon myself.”

  “Then I’d say we’re set.” She snuggled herself against him, tucking her forehead under his chin.

  “I’d say we are.” His voice rumbled against her ear as her body relaxed, her mind drifting off to sleep. “Definitely set.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Harris had to admit that his trailer wasn’t as comfortable as Darcy’s place. It was a good thing both of them were in excellent shape because having sex on his fold-out couch required a lot of close maneuvering.

  On the other hand, being at the trailer had the advantage that he didn’t have to haul his ass out of bed in the morning and leave her. If she could wait a few minutes, he’d be right back. In fact, he looked forward to being right back all the time he was wrestling the briskets onto the fire.

  He could get used to morning wake-up with Darcy.

  He felt a quick tightening in his gut. Not that he wanted to think about any kind of long-term relationship with Darcy at the moment. Or possibly ever.

  He returned to the trailer to find her up and poking around his tiny kitchen. “Morning,” she said and grinned. Something about that grin made his insides relax. Maybe the whole waking with Darcy thing was a little scary, but he could deal with it.

  They worked ass-to-ass, Harris frying bacon while she squeezed orange juice at the counter behind him. It made for an interesting
breakfast experience. Yet another benefit of the waking-up-together thing.

  He pulled down a plate from the cupboard next to the stove, half turning to give her hip a pat. “About done here.”

  “Me too.”

  She carried the glasses a couple of feet to the side, placing them on what passed for a kitchen table. It was around the size of a bathmat, but it was big enough. Usually.

  She cocked an eyebrow. “Are you ever going to build a real house up here?”

  He shrugged, sighing. “It’s on the agenda, but I haven’t had time to plan anything. Besides, getting construction equipment out here is a bitch.”

  She nodded sympathetically. “Probably cost an arm and a leg.”

  “Probably.” He felt a quick shiver of unease. He wasn’t lying to her—not really. It would be expensive, and he wasn’t in a position to spend any money on it. At the moment.

  “Great bacon.” She held up a strip. “You smoke this yourself?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t do cold smoke. I get it from a guy over by Dripping Springs. He raises Berkshire hogs.”

  “You should tell Chico about him. Maybe he’d like to get some Berkshire pork butt.”

  He shrugged. “Pork butt’s not exactly quality meat. Once you’ve cooked it for eight hours or so, it doesn’t much matter what kind of hog it comes from.”

  “Still, he might…”

  The rapping on the trailer door made him jump. Normally, he was aware of visitors long before they got that close since they had drive down the hill on the other side of the bridge. And then Porky usually got the yips as soon as she saw a new face. Ms. Cunningham was having one hell of an effect on his concentration.

  He pulled the curtain aside to glance out the window. Well, crap. There went the morning.

  He stepped across the trailer and opened the door in a single movement. “Hi, Gray. Want some breakfast?”

  His brother’s head snapped up, suspicion written in every patrician line as he stepped inside. “No. I’ve already eaten.” He was wearing at least part of his office uniform—a dress shirt and dark gray slacks that looked like they were part of a suit—an expensive one, of course. At least he didn’t have a tie that Harris could see. The rest of the ensemble must be back in his car, wherever he’d managed to park.

  Darcy watched them from the kitchen table, all of two feet away. Gray looked like he was trying to figure out the etiquette of the whole situation, given that Darcy was wearing a pair of cutoffs and a tank top that showed her considerable range of tattoos, as well as confirming the fact that she wasn’t wearing a bra.

  Harris decided to take pity on him. “Darcy Cunningham, this is my brother Grayson Temple, Gray for short. Darcy’s on my barbecue team.”

  Gray still looked like he was struggling. “You…cook, Miss Cunningham?”

  Darcy’s eyes flashed. Harris was half-tempted to let her eviscerate his brother, but that might lead to distractions. “Darcy’s the sous chef at the Rose. She’s learning barbecue.”

  “Oh.” Gray still looked a little puzzled, but at least he wasn’t likely to inadvertently insult her anymore. “The Rose is a great restaurant.”

  “Thanks.” Darcy returned pointedly to her bacon.

  “Can I talk to you? Outside?” Gray put it as a question, but it wasn’t really.

  Harris sighed. “Okay.” He nodded toward Darcy. “Back soon.”

  “Right,” she murmured, her eyes narrowing.

  He led the way outside to the park bench he’d set up under a tall cypress near the river bank. Not that he expected Gray to sit. On the other hand, he had no intention of having this conversation standing up.

  Porky reacted with his usual clumsy joy at seeing anybody new. Gray stepped back in alarm.

  “C’mon, pup, don’t mess up the nice man’s clothes.” Harris pulled the dog back under the bench, then hooked his elbows over the back and let himself sprawl. “So?”

  “So?” Gray’s voice raised enough so that it could probably be heard in the trailer, if not in downtown Konigsburg. “So? So what the hell are you doing living out here and cooking barbecue?”

  Beneath the bench, Porky whimpered. Apparently, he wasn’t used to angry voices.

  “I’m living out here and cooking barbecue.” Harris shrugged. “That seems fairly obvious.”

  “You know what I mean, Harris. Goddamn it!” Gray stabbed his fingers through his immaculate hair. Of course, given the quality of his haircut, it was only minimally mussed. “Why are you out here? Does Mom know?”

  Harris shrugged again. “Mom knows as much as she wants to know. I haven’t changed my phone number. She could call me if she was interested. So could you, for that matter.”

  Gray sighed in frustration. “Goddamn it, Harris,” he repeated.

  Harris managed to tamp down his own irritation. “I’m doing what I want to do, Gray. You knew I was going to do that when I quit. The money Grandma left me was enough to get me set up out here. I’ve been working my butt off ever since.” And loving every minute of it. But that was probably better left unsaid.

  Gray sank down on the bench beside him, scowling. “I thought you moved to Memphis. That’s what Mom said.”

  “I spent a little time in Memphis. Learned some about their ’cue to go along with what I already knew. Then I came back here. I worked in Lockhart for a while, and Taylor. Then I found this place.”

  Gray stared at the trailer, than back at Harris. “You’re living in a trailer.”

  That seemed too obvious to require an explanation. “Yep.”

  “Why are you living in a trailer?”

  “Because it was here already. And because I’d rather spend money on my kitchen set-up than on a house right now.” Although now that he thought about it, he could maybe do both. Particularly if it meant a more comfortable living space for guests. Of course, doing that depended on his trust fund.

  Gray snorted. “Like you need to be worried about money.”

  Harris gripped the back of the bench to keep from growling. “I do need to be worried about money, Grayson. I’m living on what I make from my business.” Unlike you. But he didn’t see any point in saying that.

  “There’s the trust.” Gray stared back at the trailer again, making his point, of course. The family trust would pay for a very nice house, even this far out in the country.

  Harris sighed. “We both know that trust comes with conditions at the moment, mainly that I go back to work at the firm. And we both know I’m not going to do that. So if that was your point here, it’s pretty much moot.”

  “Why not?” Gray shook his head. “Why can’t you work with us? You never really explained that to me.”

  You never really wanted to hear me explain it to you. Harris gritted his teeth. “I’m not much of a lawyer, Gray. Not a good one, anyway. When you’re working a job that makes you hate getting up in the morning, it’s doesn’t bode well for anybody involved. Neither me nor the clients.”

  “Look, I know you lost the Morgan case…”

  “It wasn’t a particular case.” He rubbed his eyes. “I won some, I lost some. In the end it didn’t much matter to me which it was. The clients deserve better than that.”

  “They got good service from us,” Gray said stiffly. “We’ve never given a client anything less than the best we could offer.”

  “You never did, I’ll give you that.” Harris smiled. “You’re one hell of a lawyer, Gray. I was just hell, period.”

  Gray didn’t look mollified. If anything he looked more pissed than he had before. “And now you’re out here in the brush…cooking barbecue? Calling yourself the Barbecue King? Jesus Christ, Harris!”

  Harris gritted his teeth again. In another few minutes he’d probably be punching his big brother in the teeth, which would be a bad idea on a whole lot of levels, not least the fact that Gray might still be able to flatten him. “Look, Grayson, I know it might actually be easier for you if I was out here cooking crystal meth—that way you
could write me off as a bad seed and a loser. And that way I’d probably be making a better profit. But I’m doing what I want to do—what I love to do—and I’m not dragging the family into it. Can’t you just leave it at that?”

  Gray gave him a look that was probably meant to sear him to the bone. Harris pushed his hat lower over his eyes and smiled. Way better than getting punched.

  His brother sighed. “Do you need money?”

  Oh for Christ’s sake. Harris pushed himself upright, counting to ten. “No,” he bit off finally. “I don’t. Anything else?”

  Grayson sighed again. “There’s no need to be offended. It was an honest offer, Harris. I have no idea what your situation is out here.”

  “No, you don’t. Which makes it even more offensive. I’m doing okay. As a matter of fact, I’m doing fine. Assuming the trust fund eventually kicks in, I’ll build a house sometime. And what the hell are you doing out here, anyway, Grayson?”

  Gray drew himself up stiffly. “I thought I was visiting my brother. I guess I was wrong.”

  Harris gritted his teeth again. He was doing that a lot this morning. “Oh come off it. That’s not what I meant. I mean what the hell are you doing in the Hill Country? Why aren’t you at the office in Houston?”

  Gray still looked like he had a stick up his ass, but Harris figured that was understandable. Also pretty normal for Gray. “We’ve opened a branch in Austin. I’m in charge. We have clients in Konigsburg. Your cousin Docia and her in-laws, among others.”

  Harris nodded. “Right. I saw Docia the other day. Was she the one who told you where to find me?”

  Gray shook his head. “The chef at the Rose told me where you lived. After I told him you were my brother.”

  Great. He’d really hoped that detail wouldn’t be spread around town. “Well, congratulations on the promotion. Many happy returns, et cetera.”

  Gray grimaced, pushing himself up from the bench. “Can I at least tell Mom about this, about where you are and what you’re doing?”

  Harris’s jaw tightened again, but he managed to keep his voice easy. “You can tell her whatever you want. Like I said, she could reach me if she wanted to. She doesn’t want to.”