by Shayla Black
Yeah, he had it bad. Never in a million years had he thought he would fall hard and fast for a down-to-earth baker. On paper, she wasn’t his usual—not loud or flashy or sexually aggressive. Yet everything about her shy sparkplug of a personality fascinated him. Almost from the first, he’d felt as if some invisible wire attached them, tugging him closer and closer to Bristol. Until her, he hadn’t really known that sort of pull was possible.
Jesse positioned her arms above her head, splayed on the mattress, then eased his hands up her silky flesh from elbows to palms, finally curling his fingers around her wrists. He anchored her to the bed and buried his nose in the cinnamon musk of her neck, closing his eyes as the light brown silk of her hair caressed his shoulder and teased his senses.
Beneath him, she softened, a gasp escaping her throat as she tossed her head back, as if the pleasure somehow surprised her. Jesse took the opportunity to drag his lips up her oh-so-soft skin before working his way to her mouth and dominating the sweet bow with a slanting, possessive kiss.
Endless. Timeless. The joining of their mouths went on. All the things that made Bristol unique piled on top of his senses.
She responded without artifice, exactly as she had the first time he’d taken her to bed. Her glimmering green eyes stared up at him, soft with raw emotion, as he skated one palm down the lush under curve of her pert breasts, her small waist, the feminine flare of her hips. True, she had the same basic parts and curves as every other woman he’d fucked, but she alone made him feel this electric gravity when they touched. When he was near her, his head buzzed, his dick engorged, and his heart chugged.
Jesse didn’t see how he could possibly give her up.
Needing to inhale more of her, he made his way down her body, claiming the sweet expanse of her skin as he descended past her delicate collarbones, the swells of her breasts, her tight nipples begging for his tongue. He took them all, gliding his lips over the sensitive flesh before teasing with his tongue, nipping with his teeth.
Beneath him, she wriggled and moaned in arousal. The sweet music filled his ears. The melody he’d been writing for her played in his head, and the bridge that had stumped him last night suddenly rolled across his imagination. It sounded like a more sensual rhythm than he’d been chasing yet so perfect. So her.
The notes played a soundtrack in his head as he dipped down again to nibble at her hipbones and drag his lips over the slight curve of her belly. Jesse even liked that she wasn’t perfect and didn’t have the sort of personal training regime that made him feel as if he was cozying up to a bodybuilder rather than a woman.
“Spread your legs,” he murmured as he caressed her mound, using his thumbs to open her folds for him.
Bristol’s breath hitched. She hesitated before slowly revealing everything he desired to his ravenous stare.
Jesse hissed. She was already wet and swollen. He glanced up her body, into her eyes. They were glassy and unfocused. Her cheeks looked flushed. The sight of her arousal slammed him in the chest. He’d fucked politician’s daughters and porn stars. But he’d never been with a woman he wanted to please this badly.
He dragged his fingers through her wet flesh, focusing on the little bud hardening more with every circle of his practiced fingers. “You’re pretty.”
After breathing in her velvet scent, he dragged his tongue through the wet groove of her sex, lingering exactly where she would be sensitive, igniting nerve endings he knew would drive her wild.
Beneath him, she thrashed, swinging her head from side to side. He knew she wasn’t negating the pleasure as much as she was trying to assimilate it. He often felt the same way as soon as she put her hands on him.
“You’re sweet,” he muttered in between strokes of his reverent tongue.
Bristol murmured an incoherent sound and dug her heels into the mattress. Her hips lifted restlessly. Her body writhed. Jesse didn’t stop, didn’t let up. When she began panting, he slid his palms up her body and rubbed the turgid points of her nipples between his thumb and forefingers.
When her body tightened and her skin flushed, he knew she rushed toward climax. Her heavy breathing turned to keening wails.
“And you’re mine.” He slid up her body, his thumb still working her clit as it hardened to stone. “Aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Say my name,” he demanded. “I want to hear you scream it as you come.”
“Jesse.” Her voice broke as she strained toward the pleasure.
It was one of the most beautiful sights he’d ever seen.
But he wanted to be with Bristol, inside her and a part of her, share ecstasy with her. The two of them together. Now. Always.
The melody he’d been writing for her turned louder in his head. As he reached for a condom and rolled it on, lyrics began pelting his brain. Words they’d spoken to one another. Words they hadn’t yet exchanged but he hoped like hell they would. Words of reverence. Promises. Vows.
She cried out in protest because he’d lifted his hand from her moments before bliss crashed over her, but he had something better. Thank goodness she was close because seeing her unabashed, honest pleasure was undoing him fast as fuck.
“Take me,” he growled, sliding between her taut thighs.
Bristol eased them open as he shoved them wide. In seconds, he’d aligned his cock with her slick channel and tunneled in.
Sensation rained down on him. Bristol felt hot and tight, yeah. But so much more. Receptive and giving. Alive. Perfect. She was everything to Jesse, and he couldn’t believe that he’d found her mere days ago. In the first hour, he’d known that she was different. By the end of the first night, he’d suspected she was truly special. Now he felt an urge all the way to his soul to make her his.
Gripping her thighs, he plunged in to the hilt. A sizzle shuddered down her spine. He plastered his hands flat on the bed and tried to make his way deeper, crawl all the way inside her. He rocked against Bristol as she whimpered in his ear.
“Jesse…” Her high-pitched voice sounded desperate, and that did all kinds of things to him.
He lowered himself to his elbows and slanted his lips over hers, slipping inside her mouth as he thrust deeper. He synched up both motions, making love to her mouth as he did her body. And god, she made love back to him, clutching at his shoulders, her thighs clinging to his hips, her female flesh gripping him so tightly that every move he made incited friction that ignited pleasure.
The music spun in his head, their rapid breaths and hearts mingling in a thumping backbeat that drove him up higher. The taste of her sweetness spilled onto his tongue. The rest of her body fit against him as if she’d been molded to be his. Somewhere in the back of his head, Jesse realized he was being more fucking poetic about a female than he ever been in his life.
But he finally understood why people had been writing songs about love for millennia. It wasn’t just a jolt that rattled him. It was a mammoth force tearing through his every preconceived notion about the meaning of life, about devotion. The feeling was dense and enormous. It sat on his chest like a weight. Yet the thought of sharing his tomorrows with her freed him. He could breathe when he was lost inside her. In fact, Jesse began to wonder if he could ever really breathe again without her.
Her nails dug into his back now. She broke their kiss and looked up at him with worry and wonder and tears as he sank into her again and again. Damn if he didn’t feel answering tears in his eyes. Damn if this didn’t feel like forever.
Bliss overtook her face as her mouth gaped open. She clenched around his shuttling cock. Her body tensed. Her lids fluttered shut and she raced toward the pinnacle.
Jesse wanted to fall over the edge with her.
He ramped up his pace. “Say my name.”
“Yes. Yes! Jesse!” she cried to the rafters.
Bristol bucked underneath him, her sex pulsing and clutching, clinging as he rode her through the mewling orgasm. But his own desire roared to the fore, smashing his defenses li
ke a freight train. As the climax hit, it shocked then flattened him. He felt crushed. Yet he soared. And he clutched her as if he’d never let go again. With the sound of her cry ringing in his ears and the music he’d been crafting for her lilting in his head, he groaned long and low as he released, relinquishing way more than his desire.
He gave her his heart.
As the last wave of pleasure settled, Jesse caught his breath and looked into her eyes. He had no doubt that she was the thing that had been missing from his life. She was the one who would hold his hands for the rest of their days.
He dragged in a ragged breath. “Bristol Alexa Reece, I love you.”
“Really?” She bit her lip, her lashes fluttering against her rosy cheeks.
“Yeah. This isn’t merely some post-orgasm glow. I know the difference. I enjoy being with you. I’d rather be with you than everyone else.” He shook his head. “Hell, I’m writing a song for you, about you. I haven’t done that in years. You amaze me. You inspire me.”
Bristol’s face tightened. Her mouth turned down. Tears flowed. “I love you, too.” Then she laughed. “God, we sound crazy.”
“I’m about to sound crazier.” He swallowed. “Marry me.”
Chapter Seven
“He proposed!” Bristol squealed as she rushed downstairs to relieve Jayla of her temporary duty, anxious to bend her bestie’s ear.
“Hayden? Because if he did, I’m gonna kill that jerk.” Jayla finished putting some cash in the register, then turned to look at her. “Never mind. Hayden didn’t do that to you.” She grinned. “He couldn’t do that. Jamie did, I’ll bet. Girl, you look more like he propositioned you. And you accepted—thoroughly.”
Bristol flushed. “That’s not important.”
“Orgasms are always important.”
She looked around the restaurant to make sure no one else was nearby. “Jamie isn’t Jamie. He’s… You should sit down.” She dragged a gaping Jayla to the nearest table and all but shoved her in a chair.
“What the hell? Who is he?”
“Jesse McCall.”
Jayla looked blank for a second, then she scowled as if Bristol had lost her mind. “You’re sure.”
“Completely. When I figured it out, he fessed up.”
“You’re saying the world-famous singer bailed you out at Bubba Oink’s Bone Yard and pretended to be your boyfriend, then went home with you and rocked your world before he proposed?”
When Jayla said it like that, the notion sounded absolutely crazy. Some of Bristol’s excitement deflated.
“Yes.”
“After knowing you for only a few days? And you mean he proposed marriage, right? Not some crazy three-way like he used to have.”
“Marriage.” She winced. “Yes.”
“And what did you say?” Jayla leveled her with an insistent stare.
“I haven’t answered him yet.” She bit her lip. “It sounds ridiculous. Romantic, even. But I want to say yes.”
“But you didn’t. Something stopped you. There’s a reason.”
“I don’t know. On the one hand, it feels sudden. But…when I’m with Jesse, I’m so happy. He’s not the guy we see in the press. He’s changed.”
Jayla shot her a skeptical scowl. “They all say that. Why does he want to marry you?”
“He says he loves me. I-I think I love him, too. I realize we haven’t known one another long and I still need to learn tons about him but…he’s a better man than Hayden. In some ways, he even reminds me of Daddy.”
Her best friend took her hand. “What would you do about this place?”
That had been one of her hesitations. “I don’t know.”
“Would you go on the road with him, like another one of his groupies?”
Now Jayla’s voice sounded soft. It held notes of pity that made Bristol cringe. “I don’t know. I guess we could figure it out. He says he’s sober and wants to change his life—and he wants me at the center.”
“Or more likely he wants to change his image. Girl…” Jayla squeezed her fingers. “An international star says he loves you and wants to marry you after a few days and you’re not suspicious? C’mon, now… He’s in a tough spot. His album is doing well but he’s getting skewered in the press. The late-night hosts have made him into a punch line. What better way to convince people that he’s changed than to tie the knot with a pretty little country girl who bakes sweets for a living? If he did, the whole narration about his character would change overnight. Right now, the story is party monger and manwhore sinks to a new low. But if he married you, suddenly they’d talk about how, after learning some hard lessons, he’d discovered an uplifting love in the face of tragedy. He’d be a role model.” She snorted. “A freaking hero.”
Everything Jayla said was true—and Bristol didn’t want to hear it. “He wouldn’t do that.”
But did she know him well enough to say that for sure? How far would a man with a career as big as his go to save it?
“I’m not pointing this out to hurt you. I’m only saying it because I love you. Hayden mostly hurt your pride, but I think you’ve really fallen for Jesse. He could tear out your heart. Be really careful.”
The message Bristol heard was that she couldn’t possibly be interesting enough to keep a man like McCall, who jet-setted around the world and slept with beautiful people. She bit her lip, fearing Jayla was right. Everything had seemed so clear and real and natural when she’d been with Jesse, discussing their future. He adored her lack of worldly ways.
But was that true for his heart or merely his image?
“I don’t know what to do,” she murmured. “He wants to get married right away.”
“Did he mention a prenuptial agreement?”
She frowned. “Actually, I’m the one who brought it up. People like him don’t get married without one. And I just thought…”
“People like him? If he’s going to be your husband, he’s supposed to be your equal.” Jayla’s expression softened as she shook her head. “Think about this. Rushing you to the altar only benefits him. But you’re putting yourself in an awkward position if you marry him without thinking this through. If he’s not one hundred percent serious about being in love with you and he can’t follow through as a real husband, you’ll get dragged through the press. There are only two ways that goes: Either you’re the naive little girl he grew bored with and everyone will pity you. Or you’re the whore who broke his heart because you didn’t stay by his side when your hoo-ha could have healed his emotional boo-boos. Either way, your life will never be the same.”
Bristol sighed, her shoulders slumping. “Why are you always right? You were right about Hayden, too.”
Jayla shrugged, her hair in black waves that dipped behind her shoulders. “Because I’m not in the middle of your situation, I can be more detached. Don’t forget how much of an ass I made out of myself about D’Shaun last year.”
Despite the concern swimming in her head, Bristol gave her friend a wry smile. “That was epic.”
“So unless you’re trying to one-up me, I think you should proceed with a whole lot of caution.”
Suddenly, every muscle in Bristol’s body ached as she stood. “Do you mind closing up for me?”
“What are friends for?” Jayla hugged her. “Think carefully. Do what’s right for you.”
Yeah. Now Bristol had to figure out what that was.
* * * *
Jesse emerged from the bedroom and donned his pants, searching the cozy apartment for his phone. He had to record all the new stuff about the song that had rushed through his head while he’d been making love to Bristol. And he supposed he should tell Candia that he might be getting married. Maybe.
Hell, he wished he knew how to convince Bristol that the amount of time they’d known one another didn’t matter and that all the details would work themselves out. He’d help her find a way to either keep her bakery open here or open another elsewhere—or do whatever she wanted. All he cared about was
making sure she was happy…by his side, as his wife.
But he understood her hesitation, her need to think things through. He just didn’t like it.
During his search, he spotted the cinnamon rolls she’d left him earlier wrapped in foil. They were still a bit warm, and the icing dripping off them had his mouth watering. If he didn’t love this woman for what was in her heart, he’d probably love her for her baking talent alone.
The first bite made him moan, and he leaned against the counter, head back, eyes closed. All this goodness from Bristol, both her words and her pastries, was good for his soul.
When he opened them again, he spotted his phone across the room on the coffee table. Dashing over to the device, he punched in the security code. His texts popped up. Candia had left him a message about two hours ago.
Morning! I’ve been researching your new girlfriend. Cute. Clean. The press will like her. I had a powwow with some of my peers. We all think she’s good for your image. Announce that she’s your new girlfriend. Or better yet, your fiancée. That will go miles to taking the attention off the crap about Ryan and the Harris girl. If you’re up for it, a real wedding would totally improve the public’s perception of you. I know it’s quick but think about it…
Jesse sucked in a breath. Was she kidding? Ask someone to marry him for show?
Hell no! He wanted Bristol to marry him because he loved her and they would be good together. She would fill his heart, and he would fill her life.
With an impatient growl, he punched up Candia’s contact and hit the call button. After three rings, the call went to voicemail. “Are you crazy, woman? I’m not going to pretend to marry Bristol for my image. I know your job is to worry what people think of me, but that’s fucking out of the question. And over the line. I’m finally in love and I’m grabbing her with both hands. You can either be happy for me and get on board or hop the fuck off the train.”
