by Calista Fox
He eased in a second finger. Pumped steadily. Felt the tremors run down her spine.
Scout’s cock thickened and his lungs burned. His breath was scarce and his body screamed for his own release, but his sole focus was on Ciara. This beautiful, soul-stirring creature he could never, ever get enough of. No matter how many years they’d been together. No matter how many times they’d been wrapped up in each other like this. He could never get enough.
In between kisses so that they could try to keep some oxygen flowing, she whispered, “I want to rip your shirt open. I want to touch you. I want to feel every inch of you against me, naked and hard.”
“You’ve definitely got me hard.”
“Scout,” she said in a hungry tone. “It’s been too long. We should never go this long without each other.”
His gut—and his heart—pulled tight. “Don’t I fucking know it.”
His fingers inside her stroked faster. Her breathing hitched. Her enticing chest rose and fell against his. Scout nibbled at the corners of her mouth, then along her jaw and down the long column of her throat. Her head fell back as he kissed and licked and nipped.
“You know I love your mouth on me,” she said in a sultry voice. “Everywhere.”
He groaned. “Yeah, I love that, too. You get damn hot for me.”
“Even when you’re just talking dirty to me over the phone.”
He could never help himself. If all the stars happened to be aligned with time zones and privacy in their favor, he took advantage.
In-person rendezvous’ were what he wanted most, though.
He kissed her again. Stroked a bit quicker. Felt the tension mount within her. Felt the ripples of excitement through her body.
Their kiss intensified. The heel of his hand rubbed against her clit as his fingers delved deeper, finding that magical spot. Scout knew when he struck gold, because her inner walls clutched him tighter, her hands more firmly fisted his hair and biceps, and her body melted into his.
Oh, yeah. This is it…
Bliss.
He kept kissing her. Kept strumming all the right places. Felt her getting into it as much as he did as she writhed against him. Squeezed him fiercely.
His cock throbbed in wicked beats, but this wasn’t about him. Or his desire and need for Ciara. It was all about her.
The tips of his fingers rubbed her g-spot, a little more forcefully. She dragged her mouth from his and let out a small cry.
“Come for me,” he urged.
She clutched and released with increasing tempo and strength. Her face burrowed in the crook of his neck. Her mouth was open so that her teeth were pressed against his skin. No doubt leaving indentations. It drove him wild.
“You don’t have to hold onto this,” he told her. “I’ll give you whatever you want, over and over again…”
“Oh, Jesus. Scout!”
Her teeth clamped down—and it was fucking electrifying how she lost control and bit him!
He felt every fiber of her being erupt and vibrate as she sucked his skin between her teeth, against her tongue.
It was erotic and thrilling and holy shit… He could just unfasten his belt… Unbutton and unzip his pants… Pull a condom from his wallet… And drown in heat and moisture that compared to nothing else.
For a man who loved the crisp scent of ice under his nose and the solid feel of it beneath his feet, Scout was equally enthralled with the way she made his body incinerate, along with the world surrounding them, when she fell apart for him.
He kissed her again, suspended in that amazing space where nothing existed but the two of them. He didn’t think about his wrecked career. Didn’t think of the never-ending physical distance between him and Ciara. Just reveled in the way her body trembled and her breathing remained jagged.
It was perfect.
Was.
He heard the sound of voices at the front of the building. Seconds later, someone threw the light switch and the fluorescents sprang to life.
“My Lord, that’s one big rock!”
Scout withdrew from Ciara, pulled away, grumbling under his breath. He reached into his pants pocket for his handkerchief while she jerked her skirt into place. Then she eased to her haunches and collected his suit jacket. Handed it over.
“Thanks,” he muttered. He folded the garment along his forearm, keeping it waist level to cover his mammoth erection. Jesus, he was hard. Damn hard.
She hastily buttoned his shirt and fixed his tie. Just as the small group that had intruded on his private moment with Ciara rounded the bow of the ship. And came to an abrupt halt.
“Oh!” blurted Jen Connors, from Ben & Jen’s Bicycles. Her husband was also with her. “We didn’t know anyone was in here.”
As Scout glanced over his shoulder, he told her, “Ciara was just showing me the new sets.”
“In the dark—oh!” Jen’s eyes widened as she caught on. It was no great mystery that Scout and Ciara were an item when they were in town.
Scout’s mother was in tow as well. Didn’t that just figure? She appeared to tamp down a knowing smile. Played along. “It’s nice to get the moonlit visual, with the glittery rays cast over the ocean scenes. Right, sweetheart?”
Scout nodded, though he really just wanted them all to go away. To his mother, he said, “Everything looks fantastic. And maybe it was a blessing in disguise that the storage facility caught fire. Those last props were about twenty years old. These sets have a fresh look to them.”
“Holiday magic works in mysterious ways.” His mother grinned impishly. Then said, “We should all get back. Dinner’s about to start.”
Scout let the others vacate, and then turned back to Ciara, whose cheeks flamed. He chuckled. “Come on. That didn’t embarrass you.”
“That was your mother,” she simply said.
“And she’s known from the first time I laid eyes on you that I was crazy about you. Common knowledge around town, too. In case you didn’t know.” He kissed her.
Ciara’s fingers curled around the material of his shirt at his chest as she returned his kiss with the kind of fervor that always sent his pulse into the stratosphere. Got the adrenaline pumping.
Ciara St. James was the ultimate rush.
Unfortunately, she pulled away a bit too fast. He groaned in protest.
She laughed softly and said, “Marilyn gave me the responsibility of announcing dinner. Let’s get to it before thirty ravenous guests come crashing through these doors.”
“They can’t possibly be ravenous. I saw the mass quantities of appetizers offered.”
“Yes, well there’s also a bottomless bottle of champagne to keep their glasses full and plenty of other cocktails Waylon supplied. Best to keep everyone fed in order to sop up the hooch.”
“You really are a natural at this,” he said with admiration. “I took a good look around. You went to a hell of a lot of trouble. It’s incredible, babe. Tilda would be damn proud of you.”
Ciara gazed up at him, her eyes watering. “I hope so. She did so much for me when I was growing up. I could tell her a million times over how much I appreciated her, and always be on my best behavior when I was under her roof—”
“Babe,” he said and flashed her a wicked grin. “You weren’t always on your best behavior.”
“Scout!” She gave him a playful shove. “You behave, or I’ll break out that triple name you hate.”
“Yeah, yeah. I get it.” He draped his jacket over her shoulders once more and guided her out, hitting the lights and closing the doors.
“Still,” she mused as they made their way along the path with a fresh dusting of powder. “This year’s reenactment and everything related to the society is important not just so that people see a seamless transition, but also because it’s what Tilda would want. I owe this to her. The Pilgrim Society meant so much to her and I want to keep everyone buzzing about the festivities—I don’t care how many times they’ve seen that damn ship land. Whether there’s a rock o
r not. It all has to be spectacular. Every single time. For Tilda.”
Scout’s arm was around Ciara’s waist and he squeezed her tight. “Best granddaughter ever,” he assured her.
“Thank you.”
They entered the back of the house. Ciara went off in the direction of the cocktail reception while Scout ducked into a bathroom to wash up. On his way to the dining room, he ran into his mother again. She smiled prettily, looking as though she might have had more than a glass or two of champagne.
Scout teasingly inquired, “Are you stalking me? Really, if you want my autograph that bad, all you have to do is ask.”
She laughed. “I have the entire collection of DVDs with your career highlights. Maybe you could sign those for me.”
“So you can turn around and put them on eBay? Not a chance.”
Another sweet laugh. “They’d fetch a nice price. But those are my prized possessions, along with JT’s books. Now, if Hamilton will just stick to one thing…”
“And how about you? Everything good with your show?”
“Absolutely fantastic.”
“Anything else going on in your life that I should know about?”
His mother spared a glance over her shoulder and down the corridor where Ciara was herding the guests into the dining room. Then she gazed up at Scout.
He said, “She doesn’t gossip anymore than I do.”
“Yes, I’m aware of that.”
“I noticed you have your own skating rink. On your finger.”
She sighed. “I suppose now is as good a time as any to tell you that I’m seeing someone.”
His brow jerked up. “Seeing someone? Very mildly put, Mother.”
“I know, I’m sorry. It’s big news. But your brothers don’t know yet.”
“Mum’s the word. Who’s the guy?”
She gave an awkward little shrug, but her eyes lit up. Scout had a feeling he wasn’t going to be overly whippy about whomever his mother was planning to keep permanent company with.
“Spill,” he coaxed.
She nodded. Said, “It’s Henry Venti. We’ve been dating for some time now, I just wasn’t ready to—”
“Mother,” Scout cut her off as his gut coiled. “Not Henry.”
“Oh, sweetheart. Just wait. Listen.” She flatted a palm against his upper arm. “Henry has changed. I know his reputation with women isn’t the best, but that’s all in the past. He’s a very warm and considerate man. And we didn’t jump into anything lightly or foolishly. We took our time getting to know each other better and we’re very serious about our relationship. Very serious.”
Scout had to rope in protective emotions. His mother had been wrecked once by a man. Scout didn’t want to see it happen again.
She told him, “Honestly, I know exactly what I’m doing. And I plan to share the news with JT and Hamilton when we’re all up at the cabin in a couple of days. Ciara is coming for Thanksgiving dinner, right? Following the reenactment in the morning?”
“Way to change the subject.” He smirked. “Very smooth, Mom.”
With a coy grin, she said, “I’m a little more interested in what’s going on with you two than in discussing Henry. We’ll talk about that later. When we’re all together.”
“I’ll invite her up. I’m sure she’ll be happy—and thankful—to have a big family gathering for her favorite holiday.”
“Wonderful.” His mother’s tension visibly eased. “Now, let’s get into the dining room before Ciara has to come looking for us. I don’t want to spoil a second of her grand evening.”
They joined the others and Scout took the seat next to Ciara. The food was sensational, the decorations were marveled over and all in all, Scout was damn proud of the effort she’d expended—and how amazing everything turned out. How amazing she was.
Unfortunately for Scout, the night ran late and there was a lot of clean-up work. Ciara shooed him from the house so she and the ladies could tidy up and repack everything for storage in the outbuilding and Henry’s people could break down the buffet stations and load their vans.
More than anything, Scout wanted to climb into bed with Ciara and hold her close. Feel her warm, soft body next to his. But they made plans to see each other the following evening. Football here at the house. Alone. Just the two of them. No interruptions.
He couldn’t wait.
Chapter Six
The doorbell rang and Ciara jumped up from one of the sofas in one of the living rooms and raced down the hallway to the front door. Thank God there was only one main entryway to the mammoth house.
She slowed as she approached. Tried to breathe normally.
A little too eager beaver to see Scout?
Yeah.
She couldn’t contain her smile or her enthusiasm, though. They were finally going to get more than ten minutes alone with each other.
She yanked a double door open and her heart launched into her throat.
Scout was causally leaning against the frame, his shoulder to the wood. He wore his leather jacket, faded jeans, hiking boots and his signature cocky grin. His dark-blond hair was unruly and peppered with snowflakes.
Lifting a hand, he showed her a six-pack of Stella Artois.
“What’s in the hand behind your back?” she asked.
He shoved away from the doorframe and offered her a wrapped arrangement of sienna-colored daisies. “Sorry I’m running late.”
“I told you it was no problem when you texted. But I’ll take the flowers, anyway.”
“Slim pickings over at Artie’s Groceries. That was the best I could manage.”
“They’re beautiful.” She kissed his cheek. “Besides, I all but cleaned out the florist who supplies Artie’s bouquets, so it’s my own fault. Now, close the door. I’m freezing.”
“Then you’re in luck that I’m here to warm you up.”
“And you’re in luck that the pizza just arrived. Piping hot.”
They traveled the wide corridor. Scout asked, “You remembered the black olives?”
She shot him a look over her shoulder. “Of course I remembered the black olives. Fully loaded deep dish with all the veggies, pepperoni and spicy Italian sausage. I bought the large, guessing you’d be starving by now. I swear it’s heavy enough to sink the Mayflower.”
They plopped down in front of the coffee table situated before a fireplace with a flat screen mounted above the mantel. Scout slipped out of his jacket, then popped the top off a Stella as Ciara threw pack the lid of the pizza box and served up a slice to him while he handed over the beer.
They dug in, no need for words at the moment. Ciara was only good for one monstrous slice, but she let Scout enjoy a second one before she said, “You planned your arrival well. It’s halftime.”
“I really did intend to be here at the start of the game.”
“No worries. I just had Venti’s hold off on making the pie and sending it over.”
Scout sucked down some beer, then asked, “Did you know about Henry and my mom? Their engagement?”
“The ladies made mention of the two of them seeing each other. That it might be serious. From what I hear, it’s all been very hush-hush. Likely while Catherine gets more comfortable with Henry’s reputation.”
“That man had better not cheat on my mother.”
Ciara smiled. “I don’t think you have anything to worry about.”
Scout wiped his hands with a couple paper napkins and stood. Pacing in front of the fireplace, he said, “I’m way too out of touch with my family. I didn’t know my mom was dating. I have no idea what’s going on with JT right now, but he’s been a bit mysterious. Hamilton… Well. Shit. Ham’s got his own problems. Big problems.”
“Is he all right?”
“Yeah,” Scout said as he rubbed the back of his neck, as though it were knotted with tension. “He’s not sick or anything. Not destitute. Shit, I think he’s got more money than me in the bank. He just has his hands full at the moment. Lots of decisions to ma
ke. That’s why I’m late. Ham stopped into Waylon’s while Coach E. and I were playing cards. He needed some big-brother advice.”
Ciara smiled. “Aw, now that’s cool. Doesn’t matter how long you guys go without seeing each other, you are still brothers. You still need one another.”
“Ironic, really, because I could use a lengthy chat with JT.”
Her head cocked to the side. “Everything okay with you?”
He stopped pacing. Dropped his hand and planted them both on his waist as he faced her. “I think we’re selling the cabin.”
“What?!” Ciara leapt to her feet. “Oh, my God! How can you even say that?”
“I know. I know. Fuck!” He went back to practically wearing a hole in the area rug covering her hardwood floor.
Ciara’s heart twisted. “Scout. Come on. Talk to me. What the hell is going on?”
“Hamilton came to us with a deal. An extremely lucrative deal.”
“You don’t need money. And from what you just said, it sounds as though Hamilton doesn’t, either. I’m sure JT’s doing quite well himself.”
“Yeah. I know.” This time Scout’s look was pointed.
Ciara’s stomach plummeted to somewhere down around her knees. “Scout. Win Creek Cabin means a hell of a lot to you. To your family. Your grandparents loved that place. There’s no way Grandpa Win would want you to cash-out unless you absolutely had to.”
“What else am I going to do?” he quietly demanded, his consternation evident. Painful enough to shred her.
She splayed her hands over his abs and stared up at him. “Don’t sell. You’ll never forgive yourself if you do.”
“But what right do I have to keep Hamilton from doing this? I’m never around, remember?”
“Scout, you have every right to say no to this. That place is yours, too. Not just as an asset, but by way of every single memory you’ve collected up on that mountain. It’s a part of who you are—and I know you well enough to know that you don’t arbitrarily give away pieces of yourself.”
