by Zoe Dawson
Her enticing, slightly parted, sassy mouth.
Inhaling unevenly, I paused. I started to tremble, the scent of her buzzed through me, set me off like a rocket into outer space. Geezus, how long had I wanted her? It had gotten so tangled up in my head.
Forbidden for so damn long.
Scant inches separated our mouths while her eyes reached right into mine and clamped hold of my heart. Her gaze was as elusive as smoke, as immovable as cement.
I hovered there, some last-minute sense of self-preservation making me hesitate. If I did this, I would hurt for her. I had hurt for her. What was I thinking? I should walk away, run away…far…away.
Her eyes said she wasn’t going to help me, that this had to be my decision. She was finished with begging me.
If she’d been any other woman I’d have already kissed her senseless and would now be deep inside her. But she wasn’t any other woman, and the thought of being inside her made my knees go weak.
“Brax, you’re killing me.”
The moment strung out tight and taut, the waning sun of the bayou fading with each passing second, bathing the air orange. She looked up at me, open and vulnerable. Releasing all her sassy barriers to connect with me…and my walls came tumbling down. All this time, all I’d wanted was to be closer. It was the right word to define this moment. Closer to her soft, warm skin. Closer to her body. Closer to her mouth. Closer to her River Pearl essence.
Sweet thing, her gaze on mine, and I thought, I’m falling. I have been falling for so long. I’m so dizzy with the fall, but it will be worth the impact to be the one she wants.
Slowly, I slid my nose down the side of hers and gently kissed the corner of her mouth. Her hand came up and settled on my waist, and I kissed her again, a little more intensely, moving my lips over hers, breathing her in—and she sighed into my mouth.
Fuck, yeah. I cupped her cheek and tilted her face up while opening my mouth over hers, the press of moist heat and silky lips. I groaned then, awash in the sensations, savoring this first contact with her. I pressed her back against the tree, my mouth demanding. I’d wanted her for so long. All that long time, I’d wanted the smell of her, the taste of her. I’d longed for this sweet River Pearl softness, the softness of her mouth and skin, the softness of her touch, the tenderness of her kiss. I wanted her hands all over me, with gentle exploration and desperate need.
The longing was physical…aw, fuck…emotional.
I was so royally screwed by a royal Princess.
I crowded her against the tree. Her full breasts pillowed against my chest, her hips cradled mine, her other hand sliding up the back of my neck, pulling me closer. I loved the hot sweetness of it, the way she melted against me.
I slid my tongue into her mouth and felt the sharp punch of desire take hold, the taste of her, the delicacy of her tongue sliding against mine, teasing me. Her hand slid under my T-shirt, her palm smooth and hot against me, sliding over me, and pulling me closer.
And closer. I felt the edge of her desperation, could taste her surrender, the hot flavor of it exploding on my tongue, and I struggled against what I knew I should do. Stop. I should stop.
“Should stop,” I murmured.
But then she bit me, very carefully, very gently, closed her teeth on my jaw and licked my skin, then moved to my neck and did it again, and all the while her hand was traveling across my lower back, her fingers sliding below the waistband of my jeans.
“No, God please, no.”
She wanted me and my lungs seized and I felt shaky, desire coiled low and intense in my gut and groin. She was showing me she wanted the mindlessness of this, to simply feel. She’d waited as long as I had. I had made her wait. She needed this. I knew, because I needed this, too. A reprieve from fighting, second-guessing, and running.
I brought one hand up to caress her breasts, loving the weight and softness of them. I slid my other hand up under her dress, another pretty concoction of color and lace and mind-blowing prick tease.
And my dick was hard and full, with nowhere to expand in my jeans.
“Oh, fuck, yeah,” I said against her lips.
“Brax-ton,” she gasped, and I covered her sweet mouth. Loving the breathless quality of her voice. I kissed her deeper, taking her panting mouth, pressing my hard-on against her. We had teased each other for so long, our mouths were frantic, devouring.
My hand slid over lace panties. What color? I wondered, then her hand curved over my bare ass, squeezing and driving my hips deeper into hers. I lost my train of thought.
“Brax—”
I kissed her again, brushing my lips over hers, sucking her tongue into my mouth, opening it wider over hers—taking her.
“Geezus,” I groaned.
Pulling her thigh up over mine, I slid my palm along the smooth silk of her skin, my breath hitching when her leg glided higher. Her hand was on my bare chest, kneading my skin and muscle, brushing over my nipples with a sizzling friction. Her mouth devouring mine, all over me, so damned sweet.
Something broke loose, jumped free of my control. I gripped her taut butt, dragging her hips against me, pumping mine with an uncontrollable rhythm. I didn’t think I had ever been this hard in my life, my dick was actually throbbing. I wanted her. Wanted her with a passion I had denied for…forever, it seemed. It broke bonds and freed itself with a raging yell, and I completely lost my resolve and forgot everything I had vowed. My hand smoothed over tantalizing bare skin, back to her panties. I couldn’t take my eyes off her.
She was…breathtaking. I couldn’t get enough oxygen. Her head was back, her eyes closed. Her lashes were burnished gold, and thick against her tanned cheekbones. Her lips. Those fucking, taunting, beautifully delicate lips were parted because she was completely into what we were doing. A rush of adrenaline and snarling, possessive need coiled tighter inside me.
“Brax,” she whispered, and I slid my hand under the band of lace. I wanted this to happen, felt the inevitability of it taking over. If she wanted to stop, now was the time to tell me, but she lifted her hips and kept kissing me, her tongue sliding deeper into my mouth, and again, until I tucked my hand between her legs.
I cupped her, held her, found her with my fingers, and rubbed her very gently at first, exploring and allowing the soft wonder of her to make me even harder.
Geezus. Everything about her felt so good, and then I must have done something really right. She twisted against me with a small, gasping cry, and I groaned.
And did the right thing again, teasing her just so. She melted, she sighed, she pushed herself against my hand, and I kissed her, letting her take her time and her pleasure. It was such a luxury, a rich gift, to have her moaning at the touch of my hand. I sucked on her neck, then licked her before moving lower. With my other hand, I bunched up her dress in my fist and found her without a bra, totally bared to me. I couldn’t help my growl of appreciation while I watched her flat stomach rippling with her undulating hips.
Sweet, sweet geezus—I groaned low and guttural. With the dress clenched tight, I cupped her right in the middle of her back and arched her, thrusting her breasts up. I licked her nipple and she convulsed with a sweet moan. Then I sucked her ravenously. She buried her fingers in my hair and held me closer, panting.
My dick pulsed with the need to push up inside her, to thrust into her, but what I wanted even more was… ah, there it was, a long moment of rigidity, her body stretched taut, her breath caught, and the long hot slide into ultimate pleasure… that.
She came apart for me, her hips jerking against my hand, a groan sighing from her lips. I kept sucking on her, playing with her until she cried out again, her hips bucking harder. She pulled my mouth back up to hers and slid her hands down to unbuckle my belt.
I held her firmly against the tree, keeping her hands still.
The tree.
Descended from a murderer and a thief. The whole town against us always. Against anyone who got close to us. They would hurt her. My reputation wo
uld hurt her. Feeling torn apart, I pulled away almost violently and stumbled a few steps before falling to my knees.
Panic twisted my gut. I wanted to take her hard and fast, fuck her and mark her.
But my mark was poison.
She had to know it.
Why didn’t she know it?
Regret burned like acid in my throat, behind my eyelids. I gritted my teeth against it, flogged myself mentally to get past it. “Not here.”
Tension rattled through me like thunder shaking windowpanes as the scenes played out in my memory. I squeezed my eyes closed, trying to shut the many times I had to endure seeing folks abuse my ma. No way could I handle it if it happened to River Pearl. My emotions rushed ahead frantically, knowing the ending, caught between overwhelming desire and my need to protect her. I sucked a sharp breath through my nostrils and curled my fists tight on my thighs.
I sat back on my heels, the need to take her tying my guts in knots, my blood singing at the thought of finally having her beneath me, branding her with my body and my need.
I didn’t know if I could hold myself together when she kept breaking me apart.
It was no way to treat a princess, taking her against the very tree where they hanged my ancestor in the bayou. She deserved satin sheets and a gentle, warm man. Not me. I wasn’t sure I could be gentle with her. All I knew was, it wasn’t going to happen here. I wasn’t sure it could happen at all.
When she laid her hand against my rigid back muscles, I twisted away and got to my feet, turning to face her.
Both of us were breathing harshly, but I think River knew better than to touch me again.
Panting, grabbing hold of my self-control, I pushed up from the ground and took her hand again dragging her back to the bike.
When I thrust the helmet into her hands, she looked up at me. “Braxton.”
“No, not here.” I looked up at the tree, at the scar, and felt sick.
Before she put the helmet on, she said, “Braxton.”
I shook my head.
Her eyes held such disappointment; it tightened my gut into even more punishing knots. Then she jammed the helmet on and waited. I put mine on and held her eyes for what felt like a full minute before I slammed down the visor. Fuck.
I climbed on and she tucked herself behind me, pressing hard against my back. This time I didn’t have to tell her to hold on, because this was going to be a wild, bucking ride. She had no goddamned idea what she was in for. I twisted the throttle and the bike leapt forward, an extension of me, roaring like it was alive. Clutching and using the power of the bike, I spun it out, popped a wheelie and hit the road, burning rubber.
I had her home in record time. I didn’t say anything or remove my helmet. She took hers off and attached it with the strap to the seat, stepping away from the bike. I gunned the throttle and took off.
But I didn’t get very far.
I stopped and parked the bike under cover of some Magnolia trees, but still on her property. I remembered her sketchbook. I leaned back and pulled it out of the saddlebag. Flipped it open.
My heart thumped once, hard. The drawing was of me. I flipped through the pages. All the drawings were of me, even the last one. The day she’d come to my house to ask about Duel. She’d not only captured my true likeness with her skill, but the expression on my face. It was tortured. I closed my eyes. Fuck. I should have kept going and taken her home with me. Looking back at her house, I couldn’t wait to see her again. Without conscious intention, I started walking, tucking the keys into my pocket. When I reached her house, there were lights on downstairs, conversation, clinking glasses. I looked up and saw a light. I had no earthly idea if it was hers.
I crouched down, adrenaline powering through me like electricity. How much would I risk?
Everything.
I looked down again at the drawing of me. I crouched there, waiting, until all conversation faded and lights turned off, until the house was quiet and the bayou slept. Waited until her light went out.
Looking up, I told myself I was completely out of my mind. I tucked the sketchpad into the waistband of my jeans. Grasping the trellis, the honeysuckle sweet and heavy in the air, I climbed hand over hand, feet placed carefully. When I reached a small porch, I stepped onto it, toward an open window.
I popped out the screen, slipping inside in one move. Then snapped the screen back on.
Her room was expansive, smelled like her, fresh and enticing, intoxicating and teasing.
My shoulder hit the edge of an easel and I grabbed it before it could fall. In the moonlight, I could make out a partially completed bayou landscape. It was beautiful.
I walked to her bed and stood there. She mumbled something unintelligible, turning her head toward me and killing me slowly in the dark. She had kicked off the white sheet, now bunched at her delicate feet. I reached out to touch and discovered it wasn’t silk, to my surprise.
She was wearing a little bit of prick-tease nothing. I wondered if she had anything in her closet that wasn’t provocative. Or, maybe, it was just provocative to me. This one was hot pink like the panties she’d worn, but this time she wasn’t wearing panties. There was nothing but round, smooth skin showing, the hot pink concoction framing those succulent butt cheeks, filmy and tantalizing in the half dark. Her bare shoulder was irresistible, and I reached out and brushed my fingers over it.
I was still hard. And I was so far gone at this point, I didn’t give a damn about anything.
Chapter Nine
River Pearl
Sleep twisted around me, a world of gray tendrils of dreams and desires. When would he let go of that formidable control, of the past? When would he be honest with me? With himself? My overstimulated mind would not let me rest. I couldn’t wake up and I couldn’t really sleep. I felt his hand on me, the weight and texture of his caress, as if he’d left an imprint of himself on my hypersensitive skin.
He’d insisted on no commitment, just sex. No relationship, because I was leaving. Was it what I wanted with Braxton? I was so frustrated with wanting him, so mixed up. I felt at a crossroads. A career already mapped out for me, more opportunities than I could count. Money, prestige, fame, and success were things I never had to pursue. They had always been mine for the taking.
Except for one aspect of my life.
Braxton.
I drifted, and the sensations came funneling back with a velocity that made me weak and restless. My body hot, I tipped my head back, the dense, fluttery sensation in my chest compressing my lungs, making it nearly impossible to breathe.
Memories and sensations overwhelmed my senses, and I remembered the out-of-control need when it had flared and settled in Brax’s eyes, recalled the feel of his mouth, hot and hungry on mine, the feel of him, tantalizingly hard beneath his sexy jeans. He’d gotten me off so easily and quickly, I had turned into liquid and melted against him.
Heated by the sensory memories, I thrashed, and wished he was here right now, wished he could thrust into me and ease the heavy, thick desire that had pulsed for him for so many years.
“River,” his voice stole into my dream, and I sighed, tossing, then strong hands were on my shoulders, “Easy, sugar.”
I gasped at the deep resonance of his voice. Not in my dreams, but here. My eyes popped open and I cried out, “Brax.”
Strong arms came around me, drawing me into a warm, secure embrace. “I got you, babe,” he said, holding me tight. Fighting to hold back a sudden swell of tears, I moved deeper into his embrace, relief and affection mixing into a fierce surge of emotion. My hands splayed across the taut muscles of his back, and I pressed my face against his neck, holding him with every ounce of strength I had.
Then reality intruded and I came fully awake. The unhappiness and doubt on his face reached out and squeezed my heart.
“Brax what are you doing here?” He went to his knees beside the bed, and I couldn’t bear it. I’d wanted Braxton Outlaw for as long as I could remember. I scooted across the
bed and wrapped my arms around him. He tried to kiss me, but I rolled away and glanced at my bedroom door.
“You forgot your sketchbook,” he whispered, then added, “I thought you would want it.”
“My sketchbook?” I looked at him.
“It’s just an excuse. Tell me to go and I will. I’m fucked up.” His voice was ragged. I shivered at the way he looked at me, and at having him in my house, in my bedroom. His shirt was hanging open, the velvet skin of his chest in shadow. I wanted to slip my hand inside and curl it around one of those massive shoulders, up his strong neck, and down the center of his chest, down and down…, and finally, finally get my hands on him.
Slipping out of bed, I hurried to the door, but even as I twisted the lock, his hands were clutching my silk nightie, and with one pull he slipped it off. I moaned as his hot hands cupped my breasts from behind and he buried his lips in my hair, against my neck.
“I just…I need you, River,” he murmured huskily. “I’m such a bastard, but I need you now.” Pulling me back against him, he left a trail of moisture along my skin, tasting me with the tip of his tongue. It was so erotic. “You feel so damn good,” he whispered.
He pressed his chest to my back, his groin thrusting against me. He pinched and rubbed my nipples and I bit my lip, trying not to make too much noise.
“I think about you all the time. I try to deny how much I want you. All the fucking time. I think I’m going to die from the wanting, River.” He spun me around, his mouth coming down hard on mine while he pushed his way between my legs, his fully clothed body rough against my skin.
I figured he was beyond even getting his clothes off, so I reached for his shirt while he devoured me, his mouth fierce and needy as he thrust his tongue into my mouth.
“Touch me,” he ordered, and I pushed his shirt off his broad shoulders. I skimmed my hands over the hardness of his honed and muscled shoulders and arms, his mouthwatering chest, feeding the female need in me to have a strong man, this strong man, beneath my hands, one who was raw and tough, but oh-so-gentle with me. Sliding my hands down his ripped abdomen, I reached for the buckle of his jeans and undid it, a breath rushing out of me when he didn’t stop me this time, flattened my palm over his hard heat at the same time my free hand reached for the waistband of his jeans. He twisted against me, his chest hot and hard against my crushed breasts.
