A Perfect Dilemma

by Zoe Dawson

  I was speechless when he walked right up to the table. He looked my daddy, momma Earl, and Jake straight in the eyes and said, “Good evening.”

  When he reached out his hand to me, I was helpless to refuse him. The touch of our skin was a balm to my soul as he tugged and I rose to my feet.

  “River Pearl, sugar, you look…stunning.”

  Catching a ragged breath, I tried to keep my voice from breaking, tried to hang onto a tremulous smile. How could I have ever believed this man was anything other than what he was? Strong and sure. And innocent.

  He stared down at me. Looking away, he swallowed hard, his grip almost crushing. Then, without saying a word, he laced his fingers tightly through mine and led me out to the dance floor.

  “Thank you for the dress and heels. They are so beautiful, Brax,” I whispered. “But you shouldn’t be here.”

  He drew me against him, the weight of his hand against my back pressing me further into his embrace. My forehead nestled against his jaw. I closed my eyes and cupped the back of his neck, trying to hold in all the emotions rocketing through me. Inhaling unevenly, Brax pulled me into his hold as naturally as he cooked in his kitchen.

  But the music didn’t start. I looked over to the band, but their attention was on my daddy, who was standing at our table looking thunderous.

  “Brax, the music—” Suddenly, the strumming of a guitar cascaded across the room, coming from the patio. I jerked my head to see Boone and Booker Outlaw, dressed in white button-down shirts and black pants, coming in through the open French doors. Boone was the one with the guitar, playing the opening chords of “She Mends Me.”

  “I brought my own music,” he whispered and my gaze returned to his. He gave me the purest, most devastating Outlaw smile I had ever seen. I felt completely light, completely open, and free.

  “And here I thought you had transformed into Prince Charming, but you’re nothing but a bad, bad boy, Braxton Outlaw.” My return smile came all the way from my toes, and I knew my eyes were sparkling.

  He gave me an irresistible half-grin, his blue eyes full of mischief. “I’ll show you how bad I am later,” he said. While Booker’s voice rang out strong and true, with the smoky quality all the trips had in their singing voices, Brax’s arms tightened around me and we began moving to the music, drawn into the intimacy of our own private space. The sensual, intimate tempo folded around us, along with the power and eloquence of the lyrics, and Booker’s voice, rich with so much emotion.

  Moving easily with him, I said, “I didn’t know you knew how to waltz.”

  “I didn’t. Aubree taught me.”

  “You learned for me,” I whispered, a deep, heartfelt joy making my voice wobble. And those scandalized murmurs ceased to exist, got shut out, and become insignificant to me. Moving to the music, he stared down at me, his gaze so blue, so intense, unwavering. Tightening his hold on my hand, he pressed my knuckles against his mouth, his face alight with naughtiness and emotion. Drawing a deep breath, he brought me closer, urging my head against his shoulder, letting the melody and lyrics enclose us in a cocoon of magic.

  As the last notes of Booker’s spectacular voice died away, Brax stopped moving. He spared a glance at his two brothers, who smiled the same cheeky grin, and nodded. “Thanks, huckleberries.”

  They simply turned and left the way they had come.

  My daddy had started across the dance floor, and without thinking what I was doing or the repercussions of my actions, I grabbed Brax’s hand and we made a run for it. We raced through the lobby and out the front doors down the stairs, but in my rush to keep up with him, one of my heels slipped off.

  “My shoe!” I cried.

  He stopped and raced back for it. Approaching me, he went down on one knee and ran his warm hand up the back of my calf, slipping the shoe over my foot, and said, “Your glass slipper, sugar.”

  I laughed out loud and pulled him up as I saw my daddy come out of the door.

  “River Pearl!” he yelled, but I grabbed Brax again, making a beeline for his truck. “Hurry up before I turn into a pumpkin,” I said, breathless with laughter, fear and something I couldn’t name. He started the truck and we made a break for it.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Braxton

  She kept her hand in mine during the entire drive to my house. I knew I would have to let her go back to her life in the near future, but for now she was clinging to me the way I was clinging to her.

  It was a new experience for me. I’d never thought of myself as a clinger. To me clinging seemed pathetic and weak. I’d never seen myself as weak. Pathetic…yes, sometimes, with my inability to stop thinking about this girl…but never weak. Because being an Outlaw meant you had to be tough. It was written in our genes, adversity always riding shotgun.

  I was so grateful she had wanted to leave with me, I’d been frozen for a heartbeat, but then she tugged me toward the door and we were running. We were still a bit out of breath.

  The truck cab was hot, even with the air conditioning. I was thankful the bow tie wasn’t strangling me, because I already had all this shit with River clogging my throat right now.

  I had no idea what was going to happen. Would her daddy come after us? Would he follow through, like Jake said, and try to ruin me? It didn’t matter. What mattered right now was River Pearl.

  When I pulled into the garage, she still wouldn’t let go of my hand. I slid her to me across the bench seat, and she wrapped her legs around my waist.

  I pressed my forehead against hers.

  “I’m scared, Brax,” she said. “I’m so scared.”

  “Of what?”

  “Everything. Just…everything. Which is completely lame, because I’m usually not afraid of anything. I couldn’t bear it if you got hurt…” She choked on a little sob.

  “Shh, sugar,” I whispered.

  “He threatened to…”

  “Yeah, I heard it from Jake. He called me. You can stop worrying about your daddy ruining me.”

  “Brax…”

  “I’m already ruined, sugar.”

  I took a deep breath and pulled her closer, brushing my mouth against her delectable lips. Those shoes had looked outrageous when I saw them on the net, but on her they were perfect.

  And the dress.

  The dress made me hot all over. Like the glossy pictures of her I’d cut out of magazines and pasted in a scrapbook for years, like a silly, proud ma or a giggly fangirl. Many, many provocative and sexy pictures. But I liked this dress the most, because I’d given her something she wanted. The tiny straps, the laced-up sides, the open back. “I knew that dress and those shoes would look amazing on you.”

  “Look who’s talking. You are so sexy in that tux, Brax,” she whispered. “And what you didn’t do with the tie looks so badass, so…so Outlaw.”

  I sighed heavily. “Maybe so, sugar, but, truth be told, I couldn’t tie it. My hands were shaking too hard.” My voice hitched on a surge of emotion so strong I could barely breathe. I winced when those last words came out. It was true, but it was also about as lame a thing as I’d ever said.

  Okay, it was worse than lame. It was pitiful.

  “Let’s get inside.” I hit the garage control and the doors started to ease down.

  I released the latch and pushed the truck door open with my foot. She went to get off my lap, but everything in me protested. With a smirk, I kept my hands on her butt and slid forward, keeping the core of her tight against my rock-hard dick.

  She softened against me, her hands sliding up to my shoulders, and for the first time in days the vise around my heart began to ease. It was dangerous, letting go of the tension, but for her I was willing to do it. I was powerless anyway.

  Gathering her closer, I tucked my head down next to hers and eased her back until I slipped off the seat and my feet hit the concrete floor. She kept her legs wrapped around me. She felt like heaven in my arms. If it had been up to me, I wouldn’t have moved at all, just held her, run m
y hands over her, and buried my face into the curve of her neck. I wanted to absorb her through my pores. I wanted to soak some of her into me, some of her heat, some of the life pulsing through her.

  And the tension I thought had drained away ratcheted back up. Instead of the fear of losing her, it was all about the aching. Aching skin, aching dick, aching heart.

  I wanted to lose myself in her. I wanted to forget who I was…Outlaw…who she was…Princess…and instead be what we were together…Perfect. Fucking…perfect.

  I wanted her to take me, hard. Take me, the only one, take me into oblivion.

  The scent of her made me smile, wrapped itself around me, seeped into those yearning pores, filled me, and another layer of tension eased, even as a completely different tension grabbed hold of me. She smelled warm and sweet and very female.

  It was as if I could see a path out of the dark. Maybe, just maybe this could work. Maybe we could find ourselves on that path and see, finally see where we might go from here.

  I sighed, scarcely daring to hope. She kissed along my jaw, and my insides melted into mush. I kissed her hair, then let my mouth slide lower—to her temple, her cheek, to the tender skin of her neck. God, it was heaven to hold her, to feel her skin with my lips, to take a taste and feel her tremble.

  This was making love. I knew it in my soul. This wasn’t the fucking I had done my whole life. I was skilled enough to seduce and take what I needed. Slake my physical lust, but never let it touch me. Never let the door to my emotions open and swamp me with everything I’d kept locked tight behind it for fourteen years.

  River Pearl, my daddy, the name-calling, the beatings, the confrontations, the pain, the sense of loss, despair, love, friendship, needs, desires, dreams and hopes. All locked up. I thought I’d thrown away the key, but River had it tucked in her hand. All she had to do was fit it into the lock and turn, and I would be lost. And found.

  I opened my mouth on her ear, let my breath warm her, let my teeth gently graze her lobe—let my body tell her how much I wanted her. How much I needed her.

  All those nights I’d lain alone in the dark, I’d been frozen. The last week of no word from her had been hell—pure hell. The memory of her was imprinted within me, and I didn’t know how to eradicate it, felt I might lose too much of my soul if I excised it. The memories followed me into sleep. The memories were waiting for me when I woke up—but River could save me. I had to believe it, had to believe in her.

  I slid my hand down her back, under her dress, and down to the base of her spine, caressing silken skin, rediscovering silken curves. A tremor went through her, and I held onto the chaos pressing me to the edge.

  I slowly brought my hand all the way back up, until my open palm rested on her rib cage and my thumb gently caressed the underside of her breast.

  She went very still in my arms, her breath catching, and I gave it up to her. Surrendered to her.

  “I missed you.” That should be safe enough. “I missed you so much it hurt.” What I didn’t feel safe telling her was I still hurt, everywhere, all at once, all the time, and if she couldn’t save me, I might be lost forever.

  “I missed you, too. It hurt constantly.” Her voice was soft. If I hadn’t been holding her in my arms, I wouldn’t have heard.

  But I did hear, and it was all the reason I needed to give in to more of what I wanted.

  I moved around the door, still holding her plastered to me, her legs tight around my waist, every step sizzling agony.

  I bumped the truck door closed with my raised knee, the sound loud in the semi-darkness.

  She breathed against my ear. “You are so damn strong, so sexy, so balanced.”

  “You steal my balance. Make me dizzy.”

  She kissed my ear, sending tingles right down to my throbbing dick. I groaned and she bit my lobe, sucking on it.

  I moved around the front of my truck to the stairs. Supporting her on my thighs and one arm across the small of her back, I fumbled with the doorknob until it gave and I stumbled into the kitchen.

  Catching the door with my heel, I closed it. Trembling now, I set her onto the countertop. The dim light over the sink illuminated her face and her silvery eyes. My heart and the words I wanted to say to her stalled right at my lips. But I couldn’t release them. I didn’t have that kind of courage. Her gaze was steady on mine, filled with her inner beauty and her desire for me. It was also stark and raw. A look mirrored in my own eyes, I was sure.

  She reached up and set her fingertips against my lips and traced them oh, so slowly. My cut lip was almost healed, but she went over the skin gently, then leaned forward and kissed me there. Need for her spiraled through my chest to my gut, a crazy mix of emotion and desire.

  She raised her head, her eyes traveling over my face, honing in on my mouth.

  “Yes,” I pleaded. “Please, kiss me. I’m dying for you to kiss me. I’m afraid I’ll hurt you if I do it.”

  “You would never hurt me, Brax. Never,” she breathed before she pressed her mouth to mine. My hands curled around her ribcage, the feel of her skin and the silky dress against my palms intoxicating.

  She delved her fingers into my hair, her kiss demanding me to respond, but I was holding on to my control by its last threads. My control was tenuous and I didn’t want to hurt her.

  She cupped the back of my head and pressed harder, and I couldn’t hold on anymore. With a growl of need, I pressed her back, pushing my throbbing dick against her core, pressing my mouth over hers, slipping my tongue inside, my knees almost buckling at the hot, sweet taste of her.

  Geezus, this is what I’d wanted, what I’d needed, the part of me I’d tried so stubbornly to keep hidden from her, the part of me I’d shared with her—the part no one else ever got to see. She was the sweetest thing on earth, giving it all up for me, her responses triggering more of my own, the two of us getting lost in each other.

  She gasped, almost a sob, and a huge wave of tension lifted away from me while I gave myself up to the wonder of her.

  Her fingers were in my hair, my hands had slipped down to her hot, satiny hips. Her mouth was hotter and sweeter then I remembered, filling me up with her essence.

  I kissed her again, and again, and again, and she cried out each time, melting against me, until she slipped off the counter and slid down my body.

  She went for my zipper, slipping it down, undoing the button at the top until my loose pants dropped to my shoes.

  She palmed my erection through my briefs, eliciting a low, rumbling groan. She ran her hands over my arms down to my shirt cuffs, deftly removing the cufflinks and setting them aside. Then she undid the top button of the dress shirt, running her hands down my chest, between the edges of the shirt, and popping the studs as she went. They pinged when they hit the tile floor and the wooden cabinets. She pushed the shirt off my shoulders, and it landed on the floor behind me.

  “River,” I whispered, and she brushed her lips over mine while her hand slipped over the top of my boxer briefs, grazing the head of my hot dick. I jerked like she’d touched me with a live wire, the shock of pleasure scorching through me right to the base of my balls.

  She kissed my neck and trailed her hot mouth down to my nipple, licking me and stroking me. I arched my hips forward at the feel-good slide of her hand and mouth.

  But when she dipped to her knees and tugged at my underwear, I grasped her under the arms and croaked, “No. Please. No.”

  She looked up at me from beneath a tangled fall of golden brown hair, her tiara winking in the light, her blue eyes lazily slumberous.

  “Why?” she whispered, resisting my attempts to pull her to her feet. “Why won’t you let me do this? I want to go down on you.”

  I thought about what my brothers had said, that I was hung up on a combination of my fear of losing control and my belief and image of her as an untouchable Princess. But I had already lost control with her and she was a flesh and blood woman. A woman I wanted with everything in me.

&nbs
p; “Don’t you trust me? Don’t you want me like this, Brax?”

  “Yes,” I hissed out and crouched down. “I want your mouth on me, River. I’m…I’m afraid.”

  “Of what, sugar?”

  “This is mortifying,” I mumbled, my face heating. I wanted her, but I wanted to retreat.

  She cupped my face and forced my eyes to hers. “No, it’s not. You can tell me anything, Brax. Anything at all. I will always be there for you.”

  I lifted my hand to cover my hot face, to hide from her, but she grasped my wrist and pulled it away. “Brax, don’t. You don’t need to feel embarrassed.”

  “Some stud I am,” I muttered.

  “Does me going down on you make you think less of me?” she asked with a little catch in her voice.

  I settled on my knees, stroking her face, felt mine contort in reaction to her words. “No, that’s not it at all. Everything about you turns me on. The idea of you giving me…head. Fuck, it turns me on until I’m so hard I can’t breathe.”

  “Then what?”

  “I have a hang-up about this, and I don’t understand it, and I don’t know how to get past it.”

  “Just let me have you. Let me take you. Let go.”

  Everything had gotten so screwed up.

  Everything.

  I pulled her against me, fighting off another surge of panic.

  She was warm and giving. She looked at me with such compassion. Not pity, which I’d been worried I’d see. I looked at her tiara again, and reached out to lift it from her hair. I studied how it winked in the light and she covered my hand.

  “I’m so hot for you right now. I want to give you mind-bending, mind-blowing pleasure.” She gestured to the tiara with a flick of her finger. “This is only metal and jewels, a hair ornament. It’s not who I am, Brax. I’m just River Pearl, a woman with normal, basic needs. I want you every intimate way possible. I’m your Princess.”

  I set the tiara on the countertop above us and stood. She rose, too, holding my gaze. And then I realized what my hang-up was. I spent too much time shredding my conscience, and scoring my soul. Beating myself up, battering myself, thinking she was too beautiful, too pure for me. That the curse of the Outlaws, so black and dirty, would sully her.