Surrender To Sultry

by Macy Beckett

  With one gentle hand, he cupped her chin and tipped it up, forcing her to take in his beautiful face, his eyes heavy with contrition. In a voice so sincere she almost couldn’t stand it, he told her, “I’m sorry for that.”

  For the first time, she was glad he’d forbidden her to speak, because she didn’t know what to say. All she could do was nod within the confines of his palm and fight back tears as he continued.

  “After we had se—” he cut off and corrected, “after we made love, it felt like someone turned my body inside out. Like I was missing my skin. I loved you so hard, just thinking about you made me ache. It was wonderful and horrible, all at once. Some days I was afraid I’d crack in half if you looked at me the wrong way.”

  She remembered feeling the same—worried she loved him too much. People said love shouldn’t hurt, but it did. The intensity of it hurt like nothing else on earth.

  “I’m not gonna lie.” Still caressing her face, he inched closer, until their knees touched. “It was scary as hell. I think I knew, deep down, that you wouldn’t stay with a loser like me, and I panicked. I ruined everything so you couldn’t dump me for a better guy.” He took her cheeks between both hands and admitted, “I sabotaged what we had because I was a coward, and I didn’t think I deserved you.”

  The backs of Leah’s eyes stung as tears blurred her vision. She didn’t want to believe him, and yet her heart surged with the hope that he’d once loved her. She held her breath and tried to force down a sob, but it bubbled up from deep in her lungs and broke free. Holding firm, he tilted their foreheads together.

  “I still don’t deserve you, Angel.” He stroked her face with his thumb, wiping away a tear while his warm breath tickled her cheek. “But I’m all grown up now, and I’m not afraid.”

  He drew nearer, held her gaze as he licked his lips. It was the last thing Leah saw before letting her eyelids flutter closed.

  She didn’t resist the soft brush of his mouth. Instead, she tilted her head back and opened to him with a whimper that betrayed the depth of her craving. He groaned in response, capturing her mouth with enough passion to liquefy her bones. When their tongues met, every cell in her body hummed alive with the memory of his kiss, even after all these years.

  Her hands strained against the metal cuffs, fingers aching to touch his face and recall the features they’d once known so well. Unbound, Colt didn’t hesitate to reacquaint himself with every curve and pulse point along her throat, first with his hands, and then with his open mouth. He knew exactly where to lick and nibble, how to work the carnal spot at the base of her neck that’d always driven her wild. She tipped her head aside in a silent plea for more, and when he sucked her sensitive flesh, she moaned out loud as every drop of blood in her body pooled between her thighs.

  He returned to her mouth before the moan had even left her lips, the rich, decadent sweetness of éclairs lingering on his tongue. She’d denied herself this taste for so long, and now she delved deeper, taking her fill until a distant voice of reason called out, Not healthy.

  She ignored the voice. Colt’s seeking tongue felt too good sliding between her parted lips. She was hungry, and she wanted more.

  Not healthy, the voice called again.

  She battled the voice. It had been too long since a man had worshipped her with his mouth this way—ten years too long.

  Not healthy, her conscience screamed, refusing to be ignored.

  With a groan of protest, she summoned all her strength and turned her face aside to break the kiss, then whispered, “Stop.”

  She braced herself for a graze of teeth at her jaw, a massaging hand at her breast, a wicked whisper of breath in her ear—the artillery of seduction Colt had used against her so well.

  But instead, he rested his forehead on her shoulder and fought for breath, his hands sliding to her arms, gripping her as if struggling for control. His voice was thick with lust when he asked, “Is that really what you want?”

  Afraid words would make her a liar, she only nodded.

  He placed one chaste kiss on her head before pulling back. “All right, then. We’ll go as slow as you want, Angel.”

  “Don’t call me that,” she whispered. “You don’t know me, Colt. I’m no angel, and I’m not here to stay. This can’t happen again.”

  “It’s okay.” He held up both hands in surrender. “All I’m asking is that you forgive me, nothing else.”

  “I told you, I already—”

  “There’s more.”

  Leah felt herself fading. She couldn’t take much more of this. If confession really was good for the soul, Colt would beat her to the pearly gates by a mile. She let her head fall against the seatback and asked, “What now?”

  “After you left and I couldn’t find you…” He paused to clear his throat. “I’m not proud of the man I became after that. You’ve probably heard stories—there’re plenty going around.”

  “It’s none of my business.”

  “Well, I’m making it your business, because I want you to know I’ve changed.”

  Leah wanted to tell him it didn’t matter—it was too late for them—but the words caught at the top of her lungs.

  “Let me show you,” he asked. When she opened her mouth to object, he added, “Just as friends. We were friends once, right?”

  “For about a week. Then it turned into more.”

  “But we’re older now.”

  “Not necessarily any wiser.”

  “Maybe not.” He disarmed her with a lethal smile, his white teeth a flash in the darkness. “But I already told you I’m not afraid. Are you?” He raised both brows in a challenge. “How ’bout it? Can we be friends?”

  “If I say yes, will you let me go home?”

  He dangled his keys in the air. “Scout’s honor.”

  “Fine, we’re friends.” He really knew how to wear a girl down. “Don’t make me regret it.”

  “Never,” he promised in a solemn tone. “Never again.”

  Chapter 6

  “Look! It’s ’N Sync!”

  Rachel yanked the T-shirt from Leah’s closet and held it over her chest. She smoothed a loving hand over Justin’s face and mouthed Hello, lover. As teens, she and Leah had both aspired to the title of Mrs. Timberlake, and that was long before he brought “sexy back.”

  “I remember when we went to this show,” Rachel said with a nostalgic sigh.

  “Me too,” Leah said from her spot on the bed. “Because Daddy wouldn’t let us go alone.” Ever the diligent chaperone, he’d insisted on hanging alongside them in his pink Izod polo with the popped collar, waving his arms in the air and singing the wrong lyrics to “Bye Bye Bye.” “Between his falsetto and your dancing, it’s a miracle I didn’t die of embarrassment.”

  “Hey, I had some bitchin’ moves back in the day.” Rachel performed a few hip thrusts and a stiff version of the Running Man while Leah broke into a fit of giggles. “Tell me that’s not fresh-dope-ill.”

  “Wiggity-wack,” Leah said. “You’ve still got it, fly girl. Your talents are wasted at the hardware store.”

  “You’re right. I should ask the owner for a raise.”

  And she’d get it, too, because Rachel was the owner. The co-owner, anyway.

  After taking a bow, Rachel slung the T-shirt over one shoulder and continued rifling through Leah’s closet. “And look—your prom dress. It still has the tags on it.”

  She lifted a sapphire, floor-length taffeta gown for display, the one Leah had ordered for $79.99 plus shipping and handling from the JCPenney catalog. Back then, she’d considered eighty bucks a fortune—heck, it was kind of a fortune now—but she’d gladly parted with her babysitting money because she’d thought Colt would like it. Never mind that she technically wasn’t allowed to dance; she’d intended on going to prom anyway.


  But that was before the breakup…and the positive pregnancy test that followed.

  Leah drew both knees to her chest. “I didn’t have the heart to send it back.”

  The oversized bow at the waist sagged with age, but the dress still shimmered, rich and opalescent, when it caught the sunlight. Waves of hidden, poufy crinoline bustled beneath the fabric, beckoning, Try me!

  Leah tipped her head and studied the bodice. “Wonder if it still fits.”

  Rachel tossed it onto the bed. “If you can still fit into your prom dress, the world finally has a reason to hate you.”

  “It’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

  She stood and faced the wall to slip off her clothes, not out of modesty, but because she didn’t want Rachel to notice the scar that bisected her from hip to hip. Leah’s bestie had given her an unusual reprieve from questions regarding her ten-year absence, and she didn’t want to disrupt the unspoken bargain of “don’t ask, don’t tell.”

  Stepping inside the gown made her feel like an instant princess, the silky fabric cool against her legs. She pulled up the dress and slid her arms through the spaghetti straps, then straightened the waist and backed toward Rachel.

  “Zip me up, will you?” Leah swept her hair aside while sucking in her tummy. The touch of Rachel’s icy hands made Leah flinch, but the zipper closed without a fight. Smoothing her hands over the wide pleated skirt, she spun to face her friend.

  “It’s a good thing I love you,” Rachel said, “’cause that shit’s not fair.”

  Leah swished around the bed to the mirror mounted on the opposite wall, her heart fluttering in anticipation of a glimpse. In seconds, she got one, but she didn’t expect the wistful tug of disappointment that accompanied the sight of herself in the old gown.

  Technically, there was nothing wrong. The material hugged her curves and flared out at the hips in a perfect complement to her figure. But the youthful style stood out in contrast against her strong features. Her face had matured since the last time she’d tried on this dress, cheekbones sharp, the hollows beneath carved from life’s trials. The gown was clearly designed for a teenager, not a grown woman. It looked ridiculous on her.

  That’s when the realization hit like a kick to the chest—she’d missed prom. Really missed it. That night was gone forever.

  She turned away from the woman in the mirror and asked Rachel, “Remember that character in Pretty in Pink, Andie’s boss at the record store?”

  “Mmm-hmm.”

  “She talks about feeling like something’s missing from her life, and she decides it’s a side-effect of skipping prom.” Leah plopped onto the bed. “Now I finally get it.”

  “You didn’t miss much, trust me,” Rachel said.

  Leah knew better. She’d give anything to travel back in time and experience that magical night.

  “I mean it,” Rachel insisted, “the whole night was hella awkward. I dumped Tommy after what he did to you, and so did half the girls dating the football team. Most of us went stag. Hardly anyone danced. I think I left at nine.”

  “Oh, no,” Leah said, slumping over. “So basically, I ruined prom for the whole school?”

  Rachel flapped a hand. “If anyone should feel bad, it’s me. I took him back two weeks later. Should’ve known better.” Shaking her head, she grumbled, “Guys like Tommy and Colton never change.”

  At that, Colt’s words echoed inside Leah’s head. I’m making it your business, because I want you to know I’ve changed. So who should she believe, Rachel or Colt? Could people really reform themselves, deep inside where it counted, or were personalities forged in concrete from a certain age?

  Of course, it didn’t matter because she and Colt were all wrong for each other. Even if she cared enough to try and trust him, she’d have to come clean about Noah. That could jeopardize the adoption. She’d never take that chance.

  Leah blocked Colt’s image and glanced at the sparkling blue fabric covering her legs. “Guess I should donate this old thing.”

  “What about in there?” Rachel asked, pointing at the closet. “The nineties called, and it wants all that stuff back. Your whole room is a time warp.”

  “I know.” Daddy hadn’t changed a thing—not the faded pink bedspread, not the lava lamp bubbling away on the nightstand, not even the decade-old calendar on her bulletin board. “I’ll box it up before I leave.”

  “Are we done pretending like nothing happened?” Rachel demanded abruptly. “Are you ready to talk to me now?”

  Leah’s heart chilled. She wasn’t prepared for Rachel to repeal “don’t ask, don’t tell.”

  “Oh, come on,” Rachel said when Leah didn’t respond. “There’s nothing you can’t say to me.”

  “There’s nothing to tell,” Leah began, reciting the same tired lie she’d peddled all over town. “I had a fight with Daddy—”

  “Stop!” Rachel yanked the concert T-shirt from her shoulder and threw it onto the bed. “Don’t pull that. Not with me!”

  Leah ducked her head and gazed at the scuffed hardwood. As much as she wanted to unburden herself with the truth, she couldn’t put Noah at risk. She loved Rachel, but she loved Noah more. A whole lot more.

  The bed shook as Rachel sat beside her. “I know you,” she said softly. “And I know how much you loved your dad. You wouldn’t have stayed gone unless you were in trouble.”

  “I can’t talk about it.” Leah dared a glance into Rachel’s eyes. “I wish I could.”

  Rachel’s brows lowered in concern. She studied Leah for a few seconds. “Now you’re scaring me. I’ve had a lot of theories over the years. Sometimes I wondered if you ran away because you were knocked up, but now I’m thinking…” She trailed off, studying Leah’s expression while tipping her head in contemplation.

  Leah held her breath instinctively, frozen as if Rachel might read the truth on her face if she moved. Nothing to see here.

  Rachel gasped, bolting upright. “Oh my god! That’s it, isn’t it? You were pregnant!” She clapped a hand over her mouth and darted a glance at the bedroom door. After pulling her palm away, she whispered, “Does your dad know?”

  Leah should’ve denied the accusation, but she was too worried that if Rachel had put two and two together, someone else might’ve done the same. “Yes, but he’s the only one who knows. Do you think anyone suspects? Was there talk after I left?”

  “Plenty of talk, but most folks figured you’d pulled a typical ‘preacher’s daughter’ and took off to embrace your wild side.” She smiled in wonder and took both of Leah’s hands. “I can’t believe it. You’re a mama.”

  Leah shook her head. This was nothing to celebrate. If the news got out, it could destroy Noah’s world. “Rachel, no one can ever know. I put the baby up for adoption without Colt’s consent. If he ever found out…”

  “He won’t find out,” Rachel swore. “Not from me.”

  “You can’t tell a soul.”

  Rachel pretended to zip her lips and lock them tight, but before throwing away the key, she yanked the “zipper” aside and said, “You know I want to see pictures, right? Do you have any?”

  Despite the cold rush of anxiety still flooding her veins, Leah’s mouth broke into a grin. Noah might not call her Mom, and she couldn’t legally take him to the doctor or pick him up from school, but she always kept a digital photo album on hand. In that way, she was a true mother.

  “Hand me my iPad,” she said, pointing at the desk, “and get comfy, because there’s a whole lotta cute in there.”

  ***

  Colt unloaded five bags of Weed & Feed onto the front stoop and turned to survey the patchy, briar-filled landmine Preacher McMahon called a lawn. You’d think with all those parishioners, someone would cut the old guy’s grass once in a while, maybe pull a few weeds and do some aerating. Luc
ky for Colt, the holy rollers of Sultry County thought breaking a sweat was the eighth deadly sin. It would take at least half a dozen trips to get this overgrown ruin in shape, which gave him an excuse to see more of Leah. Mowing, weeding, raking, reseeding—he could easily stretch out this job for weeks.

  He glanced toward the backyard, wondering if the shed was locked. Either way, he should probably check in before getting started. A break-in scare wasn’t the best way to get on Leah’s good side, and he couldn’t afford to lose footing with her. He’d made decent headway last night—not as much as he’d originally hoped, but nothing to sneeze at. He’d kissed her, and more important, she’d kissed him back. Not out of duress, either. If he hadn’t cuffed her, she would’ve run her hands all over him; he could tell by the way she’d moaned into his mouth and massaged his tongue with hers.

  He could’ve gone farther. A few more licks to the sweet patch at the base of her neck, and he would’ve had that dress shoved around her waist and her panties on the floor. Easy as pie. He still remembered how to drive her crazy. Every sensitive spot, each erotic zone was imprinted on his brain like a roadmap to sex. But not every path would lead to the promised land. He wanted more than one night with Leah; he wanted a lifetime of nights. Tricking her into bed wouldn’t get him to his forever goal, so for now, he’d resist making love to her.

  Of course, that didn’t mean they couldn’t fool around in the meantime. Nothing wrong with a few orgasms among friends, right? Before long, he’d get those panties on the floor. He’d dip his fingers inside where she was hot and slick, then close his mouth over her tight, pink nipples and torment her with soft suction and deep strokes until she shattered and cried his name.

  God damn. Just thinking about it gave him a stiffie.