by Macy Beckett
Saints alive. She’d seen him semi-nude before, a decade ago when he was lean and strong, but more boy than man. He’d made her heart pound then, but there was no mistaking the changes that’d broadened his shoulders and bunched the contours of his chest—his tight male nipples now encircled in the barest sprinkling of raven hair that matched the trail leading down his flat abdomen and dipping below the waistband of his jeans.
This was no boy. She wondered if the rest of him had grown in proportion, but she quickly shut down that train of thought. She’d barely been able to accommodate all of him at seventeen, so how could—
“I know it’s not pretty.” Colt rubbed the scar that puckered the skin between his rib cage. He must’ve mistaken her silence for disgust. Lord have mercy, he couldn’t have been more wrong.
“Don’t be silly.” Leah cleared her throat and moved in to skim her thumb over the faded ridge of his largest scar. He was so smooth and warm beneath her palm that she had to fight the urge to run her hands all over him. She met his gaze and asked, “Internal bleeding?”
“Uh-huh.” He took her hand and guided it to another scar, low on his belly. “Here too.”
She pulled free, no longer able to bear the contact. It was too much. “You need some vitamin E capsules. Snip off one end and then rub the oil over your scars.”
“I thought that was your job.”
Refusing to be baited, she stepped behind him and settled her palm at the base of his spine, then used the pads of her fingertips to gently probe the stiff muscles clenching his vertebrae. She was so distracted by the hard planes of Colt’s upper back that she had to close her eyes to process what her fingers were trying to tell her.
“You’re out of alignment,” she said against his heated skin. “Big time. Probably to the point where you’ve aggravated a nerve.”
“Alignment?” he asked skeptically. “You gonna try and sell me on a visit to the chiropractor? ’Cause I don’t believe in that stuff.”
“Well, you should, because you’ll be miserable the rest of your life in this condition.” She used her thumbs to press outward, testing the firmness in his knotted muscles. “Not that a visit would do you any good.”
“Right. Because they’re quacks.”
“Wrong. Because your muscles are so tight they’d just pull you back out of alignment again. You’ve got to loosen up first—apply heat, do some stretching, get a few therapeutic massages from someone who knows what they’re doing.” Before he had a chance to ask, she added, “And no, I’m not offering my services.”
“First the oil and now this. You’re not impressing me with your bedside manner.”
She ignored his teasing. “How flexible are you?”
He glanced over his shoulder, scanning her from head to toe. “Not as flexible as I remember you being.”
“I’m serious. Show me how far you can bend over.”
He released a burst of laughter and stepped away, holding up both hands. “Honey, no man wants to hear those words.”
Leah clamped her lips together in an effort to stifle a laugh, but a puff of air broke free in an ungraceful guffaw. After her chest quit shaking, she pointed to the ground. “I mean it. I need to see how bad it is so I can decide which routine to prescribe.”
Reluctantly, he obeyed, and just as she’d expected, he couldn’t reach more than halfway past his calves.
“There’s your first problem,” she said. “I’ll show you some stretches before you leave. That’s priority number one—getting those muscles loosened up. You need to apply heat too. I don’t suppose you’ve got a hot tub.”
“No, but the next best thing is just ten minutes from here.”
“What’s that?”
“The springs.”
“Oh! That’s perfect.” She couldn’t believe she hadn’t thought of it herself. “Some people say the minerals promote healing.”
She expected him to balk at that, but he nodded in agreement. “I’m on duty tomorrow, but I get off at six. Want to meet me there?”
Leah hesitated, holding statue-still. A steamy evening rendezvous with Colt was a bad idea, but the most deliciously bad idea she’d ever struggled to overcome. She had to virtually wrestle her own tongue to the ground to tell him no. “But you go ahead. Hot baths and heating pads will work too.”
He shook out his T-shirt and tugged it over his head, then pushed both arms through the sleeves. “How ’bout this—I’ll be there every night after supper. If you can meet me, fine. If not, no worries.” After refastening the ponytail at the base of his neck, he said, “But I do like seeing you.”
She liked seeing him too, but didn’t say so. Instead, she turned and knelt on the ground to pull another weed. Colt took the hint and resumed his work on the lawn. They each worked in silence for a while, and when Colt finished spreading the seed, he took a knee beside her and grabbed an extra trowel. His large hands plunged the blade into the ground with ease, uprooting five weeds for every one of hers. Once he’d worked his way through his side of the flowerbed, he took a break and sank back on his heels.
“Can I ask you something?” he said.
“Sure.” She blotted her temple with one sleeve.
“It’s been bugging me since that night at the Sack-n-Pay.” He sat in the grass and stretched out his long legs, crossing them at the ankles. “Why would you go through all that trouble to pay for a box of cereal but cheat Uncle Sam by not filing taxes all those years?”
Wow. Colt sure didn’t hesitate to tackle the tough questions, did he? She started to ask how he knew, but figured the answer was plain enough. The night of the Lewis homecoming, Bobbi had said that Colt searched for her a long time. He’d probably started by asking one of his law enforcement buddies to scan the IRS database.
“I didn’t want to be found,” she said, brushing off her hands to take a break. “So I let Benny pay me under the table, but I tried to make up for it in other ways. I still gave my twenty percent, just not to the government.”
A shake of his head said he wasn’t surprised. “How’d you do that?”
She drew both knees to her chest. “Anonymous donations to schools, parks, libraries, animal shelters, scholarship funds…that sort of thing.” Sure, what she’d done was technically illegal, but the way she saw it, she’d cut out the middleman. Her way was more efficient.
Colt chuckled and pushed to standing, then extended one hand to help her up. “And you had the nerve to tell me you’re no angel.”
“I’m still telling you I’m no angel.” She took his hand, and he easily pulled her to her feet. “Giving away money is easy. That doesn’t make me a good person.”
“Right, but you know what does?” He tapped her forehead with his index finger. “Your borderline crazy drive to do the right thing. Trust me, honey, you’re one of the good ones.”
“You don’t know me, Colt.” How many times would she have to say it before he believed her?
Her insides felt heavy again, like in the shed. Images of Noah’s face—so much like his father’s—filled her mind, and she couldn’t stand Colt telling her what a good person she was when she’d given his son to strangers.
Maybe it’s time to tell him, she thought. He wasn’t the same wild-as-weeds boy who’d seduced her all those years ago. He was the town sheriff now, stable and responsible. Which is why he can’t find out, a secret side of her warned. He might try to take Noah from the Ackermans—the only parents he’d ever known. Colt had legal connections. What if he contested the adoption? Would he stand a chance in court? If so, it could devastate Noah. Did she really want to risk it?
“Hey, did you hear me?” Colt nudged her back to reality.
“Sorry, I zoned out.”
“I’m gonna grab some coffee and a couple of doughnuts. You want anything?”
“No,”
she said. “I had grapefruit and egg whites for breakfast.”
Colt rolled his eyes. “Of course you did.” He dug his keys from his pocket and strode toward his Harley. “Be right back.”
As he drove toward town, she watched the jet-black ponytail whipping his shoulder blades, the masculine set of his body as he mastered the powerful machinery between his legs and steered it out of sight. He was stunning, and she wanted him—she couldn’t deny it. But they didn’t stand a chance after what she’d done.
For the first time in her adult life, Leah wished she were seventeen again. If she could go back, she’d do so many things differently.
Chapter 10
“Honey, I’m Home.”
Leah was washing her hands at the kitchen sink when Colt returned from the store and strode through the back entrance without knocking. He set a white paper bag on the counter, followed by a Big Gulp, then removed his sunglasses and tucked them in his front pocket. After she’d rinsed the suds from her fingers, he used one hip to bump her aside so he could lather up too. The gesture was so natural, like he’d breezed through her door before and would do it again a thousand times in the future. Like he belonged here. Truth be told, it kind of felt right, and that scared her.
She dried off with a dish towel and pointed to his Big Gulp. “That’s quite a caffeine addiction you’ve got there. Did you drain the whole pot?”
He turned off the water and grabbed the towel from her hand. “The Harley’s not too practical for making coffee runs. I use an oversized cup and fill it half way so it doesn’t spill.”
“I didn’t think about it until you left,” she said, “but I could’ve brewed a pot here.”
“It’s okay.” He lightly flicked the towel at her backside before slinging it over the oven handle to dry. “I wanted to surprise you anyway.”
Leah didn’t like surprises—she had terrible luck with them. “What’d you do?”
“Simmer down, hon.” He tore open the bag and pulled out a bundle of waxed paper, then unfolded the ends to reveal two slightly smooshed Richman’s éclairs. “Turns out the Harley’s not too good for doughnut runs either. But they’re fresh out of the oven—the newest batch in the bakery.”
Oh, Lord. She believed him. Even with half the icing smeared onto the waxed paper and cream filling oozing out both ends, the golden pastries looked light enough to melt on her tongue. She pulled in a breath of sweetness and her mouth watered in response. Why did Colt have to tempt her like this?
“That was nice of you,” she said, still gazing at the sinful offering. “But I already ate.”
“I’m sure you can make room for more.” Carefully, he lifted an éclair with both hands and held the fragile bits together. He sank his teeth into one end, closing his eyes in rapture while he spoke with one cheek full. “Mmm. That’s pure perfection, right there.”
Leah swallowed reflexively. Maybe one bite wouldn’t hurt.
It was like he’d read her mind. “Wanna share this one?”
“I shouldn’t…”
“Aw, c’mon, hon.” He lifted the other end toward her mouth. “Live a little.”
She leaned in a fraction, but quickly changed her mind. On second thought, she couldn’t do this. Leah knew herself. One bite wouldn’t be enough—it’d lead to another and another until she’d scarfed down her whole pastry. His too. Then she’d wind up driving to Richman’s every day like an addict jonesing for a fix. Moderation didn’t work for her any more than it’d worked for her daddy. It had to be all or nothing.
She shook her head. “I can’t.”
Colt scowled at her. “Give me one good reason why.”
His scrutiny rubbed her the wrong way, making her feel like a child. She backed up until her rear end met the countertop. “I don’t have to give you anything.”
“What’s your problem?” He closed the distance between them, trapping her between his body and the counter. “You love these.”
“You’re the one with the problem.” Why did he care so much whether or not she ate a stupid doughnut? It wasn’t any of his business. “Just back off.”
“God damn, you’re the most stubborn woman I’ve ever met.” He brought the éclair to her lips and demanded, “Just take a friggin’ bite already.”
He was pissing her off now, pardon her language. Who did he think he was—bursting into her kitchen and ordering her around? “I said no!” She drew back and shoved his outstretched arm, sending the pastry flying right into her face, where it stuck to her cheek for a split second before tumbling down her arm and to the floor.
Leah gasped in horror. A glance at her brand-new white shirt revealed a chocolate smudge staining the sleeve. When she touched her face and pulled back, a thick layer of icing coated the pads of her fingertips. She fired a glare at Colt and smacked his chest with her clean hand. “You just couldn’t listen, could you?”
Colt glanced at the fallen pastry, then back at her. “I’m sorry.” But his laughing eyes made him a liar.
“It’s not funny!” But a tiny giggle snuck up from her chest and made her a liar too. “Look at what you did.” She waggled the evidence at him, then held out her arm. “And I’ll never get this stain out.”
“I’ll buy you another shirt.” He took her hand to inspect the mess.
“Never mind. It wasn’t expensive.” She tried pulling free, but he held tight.
Then, in an abrupt move that changed everything, Colt licked her middle finger and took it into his mouth, shocking her with a jolt of pleasure that made her gasp. At her reaction, he drew her finger in deeper with a tug of hot, wet suction that sent chills skittering over every inch of her body. He slid his lips to the base of her fingernail and sucked his way back down again, locking his wicked gaze with hers in a silent dare to tell him to stop.
That was the moment she should have yanked free and ordered him to leave, gathered her wits, and listened to her conscience, which screamed Not healthy!
But she didn’t budge, and she didn’t speak.
Instead, she skimmed her index finger invitingly along his upper lip and let him take that one too. He doubled his efforts, closing his eyes to savor the taste of her skin, gliding his lips up and down over her knuckles and using his tongue in a torrid swirl that she felt everywhere. She couldn’t believe the intensity in this simple act. With nothing but two fingers in his mouth, Colt did things to her body she’d never felt with any other man.
After he’d sucked every trace of icing from her pink-polished nails, he used his thumb to spread the chocolate from her cheek downward, creating a trail from her jaw to the top of her shoulder. Again, he paused, giving her a chance to stop him. Again, she said nothing, answering with a tilt of her head.
Colt wasted no time in cleaning up the mess he’d made. Taking hold of her ponytail, he pulled back her head and molded his body to hers as he lapped unmercifully at her throat. Leah rested both elbows on the countertop and savored the intoxicating sensations of his gifted tongue and the burgeoning erection pressed to her belly. She sighed into the air, softly at first, then deepening to a low moan when he used his teeth to scrape the top of her shoulder. He latched onto her neck and sucked hard, and her knees went slack, forcing her to grip his shoulders for support.
He wrapped both palms around her waist and hoisted her onto the counter before parting her knees and stepping in between. “Lift your arms,” he ordered in a husky voice that made her stomach drop into her panties. She obeyed, and he peeled off her shirt and tossed it aside, then unfastened her bra and shucked it to the floor in one brisk motion.
On instinct, she covered herself. She barely filled her B-cups, nothing like the women Colt was used to. She couldn’t compete with their voluptuous bodies, and she felt too exposed in the harsh sunlight streaming through the kitchen window.
“Don’t.” He gathered h
er wrists and pinned them behind her back, securing them in one hand while he used the other to gently cup her right breast. He gazed at her in wonder and whispered, “You’re perfect, Angel.”
Leah shook her head as her cheeks burned. Nothing about her was perfect—not her itty bitty chest, or her short legs, and especially not the scar that joined her hipbones like a macabre version of connect the dots. She wished they were in her bedroom, under sheets and blankets, so she could cover her flaws.
“I mean it,” he said, kneading her more firmly. “I’ve fantasized about these for the last ten years.” He reached for the waxed paper and dipped his thumb into a dollop of cream, then massaged the cool filling into her nipple, bringing it to a hard point. “I’ve always wanted to do this to you. No one else but you.”
Leah groaned, bowing back to lift her nipple to his mouth, hungry for the same hot suction he’d used on her fingers. He teased her at first, swirling his tongue around and around the pebbled tip before licking up the center. She kicked off her Keds, then locked her ankles behind his back and shamelessly rocked against his stone chest. When he drew her deep into his mouth, she did it again, desperate for friction to soothe the hot ache growing between her thighs.
“Do you believe me?” he asked, and blew cool air over her glistening nipple.
“Yes,” she breathed.
At that, he released her wrists and she leaned back, bracing herself on the counter to grind harder against him in a brazen drive for release. Somewhere in the recesses of her mind, she knew she should feel embarrassed for rubbing on him like a cat in heat, but she didn’t give half a damn. If anything, she only quickened the pace.
“Hold on,” he said while putting a few inches of cold space between them. When she whimpered in protest, he tucked one hand inside the front of her pants and said, “I wanna feel you come.”
His fingers slid beneath her bikini briefs and tangled with her blond curls while his mouth latched on to her neglected nipple. Just when she thought it couldn’t get any better, he dipped a thumb inside and spread warm lubrication along her sensitive folds, petting her until she grew so achy she feared she might burst. He isolated her swollen bundle of nerves between two fingers and slid them back and forth in a liquid saddle that had her moaning loud enough to stop traffic. All the while, he drew teasingly on her nipple. She arched her lower back and clenched her thighs around his body to move in time with him, faster and faster, until she felt her inner walls tense for release.
