Gypsy Love: A Gypsy Beach Novel

by Jillian Neal

  “Uh, honestly, The Man From Wellington saved my life.” He confessed in a harrowed choke.

  “What?” Arley gasped.

  He drew an audible breath before forcing himself to continue. “The book came out when I was barely sixteen. I’d always loved to read, and your dad was my favorite author, like I said. My mom got me that book for my birthday. Do you remember me telling you that I grew up in a bad part of town?”

  Arley managed a nod, still reeling from his statement that her father’s novel had saved his life.

  “Yeah, well, that year in school I was a little tired of getting picked on for making good grades and being a book-nerd or whatever. I purposely started throwing tests, drinking, smoking, and skipping school, trying to prove that I was something I wasn’t. So, I guess it worked. That night a few Seniors that were always in trouble and had never noticed me before asked me to hang with them. The girls I thought I wanted were into them, so I was all set to go and join the club or whatever. I didn’t want to go. I felt like I was selling my soul, and I knew my mom was already a disaster about the way I’d been acting. Anyway, I saw that book laying on my desk on my way out the door, and I just decided not to go. I don’t know why. I’d stopped reading anything at all a few weeks before. I picked up the book, and I read all night long. I got completely lost in the story. I used that book to find my way back to me, the real me. When Colton walked that dirt road out of Wellington, I walked right beside him until we both were able to locate our souls again. The next morning at school I found out that the three guys I was supposed to go hang out with had decided to get completely smashed and had wrecked one of their daddy’s Corvettes. There were no survivors. The car was demolished.”

  “Oh my gosh!” Tears leaked down Arley’s face.

  John offered a half-haunted smile. He continued to rub her thigh. “Yeah, so please stop saying that you need to pay me back for anything at all. And please, Arley, don’t ever let anyone make you believe that your work is frivolous or that it doesn’t mean anything to anyone, because it does. Just, for me, never believe that what you do doesn’t matter.

  “A few years ago, my mom had a lump in her right breast. It was malignant, but they were able to remove it with surgery and radiation. When she was recovering from surgery, I read it to her. She loves it, too; probably not as much as I do, but I never told her about the car wreck.”

  Arley sobbed. She couldn’t believe everything he’d been through. She could never put into words what he meant to her. If what she felt wasn’t love, then John was right. It didn’t exist.

  By the time they stopped for dinner and then fought through Atlanta traffic, it was getting late. John pulled into a gated condominium community, and Arley stared dumbfounded at the sculptured lawns, golf courses, tennis courts, and pools. He’d said he made good money, but she hadn’t quite calculated it this high. She wasn’t all that good with math, having been an English major. She wasn’t even certain she could calculate what his mortgage and the fees on that complex must be.

  “Trust me, it’s not as fantastic as it looks. It’s too damn loud, and the people that live here are obnoxious,” he offered apologetically as he took in her astonished gaze.

  “My entire apartment would fit in that little green space between those two buildings.”

  He chuckled and pulled into his reserved parking space.

  He carried her luggage and led her upstairs to a slick black door. A moment later, she was standing inside the largest condo she’d ever seen. She was taken aback not only by the sheer size, but by the fact that he didn’t seem to fit there. She’d thought she’d gotten to really know him in the last several days, and none of his apartment looked like the John Rowan she knew, except for the massive bookcases that covered two full walls of his living room.

  Instantly drawn to the books, she studied their spines. When she saw a full shelf devoted to her father’s works, her entire being flooded with warmth and love.

  “There are more shelves all the way down the hallway and in my bedroom. I bought the whole damn thing for the bookshelves. Everything else some interior decorator brought in here.”

  Arley grinned. She’d been worried momentarily that she didn’t know the real John Rowan, but apparently she did. She was still methodically studying the bookcases and smiled at a photo of John and his mother at a Georgia game, situated in front of a few novels. There were several pictures of Evie and John playing. She reached up to touch a football that was on display in the center of one of the massive cases.

  John smirked and caught her hand. “Baby, we do not touch the game ball signed by the entire offensive line from the 2007 Georgia/Auburn game where we scrubbed up Sanford stadium with Tiger blood in the epic blackout.”

  Arley cracked up. “Oh, right, the blackout. I remember that. Then you tried the same gig with Alabama and lost miserably. Poor, baby.” She poked her lip out in mocked sorrow.

  “Don’t make me turn you over my knee, Ms. Copeland. We do not speak ill of my Dawgs. It hurts me deeply.”

  She dissolved in a fit of giggles, which he effectively quieted with a passion filled kiss. When he released her she was still smirking. “So, are there any other balls here I’m not allowed to touch?” Arley traced her hand up his zipper line and felt his cock rise to the affection.

  “Hell, no, sweetheart.” He leaned in and brushed his lips over hers again. “In fact, if you kissed them and maybe sucked them a little, it would make up for your quip about a game we will never speak of again.”

  “Oh, is that so?”

  “It is, and I will eventually get you to yell out ‘Go Dawgs!’ when you come for me.”

  Arley doubled over with laughter. She’d been there five minutes, and she already felt right at home.

  Arley awoke the next morning before John. She rolled in his massive bed and inhaled deeply of his musk. She buried her head in the pillow she’d slept on to intoxicate her senses with his smell without waking him up.

  She didn’t know how he was still sleeping. On the other side of the massive apartment complex was a major interstate. Trucks rumbling down the road, horns blaring, and the squeal of brakes had awoken her far too early. If she were being honest, she missed her quiet little apartment in Birmingham. Nothing was as good as waking up in his arms, though. She’d deal with the noise.

  Twelve

  Thoughts of home carried her to the trial in just a few days. She wondered which faction of her family her mother would dispense to attend and what they might say. Her stomach turned uncomfortably. She hated to fight over her father’s money. It felt abhorrently wrong, but she needed the inheritance to try and get her rights back. Her father would want her to have her work. Of that she was certain.

  She turned on her side, still naked from the long, slow, lovemaking session John had indulged her in the night before. Recalling his teasing about the game ball in the living room, she grinned and gently traced her hand up his cock.

  He moaned but kept his eyes closed. She eased the covers down his body and worked her lips down his chest, over his abs, and then to his sac. She planted a soft kiss there and taunted him with her tongue before she sucked him softly. A hungry growl tore from his lungs.

  “This is the best damn dream I’ve ever had. Keep going, baby.”

  Giggling, she kissed her way upwards and drew his now fully erect cock into her mouth.

  “Oh, fuck yeah. You gonna drink it like my good girl? Take it all, baby.”

  She moaned with her mouth full of him, and he throbbed against the back of her throat. He leaned up on his elbows with his hair a perfected disheveled mess and the stubble of his beard longer than she’d yet seen it. Raw sexuality seemed to exude from his entire body. She sucked harder, desperate to drink him in.

  Another thundered groan covered him opening his bedside table. “Stop, baby,” he managed in a gasped breath. Curious to see what would come next, she ran her tongue up him once more and pulled away. He shuddered and made quick work of sliding
a condom over his cock.

  “Now ride me, sweetheart. I want to see your body swallow me up. I want to see your gorgeous tits bounce all for me and your cream leak down my cock. I want to watch you enjoy yourself.”

  He guided her legs over his lap and gently eased her down his cock. His breath caught in a ragged exhalation. His jaw clenched, and he closed his eyes for a long moment. “Damn, baby, you’re so fucking tight you’re gonna make me lose it. Does that feel okay?”

  Arley’s moan of adamant approval echoed off of his bedroom walls as she gave herself over to the heady sensation of being full of his fevered, silk-covered steel cock. He slid against every hot spot, driving her wild. She rocked against him, and he fell back on his pillows and held her waist as she began to ride. When her body cinched tightly around him, he gripped the headboard behind him and used it to thrust up into her, following the rhythm she’d set. She spiraled over into one of the most intense orgasms she’d yet experienced in her entire life. Collapsing against his chest, she felt him tense as he achieved his own climax. Judging from the harsh, guttural groans, he’d deeply enjoyed the way she’d awoken him.

  When they’d regained the ability to do anything more than gasp for breath, she extracted herself, and he stood to dispose of the condom. “If that’s how I get woken up every morning, I’m never letting you leave. Come here to me.” He climbed back in the bed and drew her to his chest.

  “Well, I’m glad you like that.”

  “Liked it? My God, baby, you’re incredible.”

  “What are we going to do today?”

  Sighing, John checked the clock on his phone. “Truthfully, if you don’t mind, I was gonna go into the office for a little while today. I need to officially take off the end of next week to be at your hearing, and since I wasn’t there the last week and a half I probably need to get some shit done so the partners don’t drag their asses out of their caves, start puffing, and blow fire up my ass.”

  “I don’t mind at all. You’re taking off all of this time for me. I can just hang out here, maybe write a little.”

  He kissed the side of her head. “You do whatever makes you smile, honey. I’ll try to be home early. We can go out tonight and see the city if you want.”

  “Would you mind if I used your washer and dryer? I’m almost out of clothes.”

  “I think I’d prefer it if you ran out of clothes.”

  “Funny, but if we’re leaving your ginormous condo at any point soon, I need clean clothes.”

  He patted her backside before he stood from the bed and stretched. Arley watched his muscles tense and flex. Her mouth watered again. “You don’t have to ask to use anything you want. Everything you need should be in the laundry closet in the hallway. Sit tight. I’ll bring coffee. Well, you’re always nice and tight, so maybe just sit.” He winked at her before he disappeared down the hallway.

  It took Arley a long moment to roll her eyes over his remark. She was still hung up on how perfect it sounded when he’d said the phrase, ‘I’ll try to be home early.’ It sounded remarkably like what a husband would say to his wife. It sounded precisely like the life she longed to live with him; one she doubted would ever come to fruition.

  He returned with two huge mugs of coffee. “This is the best coffee you’ll ever have.”

  “Is that so? You know, I do make pretty darn good coffee myself.”

  “Try it.”

  She drew a long sip and moaned in the mug. “Oh, my gosh, what is in here?”

  John chuckled. He didn’t make much effort to hide his smug grin. “It’s called bulletproof coffee. I always use a French press, then put butter and coconut oil in it, and mix it up in a blender. Voila - you have extreme coffee perfection.”

  “I’m very impressed.” She leaned in the bed and brushed a kiss along his jawline.

  John was taken aback by the way she sat there in his bed with her strawberry blonde hair rumpled into sexy waves, her cheeks and lips flushed from their tryst, and her body soft and smooth. She had the messy sheets pulled just over her nipple line, and longing surged through his veins. She’d just thoroughly sated his morning wood. This wasn’t a longing for sex. It was for something else. Some piece of perfection he wasn’t certain how to access. He just knew that he never wanted her to leave his bed.

  After they’d had coffee, he took a quick shower and donned one of his suits. He was sick to death of wearing suits and ties every fucking day, but it was what he did. He’d signed on for this gig and there were people that needed his help. He amended his irritation with the suit when he saw Arley’s eyes flash with another round of heated desire when he made his appearance in the kitchen.

  “I made eggs and toast.” She directed him to two plates on his black granite countertops.

  “You don’t have to cook for me, honey.”

  “I love to cook. I’ve missed it lately, actually.”

  “Thanks.” John took the plate and settled at the dining table that, truthfully, didn’t get much use. His mom came over and cooked for him occasionally, but they always ate on the sofa, just like they had when he was growing up.

  “This is delicious.” She’d fried his eggs to perfection. The center was runny and the edges were just starting to brown. Arley seemed pleased he ate so quickly.

  “I’ll try to leave before traffic gets too bad.” He wrapped his hands around her hips and guided her into his arms. “Raise your right hand.” He ordered as he grabbed a handful of her luscious ass.

  Laughing, she raised her hand with a great deal of speculation.

  “Repeat after me. I, Arley Copeland, will not touch the Georgia/Auburn blackout game ball. I will do whatever the hell else makes me happy, and I will be naked and sprawled out on the bed when John gets home.”

  Cracking up, she shoved him hard in the chest. “Would you go to work?”

  He swiped his lips across hers before he headed outside.

  Whatever piece of his soul that always felt so damn alive when Arley was in his arms withered when John entered the posh complex of Hatcher, Larriett, and Welch. He sighed audibly as he picked up his mail from the past week. With a quick nod to several of the administrative assistants, he sought solace in his corner office.

  Not two seconds after he’d made another cup of coffee and settled at his desk did William Larriett appear in his office. John made no effort to hide his eye roll.

  “Nice of you to come back to work, Mr. Rowan.”

  “I have months of vacation saved up. I went to see my goddaughter. And I’m handling a pro bono in Birmingham next week. I’ll be out most of the week.”

  “Pro bono for whom?”

  “Nobody you know. Don’t worry about it.”

  “Well, I am worried about it, John. You aren’t putting in enough hours. How do you expect to make partner?”

  Oh yeah, making partner would be a fucking dream. This time he did conceal his eye roll.

  “Mr. Larriatt … sir,” he added for good measure, “I’ve worked sixty plus hour weeks for years now. I took off when my mom was sick and a day or two here and there, but that was it. I’ve won more cases for this firm than anyone else.”

  “I’m well aware of your skill, John. It’s your dedication I find concerning.”

  “I’m very dedicated, Mr. Larriatt. Trust me.” He lied through his teeth and couldn’t find it in himself to care. He was staring down the repugnant asshole he was terrified he was going to become. All he wanted at that moment was to return home, take Arley back to bed, and bury his life deep inside of her.

  Thirteen

  By one, Arley was restless. She’d tried to write, but the constant noise of traffic was distracting. She didn’t know how to get anywhere in Atlanta, so finding a coffee shop to write in wasn’t a good option, especially since she would have to travel on foot.

  With a shrug, she separated the clothes in her suitcase into piles for the laundry and started a load of her underwear and nightgowns. The nightgowns hadn’t gotten a lot of use sin
ce John preferred for her to sleep naked, but she washed them for good measure.

  After that, she wandered around the apartment, read a little, and debated texting John to see what he was up to. She hated being bored. It made her cranky.

  She headed into the kitchen. Maybe she could bake a cake or find the ingredients for something for them to eat for dinner. Cooking always soothed her and usually helped her work out a plot if she got stuck somewhere.

  She’d located a decent selection of olive oils, flour, and eggs. John must like to cook. He had most everything for a decent meal except any fresh fruits or vegetables, probably due to the fact that he’d been at the beach. The kitchen was well stocked. She wished she knew how to get to a local market, but a partial meal began to take shape in her mind.

  When the washing machine finished the first load, she moved the panties and nightgowns to the dryer and hung the bras over the guest bathroom shower rod. Recalling John’s teasing request that she be naked when he returned home, she pulled off the yoga pants and shirt she’d put on when he left for work. She added it to the load of darks and started the machine.

  Hoping John wouldn’t mind and would think it was sexy, she slipped on one of his v-neck undershirts that she located in his dresser drawers. It flirted with the curves of her ass and showed off her cleavage. With a grin she returned to the kitchen. He’d said he’d be home early, so she decided to try her hand at a rendition of the pie they’d had at Montgomery’s. She crushed a sleeve of Saltines into a cup of flour, added butter, and began to work the dough for the crust while she considered the next scenes for her novel. When she moved on to the filling, she quickly grabbed a notepad and jotted down a few ideas before she returned to her work.

  As she slipped the pie into the oven, she heard the key turn in the lock. Fluffing her hair quickly and pinching her cheeks to give them some color, she sported what she hoped was a sexy grin, but a moment later, she gasped as John’s mother, loaded down with groceries, made her way into the condo.