Fall in Love Book Bundle: Small Town Romance Box Set

by Grover Swank, Denise

“Why do you believe in love so fiercely?” I asked.

  “I guess… well, it’s been modeled to me my entire life. Between my parents’ relationship and my siblings’ relationships, I’m just surrounded by people who have received this great privilege of falling in love. Of finding your soulmate, the person you’re meant to be with.”

  My heart spun and twisted. You’d never know it from looking at him: this fierce Viking bartender was pining for The One.

  “Makes sense,” I said. “Our experiences were just different. You’ve had the beauty and happiness of love shown to you your entire life. I had the opposite, with my engagement. We view love in the same way; we’re just coming from different experiences.”

  Gabe nodded, but he didn’t look convinced. A drop of rain landed on the tip of my nose. “I wish that hadn’t happened to you, Josie. I wish…” he trailed off. He was hiking faster now, but out of passion or fear for the rain I didn’t know. “I just wish things were different.”

  And he didn’t have to say more than that.

  I knew what he meant.

  Chapter 29

  Gabe

  Josie had been engaged. And now she wasn’t. A straightforward telling of what I was sure was a painful, horrible experience. I couldn’t comprehend what it would be like to fall so deeply in love with someone you proposed marriage. And then… ended it.

  But her hesitancy made sense now.

  She was rebuilding her walls.

  “You’ve had one serious relationship, right?” she asked me, yanking me back to the present.

  I rubbed my hand through my beard, thoughtful. “Yes. I thought that Sasha would end up being The One. We’d met in high school, and I wanted that kind of relationship where a person has known you for most of your life. Has seen you through all the vital points, the ups and downs.” I shrugged, suddenly uncomfortable with talking about it. “But I’ve been thinking so much about Sasha lately. About what went wrong. I was so convinced it was her. She wasn’t… willing to give as much as me. To commit or… I don’t know.” I tugged on my beard. “I’m rambling, I know but…”

  “It’s okay,” Josie said. “Speaking from experience, time doesn’t lend itself to memories of relationships, at least in my experience. Things become blurred. Intentions and actions aren’t as clear as they were. But I’m sure you were a good partner.”

  I grimaced. “I was… younger. So I don’t know for sure. I might have smothered her with romantic gestures.”

  “How so?” she asked.

  I thought about the night Sasha and I broke up. “Looking back on it, I’d always seemed to want more commitment than she did. We’d lived together, in the apartment at The Bar, and I just assumed we’d get married and have children. But about a year before we broke up, she started pulling away, which only made me step up the romance.”

  “She broke up with you?”

  “She did,” I said, laughing grimly. “I wanted to get to the bottom of things, have a real conversation to figure out why she was pulling back. Planned this whole thing on a moonlit night on the beach with wine and food and blankets and flowers.” I glanced at Josie. “She dumped me, right there on the blanket. And it was absolutely awful. Because it was a total blindside.”

  We were quiet for a minute, crossing a short log.

  “Do you still see Sasha? It’s a small town, must be awkward.”

  I shook my head. “No, she moved from Big Sur right after we broke up. Came and got her stuff and… well, I bump into her parents now and then. She’s married, lives in San Francisco. I think she’s really happy, which is good. And I’ve actually been thinking about our relationship more recently.” I watched a bird jump from branch to branch. “Maybe we weren’t in love the way I thought we were. I think I wanted to be in love so much, I ignored the doubts I had. Or the times I felt like… like there was an ocean between us. Our feelings, our conversations, our intimacy and sex… like trying to talk to each other under water. There was never any intensity.”

  Her brow furrowed at that word. “Maybe…” she bit her lip.

  “What?”

  “Maybe what you think is true love is really too good to be true. I’m not sure the kind of love you’re talking about is healthy.”

  A smattering of raindrops hit my head and shoulders. I looked up at the clouds, recognizing that the never-ending storm we seemed to be trapped in was probably about to dump rain on us in the middle of the forest at least half a mile from The Bar.

  “I don’t agree at all,” I said, hiking a little faster. She joined me, wiping a stray raindrop from her cheek. “I think we ultimately weren’t right for each other. But I think when you find that person, your soulmate, it must be the most profound feeling in the world.”

  But Josie was shaking her head, and I couldn’t read the expression in her dark eyes. She tucked her hair behind her ear, and I noticed the constellation of stars tattooed there.

  “I think you’ve watched too many Lifetime movies, Gabriel,” she said, but her levity sounded forced. “I think most people’s relationships are not that happy. And that much intensity can be really dangerous.”

  Dangerous. Who was the fucking guy who broke off her engagement?

  She glanced at me apologetically. “I’m sorry. I’m being a real fucking bummer about this. I just know from experience.”

  I nodded as the rain began falling heavier, no longer a fine mist but a steady drip. And getting steadier. Suddenly, it was like the sky unzipped itself, and a curtain of water fell down through the trees and directly onto our heads.

  Josie squealed and made a feeble attempt to cover her face. So I grabbed her, pulling her under a thick pine whose branches started a foot above my head.

  The rain stopped, or so it seemed, the furry pine branches trapping the rain and keeping it above us.

  “So in your experience,” I continued, watching the rain pour down, “the relationship I want for myself is too good to be true? Not going to happen?”

  She didn’t answer for a minute. I turned to glance at her and was startled to find her staring at me.

  “I don’t want to speak for you or your future. I want you to find the person that you’re… meant to be with.” Pain flashed in her eyes but just as quickly disappeared. “But maybe those relationships didn’t work out because you needed more from them than was realistic.”

  “Because I want intensity in my love?” I asked.

  “Yes,” she finally said. “I’m not sure that’s real. I’m not sure that’s right.”

  I thought about honesty. I thought about living in the moment.

  “What about the other night?”

  Her breathing hitched. The rain outside the tree increased in tempo, but everything was softness and light beneath the pine needles.

  “What about it?”

  “Josie,” I said. “That was the most intense sexual experience of my entire life.” Her nipple rings in my mouth, my teeth. Her naked, decorated body riding my tongue like her favorite sex toy. Her husky demands, the way she controlled my pleasure. “That was the most right experience I’ve ever had.”

  A long, winding silence. The two of us were separated by no more than an inch. Yet miles of mistrust and miscommunication—and whatever had happened with Josie’s engagement—seethed in between us.

  I wanted to close the distance. Desperately.

  “I don’t…” she started, biting her lip. “I’m not…”

  And then we heard a startling crack, a flash of lightning. Rain crashed through the barrier of the pine needles, soaking us instantly.

  “Gabe?” she cried, grabbing my hand. Not quite afraid but certainly unsure.

  I looked out at the rain, then down at her.

  “How fast can you run, sweetheart?”

  “Depends on what’s chasing me,” she laughed.

  I brought her knuckles to my lips.

  “Because we’re half a mile from The Bar. And I think we’re going to have to make a run for it. Through th
e rain.” I squeezed her fingers. “Think you can do it?”

  A wide, loopy grin broke across her face. “Absolutely,” she said.

  And we took off in a sprint. Together.

  Chapter 30

  Josie

  I wasn’t a nature girl. I wasn’t a runner or a hiker or a climber.

  And I lived in Los Angeles, where it never fucking rained.

  But suddenly here I was, hand-in-hand with my Viking and bolting through a rain-drenched forest in Big Sur, California.

  We ran fast, Big Sur’s magnificent beauty a blur of water. Trees swaying in the wind. The smells, the thrill of my legs flying over roots and branches.

  I couldn’t seem to stop laughing, and Gabe joined in, that rich, rumbling laugh of his muted by the thick falling rain. After the first minute, I stopped being cold, the hard sprint counteracting the chill, and instead I just let my lungs expand. My muscles burn. My fingers grip Gabe’s with sincerity.

  Because even though I wasn’t a nature girl, I had been a little kid once, growing up in the abandoned parking lots and small front yards of East L.A. Had run and jumped and captured flags. Had forgotten that kid feeling of fleeing for fun.

  There was no time to talk as we ran, but it was okay. We didn’t need to.

  And there was no time to talk when we reached The Bar, looking innocent and tiny in the woods. But it housed Gabe, and it housed four decades of memories, and it was the focal point of this weird community I’d landed in totally by chance.

  And that was okay too.

  Gabe pulled me down the hallway, our clothing dripping small puddles onto the floor. We were still laughing, couldn’t seem to stop, and my body felt suffused with shimmering light.

  “You can… um, use the shower if you need to?” Gabe said.

  My teeth chattered wildly. We were standing in his bathroom, the same one I’d freaked out in not five days earlier.

  “I’ve never run that fast in my life,” I said as Gabe reached in and turned the knobs. Water sprang on, slowly starting to steam. “Or really… run. I’ve never really run in my life.”

  Gabe laughed. “You’re a real Big Sur local now. Getting caught way the hell out in the forest during a rainstorm is something all of us have done. Usually people stop in at The Bar afterward to warm up with alcohol.”

  “That sounds nice,” I said.

  Gabe handed me a few fluffy white towels. I took them, laying them on the counter. We smiled at each other.

  The scene was almost domestic.

  Except Gabe and I weren’t a couple. And I knew this was only going to make it harder for me.

  So much harder.

  But we were both breathing heavily. Gabe’s wet clothing clung to every ridge and muscle. His eyes roamed my body as steam hovered between us and rain lashed against the roof. I felt, keenly, the inevitability of this moment. And even though it made me feel wild and out of control, I wanted to lean into it. Embrace the chaos.

  “I’ll just…” he said roughly, starting to back out of the room. So respectful.

  So submissive.

  “Take off your fucking clothes,” I said before I could stop myself.

  Gabe stilled, hand on the doorknob.

  “Josie…” His gaze was questioning. Searching.

  But I knew what I wanted.

  “Take off your fucking clothes,” I said, sharply.

  A small quirk of his lips. A slight nod from me.

  Slowly, he shook his hair out of his bun, and it fell around his face. He began to strip out of his soaking wet clothes right in front of me. Water dripped down his huge chest, the boulders of his biceps. The dark hair of his stomach, flexing with exertion. He stripped off his pants, and I was face-to-face with his powerful thighs. His thick cock straining upwards.

  Already hard. For me.

  How could I deny this man? Even if I didn’t know for how long, even if we had no goddamn future in front of us, how could I deny my body this much pleasure?

  “Get in that shower,” I rasped, tearing at my clothes as if they were on fire.

  “I want to see you first,” he pushed back, literally, suddenly crowding me against the wall.

  “Strip?” I taunted.

  “Naked,” he gasped.

  I liked that. Liked Gabe desperate and on edge.

  And I could make him desperate so easily. I hadn’t felt particularly sexy all day although I’d felt strangely confident and empowered. But now, stripping out of my soggy, giant hiking clothes, I felt like goddamn Cleopatra. Off went the shirt, the pants, my soaking wet underwear.

  Gabe dropped to his knees.

  “Can I touch you?” His voice was brimming with reverence.

  I nodded because I had no words. I had no words for my Viking on his knees, worshiping me.

  “I think I’m becoming obsessed with your tattoos,” he said, finger tracing the intricate mandala I had inked between my breasts. I shivered. His lips caressed the flock of birds flowing down my ribcage.

  “Didn’t peg you for an ink man,” I said.

  “I never was before,” he said, tongue licking up my thigh until it reached the large tattoo of black and white flowers that hugged my left hip-bone. His tongue traced the first petal. A moan tumbled from my lips. “I liked them. Thought they were interesting. But on you, they’re mysterious.” His breath danced along my hip-bone, tongue tracing the next petal. Around and around.

  “Oh… yeah?” I finally sighed, aware I should be wrestling back control, but I was mesmerized by Gabe’s movements.

  “That night we met—” trace, trace, trace. “I was so captivated by you. Wanted to unravel you. This—” He groaned, fingers splaying across my belly, moving up to my heart. Cupping my breast. “The first time I saw these, I wanted to lick every one.” His tongue continued to move, and I began wondering if a woman could come from hip-licking. Because every intentional swipe of this tongue was pushing me higher and higher. “They’re so beautiful on you, Josie. They say so much about you.” His tongue inched closer to my cunt but was still focused on every delicate petal.

  Trace, trace, trace.

  “What do they say?” My knees were trembling. His other fingers began a tantalizing dance up my calf. My knee. My inner thigh.

  “Hard and soft. Light and dark. Commitment and dedication. Because you wanted these beautiful flowers inked onto your body permanently. Always there as life goes on and you age and change. Even at eighty years old, your gorgeous hips will be covered with blossoms.”

  “And it’ll look terrible,” I said, trying to lighten the moment. Trying to ignore the fierce knocking of my heart against my rib cage.

  “Josie,” Gabe seethed, breaking the moment, almost breaking the scene. “For the love of God, if you’re eighty years old and still not being worshiped by someone…” he stumbled, eyes traveling up my body to meet mine in a scorching gaze. “Please. Please tell me you’ll let yourself be loved.” But before I could push words past my dry, tightening throat, Gabe lowered his lips right to my clit. Not licking, not moving. Waiting, again.

  “And please let me eat this sweet pussy. I need.”

  Nothing more. Just I need.

  “Y-yes,” I managed to stutter, and then my Viking devoured me. There was no other word for it. Two fingers slid inside. His tongue descended, fluttering in a maddening pattern.

  “God, Gabe,” I moaned.

  He growled against my sensitive skin like a starving animal.

  Licking and sucking, a maddening pattern, the same one from the other night. The same one that delivered three orgasms rapid-fire as I straddled his face.

  That image alone had me gasping and clawing at the wall and then gasping and clawing at Gabe’s hair. I rode his mouth, bucking against his tongue, and Gabe slapped his hand against the floor, the cracking sound like a gunshot. His cock was hard and straining, pre-cum soaking the head, but he didn’t, or wouldn’t, touch himself. Was still as restrained as ever, listening for a command.

&nbs
p; “Get up off the floor,” I managed to say.

  Gabe pulled back, eyes on mine, eyebrow arched with interest.

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said with just a hint of a smirk. Stood, towering over me.

  “And I’m pretty sure I told you to get in that fucking shower.”

  Chapter 31

  Gabe

  It was happening again.

  My world was shrinking to the shape of Josie and the sensation of unrelenting pleasure. All of my past sexual experiences had one singular goal. Get off. And I always gave my sexual partners as much pleasure as they wanted or needed. But the goal was orgasm. Release.

  And sweet fuck that was the goal with Josie.

  Except it also wasn’t. The denial was becoming the ultimate aphrodisiac. Past orgasms felt wispy and paper-thin, like they’d never even happened.

  Now there was a complex layering of need and desire, a tease and a dance. Orgasm denial and pain were suddenly things I welcomed and wanted.

  I wanted to wait. To be punished. To give. My orgasms were no longer a headlong rush. They were a long, slow uncoiling.

  And Josie’s control wasn’t harsh or unrefined but flowed gently like a stream.

  I stepped under the hot spray of the shower, my body shuddering in the warm relief. Watched in rapt silence as Josie purred under the water, closing her eyes. I kissed along her neck and jaw. The sensitive spot between her throat and shoulder.

  She shuddered and panted, palms gliding up my chest, finger tangling in my chest hair.

  “Who’s in charge, gorgeous?” I rasped as water rained down over our bodies.

  She backed us into the shower wall.

  “Me,” she said firmly, reaching down to grip my cock.

  I held her face in my hands, lips an inch apart. “Everything, Josie,” I whispered. “I’ll give you everything.” I licked my tongue into her mouth, swiping my thumb across her cheekbone. “So tell me what you need.”

  Josie was leisurely stroking me, pupils dark with lust. My hands slid down her back and squeezed a handful of her delicious ass. I hooked her leg around my waist and ground against her clit.