Riveted

by Jay Crownover

  I ordered another round of shots and glared at him as he lifted his eyebrows questioningly at me. “Are you having a liquid dinner tonight?”

  He smoothly changed the subject and I noticed that his attention was now squarely on me and not on searching out hidden danger. I pointed a finger at him and realized it was less than steady. “We’re sharing a bed and that means I’m drinking enough that I’ll be too hammered to do anything inappropriate in my sleep and if I do get clingy I’ll be too drunk to remember it in the morning.”

  There it went again, that little lip twitch that was trying so hard to be a smile. “You don’t have to share the bed if you don’t want to. I can sleep on the floor. Believe me, I’ve laid my head down in worse places.”

  I groaned and put my face in my hands. “I do want . . . that’s the problem.”

  He chuckled at me and pulled the shot I still hadn’t taken out of my hand. “How about we play a game and if you win then I’ll give you back your shot.”

  I pouted at him and crossed my arms over my chest. “What kind of game?” I worked in a bar and had for a long time. If he thought he could beat me at pool, darts, quarters, or any of the other common barfly games I was constantly surrounded by he had another thing coming, even if I was well on my way to a pleasant buzz.

  “Let’s play two truths and a lie. You tell me three things, two that are true and one that’s a lie and I have to pick the lie out. If you win you get your drink and if I pick the lie, then we get to go.” He sure did seem like he was in a big hurry to get back to the room we had to share but my brain was a little bit too fuzzy to pick up on the heat in his eyes and the sexy twist of his lips.

  “Fine, I’ll play.” I was a terrible liar, so there wasn’t a chance in hell he wasn’t going to win. I tapped my fingers on the table in front of me and narrowed my eyes on his in concentration. Two truths were easy, it was the lie I was struggling with. I held up a finger and smirked at him. “Number one, is the first boy that I ever kissed ended up being gay. He was beautiful and it broke my heart when I found out. Number two, I am not a real redhead, all of this—” I picked up one of my poofy pigtails and let it fall “—is fake.” His eyebrows danced up and I saw his gaze sharpen on me in the dim light offered up by the neon glow surrounding us. I could tell he was trying to see if I had roots showing or not but I just smiled at him and held up a third finger. “Third, I’ve been calling my vibrator Church for the last six months. It never had a name before but since I’ve practically burned the thing out since you came to town it only seemed fitting I named it after you.”

  He almost dropped his glass.

  His eyes flared to life in a way I had never seen before and those lips that were made to kiss and to whisper dirty, sexy things in the dark parted as a breath wheezed out of him.

  “Jesus, Dixie.” My name sounded like the direst word he could think of and at the same time like something decadent and sweet he wanted to indulge in.

  It was my turn to lift eyebrows and smirk. I pointed at the shot he was still holding captive. “You were the one that wanted to play.”

  His eyes burned with colors that there weren’t words to describe. “I don’t want to play anymore.” His words were nothing more than a guttural growl. “Are you ready to go?”

  Was I? A day ago I would never have considered bed-breaking sex with him because I knew it would lead to nothing but heartache considering I was way more into him than he was into me. I wanted the whole fantasy, the entirety of my own version of perfect, but after a few drinks and long minutes lost in that multicolored gaze, having something instead of nothing didn’t seem quite so bad. Maybe I wasn’t the girl meant for happy-ever-after. Maybe I was the girl that was going to have to take happy for now because that’s what was on the table. It wasn’t what my parents had, it wasn’t what Kallie had thrown away with Wheeler, but I wasn’t them and Church didn’t know what I knew.

  This wasn’t the dream. This was reality.

  I leaned across the table so I could get my fingers around the glass. I pulled it back to me and let the tequila burn its way down my throat.

  Liquid courage.

  Tequila really did make me do it, but it wasn’t like I’d stood a chance against him and the way I wanted him from the start. My body was all for making decisions my heart was going to pay for later on down the road. I wondered if he realized the danger sitting right across from him. I had a feeling that if he knew how into him I really was, beyond the physical, beyond the fact that I knew he would rock my world, that he would back off because he was compelled to protect me and he had the power to hurt me. I knew without a doubt hurting me would hurt him far worse than facing the silent judgment of strangers did. Even with that I still whispered, “Let’s go.” Because I always expected the best and refused to think about the worst.

  Chapter 8

  Church

  She was a little bit drunk and a whole lot turned on, which in turn had me battling my desire to take care of her and the burning need to fuck her. I wasn’t sure yet which instinct was going to win out.

  I could feel it in the way she stumbled and used it as an excuse to hold on to me as I hauled her sweet ass out of the rollicking honky-tonk. Her hands held me a little tighter than they needed to and her lips landed right below my jaw on the side of my neck. Instead of one of her bubbly little laughs brushing across my overheated skin I felt the wet flick of her tongue as it lashed its way up along the throbbing vein that lived there. I couldn’t hold back the groan when her teeth nipped into the lobe of my ear. I slid a hand around the curve of her waist and walked her backwards until her back hit the bricks that lined the outside of the bar. Her pale skin was bathed in the blue and red lights from the sign advertising PBR tall boys and her eyes were at half-mast and darker than they had ever been with warm desire. I wanted her so bad it made my balls hurt and my insides feel like fire.

  “Told you I didn’t want to play, Dixie.” Her hands were crawling across my abs and up the wall of my chest under the fabric of my shirt. She touched me like she was making it a point to leave her fingerprints on every inch of my skin. I wanted to take what she was offering, it’s what I’d wanted from the start, but I knew if I took it without giving anything back it would be one more sin that I had to atone for and frankly I had enough to repent for without adding this sweet, considerate, and effortlessly tempting girl to the list. Everything inside of me demanded that I take her back to the room, spread her across the bed we were going to share, and get inside of her as fast and as deeply as I could but there was that lingering wistfulness shadowing the heat in her gaze as she continued to stroke me and kiss along my jaw.

  I put my hands on either side of her face and bent down so I could press my lips to hers. It was the same kind of soft kiss she had given me. The kind of kiss you gave to someone that mattered. The kind of kiss you shared with someone you didn’t want to hurt. She tasted like the promise of dirty, hot sex and smoky tequila. She tasted like all the best things men stuck at war dreamed about and told themselves they were fighting for. She tasted like potential heartbreak and the good things I knew I was never meant to have. I bit into her lower lip and rubbed my tongue along the supple flesh I trapped between my teeth. I felt her entire body shudder against mine and her palm flattened over my heart where it thundered and roared into her touch.

  I put a hand next to the side of her head and braced myself over her. We were around the side of the building, the side that wasn’t visible from the road, but there was a door a few feet away that anyone could come out at any time and burst the sensual little bubble the two of us seemed to be trapped in.

  Her hand that wasn’t tapping along to my furious heartbeats made its way around my waist, her fingertips taking the time to track across every raised mark, to memorize every scar and imperfection that marred my body. She was reading my history, my story that was written on my skin, and I could see that it wasn’t one that she was particularly enjoying.

  “But I di
dn’t get my turn, Church.” Her voice was quiet. “I want those two truths.” It grated that she felt like she had to taunt and pull them out of me. I gave her more truth than I had given anyone else in a long time. I’d kind of hoped it was enough but apparently not. She wanted more.

  I lowered my forehead, and then dropped it down some more until it rested against hers. “Fine then, I’ll tell you three things that are absolutely true because I promised I would never lie to you.” She made a little noise in her throat and the fingers of her hand that was resting on my chest curled into a fist.

  I shifted my head so I could kiss her on the ridge of one of her freckled cheeks. “Number one; I miss the army. I miss knowing that every single day I’ll have something that feels important to do. I miss the regimen and at the same time the unpredictability. I was a damn good soldier and that mattered to me because I wasn’t a very good son or brother.”

  Her eyebrows twitched and the fingers of the hand she had curled around my side dug into my skin. I felt the bite of her nails and could feel the way she sucked in a breath as I leaned to the side and let my lips land on her other cheek. “Number two; I hated the fucking army. I hated watching my friends die. I hated being in a place where it was so easy for kids and women to get killed. I hated the way it felt like no matter how much effort any of us put in, the impact we had on the people we were there to help was minimal. I hate the way it’s so hard to leave the battles in the places they were actually fought. You bring all of that shit home with you and it’s up to you to figure out where you’re going to store it. There is no handbook, no instruction guide, and too many people end up letting that baggage overrun their entire lives. Every day I try and make sure my shit is sorted and stored in a safe place. Sometimes I do a better job at keeping it on a shelf and out of sight than others.”

  Her softly whispered “Oh, Church” brushed across my lips as I planted my third truth directly on her parted lips. “Third; if I could promise you all the things your eyes promise me, I would. I’m not that guy, I don’t have it in me to pretend that I am even if it means you want to turn around and walk back into that bar so we don’t tear each other up wanting the same thing but with different outcomes. I can take you to bed and guarantee it’ll be worth your while, but nothing else I have to offer is, mostly because I don’t have anything else to offer . . . anyone.” I knew what it looked like to love and to lose and I wasn’t strong enough or brave enough to ever put myself back in that position even if this sunny, sexy woman tempted me to throw caution to the wind.

  She lifted herself up on her toes and sealed her mouth to mine.

  This kiss was different.

  This kiss wasn’t soft or kind. This kiss had bite and desperation in it. This kiss was a kiss that you gave to someone that you knew you shouldn’t be kissing because kissing them was going to lead to nothing but disappointment. This was a kiss that was flavored with anger and had the tang of frustration laced all throughout it. Her teeth clicked against mine as tongues invaded and dueled for control. Lips took hungrily as breaths bled together and chests heaved rapidly up and down. She made my head spin and I made her hands shake. I could feel them as they danced erratically across my skin, frantic and furious as they scrambled to free themselves from under the fabric of my shirt.

  I slanted my lips across hers at a different angle, tasting her deeply and thoroughly. Her mouth was velvety and sweeter than I ever imagined that it could be. She kissed me like it was the only thing that mattered. She kissed me like it was important, like I was important. She kissed me like she loved me even though she knew there wasn’t any way possible for me to love her back. I tasted more than tequila on her tongue, everything she wanted from me was there as well and I knew the burn and singe of it would linger with me for an eternity.

  It took my brain a few seconds to catch up considering it was clouded and fuzzy with her taste and the feel of her caught between me and the wall. I liked her not having any other option than to lean into me. I also really liked the way her fingers were steady and sure as they dipped behind the button and the zipper at the top of my jeans. She sucked in an audible breath when her touch landed on aching and hard flesh. There was no hiding the erection that had the metal of my zipper digging into my skin. The one that kicked and jerked so that it brushed along the backs of her fingers, begging for attention and acknowledgment.

  “Dixie.” Her name was a guttural warning. I’d used up all my restraint and good intentions and somehow my mind slipped from how exposed we were and the possible ramification of being out in the open with her like this to the fact that we were like this. Everything else faded away and my world narrowed to the woman in front of me and the places she was touching me. She was playing with fire and was going to find herself over my shoulder and hauled back to the hotel room in a second if she didn’t stop what she was doing, no matter how badly that was going to end.

  She licked her bottom lip, and I swore when it was obvious that she was savoring the little bit of myself I’d left there. Her strawberry eyebrows arched and her freckled nose wrinkled in a way that shouldn’t make me harder but did. My pants felt way too tight and my dick pulsed hot and hard where she twisted her hand around so that she was lightly tracing the throbbing lines and turgid flesh that was hurting all because of her. I put a hand on her wrist as the hand that wasn’t occupied playing with my cock started to work on the opening of my pants. We were outside a bar, which I typically wouldn’t complain about, but if she was going to pull my dick out for any reason I didn’t want to be interrupted. Dixie with her hands on my cock was not something I wanted to share with anyone.

  She popped the button on my jeans and I sucked in a breath as cool air and her warm hand covered the tip of my exposed cock. She was making it hard to think. She was making everything hard, period. I was supposed to be looking out for her but somehow she always seemed to end up looking out for me. My zipper sounded unnaturally loud as she slid it down and leaned in closer to me. If anyone walked out the door there was no way they could miss the torrid situation I should be putting a stop to, but I couldn’t, or wouldn’t use the words that might make her stop.

  My dick pointed towards my stomach. Aching and already damp at the swollen tip. Her thumb rubbed an erotic circle around the head, tracing the flare and rushing along the super sensitive underside. My blood went thick and my breaths whooshed in and out of my lungs like I had run a marathon.

  “Is this really what you want?” My words felt like they were being dragged out of me. I was having trouble keeping my thoughts in line. All of my attention was focused on the way my cock felt cradled in the palm of her tiny hand. She handled me like she had done it a thousand times. She seemed to know right where to touch, exactly the kind of pressure I liked. I hadn’t had a girl work me over like this since high school and it sure as shit didn’t feel this good back then. My ab muscles pulled tight and my biceps bunched and locked as I threaded my fingers through the soft hair at her temples. The curls wrapped around my fingers like a silken shroud.

  Her eyes gleamed up at me, dark and getting darker as tension pulsed thick and tangible between us. None of this was a good idea but common sense and reason fled the minute she put her hands on me. There was no planning for the worst, there was simply giving in to the promise of one of the best things that might ever happen to me. “It’s what I want right now.” That answer was cryptic and didn’t make much sense but before I could pull more out of her she kissed my chin, right in the center, and then she started to slide down the wall I had her pinned against. I tightened my hands in her hair to keep her standing upright but she gave her head a little shake to let me know my hold on her was hurting rather than helping. “We don’t have to do this.” I shouldn’t let her do this, not here and not now. I owed her and felt like it was my duty to put a stop to this before some guy in a trucker hat and Carhartts came stumbling out the door and caught us in the middle of something that shouldn’t be happening in the first place.


  Her big brown eyes were glassy with boozy desire and there was an attractive pink hue coloring her cheeks and making her freckles stand out even more than normal. “Let me go, Church.”

  I let her go and a second later she was on her knees in front of me and my cock was engulfed in the damp, warm cavern of her mouth. I’d watched her suck on that straw yesterday and wondered what it would be like to have those pretty, pouty lips wrapped around my dick. My imagination didn’t have shit on reality. She blew my mind while she proceeded to blow me outside of a bar in the middle of nowhere Arkansas after too many shots of tequila and too much honesty. It hurt my heart but the rest of me really fucking enjoyed it.

  I leaned forward when she made a satisfied noise as precum hit her tongue. I braced an arm on the brick wall and rested my forehead on my arm. I put a hand on the top of her head as she bobbed up and down, tongue swirling, cheeks hollowing out as my hips kicked forward involuntarily towards her. It was glorious and it was torture. I’d spent many a night with my hand wrapped around the same rigid flesh she was sucking, licking, taunting with licks and vibration as she gave repeated hums of satisfaction. My own fist would never do now that I knew what the reality of Dixie’s warm, welcoming mouth felt like. She had ruined jacking off for me and I hated and loved her for it at the same time.

  I pressed farther into her as she sucked my length back into her mouth as far as it would go. She wrapped a hand around the base because there was more of me than she could fully take and twisted her wrist as her tongue did an erotic little dance along the heavy vein that ran along the underside of my erection. The girl was beyond good with her mouth. She had me weak-kneed and blurry eyed as she sucked and swallowed as I bucked against her far more violently than I meant to. I should be reverent and respectful. This was far more for me than it was for her but my baser instincts were taking over and all I seemed able to do was grunt and demand more from her as she worked me deeper inside her mouth and farther down the back of her throat.