by Tessa Bailey
The old disco ball spun above his head, sending little silver spots gliding over his smiling face. “Because deep down you want to.”
Their bodies were still a few inches apart, as if they were worried about brushing together and giving off sparks. And they idled there, separated by a few breaths, Kyler’s smile dimming from its position above her. Bree swallowed several times but couldn’t seem to flush her heart out of her throat. His thumbs rested in the crooks of her elbows, brushing back and forth, making every bit of her skin sit up and give him its undivided attention. Eyes that had been so good-natured and sweet minutes ago were now dark, like rainclouds that absorbed memories instead of moisture. Just waiting to storm.
When a slow song—“Remind Me”—started to pump low and heavy through the crackling speakers, Kyler slipped an arm around the small of her back and tugged Bree close. Fast. As if propelled by a burst of anger. They were suddenly pressed so tightly together she could feel his warm breath at her forehead. The rises and falls of his every hard muscle, of which there were many.
“Whoa there,” Bree whispered shakily. “This is a church dance.”
Her words seemed to bring him back from whatever land he’d been teleported to. “Right,” he rasped. “We’re supposed to be setting an example.”
“Yes.”
“So I should definitely stop thinking about sucking on your lower lip.”
Bree’s thighs pressed together, her gasping inhale shivering all the way down into her tummy. Lower. “Stop that right now.”
His gaze remained zeroed in on her mouth. “Stop thinking about it or saying it out loud?”
“Both.” Trying desperately to remain indignant in the face of that face—and that drawl, those muscles, his familiar scent—Bree warned him with a look. “You said we were going to be friends. There’s nothing the least bit friendly about lip sucking.”
“I don’t know.” He hummed in his throat and tightened his hold around her waist. “Seems like letting me do it would be mighty friendly of you.”
Bree tamped down a laugh. “Friendly or stupid?”
“Stupid?” Kyler frowned. “Why?”
“Because we both know where it leads.”
Shit almighty. How had it come to this? She was plastered against her ex-boyfriend—whom she’d yet to shake completely. He looked delicious enough to eat, and now they were having a conversation about sex. And—and—she was wearing her feel-good dress. The one she wore when her hair was down and everything was shaved and waxed. Had she primped because Kyler was back in town? It was too infuriating to speculate on.
“You’re getting pretty worked up down there, supergirl.”
Bree sniffed. “I am not.”
“Since you’re already worked up…” he murmured into her ear, raising goosebumps down the length of her spine. “Tell me exactly where it would lead if I sucked on your lip.”
Four years hadn’t changed a single thing, had they? If one of them wasn’t throwing down a gauntlet, the other picked up the slack, without fail. Case in point, when they’d been paired up for that fateful science presentation in middle school, they’d both been adamant about their idea for a subject being the best. So they’d worked on the project separately, hell bent on outdoing one another. Only to walk into class on presentation day and realize they’d written the same speech, almost word for word.
That day, midway through the oral presentation, Kyler had asked Bree out in front of the whole class. She’d stammered a yes. Then they’d promptly begun boasting about who could pick the best location for their date.
“All right, Ky,” she purred, trailing a finger down the back of his neck and watching his shit-eating grin vanish. “If I let you that close to my mouth…it would end in your truck.”
A rumble moved in his chest. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. We’d drive out to the creek, out where no one could hear us, and climb into the back bed. It’s so hot out tonight, isn’t it?” She tilted her head and allowed the air conditioning to cool her neck while Kyler’s eyes devoured the curve of flesh hungrily. “We’d both be a little dewy from wearing clothes in the humidity…but it wouldn’t stop us getting sweatier, would it, Ky?”
“No,” he groaned. “Nothing ever did.”
Bree almost felt guilty when she felt his erection rise to full mast. Almost. Because her own arousal overshadowed everything else. Throat dry, limbs restless, a warning siren went off inside her head. They were moving into dangerous territory. How had they gotten there? “Um…” She sucked in a breath and focused on swaying to the music, but her body clamored against his, furious with the lack of friction. The absence of satisfaction. “We’d get sweaty because…”
His hand fisted in the back of her dress. “Tell me, Bree. Tell me how I’d make you sweat.”
“Because I’d be starving and you’d have bought me tacos,” she blurted. “Spicy ones.”
“Damn, you’re cruel.” He released a pained laugh into her hair, followed by a groan. “You’ll pay for that.”
“How?”
“For now?” Kyler’s eyes were almost black when he pulled back, but his smile was determined. “In the dance off.”
“This wasn’t it?”
“Nope.”
Suspicion fogged on. “Wait a minute. This is how I’m paying for now? What happens later?”
Kyler moved in and brushed his lips along her jawline. “Depends on how good of friends we want to be.” One hand lifted to squeeze her hip, slow and possessive, that low voice directly against her ear. “Me, Bree? All due respect, I want to be the kind of friend who takes your panties home in his pocket. The kind of friend who sucks your lower lip until your fingers start fumbling with his zipper. You need a friend like that?” His labored breath matched hers. “Because trust me when I say I’ll be your best fucking friend.”
* * * *
Funny how plans made themselves.
Especially when you were all goal and very little game plan. The shocked expression on Bree’s face was well warranted because he’d definitely just implied he’d like to fuck her mercilessly while in Bloomfield.
And yeah, he did. Christ on a pogo stick, if she’d finished that story the correct way—without the surprise taco twist—she’d be in a fireman hold over his shoulder and halfway to his truck. Hell, he’d lost himself in that story, seeing, tasting, feeling himself rocking into Bree while his truck creaked beneath them. That white dress would be pulled down to her waist so he could suck her nipples, rucked up around her hips so he could thrust without obstruction.
Easy, man. He was standing in the midst of dozens of high school students daydreaming about finally, finally, getting Bree back underneath him… And those thoughts were causing a seriously unfortunate situation in his jeans. As in, he had enough wood to build a log cabin. Not good when everyone in the place was taking pictures of him and whispering. Although he no longer knew if they were whispering because they considered him some kind of celebrity. Or on account of his up close and personal dance with Bree. It was a coin toss.
“Are you two finished re-u-niting so we can start this dance off?” Kira asked, stepping between him and Bree. The younger girl’s intrusion poured cold water on the fire below, thank God, but when she waved a hand in front of his face, Kyler realized he was still staring hard at his gorgeous ex-girlfriend. At least Bree was staring back just as hard. That had to mean something, right? “Are we doing boys versus girls?”
“Yeah,” Kyler answered, clearing the rust from his voice. “Boys under the scoreboard. Girls by the bleachers. Pick your best five.” He shot a wink over Kira’s head. “As long as one of them is your sister.”
Bree, still visibly dumbfounded by his blunt speech, seemed to rouse herself. “You know what?” Her beautiful eyes flashed, speeding his need for her back to the forefront. “It’s on, Kyler Tate.”
Jesus, he loved her. Couldn’t she see it? That he would never love another woman as long as they both lived? “Oh, it’s on,
is it?” He gave a sharp whistle that sent every dude in the gym hustling toward the scoreboard. “We battle last, supergirl. That ought to give you time to prepare.”
“Prepare for what? To make you look foolish?” She jerked her thumb in the direction of the bleachers and the girls ran past her, giggling. “But you’re doing such a good job of it yourself.”
Both sides of the gymnasium weighed in with a simultaneous “Ohhhh.”
“You know what? I’m going to let my dancing do the talking.” Praying he still remembered how, Kyler moonwalked into the waiting group of guys, who welcomed him with worshipping looks and smacks on the back. “We’ll even concede song choice, right, men? Just to show how confident we are.”
“Rookie move,” Bree mouthed, before turning and jogging for the DJ booth. Kyler watched her go with his heart lodged somewhere behind his jugular. When he’d walked in, Bree had been sitting in the shadows alone and he’d hated it. Hated her being hidden, no one there to point out how amazing she was, just like he’d been unable to stand having her in the background in high school. Now that she was animated, glowing, satisfaction had been breathed into Kyler’s veins, so heavy and real, he couldn’t move without feeling it. Feeling her.
But…she preferred the background. Right? Isn’t that why she’d ended their relationship? When he’d been accepted to the university, he’d been so positive she would get the same letter soon enough. They’d filled out those applications together, laying side by side on the floor of his bedroom, laptops open. Looking back now, he remembered Bree being so quiet while they’d written essays and answered questions. Months later, he’d found out why.
So now he was back in Bloomfield, back to his old tricks. He’d been in town less than one day and he’d already caused a scene outside the diner and pushed Bree into a dance off. What if the truth was just too painful for him to accept, even four years later? What if he simply wasn’t the kind of man Bree wanted?
All those years ago on prom night, she’d made it clear she’d decided on a quiet life, far away from the noisy crowds that came along with him. Did he have a hope in hell of convincing her otherwise? What if he couldn’t?
Bree slipped back to the front of her lady crew, shoulders thrown back in a cocky pose, but her smug expression disappeared when she locked eyes with Kyler. “You okay?”
He nodded once and turned away before Bree could see deeper, the way only she ever could. “All right, men. Which four among you is the bravest?”
One hand went up.
Kyler issued a quick prayer toward the ceiling. “I’m going to pass on some valuable information. You ready?”
“Yes, sir,” they all answered, well-mannered country boys to the core.
“Those girls aren’t waiting around for you to take initiative. They have a whole bunch of initiative all their own if they want to use it. But they’ll appreciate a guy a lot more for trying. And does anyone know what happens when girls appreciate you?”
“Sex?”
“No.” His genuine outrage made several of them laugh. “No. Not…well, fine. Yes. But kissing was the answer I was looking for. Kissing.” He made eye contact with every single one of them. “Except when it comes to Kira Justice. Leave her be and that’s an order.” He clapped his hands once. “Now, who’s willing to make a fool out of themselves in the name of glory and potential kissing?”
Every single hand went up.
Unfortunately, that’s when, “Run the World (Girls),” by Beyoncé crackled through the speakers.
Kyler disguised his curse with a laugh. “No backing out now.”
The triumph on Bree’s face when he turned back around was worth the awkward dances that followed. Smooth definitely couldn’t be used to describe the jolting moves displayed by the men he’d sent into battle, but at least Kyler made good on his promise. The girls were definitely laughing as one by one, the four battles took place in the center of the basketball court, a clear winner each time.
With the song almost over, Bree and Kyler finally got their turn—and of course the fates had them competing in a tie breaker.
For all Bree’s unwillingness to be the center of attention, she could move like nobody’s business. In the midst of their competition, she’d forgotten all about being shy and Kyler thanked the dear Lord for that fact. The way she swaggered out to meet him at center court was nothing short of a miracle. Those gorgeous, long-legged strides had him growling low in his throat, looking her up and down when she stopped a mere inch away… And without a verbal agreement, they began circling one another, mean mugging the whole time. The laughter from either side was so loud it almost drowned out the music, and neither one of them could help the smiles they were battling.
“Ladies first,” he drawled, sweeping his hand out in a wide gesture. “Better make it count.”
“Better watch and learn.”
She brought the house down. There was no other way to put it. With a cocky grin on her face, she danced circles around him, taunting him and sticking her tongue out behind his back. Kyler was only guessing about that, but the crowd’s reaction bolstered his theory. It took every ounce of his willpower not to pull her into a bear hug as she spun past, all graceful limbs and flushed pleasure.
God above, what a woman. The only woman.
If he broke during one of their challenges, though, Bree would never let him live it down, which was only one of the reasons he loved her. The need to win never stopped flowing in his blood and Bree’s presence fired it up even more. Channeling that desire into football was his usual method of meeting that need, but hell, today it was dancing.
So as soon as it was Kyler’s turn, he pulled out all the stops.
He twerked. And he twerked hard.
It was a tie.
Kyler reckoned the outcome of their challenge couldn’t have been more perfect because it gave him an excuse to track Bree down as soon as possible to issue another one.
Chapter Five
“What do you mean, you never sent in your applications?” Kyler tugged on his bow tie like it was choking him, eventually throwing it down on the damp earth surrounding the creek. “We did them together. We…Bree, it was hours, just the two of us—”
“That’s why I did them. I loved being with you.” Tears blurred the sight of him. “The ones I actually sent in were for pre-vet programs closer to home. I can’t leave my home. The business. My family.”
He stared at Bree like she was speaking in a different language. “But we’d be together.” His whisper turned into a shout. “I’m your home.”
Bree’s heart lurched. “This isn’t easy for me. M-my mom—”
“Not easy for you?” He turned and paced away, attacking his hair with agitated fingers. “I’m leaving. I’m leaving and you won’t be with me. We’ll be apart. That’s not how this was supposed to happen.”
“It was always going to happen like this.” She held tight to the lapels of the jacket he’d draped over her shoulders, positive it was the only thing keeping her glued together. She’d felt that way since earlier, when he’d arranged to have them dance together at prom, her heart twisting at yet another reminder of what she’d soon be giving up. “Right now, we’re in this tiny town. But someday, Ky, someday you’re going to be too big to fit inside of it anymore. That scares me. I’m scared of where you’re headed.”
“There’s only us, Bree.” He shook his head. “The rest is just noise.”
As Bree had known it would be, choosing to remain in Bloomfield over going with the boy she loved was excruciating. She had to hold fast, though. Deep in her bones, there was a need to stay rooted. Right where she’d been standing since the walls threatened to crumble around her family once before. Holding them up was her job. She’d taken on the responsibility and wouldn’t shirk that duty. Not now. Not ever. No matter how much it killed her. “I’m happy with what I have. I have to be.” She tried to swallow the knife in her throat, but it only dug in deeper. “I’m sorry. I’m staying right
here, right where I’m needed.”
“No.” He came forward, framing her face in his hands. “No.”
“Yes—”
His kiss cut her off and for long moments, all she could do was sink into it. Let it pull her down. Ever since Kyler’s star had started to rise, she’d let her reservations get lost in times like these. When she’d put off the inevitable in favor of his touch, his words. Their senior year was all but finished, though, and after dancing with him tonight, seeing their future playing out in his green eyes, she couldn’t put it off any more.
Kyler groaned, his strong hands locking their hips together, rolling their lower bodies as he sunk hungry teeth into her bottom lip. God, if she let him pull her down to the soft earth and use their attraction as a bargaining chip, there was every chance he could persuade her from her decision. And she couldn’t allow that.
“I’m sorry,” Bree whispered, breaking free of his hold. “Good bye, Ky.”
She could still feel his touch as she ran away along the creek bed, scalding tears coasting down her cheeks.
Bree’s cell phone buzzed in her pocket for the fifth time in a row. Again, she ignored it, focusing instead on the wounded golden retriever she was attending. He lay on a ten-seat kitchen table, surrounded by his family, each of whom whispered comforting words and stroked some section of the nervous dog.
“Now, don’t you worry,” Bree murmured, smiling at the youngest member of the family, a six-year-old girl. “Bowser is one tough dog. That coyote only got a tiny nibble out of him. He’s going to heal up just fine.”
The little girl relaxed, smiling into her mother’s hip, although she continued to eye the blood-dappled sheet beneath the dog with trepidation. Bree usually preferred to work in private when making house calls, but when it came to beloved family dogs, she made an exception. It was obvious they were providing much needed comfort for Bowser as Bree finished stitching and bandaging the bite mark on the dog’s right front leg.
