Always a Bridesmaid

by Cindi Madsen

  But as she bypassed features she’d always considered flaws and concentrated on the way they fit together, she did feel sexy. Desire left her skin flushed and dewy, and Ford’s massive body and the large hand splayed on her abdomen made her feel tiny.

  His other hand came up to fondle her breast as the one on her stomach drifted downward. He dipped a couple of fingertips into the waistband of her simple cotton panties, and she melted into his embrace.

  It’d been so long since she’d been touched. Her knees threatened to give out as his fingertips moved lower.

  And lower.

  She curled her hand around the nape of Ford’s neck, using it as an anchor and arching against his chiseled torso. Electricity jolted her core as the tip of his index finger found the bundle of nerves pulsing to life, the live-wire reaction a spectacular mix of frenzy and ecstasy.

  The mirror steamed over, blurring the two nude figures writhing against each other.

  Ford kissed her temple and maneuvered her toward the shower. “I think it’s time to get underneath the warm water.”

  “Sure, yep, whatever,” Violet said on a breath as he jerked her panties down and off. She was far too desperate for more of Ford’s touch to concern herself over where it happened.

  The when, though—that needed to be now.

  Water sluiced over Violet as she stepped into the shower, heating her skin to the same blazing temperature as the rest of her.

  Ford shed his boxer briefs and climbed in after her. She grabbed the bar of soap and lathered up. When he held out his palm, she knocked it aside. “I’d better help. You’re adept at getting filthy, but I’m not sure you’re experienced enough in good clean fun.”

  The crooked smile appeared. “Do your worst, gorgeous. Or should I say do your best?”

  Foamy bubbles clung to his dark chest hair as she rubbed the bar over his body. She tipped onto her toes, both of them letting out throaty noises as their skin slipped together.

  Focusing on getting the mud off instead of the way his shoulders rounded and his pec muscles twitched… Where was I again?

  Labored breaths echoed around them as she scrubbed his abdomen, ensuring every dip and groove was covered.

  For a moment she watched in awe, mesmerized as the stream sent water down his body, his massive thighs. His arousal.

  She teased him with the bar, circling his dick but never quite touching. A growl came out as her pinkie skimmed the impressive length of his shaft. Needless to say, the overcompensating question had been cleared up and then some.

  Violet’s throat went dry. This guy? She was going to have sex with him? What even was her life right now?

  Callused fingers brushed damp strands of hair off her face. “How you doin’?”

  “A bit frustrated, if I’m being honest. Some guy got me all turned on, and then he just stopped.”

  “Inexcusable.”

  Violet set the soap aside. “Right?”

  “Some girl did the same thing to me,” he said, and his husky voice cranked her desire up to the irrepressible range. “But you’re in luck. I have just the thing to help us both.”

  Ford wrapped his hand around the base of his arousal and walked forward until the head of his penis hit the apex between her thighs. He rubbed it over her slick, ready center, the friction sending frissons of pleasure down her legs and up her core.

  A carnal expression overtook Ford’s features before he crashed his mouth to hers. The kiss was beautifully brutal, teeth and lips and a lashing tongue.

  Another step had her pinned against the shower wall, his erection pressing into her stomach. Ford reached between them and renewed the circling of his fingertips, delving and stroking until she whimpered, “Don’t stop, don’t stop.”

  Every muscle in her body clenched, and she gripped onto Ford’s biceps so she could lose herself to the euphoric sensations rendering her legs useless.

  Another stroke and she shattered apart, his name spilling from her lips.

  The world spun, water and tile walls and an exquisite specimen of a man flickering in and out of her vision. She might’ve even blacked out for a second or two.

  But when she opened her eyes, Ford was watching her. The amount of satisfaction in his features suggested it was as good for him as it was for her, although that couldn’t be true. Clearly he’d derived pleasure from hers, though, and that left her unbalanced in the best sort of way.

  He lowered his forehead to hers. “Better?”

  “Much.” She flattened her palms to his chest and ran them down his abdomen. She traced the line of obliques with her fingertips and then hovered her hand over his bobbing shaft. “You?”

  A grunt was her only answer.

  “Sounds like I’d better get the soap again. I’d hate to miss any part of—”

  Ford fell forward, palms braced on the wall on either side of her head, the line of his jaw razor tight. “Violet.” Her name was half command, half plea.

  She closed the miniscule gap between her hand and his dick, gripping the base and squeezing as she stroked his hard length. A gruff curse escaped as he fell to his forearms, every muscle taut and vibrating with tension.

  Violet stroked him again and again, basking in her power to control this big, tough country boy, if only for a little while.

  “If you want this to be over”—he groaned—“keep doing that. But if you want me to grab a condom—”

  His eyes rolled back in his head, his words an undecipherable gravelly jumble. The idea of watching him lose control while buried deep inside her made an ache form between her thighs.

  One finger at a time, she released him. Then she kissed his jaw. The spot where it met his neck. “Get the condom.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said.

  After a moment of rummaging around in what she assumed was the medicine cabinet, Ford returned with the requisite foil square.

  The spray of water cooled a few degrees, signaling they’d almost used all the hot water.

  And she could hardly wait to use up the guy in front of her as well.

  …

  Ford about dropped the condom as he reentered the shower. He’d spent the last several minutes staring at the naked creature in front of him, yet her beauty struck him again.

  Yes, Violet was curvy and beautiful, and he could write a dozen poems about her exquisite dimpled ass. But it was more than that. The way she’d gone from mud-coated cutie to siren. How she’d meant to do a striptease but needed help.

  And lathering him up…? The teasing had effectively driven him out of his mind, but he’d never experienced the tender, doting manner Violet had employed.

  More than that, he loved that she didn’t hesitate to tell him she was frustrated, her enthusiasm—and how whenever he was with her, he experienced a soothing sensation that also managed to rev him up.

  It made no sense.

  Hell, half the time she made no sense.

  Yet everything about here and now felt right in a way nothing else had.

  Admittedly, a lot of his experience with women began with sex, and if that went well, they might attempt the relationship thing. Now he saw what he’d been missing, but he didn’t think it would’ve come along with anyone but Violet. There was just something about her.

  “Oh. Do you need help, like I did with my bra?” Completely sincere, and she was already reaching for the wrapper.

  A condom he could manage and then some, but who was he to refuse? He handed it over and watched as she struggled with the wrapper.

  At long last, she ripped the gold foil with her teeth and proudly held up the condom.

  Heated blood sang through his veins as she began to roll it on, and how could his restraint be so shaky already?

  Ford covered her hand with his. “Full disclosure, I didn’t need help. But now I’d better do it, or this
might be shorter than both of us want. I’d hate for you to tell me I got you all hot and bothered only to leave you frustrated again.”

  “No one wants that,” she said, giving him a shy smile. Unbelievable how she could go from vixen to bashful and everything in between, and each was a win.

  After securing the condom in place, he slanted his mouth over hers, savoring the way her entire body responded. Melting and tugging and stroking her tongue over his until he couldn’t tell her breaths from his.

  Ford pushed inside her, swallowing her gasp, and holy shit she felt good.

  Ever so slowly, he pumped his hips. He guided her back against the wall so he could get better leverage. Then he thrust inside her again and again, gathering speed and depth while clinging to his self-control. It’d been a long time, and she fit him so perfectly, and he had to stop dwelling on that or he’d do the opposite of what he was going for.

  “Not quite the right angle,” she muttered, so he gripped her knee and hooked it up and over his hip.

  In addition to the resulting keening noise, the move opened her up to him, allowing him to thrust deeper. They both moaned as they found the ideal rhythm. Their rapid breaths mingled with the water pouring over their bodies, taking him higher and higher as she clenched tighter around him.

  “Ford. I’m about to—”

  “Go ahead and let go, sweetheart. I’ve got you.”

  Her eyes locked on to his, and then her walls were sucking him harder as her orgasm rocketed through her body. He eked out every last drop of her pleasure, and then he followed her over the edge with a roar.

  Seconds passed or maybe an eternity, but eventually he forced his jelly limbs into motion. He grabbed a towel, wrapped it around Violet, and then reached for his own.

  For a handful of seconds, they just grinned at each other, as if congratulating themselves on having such a phenomenal time.

  “If you follow me,” Ford said, “I can lend you some of my clothes. Then I’ll get to work on that dinner I promised.”

  “You were serious about that? I sorta thought it was a line.”

  “One thing you should know about me: I never joke about food.” He skimmed his fingertips down her silky-smooth arm and laced his fingers with hers. He might be the obsessed one now, because he couldn’t get enough of touching her and staring at her and he’d done gone and lost his head.

  They managed to make it to his bedroom before the dogs could catch them, but as they dressed, the puppies pawed and whimpered at the door.

  Once the drawstring on his shorts was secured, Ford checked on Violet. He’d given her a pair of boxers she’d had to roll to get to stay in place, but thanks to the fact that his large T-shirt hit her thighs, he couldn’t even see the boxers.

  The collar slipped off her shoulder, and she pulled it up, only for the other side to fall.

  “You look perfect,” he said.

  She bit her kiss-reddened lower lip. “Thank you.”

  He leaned in and sniffed her neck. “You smell nice, too.”

  “I smell like you.”

  “Like I said: you smell nice.”

  Violet shook her head and headed for the door. “Cocky bastard. I can’t believe I slept with you.”

  Honestly, he could hardly believe it, either.

  Ford led her to the couch, and the dogs barraged her with sloppy kisses. “I’ve seen what you do to kitchens,” he said, “so you make yourself at home while I go start dinner.”

  Thanks to his lightning-fast reflexes, he dodged the pillow she launched at his head.

  So that’s why Lexi brought them over to “spruce up the place.”

  He’d thought she’d been implying his decor was lacking, but he bet his buddy’s wife had planned to toss them at him during planning sessions.

  Sessions that’d become more fun as of late, on account of the woman reclining on his couch, her bare legs stretched across the cushions. Trouble snuggled up on her lap, and Violet idly ran her fingers through his hair, leaving Ford a pinch jealous of a puppy.

  Shit. Speaking of… “I meant to warn you earlier not to get too attached.”

  Her mouth dropped, hurt streaking across her features as tension crept into her neck and shoulders. “Oh. I’m not making assumptions just because we had sex. I realize that—”

  “I meant to the puppies,” Ford quickly said, kicking himself for not realizing how it’d sound. Not only was he rusty in the relationship department, he’d never been the best at communicating in the first place.

  He gestured to Trouble. “When it comes to training a new litter, I always remind myself the dogs are only mine for a short while. I just don’t want you to get too attached and end up hurt. That’s all.”

  A hint of anguish radiated from Violet as she fondly scratched between Trouble’s ears. “I’ll do my best.”

  An argument about doing better than that was on the tip of his tongue, but she’d promised to do her best, and that was all anyone could ask anyone.

  At the archway that led from the living room into the kitchen, Ford paused and took in the scene again.

  Violet relaxing on the couch, Trouble curled up in her lap while Tank warmed her feet.

  Pyro on the floor next to the couch as Nitro used him as her own personal climbing course.

  Well, his living room certainly looked fuller with Violet in it. Suddenly he was beginning to see what all the hype was about.

  Do you have a sweetheart? Someone who makes your life worth that much more?

  Maybe someday in the future, when life’s not so hectic and I have time for that kind of thing, he told himself before he got carried away. Violet’s only here temporarily, anyway.

  Which was why, as he pulled ingredients out of his fridge, he thought he should point that warning about not getting too attached right back at himself.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Somebody’s awfully happy for six thirty in the morning,” Maisy said as Violet skipped into the bakery, humming a song that’d include cartoon birds if her life were a Disney movie. “Especially since that same someone got home super late last night.”

  Violet propped her forearms on the counter opposite her sister. “I didn’t wake you, did I? I tried so hard to be quiet.”

  “No, I slept like a rock—Isla didn’t even get up once. But you weren’t home when I went to bed, so I sleuthed my way to the getting-home-late conclusion.” Maisy tapped her temple. “Elementary, my dear Watson.”

  “I’ve been framed,” Violet said, throwing her arms up in a surrender stance. “It wasn’t me. It was…Professor Firefighter, in the shower, with a…very large candlestick.”

  Maisy scrunched up her face, but the beep beep of a timer sounded. She straightened and headed around the wall that separated the storefront from the kitchen, gesturing for Violet to follow. “I assume you were with Ford?”

  All the smiling began to hurt Violet’s cheeks, but it was an ache she’d gladly endure. “Mm-hmm. He took me mud bogging. Have you ever been?”

  “Does Dolly Parton sleep on her back?”

  Violet blinked. Then the lightbulb snapped on and she laughed.

  “Oops, that sort of popped right out.” The sweet scent of muffins filled the air as Maisy opened her slightly-worse-for-wear oven. “Thanks to Mama, I’ve had all the proper debutante training and etiquette lessons. But you don’t live in the sticks without picking up what Mama would deem inappropriate language or getting your feet dirty.”

  Maisy snagged the knitted pink oven mitt off the wall, and Violet flinched as her sister retrieved the muffin tin, afraid she’d get burned through the holes. When she’d asked about the yarn mitten the other day, Maisy informed her the Craft Cats had gifted it upon the reopening of the bakery, along with hand towels, dishcloths, and the tea cozy that transformed the kettle into a big cupcake.

  Who i
n town even drank tea, except the iced, overly sweet kind? They’d never brought out that costumed kettle, not once.

  Maybe I should start. Violet had read green tea was one of the healthiest beverages on the planet. Lots of antioxidants, lowered your risk of cancer, along with a myriad of other benefits. “Do you have any green tea?”

  The muffin tin hit the counter with a clink as Maisy tilted her head. “Are you avoiding the subject on purpose?”

  What subject? “No?”

  The fist went to her hip, which meant Maisy was about to whip out the thick southern accent—she tended to save it for when she was short on patience. “I need me some deets. Yesterday you wouldn’t stop caterwaulin’ about delivering the cupcakes to the ball game because you didn’t want to see Ford. Then I find out you went mud boggin’ with the guy.”

  Maisy tossed aside the mitt. “I’m guessin’ something happened between Points A and B.” Suddenly her spine went stick straight. “Shower. Very large candlestick.” Her eyes flew so wide, Violet feared they’d pop right out of her head. “You had sex with Ford McGuire.”

  Even though no one else was there, Violet glanced around before excitedly nodding. “We fell in the mud, and then we kissed a little—more like a lot. Naturally we needed to clean ourselves off. One thing led to another…”

  “And you had sex,” Maisy said, her voice pitching at the end.

  A flutter careened through Violet, swelling into a torrid wave as their shared shower replayed in her mind. “Supah-hot sex.” Violet closed the distance and grabbed her sister’s shoulders. “We’re talking the kind where I left my body for a minute and I was, like, looking down at us having sex as the water poured over us. Then I thought wow, that’s so freakin’ hot. I should jump back in my body to finish. And I did. Twice.”

  Maisy’s mouth formed a meticulous O, the red lipstick she’d put on today accenting her shock, and Violet feared she’d overshared.

  Then Maisy threw a hand to her chest and said, “Praise the Lawd. I was worried you’d never have sex again, and, bless Benjamin’s heart, I could just somehow tell he was not good at it.”