by Tessa Bailey
Georgie felt like she was breathing through a straw. “Are you saying you want to be with me?”
“Want? No.” Travis brushed their mouths together, letting the tips of their tongues touch. “I’m saying I need you. I’m saying no to ending this tonight. I was an idiot to think that was possible.”
Georgie was shaken. Did he really just say those beautiful things? Was she in the middle of a dream? No. No, the warm male body pressed to hers was real, as was the emotion packed into every one of his words. I need you. Did he have any idea how much she needed him back? This man who’d blown her perception of him out of the water and replaced it with someone real and caring and magnetic.
Thank God. Thank God this wouldn’t be over in a matter of hours. It almost eluded Georgie that she’d succeeded in her plan to cure Travis of his relationship phobia, she was so relieved this man wanted more. They both did. Georgie slipped her fingers into his hair, her thighs lifting to circle his waist. Between them, his thick erection continued to pulse, and her body was now weeping for its almost-orgasm. “Where do I even start?” Georgie said quietly, dragging her fingernails along Travis’s scalp and watching his eyes glaze over. “Travis, I . . .”
Not the time, Georgie. They’d just decided to stop calling their relationship a thing. Declarations of love were a long way off. Maybe they’d never even get there. Bottom line, she needed to start small. Even though her chest felt like it might burst wide open from all the overstocked feelings.
A line formed between his brows. “What were you going to say?”
Georgie raked her nails lightly down his nape. “I was going to say I’m twenty-three, Travis. I don’t want kids right now. Or a husband. There’s all the time in the world.” The words sounded hollow to her own ears and Travis was still frowning, but she pushed through, getting to the part that was nothing but the truth. “Right now, I—I just want—”
“A boyfriend?” His chest lifted and fell. “If that’s enough for now, let me be yours.”
For now. Did that make them temporary all over again? Maybe. But the prospect of being with Travis without an imminent expiration date proved too tempting. “Where do I sign?”
Travis still looked troubled about her claim that the future could wait, but after a small hesitation, his mouth settled over hers again. And their lips moving together reignited the heat between them like two pieces of flint. Georgie spread her legs, looking up at the sexiest man alive through her lashes. And Travis took the bait like a dying man. He reached down with shaking hands and guided himself back between her legs, thrusting deep with a moan. “I need to come inside you so bad, baby girl. Deep.” He laid her down on the limousine floor. “I want it to stay there all fucking night.”
She let him lock her wrists above her head, a buzz humming in her blood. So full of love, she wondered if her chest might explode. “Give it to me.”
It was fast and rough, Travis’s forehead pressed to hers, eyes locked on each other as he pummeled her body. He moved at a merciless pace, slapping their hips together, teeth baring every time she squeezed him with her inner walls. They groaned words that made sense only to their ears, called each other’s name, and kissed as if frantic to memorize taste, texture, movement, breathing patterns. Travis freed Georgie’s wrists in favor of pressing her knees open, the pace of his hips turning punishing but, as always, mindful of where she needed to be touched, the engorged base of his shaft hitting its mark and turning Georgie into a clawing, writhing creature, her fingernails buried in her boyfriend’s ass. Urging him to buck, to use, to overpower. And he did. He did until tears leaked down her temples, the back-to-back orgasms blanketing her mind, narrowing her universe down to where their bodies joined.
“Goddamn,” he muttered into her neck, voice sounding pained. “I need to blow so bad, but you’re too beautiful when you come. Knock it off.”
“Who, me?” Georgie said breathlessly, putting mock innocence—her favorite tool—to use, because she couldn’t stand Travis in pain and it happened to be his kryptonite, too. She unsnapped the front of her strapless bra, bowing her back to present her bare breasts to Travis.
“Motherfucker,” he breathed, his hips snapping in a rapid rhythm, jostling her breasts. “No. No, no, no . . . I want to watch you one more time.”
She played with her nipples, pinching and rolling them between her middle finger and thumb. “But it feels so good when you fill me up.”
“Georgie.”
“Do it.” She gasped as Travis closed his teeth around her chin, growling. “You can go harder, can’t you? You don’t have to hold back because I’m so tight.”
He came with a roar that lasted for long moments, hanging in the air, that final pump of his stiffness telling her all about his desperation. And the expression of male rapture on his gorgeous face, the sticky, wet grind of their lower bodies, pushed Georgie into one final climax, a slow, all-encompassing one that made her shake violently. It made Travis’s head come up, his eyes molten as he witnessed it. “Beautiful,” he gritted. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”
They collapsed in a tangle of arms and legs, Travis tucking Georgie’s head beneath his chin, his unbreakable hold surrounding her. No place in the world she’d rather be than listening to Travis’s heart wail against his rib cage, throat rattling as it pulled in oxygen.
As they rumbled down the highway, she let the engine and Travis’s heartbeat lull her, refusing to be sad over the three words that remained trapped in her throat.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Travis flipped up his collar against the wind on his walk through the parking lot. The first of fall had begun to roll in, bringing a brisk breeze off the water. Soon the leaves would begin to change, and everyone would break out their sweaters. It wouldn’t be long before he was dodging kids in Halloween costumes as they trick-or-treated on Main Street. For the first time, he was actually looking forward to October for something other than the World Series. He was looking forward to everything right now.
He’d picked up the supplies he needed to put the finishing touches on Georgie’s fireplace and he could already see her laid out in front of it. Last night, after the limousine dropped them back at her house, there had been no question he was staying the night. That’s what boyfriends did, wasn’t it? And it turned out his girlfriend often slept in these tiny flannel shorts that went straight up her ass—he’d found them in the back of her sock drawer while digging for something to keep her feet warm. He’d coaxed her into modeling them and now he was borderline obsessed. When he imagined Georgie in front of the fireplace he was building, she wore nothing but those booty huggers and a smile, her skin lit up from the flames.
You don’t have to hold back because I’m so tight.
“Christ,” he muttered, slowing his gait out of necessity. Wouldn’t be a good idea to walk into Grumpy Tom’s with a boner, especially because he was meeting Stephen for a beer. Unfortunately, that was how he’d spent most of the day. Hard—or about to get hard—thanks to Georgie.
Had he always liked sex? Sure. Every man did. But he’d been having a vague, watered-down version of it his whole life. Being inside Georgie? His body got high. And so did his mind. Their bodies moving together meant being attuned to fifty things at once. Her pulse, the swell of her clit, the peaks of her nipples, the quickening of her pussy, the waning focus in her eyes, her words, her breath, the softness of her skin, the roughness of her nails. The affection she radiated at him. Being aware of all of those incredible things at once, tending to them, while being completely absorbed by a warm, blanketing sense of belonging.
Damn. He hadn’t seen Georgie coming. It was a great irony that the most selfless person in the world was inspiring him to be selfish. That’s exactly what he was being. He coveted this girl. Wanted her all to himself, even though her goodness was meant to shine in other places. Watching her sleep this morning, he hadn’t been able to stop his mind from projecting her onto a different time and place, where kids ran into the
room and leaped onto her sleepy form. How long could Travis keep her to himself when he knew her dream was to have a family?
Travis’s gut tied itself into knots as he pushed into the buzzing bar, the sound of the ball game and classic rock meeting his ears. No matter what happened down the road, he needed to be honest with Stephen now. About his phony relationship with Georgie and why it started in the first place. About how incredibly real his feelings were for her now. Lying to Stephen had never sat right and the guy was obviously worried about his sister. He needed to know Travis would do everything in his power to make her happy. As long as she let him. Which was why he’d called Georgie’s brother this afternoon and asked to meet him for a beer at seven. Tomorrow morning, the girls were participating in the Tough Mudder. Her siblings would be present and he didn’t want any more deception. He wanted them to see their sister with a man who’d die to make her happy, no questions asked—and not doing it for show this time.
Although as Travis scanned the room, he didn’t see Stephen yet—
A familiar face at the bar made his blood go ice cold.
His father?
His father was here in Port Jefferson?
Travis watched in horror as Mark Ford teetered to the left on his stool. It was a scene right out of Travis’s nightmares. And memories. Those visions in his mind updated themselves now, adding new details, like the extra weight around his father’s waist, the hairline that had receded and thinned. How many times as a child had he snuck in through the back door of this bar, trying to pry his father away from the bottle? The sensation of hunger and shame crept up on Travis now, as if over a decade hadn’t passed.
“Well, now.” Mark slapped the bar with an open hand, turning on the stool. “There’s my son. Knew you’d turn up here sooner or later. Always did.”
Acutely aware of the attention on them, Travis cleared his throat and eliminated the distance between them. “What the hell are you doing back here?”
Mark laughed, lines fanning out at the edges of his eyes. “That’s no kind of welcome.”
“You’re not welcome,” Travis enunciated. “There’s nothing for you here.”
“Not true.” Mark took a sloppy pull from his drink. A beer. But several empty shot glasses sat in front of him, like little sparkling badges of honor. “Got a call from the real estate agent letting me know you were selling the house.”
An invisible slap landed across Travis’s face. Of course. The deed was in both of their names. The real estate agent probably had no choice but to alert him of the appraisal. Travis’s goal was to begin burying the past, but he’d dragged it out into the light instead. Dragged a bitter, foul-breathed reminder right back into the present.
“Took a ride by the house this afternoon,” Mark continued, loudly. Loudly on purpose. Another one of the ways he’d humiliated Travis as a child. Needling him in public about a bad game, his eating habits, his mother, and laughing about it while everyone watched in uncomfortable silence. “You really let the place go to shit. Not that it was any great shakes back in the day, right? You always walked around like you deserved a fucking palace.”
He spat the last word, and Travis closed his eyes, praying for patience. A way to make this end faster. End period. He still couldn’t actually believe it was happening. “You want your cut of the sale? No problem. You didn’t have to come all the way to Port Jeff to get it.”
Mark jerked in his chair, a sneer shaping his mouth. “Don’t talk to me like I’m some kind of beggar, boy. I have an interest here and I came to see to it. I have every right.”
The bartender edged closer in Travis’s periphery. “Everything okay, gentlemen?”
Travis nodded at the man without taking his eyes off his father. “Yes, sir. I’m taking care of it.” His father started in with another angry outburst, but Travis cut him off. “I’ll write you a check for half the appraisal amount. No need to stick around and deal with all the annoying paperwork, right?”
Mark let out a long breath through his nose. “You’ve just got enough money lying around to front me? Just like that?”
“That’s right. More than enough.”
His father took a cocktail straw off the bar and popped it into his mouth, chewing on the red plastic. “Real out of the blue, isn’t it? Why are you selling the house now?” Mark pointed the straw at Travis. “It’s a woman, isn’t it?”
The volume of his father’s voice had steadily risen to the point where it could be heard by everyone, even over the music and ball game. It would be a cold day in hell before Travis voluntarily said Georgie’s name to this man who blackened everything he touched, though, so he remained silent.
“I won’t play dumb. Saw in the papers you’re dating that Castle girl,” said his father, setting off a sour bomb in Travis’s stomach. “Bet you fit right in with a family that thinks their shit doesn’t stink.”
Anger hit him hard. “Shut your fucking mouth, old man,” Travis snapped, his fingers stretching and curling in his palms. “They’ve been better to me than my own family.”
A spark of regret lit Mark’s eyes, but it was gone as soon as it appeared. “And you’re going to repay them by tarnishing the reputation of one of their daughters?” Mark laughed and it was an ugly sound. “Yeah, everyone knows how you carry on. You’re a whore like your mother.”
When Travis walked into the bar, he’d been Travis Ford the man. The man who’d had some bad runs of luck in a career he loved, but had managed to come through with perspective. He did an honest day’s work with his hands, had good friends. He was about to embark on a new career path that scared him a little, but he had the confidence to throw his all into it. Most importantly, he’d landed a girl who made him so happy he couldn’t see straight. But in one fell swoop, he was transported back to the boy who’d sat shivering on the porch until the middle of the night, feeling unworthy of anything but doubt. And that boy slowly became the man who’d been slapped like a Ping-Pong ball between teams until he stopped memorizing the names of his teammates, because what was the point, when he’d be gone before the ink dried on his contract?
Travis could only listen numbly as his father continued. “You should do that girl a favor and cut her loose before she gets her hopes up that you’re actually a decent person.”
“You honestly think I’d change for a girl?” As soon as the words were out of Travis’s mouth, he hated himself. Acid rolled to a boil in his stomach, on his tongue. But he didn’t want this man who poisoned everything to focus on Georgie another fucking second. His girlfriend was the best thing in his life, and he’d fight to keep the worst part away from her. Travis wouldn’t put it past his father to find a way to hurt them, if he knew how important Georgie was to him. That was how Mark Ford operated. “She’s a kid with a kid’s crush,” Travis rasped, the lies razing his throat. “All I did was use it to my advantage. You’re looking at the new voice of the Bombers.”
“Knew it. A leopard doesn’t change its spots. Let’s hope you do better behind a microphone than you did behind the plate.” Mark laughed into his drink. “I’ll leave my address with the real estate agent. Looking forward to that nice check.”
“Enjoy,” Travis rasped. “It’s the last thing you’ll ever get from me.”
Disgusted with himself for betraying Georgie, Travis turned to leave—
And ran straight into Stephen. With an uncapped beer in front of him on the bar, he’d clearly been there long enough to hear everything.
Travis couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe as Georgie’s brother gave him a look of pure revulsion, his eyes running the length of Travis, before he vanished from the bar.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Can you believe him, Georgie?” Bethany cried, screeching to a stop at a red light. “My own brother. Warning the other realtors in town not to sell me a property. You know what I think? I think he’s afraid I’ll do a better flip.”
In hindsight, driving to the Tough Mudder with Bethany might have been a mist
ake. Her sister was hyped up and not in a good way. And honestly, her sister had every right to be pissed. But Georgie’s head—and stomach—just wasn’t into the bitch session today.
Travis never came over last night. He’d texted her around eight o’clock to say he couldn’t make it. No excuse or reason. Just I can’t make it, baby girl. She’d been half tempted to drive over to his apartment with a few cartons of lo mein but stopped herself. She was definitely new at this couple thing, but they weren’t required to spend every waking moment together. Maybe he’d just felt like watching baseball and scratching in places he couldn’t scratch in her company. No big deal, right?
Only she couldn’t shake the intuition something was wrong. Had he changed his mind about them? Maybe those declarations he’d made in the limousine were simply made in the heat of the moment. In the light of day, it was possible Travis realized he’d jumped the gun and made a mistake.
Would he even show up today?
“Wait, hold on.” Georgie lowered the sun visor and flipped open the mirror, so she could tie her hair into an even ponytail. “You made an offer on a property in town, but they wouldn’t sell, because Stephen warned them not to?”
“I can’t even get an appointment!” Bethany floored it through the intersection. “You really don’t listen at all. If you weren’t my sister, I’d probably date you.”
“You took that one step too far,” Georgie murmured, securing the hair on top of her head. “So they admitted this to you? Seems like that kind of treatment is illegal.” Georgie smacked the visor back into place. “Maybe it’s a misunderstanding. Is Stephen coming today?”
