by Smith, CP
“I haven’t done anything this rash since before we took in Calla.” She stopped in front of him, her eyes level with his chest, and reached out to run a single finger down his stomach. “Promise me I won’t regret this.”
Joe bridged the distance between them and jerked her into his body. “Life handed me good and bad,” he growled low. “Got my boys. My family. All of it is good. The club, it puts food on the table while at the same time it’s a way to help. It may not be a church, but it gives something to those who can’t find any other way to scrape by. I won’t apologize for that. Not to anyone.”
“Joe, I didn’t mean to imply—”
“I don’t give a shit what your father thinks. He’s any kind of man, then he’ll know when he meets me that I won’t back down. Not from this. You crawled under my skin in a way no woman ever has. I knew with one look I could spend the rest of my life with you. You want assurances? I’ll give you this: we got one shot at this life, and we should live it being happy. I always fight for what I want, and that’s you. If you try to walk away from me because of your father, I’ll block you from leaving.” Joe tightened his hold to make his point. “Drag you back and fight until you’re secure in what we have.”
He wasn’t sure what he expected her response to be; Joe only knew he was done worrying about an old man with a god complex. She seemed to search his eyes for the truth of his statement, then reached up with trembling hands and untied her top. Joe crushed his mouth over hers and then sank into the water to cover her body from view. As far as he knew, they were alone on the beach, but he didn’t want prying eyes to see what now belonged to him.
Bernice wrapped her legs around his waist while he drowned in her kiss, swimming them farther out for privacy’s sake until their bodies were submerged from view. She tugged at his hair, matching his lust. Their tongues danced, their teeth clashed and nipped as they bobbed in the surf, the water rocking their bodies in a seductive rhythm.
Ripping his mouth from hers, Joe bent her back in the water, then moved to her full breast and sucked deep on one of the rose-colored nipples, causing Bernice to arch into his touch. He growled in approval when her nails scored his back.
“I need you inside me,” Bernice cried out, bucking against the pull of his tongue.
He found a more solid purchase in the deeper water, and he captured her mouth again before he worked the bottom of her suit aside and positioned her on the crest of his cock. “Look at me,” he ordered against her mouth. He needed to see her eyes as he drove deep inside her warm body and claimed her.
Hooded eyes opened and locked with his. She licked her lips in anticipation, fighting against her natural urge to impale herself on his rigid cock. Wrapping his hands around her shoulders, Joe thrust up and almost emptied himself immediately from the look on her face. Her eyes were mere slits and her mouth was opened in surprise as she adjusted to his girth and length. Pulling out slowly, he slammed back in, finally rooting himself deep within her core. Her head fell back on her shoulders, and she began to rock against him, the sexiest sounds he’d heard in his life spilling from her swollen lips as he began to drive into her.
The feeling of contentment, of the rightness of their union, burned hotter through his veins as she tightened her muscles around his cock, drawing him deeper into her warm heat.
She began to buck against him, whimpering for the release her body needed, so Joe reached between their bodies and rolled her clit with his thumb. She came apart within seconds on a sultry moan. Joe captured her mouth and swallowed her cries, following her over the edge into oblivion, moaning low in his throat as the strongest orgasm he’d had in his life spilled into her sweet heat.
With panting breaths and racing hearts, Joe lay flat on his back so they could float until the tide brought them back into shore. Bernice seemed exhausted; her face still buried in his neck. Joe found the ties to her suit top and pulled them up, tying them around her neck so her generous breasts weren’t on display once they left the water.
They stayed that way, her wrapped around him as he kept them afloat and the tide brought them closer to the shoreline. Words didn’t seem to be needed. He could tell she felt it too. The connection between them. A connection he’d fight tooth and nail to keep. Her father and his sense of entitlement be damned. Bernice was his now, and he’d stand down anyone who said differently.
_______________
“What’s your favorite color?” I whispered this into the twilight as the sun peeked above the horizon. We were in a room on the top floor of the newly renovated Tides Hotel. We’d left the blinds open so we could see the moon over the ocean, then fell into bed. We hadn’t slept a wink. Time wasn’t on our side. We could sleep when we were dead.
Joe curled his hand around mine and brought it up to his mouth. It hadn’t been thirty minutes since our last round of unbelievably fantastic sex in the shower, but the mere brush of his lips sparked a flame deep in my belly.
“I don’t give a shit about colors. If it’s black, I’ll wear it. Gray works too.”
I rolled until I was perched on his chest, then I laced my fingers and balanced my chin on my hands. “Pink,” I said, smiling. “Or as Shelby said in Steel Magnolias, ‘Pink is my signature color.’” I laid the Southern belle on a tad heavy, but this was Steel Magnolias I was quoting; a heavy hand was required.
His eyes grew lazy as I spoke. I was beginning to see a pattern with Joe. The more I shared about myself, the more relaxed and laid back he became.
“Pink, huh?”
“Definitely.”
His eyes dropped to my lips, then he rolled suddenly, and I was on my back. “I hadn’t noticed.” He mumbled this almost teasingly, then his hand slid down my leg curled around his hip and he squeezed my foot. “What about flowers?” I puzzled over that until he sat up and turned, raising my foot, kissing the top before kneading it with his strong thumbs. The white flowers I’d had painted on a whim on my pink toenails stared back at me.
“You noticed?” I giggled. Giggled! Lordy, I hadn’t giggled in years. I hadn’t done a lot of things in years, and now I wanted to make up for lost time. In the space of one day, I felt young again. Like I could take on the world. If I avoided mirrors, I’d never know I wasn’t in my twenties, roaming around the U.S. in my Jeep with Eunice at my side. We’d lived like nomads for a year, traveling from one music festival to Madonna concert, to Lynyrd Skynyrd, to Bob Seger, to Boston. The list was long and memorable. It was the best time of my life, but watching Joe rub my foot, I had a feeling in the pit of my stomach that just maybe the best time of my life was only beginning.
“I notice everything about you,” Joe answered, and those butterflies fluttering to get out beat harder against my chest.
“Tell me about your sons.”
Joe kept his eyes trained on my foot while he answered, still kneading the pad with his talented hands until I wanted to moan. “They’re twins but different as night and day. Chris lives in Nashville. He designs websites. Nick is the lead singer in a band.”
I remembered the calluses on Joe’s fingers and wondered if Nick got his musical talent from his father. “Do you play guitar?”
Joe nodded, his hands moving up my leg, squeezing the muscle on my calf. Then his eyes shot to mine when a knock sounded at our door. We both looked at the clock on the bedside table. It was too early for housekeeping. A knot formed in my throat. My phone had vibrated earlier, but I’d been too busy to care, so I rolled out from under Joe and grabbed my jeans, pulling my phone out and swiping it on, dread sinking into my pores. I’d missed three texts from Eunice. And five calls from my father that started around the time we’d left Ray’s Tavern. He definitely had Eunice and me watched.
Eunice 10:09 pm: Daddy’s looking for you.
If he called Eunice looking for me, his man must have lost us when we left the island.
Eunice 12:36 am: He hasn’t called back. He’s up to something.
She could say that again. Our father didn�
�t stop calling until he got what he wanted. No communication didn’t bode well for Joe and me.
Eunice 6:16 am: Call me when you get this. Momma texted and said Daddy drug her out of the house in a snit about two hours ago and boarded their plane.
A knock sounded on the door, harder this time, and my eyes shot to Joe. “Don’t answer it! It might be my father.”
Joe was pulling up his jeans. He buttoned several buttons to keep them from falling off, his eyes trained on the door the whole time. “I’m not playing this game. If he wants to meet this way, then so be it. But I’m not hiding out like some kid who’s been caught by his parents.” He turned and looked at me, scanning my body from head to toe. I still hadn’t put my clothes on. “Fair warning, Sweetcheeks. I wasn’t done with you, so the fact I’m asking you to put clothes on so I can answer the door won’t fair well for your old man.”
At his words, I jumped and pulled on his T-shirt, which fell past my knees, then felt around for my bathing suit bottoms. They were still cool from the ocean, but I pulled them on, then tried to rearrange my hair. Once Joe was satisfied I was covered sufficiently, he headed for the pounding knock that wouldn’t go away. When he ripped open the door, I braced. Daddy couldn’t physically harm Joe; he was too old. But some of the goons who ran his security could be downright mean.
“You’ve got two seconds to explain,” Joe growled.
Devin pushed through the door with a smile on his face.
“What are you doin’ here? Is Calla okay?”
“Calla’s fine. Preston’s on the warpath. Give me your cell. I’ve got a burner for you to use.”
I looked at my phone. “Why do I need a burner phone?”
Joe stalked over to the bed and picked my phone up, mumbling, “Are you saying he’s tracking her?”
“I’ve put trackin’ on all their phones after the ranch fiasco, and he knows it. I logged into my computer to see where you’d headed after Preston called Calla at two in the morning looking for Bernice and found someone remotely accessing my computer while I stood there and watched.”
My eyes closed, and I gritted my teeth. My father had no qualms about hacking into the White House if he thought it served a purpose. “Daddy’s got an IT guy he hired away from the Pentagon.”
“He’d have to be good to get past my security, but they pinpointed your location before I could shut them down. I left immediately, but I’m only minutes ahead of them, knowing Preston. He won’t feel rushed, with it being the middle of the night, and it’ll take him time to get his pilot to the airstrip and the plane up in the air, but I’m not that far ahead. Hopefully, I’m far enough ahead I can send them on a wild goose chase. I’ll take it with me, and they can track my ass back to Savannah.”
“Why are we hiding from this man?” Joe asked, annoyed, looking between Devin and me.
I looked at Devin, and we both shrugged. “Because he’s Preston Armstrong.”
“Sweetcheeks, that doesn’t mean shit to me. He’s your father, not some hired killer. If he wants to give me his best shot, let him. I’ve got nothing to hide, and nothing he says is gonna send me packing.”
“He kidnapped Calla two months ago and tried to force her to walk away from me.” I gasped at this news. I knew Calla had been at Daddy’s house, but she never told me he’d kidnapped her.
Joe narrowed his eyes at Devin. “You’re shittin’ me.”
Devin shook his head in the negative. “I got there just in time to hear him strike my woman across the face. The only reason he’s still breathin’ is the fact Bo Strawn was with me and he held me back. He almost succeeded in convincin’ her to walk away from me. He’s ruthless. I warned you about this before you came down.”
Daddy slapped her? Anger rushed through my veins hot and fast. How dare he lay a hand on my girl!
Joe’s face shut down at the news, and I held my breath, wondering if he’d already decided I wasn’t worth all the trouble. “You should have left Strawn at home,” Joe rumbled low, curling his arm around my shoulders and tugging me into his body. Then he looked down at me and announced, “If he ever lays a hand on you, I’ll go to prison.”
I jerked at his tone. He meant that. Absolutely meant it. Warmth curled around my belly. I wasn’t used to anyone but Eunice or Calla being protective of me. I felt a tad off-kilter by his adamance that he would hurt anyone who touched me and ended up melting into Joe’s side. But he’d no sooner stunned me silent than the door to our room flew open and Jessie, my father’s driver and personal bodyguard, stepped inside holding a key card. He was a giant of a man who had no problem following my father’s orders to a T.
Joe pushed me behind his back and then braced, his muscles tensing in preparation to fight. But it was Devin who stepped in front of Joe with a lethal smile pulling across his mouth. “Been lookin’ forward to meetin’ you again,” Devin bit out like a pit bull. Something told me they’d met before and had unfinished business.
Jessie didn’t even flinch at his tone. He just smiled, slid the key card into his back pocket, and seethed, “Let’s dance, motherfucker.”
Six
Your Father’s an asshole
JESSIE LUNGED FOR Devin, but his huge size meant he was too slow. Devin sidestepped him, then brought his fist down against the big man’s head. Jessie stumbled from the blow but didn’t go down. That’s when Joe reacted. Jessie turned toward Devin, ready to slam one of his meaty fists in Devin’s gut, but Joe caught him around the neck in a choke hold. The veins in his arms strained at the surface of his skin as he tightened his grip, moving back to take Jessie off balance so Joe had the advantage. Jessie tried to pull Joe’s arm from his neck as his legs started to collapse, but Joe held on like a man who had done this a hundred times. And he probably had, seeing as he ran a strip club with out-of-control patrons.
Devin watched with a sneer and irritation written across his face as Joe held tight, then dropped the big man to the floor with a thud. He checked his pulse to make sure he was still breathing, then looked up at Devin.
“That’s twice I didn’t get to finish him off,” Devin groused. If I hadn’t been so freaked out, I would have laughed. Jessie was a mean SOB and probably deserved everything Devin would have handed him.
“I take it you have a beef with him?” Joe asked.
“He’s the one who forced Calla into the limousine, then tried to stop me from gettin’ to her when Preston struck her.”
Loud, slow clapping echoed inside our room from the hallway. I turned at the sound, but I knew who would step through the door before we saw him. Preston Armstrong. My father. He was a large man. He’d worked out most of his life in an attempt to live forever. So far it was working. In his younger days, he was a stunning, rugged man. Time hadn’t faded his looks overly much. At seventy-nine, he appeared closer to sixty, with silver hair and a square jaw that looked like you could break steel on it. But his mind, unlike the silver in his hair and the fine lines etched into his face, showed no signs of aging. It was still as sharp as it had been when he was a younger man.
He was also a pompous ass who thought his word was law.
In most cases, his word was law. Following the rules was for the common folk and his daughters, not for Preston Armstrong. Daddy was the warden of the glass palace we’d grown up in. The gatekeeper who held us prisoner in a world of cotillions and frilly dresses, our futures up for grabs to the highest bidder’s son. He was everything that was wrong with this world, and we hated him for it. And yet . . . deep down I still loved him and craved his approval. That fact never failed to anger me because I was an Armstrong. We weren’t supposed to have faults, according to Preston’s law. And craving the love and approval of a man who didn’t deserve it was a fault of the highest order.
Daddy leaned against the doorframe and took in the room. His attention held on Jessie’s prone form for a moment before he mumbled, “That’s twice he’s let you get the best of him, Hawthorne.”
“You need someone who’s quick
er. Less bulk. He moves too slow,” Devin answered like they were discussing the weather.
Daddy seemed to consider this, then nodded and pushed off the doorjamb, holding out his hand as he approached Joe. “Preston Armstrong. I need to get back to Savannah, so let’s get down to business, shall we? How much will it take for you to walk away from my daughter?”
I jolted solid at the insult, but Joe threw his head back and barked out a laugh, turning his head my direction as he stated, with more enjoyment than I thought was necessary, I might add, “Sweetcheeks, your father’s an asshole.”
I sighed. I couldn’t really argue with that.
My father ignored Joe’s affront, pulled out his checkbook, and began scribbling. When he was done, he tore out the check and handed it to Joe, who was watching him with a look that spoke volumes. It was clear he was also insulted that my father thought he could buy him off, if the curl on his lip was any indicator.
I was strangely fascinated to know how much my father thought I was worth, or maybe better said, how much he thought it was worth to protect the family name. My breath caught on all the zeroes when Joe looked down at the check without touching it.
Devin whistled low at the number, then looked at me, shaking his head. I knew what he was thinking: my father thought he could buy anything.
Joe stared at the check so long I began to worry, but he didn’t take it. He shook his head at Daddy, curling his arm around my shoulders and tucking me in tight to his body. “You’re a shit father, just so you know.”
I seconded that notion, but I was still shocked my father offered Joe that large of a sum to protect what he considered to be the most important family in Savannah’s history. In my father’s world, money was God. It was all that mattered. You held tight to it with an iron fist while trying to figure out a way to take it with you when you died. But even more important to my father than money was that the legacy of our family name continued on for many generations to come. It had been drilled into us from birth to respect the Armstrong name. To protect it above everything else. So even though I was humiliated that my father tried to buy Joe off, it didn’t really surprise me.
