Speak From The Heart: a small town romance

by L. B. Dunbar

  Then he lowers to his knees, and my head pops up. Jess’s focus is between my thighs, and he leans forward to blow hot air over the seam of my damp panties. My breath hitches, and he tugs the lacy material off. He returns to pressing kisses up my inner thigh and gently nudges my legs farther apart. His tongue laps across my sensitive folds, which ache with need and drip with desire. My head falls back as I melt under his attention. A long lap. A slow lick. A sharp nip. It’s nothing like I’ve experienced before. He isn’t in a rush. He isn’t speeding to a finish line. He’s taking his time to worship me, and soon, I’m floating, breaking apart like little stars.

  Maybe he could love me.

  It’s a silly dream, more like make-believe, but I’m willing to the live in the fantasy for a little while.

  He stands as I settle from the high of his mouth. He tugs at his shirt, pulling it from the back of his neck up and over his head. I’m still wearing my dress, but he doesn’t seem to care. He makes no attempt to undress me. His eyes watch mine as he shucks off his pants, his underwear going with it.

  “We forgot a condom the other night,” he states. “I forgot one,” he says, taking the responsibility.

  Right. Protection, because getting pregnant would not be a good idea. I hate these conversations, and I nod as if I agree to something. He reaches down for his pants, and I watch as he opens the package and covers himself. He braces himself on one hand and aligns his body with mine. His eyes wander over the dress still spread around my hips and covering my midsection.

  “This dress is like a garden.” He whispers his thoughts as his eyes trail over the bright red flowers with black stamens. “I want to pick every flower.”

  His words make me smile as he releases himself to reach up and squeeze my breast. He easily slips into me, and my head tilts back. I groan at the welcome sensation of him connected with me. I want his mouth. I want his weight, but he’s watching me take him— surging forward and slipping back, entering me over and over again.

  “You’re so beautiful,” he whispers. He sounds astonished by the thought. He’s beautiful as well, straining over me, holding himself off while he witnesses our bodies coming together. The connection is overwhelming in the darkness of the room, lit only by some far-off light source. The quiet summer sounds chirp through the window, and it feels . . . almost magical.

  His pace increases, and his fingers reach down to my sensitive hood and stroke me tenderly. The juxtaposition between the hard friction of his thrusts and the gentle touch of his fingertips is too much.

  “I . . .” My breath hitches as I feel the sensation building once again. One hand clutches at his wrist near the side of my body. The other wraps over his other wrist closest to my center. I’m not assisting him as much as holding on. I don’t want this feeling to end. I don’t want him to stop. I don’t want to lose him.

  “Emily, darlin’,” he warns as he moves faster, the pressure deeper. My knees bend upward. My heels brace on the edge of the bed as Jess’s eyes lower to where we connect. It’s so raw, so real, and I dissolve again. Like tiny stars scattering, I separate into a million tiny pieces and then return to myself.

  I wrap my legs around his waist, desperate to hold him to me, and Jess removes his hand from my center. His arms cage me in as he rocks harder, chasing his own detonation. Eventually, he stills, and for a second, I wish he was bare. I wish I could feel him release into me. I give up the thought as I watch his face. His jaw clenches. His eyes briefly close, and then his lids pop open.

  “I lied,” he whispers, glancing down at my dress. “I don’t want to pluck all the flowers in this garden of a dress. I only want to pick one flower.”

  The intensity in his denim-colored eyes tells me what he means or rather who.

  He’d choose me, and I want to choose him.

  Rule 17

  Them’s fighting words.

  [Jess]

  The next few days fall into a comfortable kind of rhythm, which I come to realize is both dangerous and something I don’t want to give up. Emily joins us for family dinner at Mom’s house the day after our date. Katie and I visit her at Mrs. Parrish’s place the next night for dinner. I notice Elizabeth doesn’t have a television, or at least a working one, so Emily comes to our place to watch a girly princess movie one evening, and we go see another one at the local movie theater the next. By Thursday evening, I’m kid-friendly dated out. I’ve been back to the house to re-measure for a new sink, but it still isn’t enough. I need some adult time with Emily, and more than just the kisses we sneak in when we think no one is watching or when Katie is out of the room for a few minutes. The clock counting down our time together feels like it’s speeding up, and I want to spend all my minutes with her.

  “So, it’s kind of a tradition to meet up once a week with a few of my family members. Whoever is available,” I say to her as I arrive on Thursday evening.

  “And how many are available tonight?” she asks nervously, paint splattered on her cheek. More preparations to leave.

  “Well, Tom and Karyn. My sister Tricia, and my other sister Pam. And Karyn’s youngest brother, Ethan.”

  “Your brother married Ethan’s sister and that’s what joins you all together?” she clarifies. I’d explained earlier how Gavin Scott was my best friend when I was a kid, and that Karyn is Gavin’s older sister. I’d forgotten to mention there was one more Scott sibling.

  “Yep. Makes us family by default.” I swipe at her nose. “Did you get any on the walls?”

  She looks up at me all innocent-like, and I can’t stop the grin from forming on my lips. It’s been nice to smile again, and this woman does it to me. I’ll be going back to who I was once she leaves. I’m certain of it.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You’re a hot mess.” I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve seen this girl pulled together. More times than not, she’s been a disaster of dirt smears, wet clothing, or paint smudges, and I love it.

  I love her. It hit me hard on our date night as I entered her while her legs dangled off the side of the bed. I slid into her, propped over her, and caged her in. I want all things from her—her currently messy appearance, her sharp mind, and her loving heart.

  Her mouth has fallen open at my comment, but I quickly cover it with my own. I’ve missed those lips during the hours I’ve been away from her. I love her taste, but if I don’t stop this, we’ll end up on the living room floor, and I promised Tricia I’d be at the Tavern for a bit. She’s going through something with her husband, and I don’t like it.

  “Shower?” I mutter as I pull back from her sweetness.

  “Join me?” she whispers, and I groan.

  “We need to go uptown just for a bit.” I have every intention of being inside her again tonight before I need to leave and get home to Katie.

  Emily pouts and turns for the stairs. She takes off her shirt as she climbs the steps.

  “Dammit,” I hiss, watching her move away from me. Suddenly, I’m following her, tugging off my own tee.

  + + +

  We finally walk up to Main Street forty-five minutes later. Emily had to do her hair and then tried on three different outfits before I told her I’d take her to the bar naked if she didn’t just pick something.

  “Do they approve of me?” she asks. She bites her lip. It’s an unwarranted question, given she’s already met most of them.

  “What’s not to like?” I squeeze her hand tighter, and she stumbles in her wedge heels. “Not wearing the most practical shoes again.”

  “And those are practical?” She gestures to my boots, which are designed for riding a motorcycle, not walking on a street. “Speaking of shoes, when are you going to return the silver sandals you stole from me?”

  “I didn’t steal your shoes. I’m holding them for safekeeping. For your safety, really. Those are a sprained ankle waiting to happen.”

  “They accentuate my legs.” I want to tell her she doesn’t need anything accentuated. From the
way she dresses in bright, colorful clothing to her pushy energy, everything about her is vibrant and lively. She’s a vision even covered in dirt or soaking wet.

  When we reach the Tavern, I hold open the door for her. “Ready?”

  The din of the boisterous crowd feels welcoming, and my brother, Tom, calls out to us in greeting. My sister Pam is present, along with Ethan Scott, as predicted. He’s a good-looking man, and he knows it, the little shit, even if he is over thirty.

  “Well, well, well, look who Jess dragged with him,” Ethan states as he looks at Emily from head to toe. “Come sit by me, beautiful.” He pulls out the chair beside him.

  “Find your own woman,” I snap good-naturedly. I position myself in the chair he provided and drag up a new one for Emily. Possessively, I casually lean my arm on back of her seat, and she sits on the edge of it, leaning toward me.

  “Got plenty of them,” Ethan mutters under his breath, but his face tightens as he speaks. He lifts his beer to his lips, and adds, “Most of them are trouble, though.”

  I know what Ethan means, but then I glance at Emily, and I disagree. Some women are worth it. Even if you only have them for a little while.

  “What happened now?” Pam interjects. She and Ethan are good friends even though she’s older than him. I’d kick his ass if he tried anything with my sister.

  “Got caught with my cookie in the jar.”

  “Don’t you mean hand in the—” Pam begins, but when Ethan tweaks an eyebrow at her, she groans his name in disgust.

  “Yeah, it wasn’t pretty,” he mutters, his face focused on the table. “But she was,” he adds with a wink directed at Emily. Maybe being here wasn’t such a good idea, after all. I want to be alone with Emily, soaking up everything about her, but I also promised Tricia—who isn’t even here yet—that I’d come.

  “I recommend the burger,” I say to her. I figure by the time we finish eating, it will have been enough of an appearance, and we can get back to her place. Our shower was too quick, and I want to take my time with her. My dick strains in my jeans as I recall the spread of her thighs, how slick she gets for me, and her soft sounds. She purrs.

  “I think it’s the only burger in town,” Ethan mumbles, interrupting my thoughts.

  “We can’t all be a famous chef,” Pam teases him.

  “Not famous,” Ethan corrects. “Not yet.”

  The conversation shifts to Emily questioning Ethan about what he does and where he works, which then leads to the faraway destinations she’s been to and the world-renowned restaurants she’s experienced. It’s a bit of a reality check that she’s bigger than this small town. It’s not that I didn’t already realize it, but it hits harder as I listen to her talk about these places.

  “Here’s to not-yet-famous people,” she eventually says. She lifts her gin and tonic and taps it against Ethan’s beer. Ethan’s face breaks into a huge grin, and I take a swallow of my drink. I see Emily is falling for Ethan’s charms.

  I whisper in her ear, “You might have a little drool . . .” I reach over, dabbing at her lips, but she grips my wrist.

  “Very funny,” she says, picking up on my insinuation that she’s attracted to Ethan. “You’re the only one I drool over.” Within seconds, she’s turning pink and giggling, and I can’t get over how cute she is. I place a hand on her cheek and lean in for a kiss, right in front of everyone.

  I dismiss the gasp from my sister.

  I ignore the guffawing from my brother at the end of the table.

  But I cannot overlook the gruffness of a male voice that says, “So that’s how it is?”

  Emily breaks away from my lips and turns to look up at Gabe Carpenter, who is standing at her other side. He’s glaring down at her, but as far as I’m concerned, he has no business even being in the same room as her.

  “Go away, Gabe,” I say, not caring what he thinks. Emily’s hand comes to my thigh as she peers up at him.

  “Gabe.” Her terse voice reminds me he hit on her when she went to his office for her grandmother’s will reading.

  “He always gets the girl,” Gabe sneers, his eyes still focused on Emily. “But don’t worry, I’ll be right next door when you need me.”

  Fuck him. I stand, pushing back my seat. Emily turns her attention to me, looping her hand in my waistband, and I want to bellow at Gabe. See this? She’s touching me, asshat.

  “Always willing to be next in line, aren’t you?” I seethe with the memory of what Gabe did with Debbie. “Doesn’t it get old, always taking my sloppy seconds?”

  Emily’s voice hitches, and I don’t mean her. I’d never give her up to him.

  “Oh, they aren’t sloppy,” Gabe says, his voice even as his eyes narrow on me.

  “Jess, maybe we should go,” Emily says quietly. I know I’m making a scene, but I’m sick of protecting Gabe and his precious reputation as being a good guy in the community. People see that he takes care of his parents, always visits them, their late-in-life blessing. They all think he’s so wonderful, but I know the truth: he’s entitled and unworthy.

  “I’m not going anywhere. Gabe’s leaving.”

  “So will she, eventually.” Gabe nods, implying Emily. I’m circling Emily’s seat when she stands, trying to insert herself between us. She faces me and puts her hands on my chest. She calls my name, but I’m in a rage.

  “What’s your problem?” I snap at him. He took my wife away from her child. What more does he want?

  “Jess, calm down,” Emily says as Tom steps up behind Gabe, ready to pull him back before I punch him.

  “She’ll never accept you. She’s too good for you.”

  “You’re probably right on both counts,” I state, my teeth grinding. “She’s also not Debbie, and this isn’t high school. Quit being second in line. Grow the fuck up.”

  Gabe snorts dismissively, and that’s it for me.

  “Oh, and you’re forgiven for fucking my wife. And as smart as you are, you were stupid for going after her.”

  Emily gasps, and Gabe’s nostrils flare. I wasn’t loud, but we have an audience. It’s a small town, and news will travel fast.

  “You boys are gonna need to step outside and head on home,” Baz warns us. He’s the baldheaded owner of the bar and an old friend, and I hate that I’m making trouble in his place.

  “Gabe was just leaving,” I state.

  “Both of you are going. No trouble here, gentleman. This is a family place.”

  It’s a fucking bar, I want to yell, but it’s fine. I’m out of here.

  “Yeah, I’m heading home. To my family,” I growl.

  I’d say Gabe could keep my cheating ex-wife, only I know she dumped his ass too after he helped her. I circle around him, keeping a wide berth, though I’d like nothing more than to knock into his shoulder like we were back in high school. I cross through to the back of the bar and exit through the door leading into the alley. I’m stomping fast when I hear my name.

  “Jess,” Emily calls out behind me. “Jess, wait!”

  Shit. I stop abruptly and turn to face her. She continues walking toward me, struggling in those damn tall shoes of hers, but the energy vibrating off me warns her to stay back.

  “He slept with your wife?” she confirms, coming too close to me.

  “Oh, did he forget to mention that when he hit on you?”

  She shakes her head. “You told me he helped her leave you. I didn’t know there was more.”

  “He fucked her in our bed!” I yell. “And I’m the fool who took her back. I did it for Katie. For my family.” I swipe my fingers into my hair and tug it to the back of my neck.

  “Jess, I’m so sorry that happened to you,” she says, her voice full of regret on my behalf.

  “You know, he’s probably right. I don’t deserve you, and you are too good for me,” I huff.

  “Jess! Why would you say that?”

  “There’s nothing here for you, Emily. This is a small town. There’s no story waiting to happen or opport
unity for the adventure you seek as a journalist. It’s . . . nothing.”

  “Don’t say that,” she says, her voice cracking.

  “I’m surprised you didn’t follow him,” I yell.

  “Why would you say that?” she questions defensively, and she has a right to be defensive. I’m taking out my anger on her, but the shitstorm of history that just exploded in the bar for all to hear is just too much for me to handle. Gabe Carpenter slept with my wife. I took her back. And then he helped her leave me.

  “Maybe he’s a better option,” I snap although I don’t believe that. Not for a minute do I believe Gabe is a better person or even a decent human being, but he isn’t wrong that Emily will leave. He doesn’t need to help her. She’s going of her own accord.

  “Than what?” Her tone turns deadly, and I don’t blame her. I’m being an ass, but I can’t seem to quit. She pushes my buttons one more time. So pushy. “You offering me something?”

  “Nope.” I hold out my arms taking a step back, one slow movement at a time before I turn on my heels with her calling out my name as I stalk down the alley.

  Nope, this time I’m the one leaving before someone dumps me.

  Rule 18

  Have a heart despite the potential loss of it.

  [Emily]

  I stand there, watching Jess walk away, wondering what just happened.

  Gabe slept with his wife.

  It’s not that I’m shocked about Gabe’s behavior.

  I took her back.

  Poor Jess. He must have really loved her if he forgave her and stayed with her.