“Here’s the plan,” he said as we went back down the rocky dirt road we’d traveled to get here. “We’ll go to the hotel to clean up. I’ll make my speech. As soon as I’m finished, we’ll get out of there. Find a place to get a good steak and drink whiskey. Then we’ll go play poker. Hustle some high rollers. Pretend you don’t know shit about it, like we did that time to the Danvers boys. With our winnings, we’ll buy the best bottle of whiskey we can afford. And from there, we’ll see what other kind of trouble we can get into.”
We followed Easton’s plan to the letter.
We’d just executed phase four of his plan: hustling the high rollers. They didn’t take it well when we cleaned them out for a few hundred grand, but it was fair and square. Playing the innocent, clueless damsel wasn’t really in my wheelhouse. After a few hands, I wiped the floor with everyone, including Easton. Just because he was pretty to look at, and fun to hang around, wasn’t reason enough to show him mercy.
“Where to next?” he asked when we left the table. I was sure the house was glad to see us go. It hadn’t been a good night for them either.
“Hey, Bonnie and Clyde.” The man who’d sat silently, puffing on a cigar the entire time we’d played, spoke up. He wasn’t a fan of Easton and me. If it weren’t for us, he’d have been the big winner tonight. “Why don’t you two go check out one of those drive-thru wedding chapels? Screw up your own night instead of everyone else’s.”
My, my, someone’s a sore loser.
“I’ve heard worse ideas,” Easton said. I stumbled, and he steadied me with an arm around the waist. “Wanna go check out one of those wedding chapels?”
I opened my mouth and closed it again, staring at him like he’d lost his mind. It wasn’t often I was rendered speechless, but he’d done it.
He didn’t move, arm still around me, fingers branding my hip, his steady gaze locked on mine.
“Why the hell would we do that?” I asked once I finally found my voice.
“We might meet Elvis.” He shrugged, even as one corner of his mouth lifted.
I smacked him in the chest. “Shut up.”
“I’m serious.”
Something in those blue eyes looked a whole hell of a lot like a challenge. It was just a wedding chapel. Couldn’t be any worse than a haunted house.
“I can’t wait to tell my brothers about this.”
Easton spoke to the driver of the limo once we got outside while I slid into the back. Then he was beside me, our thighs touching, his arm outstretched behind me. Because several generations of our families were friends, we’d been hanging around since we were kids. In college, we’d run in similar circles, though our relationship had been strictly social. Sure I’d noticed he was the best-looking thing on either side of the Mississippi, but he was a few years older and busy with baseball, while I had my own life. It wasn’t until we started working together at Carter Energy that I considered him a close friend. Easton knew me about as well as anyone, the same as I knew him.
“For the record, I’d rather go to a strip club.” I straightened. We were comfortable around one another, but this felt different. I didn’t know what to do with that. “Can you believe people just get married on a whim? That’s pretty ballsy, if you ask me.”
“Bet you wouldn’t ever do it.” His eyes sparked with challenge, and suddenly I was a teenager again, my brothers daring me to do something, knowing I wouldn’t back down.
“Not in a drive-thru. If I’m gettin’ married, I’m doing it in a chapel and standing up for it.”
I held his watchful gaze. Shit. He had me exactly where he wanted me.
“Nah, you wouldn’t do it,” he taunted. “Drive-thru, chapel, Elvis—wouldn’t matter. No way would you get married.”
“I’m not crazy.” I peered out the window. “Who the hell would marry me anyway?”
He stroked my shoulder until I looked back at him. The softness in his eyes caught me off guard. Then he winked. “Somebody as crazy as you.”
He had me on the defensive. “Are you asking?”
“What’s the point? You wouldn’t do it.” His brow lifted a fraction. It might as well have been a double-dog dare.
“And if I did? What would I get out of it?”
Everything went still as we stared at one another. The stakes of this dare were higher than any I’d ever taken.
“Me.”
A shiver rolled through me at the idea of having Easton all for myself. I tried to kick the thought out of my head, but it wouldn’t go. This was crazy. Complete and utter madness. But he’d said I wouldn’t marry him, and I’d never walked away from proving someone wrong in my life.
“I’m in.”
For a fraction of a second, his chest stopped its rise and fall. He searched my face and whatever he found there made a slow grin spread across his face. “We’re here.”
The chapel reminded me of the Baptist church in Burdett. The one where, if I ever got married, I assumed I’d do so there. He took my hand as we walked to it together, and I let him. I wanted to blame it on the whiskey, but couldn’t. I’d definitely had too much to drink, but I knew exactly what was going on.
The place was empty when we stepped inside. Quiet too. I’d been expecting a three-ring circus, an ostentatious show at the very least. But it wasn’t Elvis who greeted us. A remarkably tame-looking grandma-type did. Her silver hair was coiffed in a perfect style that fell to her shoulders, and she wore a pale green pantsuit. Her smile was warm as she took in Easton and me. The only thing missing was milk and cookies.
“I’ve been waiting all week for a couple like you to come in,” she said. Wonder if she uses that line on everyone? “I’m Martha.”
“I’m not sure I know what you mean,” I said. She wasn’t too good at reading people, because Easton and I definitely weren’t a couple.
Martha smiled. “One who figured out you were destined to be together.”
Was this a one-stop shop for weddings and fortune telling? I glanced at Easton, but he surprisingly appeared to be in agreement with the woman.
Martha motioned toward an office. “Let’s not waste any more time.”
Turned out Martha was an ordained minister, and she didn’t skimp on the ambiance. Canned music wasn’t on the menu. She had a string quartet quickly assemble and play soothing pieces while we filled out paperwork. Easton and I walked down the aisle together, and not once did I feel a flutter of nerves or question what the hell we were doing.
I forgot about the semi-dare, lost in the moment as he vowed to love, cherish, and honor me for the rest of our lives. We used part of the crimson satin ribbon that had been wrapped around a bouquet of white calla lilies we’d purchased with our package for rings. When Martha announced we were husband and wife and could kiss, this was no tentative meeting of the mouths.
We captured each other like we’d won a prize we’d been desperately battling for. His lips were rougher than I’d imagined. He was so polished most of the time that I forgot he was a man who wasn’t afraid to get his hands dirty.
No amount of throat clearing from Martha could tear us apart. We consummated our marriage at the altar, Easton fucking my mouth, his tongue making languid strokes.
We broke apart long enough to make it back to the limousine. As the driver closed us inside, I climbed on top of him, my knees on either side of his legs. With my dress raised high, there was only his pants and a thin scrap of satin between me and his erection. I ground against him. Through the layers, his heat burned me, snapping whatever sanity remained.
I never lost control. I was always in charge, especially in the bedroom, yet I was his, willing to do whatever he wanted. Willing to give him every shred of my being.
By the time he broke the kiss, both of us were gasping for air. His eyes were wild, dazed, and desperate. He held me so tight I could barely breathe, but I wanted that. Needed to feel him.
“We skipped the part about taking our winnings and buying good whiskey,” I said with a d
runken smile that had absolutely nothing to do with the alcohol I’d consumed and everything to do with the man in my clutches. “But I’ve got a better idea for the money anyway.”
“Let’s hear it, Mrs. Carter.” My heart thundered in my chest. I wanted him to say it again.
I cleared my throat and fought to regain my senses, which was very difficult with his face in mine. “Those veterans could use it, don’t you think?”
He blinked at me, a slow smile spreading across his face. Tracing my cheek, his look turning to one of awe. “So generous.” He swiped his thumb across my swollen lower lip, and I shuddered. “So perfect, and all mine.”
He made me feel feminine and small, yet strong and powerful. No man had ever given me such a rush. I certainly had never been referred to as sweet, but I believed him. I hadn’t realized I was tired of trying to conquer a man’s world. I needed to feel like a woman. In Easton’s hold, I felt like a beautiful, wanted woman, and there was nothing better than that.
“You’ve tortured me, Heartbreaker.”
“That was my plan the entire time,” I said, trying to deflect how deeply his words cut me.
“Well, you executed it masterfully.” His lips twisted in a wry smile, and I couldn’t stop myself from tasting him again. There was a faint hint of whiskey, the two an addictive combination.
Another round of kissing began. My hands wandered over his chest, around his neck, into his hair. His explored my back, skated up my sides, eventually finding my head and holding me to him.
I barely noticed when the car stopped in front of the hotel.
He smoothed my dress back in place before we got out and clasped my hand when our feet hit the driveway. “I want your legs around me as soon as we’re upstairs.”
We strode hand in hand through the lobby of the hotel, across the casino floor to the bank of elevators. There was a private one for the suites at the top.
Easton waved his room card in front of the panel, and the elevator began its ascent without having to press a button. We were alone, and I tackled him.
“I can’t wait until we get upstairs,” I said breathlessly, my legs tight around his waist.
He turned so that my back was against the wall. “Good, but you’ll have to.” He nipped at my earlobe.
“Easton.”
“You’ll be screaming that soon enough,” he promised.
Nothing could have prepared me for this man. He was going to break me down and put me back together. Take away every second of longing and replace it with memories of only him.
The elevator chimed, and we practically fell into the hall, Easton’s strides long and quick as he carried me to his suite. “Does this count as carrying you over the threshold?” he asked, kicking the door closed behind us.
“Good enough for me.”
The second he set me on my feet, I went straight for his belt, fumbling as I unbuckled it. Easton slid the thin straps of my dress down my arms until they could go no farther. Frantically, he kissed from the column of my neck across my shoulder.
My head fell back against the door at the feel of his lips on my skin. I temporarily forgot what I was doing. This felt good. Better than good. I didn’t let anyone get this close, yet Easton was still too far away.
I yanked on the lapels of his suit jacket until there was no space between us. He reached behind me and tugged on the zipper. When it got stuck, he ripped the fabric until the dress was pooled at my feet. With a satisfied grunt, his mouth landed on mine.
I shoved his jacket off his shoulders, and he stopped kissing me to shrug it off. Unsatisfied with the loss of contact, I loosened his tie and pulled on both ends until his lips were back where I wanted them. On mine.
The intimacy I’d avoided my entire adult life, I craved with Easton. I needed his skin on mine more than I’d ever needed anything. I yearned to explore, enjoy, and forget everything else.
He ran his tongue along the seam of my neck to that sweet spot that weakened my knees. Something in me snapped. Too many clothes.
Need. Him. Now.
I unbuttoned his shirt, pressed crazed kisses everywhere I could on his chest. Somehow I managed to get his pants off. He snapped the strings of my thong and added it to the ever-growing pile of ruined clothes.
He slid his hand under my strapless bra at the same time I dove mine under the waistband of his boxer briefs. He was long and thick and hot in my hand. I squeezed and he groaned, mimicking the movement on my breast.
I had to see him.
In seconds, I had him naked. I pushed him toward the chair in the corner of the foyer until he landed in it. Before I could hit my knees and take that beautiful beast in my mouth, he caught me by the waist and situated me so I straddled his lap.
Easton pulled one lace bra cup down and sucked on my nipple. I ground my center against him, and he grazed his teeth against my pebbled flesh. He ran his powerful hands up my back before he unhooked my last remaining piece of clothing.
I gripped his shoulders and crushed my mouth to his. Our tongues collided. Hands wandered. Flesh heated.
He traced a finger around my hip, circling until he homed in on my sex. I jerked when he swiped between my lips. He slipped inside to his knuckle, and I dug my fingernails into his shoulders. I was soaked and ready. As good as his finger felt, it wasn’t enough. I needed him.
I fisted his shaft and guided the tip next to his hand.
“There’s a condom in my pocket,” he said hoarsely.
I blinked at him, taken aback that I’d been so consumed by desire that protection hadn’t even crossed my mind. I was always safe. I didn’t fuck without a condom. Period. “I’ve never . . . without . . .” I stretched to reach his pants and fished the foil packet out of his pocket, placing it in his upturned palm. The need to make him understand I didn’t fuck stupid or blind was urgent.
“Good.” The satisfaction was evident on his face as he ripped it open and rolled the latex over his length. He hoisted me so I hovered just above his cock. “This is the last night there will be anything between us when we make love.”
I swallowed hard and found my voice. “I trust you.”
His chest compressed on an exhale. “Mulaney . . .”
“Do you trust me?” This wasn’t just about sex with no barriers. It mattered to me that the man I was about to make love to felt something for me beyond fleeting lust. I couldn’t do this if he didn’t. Because with Easton, this was bigger than a night of pleasure.
“More than anyone else.”
The pressure that had built up inside me released. How much that meant to me was startling. How much I craved his faith in me was never more evident. I wanted to give him the gift I’d never given anyone.
I wrapped a hand at the bottom of his shaft before I removed the condom and tossed it on the floor.
“Fuck, Mulaney. Never with anyone else.” His expression was one of awe. Disbelief. I felt the same.
“Same. Only you,” I said. “Only you.”
I’d had life-altering moments, my first choosing to stay on that porch with Granddaddy and Mr. Carter when I was a little girl. That had sealed the course of my ship, taking it in a direction it never would have gone otherwise. Buying Ragnor was another. It should have been cut and dried, but having the connection I did with him had fundamentally changed me in ways I wasn’t sure I even realized.
The second I lowered onto Easton, the very moment we became one, a sense of recognition came over me. This. It felt so good. So right. The connection was irreversible, and not only because he was inside me physically. Only him. Only this man. I had allowed him into places I’d kept everyone else out of. He moved right in as if he belonged there, and in my mind and my heart, there was no doubt he did.
Sex had been about physical release, a way to blow off steam. But with one motion, it became spiritual. I could never go back to meaningless encounters again. They would never satisfy me the way he did. My soul had recognized its partner before my mind ever considered it.<
br />
I opened to him, accepting his length until there was no more of him to take. We sat there in awe for what seemed like hours, staring at one another, letting this fusion between us happen naturally. He thrust up into me and pressed my clit.
The orgasm slammed into me. My walls clamped around him, and he groaned, watching as I came undone. The power of my release was potent, as if I’d been building up to it for a lifetime.
When Easton could take it no longer, he lifted and lowered me onto his shaft. Each stroke stretched my orgasm, rolling one into another. As promised, I screamed his name like it was the only word I knew. The chair screeched against the floor, our fucking so furious I heard the wood crack under the strain. Neither of us could stop, didn’t care if we ended up on a pile of splinters. We’d started this, and there was nothing that could keep us apart.
I detonated again, and this time he was right there with me, flooding me in a rush that seemed to go on for days.
I collapsed against his shoulder. He ran his fingers up and down the length of my back in a steady rhythm until I nearly dozed off.
He carried me to bed where we lay spent, our eyes closed. Just before his breaths evened with sleep, he mumbled three unmistakable words against my hair. I pretended not to hear, but the quiet of the hotel suite settled in, leaving me alone with my thoughts. He couldn’t have meant the confession, yet I couldn’t stop it from replaying over and over in my head. I was restless as I stared at the ceiling. I hadn’t kissed anyone since I’d promised myself I wouldn’t get hurt again. Easton had broken through everything I’d built. He’d made me forget about my need for control and to keep feelings out of sex. Tonight hadn’t been about power or being in charge.
We’d been equals. Pleasure and need had overridden all else, and it had never even occurred to me to take the reins. Not with Easton, because I trusted him implicitly. He’d wanted this. Us. Coming together. There had been no pretense. And if he truly loved me, he’d want my soul, just like Ruby said about the possibility of losing Granddaddy one day. My soul and heart will be buried with your granddaddy, Mulaney. That’s what love is. You lose your soul. I knew she’d said more than that, something about it being worth it, but only those words had stuck with me. Love meant losing my soul.
Heartbreaker: A Workplace Friends-To-Lovers Romance (Paths To Love Book 3) Page 16
