A Perfect Mess (17 page)

I nodded and took another drink. It was always a good idea to just let Boone get stuff out. I sat down on the couch and turned on the TV. Soccer.

“Did you ever do something really fucking stupid and you can’t remember what you did? Well you kinda remember, and it was amazing, but stupid?”

“What are we talking about here?”

He set the bottle down and sent his hands through his hair. “I think I pissed off Verity Fairchild.”

“Aren’t you working for her daddy?”

“Yeah. He’s already read me the riot act about his daughter.”

“Right. You interested in her?”

“Holy Mary Verity? Shit, no.” He took a swig, then looked away.

Right, I thought. I knew Boone. “We have enough problems in this town without involving the preacher and his very beautiful, very sexy—”

“Even though she tries to hide it.”

“—daughter. You want to go to Hell?”

Boone laughed and came around the counter and plopped down next to me. “You’re a riot. Have you seen her? She’d be worth going to Hell for, even if I wasn’t already on my way.”

“Boone. What was it that you did that was stupid?”

“I get these flashes sometimes. Man, I was a wasted fuck-up in school. I was lucky to graduate.”

“The stupid part?”

“I think she was at the same graduation party I was. But I’m not sure.”

“And the flashes.”

“Bits and pieces of dumb-assery.”

“I’d say do your job, put blinders on, and stay away from that girl. Or apologize even if you want. You’ve cleaned up your act since high school. You have a very successful business.”

“Thanks to you.”

“I just invested the funds, Boone. You’re the one that made it a success.”

“You invested in me, Book, and in Braxton. We’ll never forget that, and we won’t let you down.”

“I know. After that mall job you did in Lafayette, then the mayor’s mansion, you’ve gained at least grudging respect around here. That shit was in
Architectural Digest
. The preacher knows you’re good and he can get a good price out of you.”

“Yeah, the preacher’s okay. If I was him, I’d tell my sorry ass to keep it professional, too. Not…that I had any intention of messing with Verity, mind you.”

“Of course not. But, she is smokin’ hot. Ever since she came back from the Kenya mission, there’s something different about her, wouldn’t you say?”

Boone nodded. “Yeah, she is smokin’, those gypsy eyes, that mane of hair. She does seem different. For some reason, she hates my guts.”

“Well, keep both of your heads down.”

“Ha! Clever, son. Did Aubree get any more texts from Langston?”

“Not sure. I haven’t talked to her today. She’s coming over later on tonight.”

“Too bad. I’d like a reason to kick his ass. How about her aunt? She still hanging in there?”

“She is. She’s tough.”

“Ma brought her flowers.”

“I know.”

“Ma’s great.”

“She is.”

“Good to know about tonight.” He rose, finished off his beer and walked back into the kitchen. “I won’t make any impromptu visits.”

“Since you have a great house of your own, Boonie, that sounds like a stellar idea.”

“Later ‘gator.”

#

“Look who I found outside,” my ma said as she dragged Aubree in with her.

I loved that moment. The moment our eyes met, the way she made me feel all hot and cold.

“Hey, Aubree.”

She smiled. “Hey, Booker.”

My ma cleared her throat.

“Sorry, Ma.” I hugged her. “What brings you by?”

“I was wondering if I could borrow that great carry-on you have.” She gave me a knowing look, but I ignored her.

“Sure. I’ll go get it.” I hurried down the hall and grabbed it out of my closet. I didn’t want to leave them alone too long.

“Here you go,” I said while Aubree laughed at something my mother was saying. Shit, that couldn’t be good.

“Thanks for stopping by,” I said handing her the bag. “Don’t you need to pack?’

“All right.” She laughed. “I get the message. I won’t let the door hit my backside on the way out.” She headed for the foyer and said, “It was good to see you, Aubree.”

“You, too, Mrs. Outlaw.”

I took her hand when the door closed and pulled her out to the deck. Candles were everywhere and she gasped and nudged me. “Look at you being all romantic.”

Then she saw the picnic basket.

“I’m so hungry. What you got in there?”

“Fried chicken, potato salad, biscuits that will melt in your mouth.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Did Braxton put this together for you?”

“Busted.”

“You are, but thank you for going to all this trouble for me.”

We ate, and I loved the way Aubree loaded her plate and dug into it like a trucker. That girl could eat.

We settled down onto the part of the deck strewn with big, soft throw pillows that Boone had designed so that I could lie on my back and stare up at the stars through the skylights he’d cut in the roof of the deck.

For once the weather had cleared and the sky was black and filled with infinite stars. I pointed up beyond the roof of the deck. She gasped and smiled as she curled up against me.

Very softly, I started singing Blue Bayou, and Aubree sighed against my vibrating throat. As the last words of the song died down to nothing, she pressed her face into my neck.

Keeping my body very, very still, I lifted my hand and gently cupped the lower part of her face, spreading my fingers across her cheek and letting my thumb rest on her lips.

Softly, ever so softly, I brushed my thumb across her mouth—and watched her grow still, like her whole body was holding its breath.

I could have stopped there, should have stopped with her eyes darkening under my gaze, with the heat rising between us at my touch. But she was impossibly out of my league, untouchable, unattainable Aubree, and for this one moment, I literally had her in the palm of my hand.

So I kissed her, simply leaned forward and opened my mouth over hers. And she melted into me, exactly as I’d hoped she would. Nothing had ever been finished between us, and—god, her mouth.

She had the softest lips, the sound and taste of her went straight to my dick. She didn’t move away, not so much as a millimeter. She held so perfectly still, her breath seemingly caught somewhere between us, her lips parted just enough to allow me entry, a tease that warmed with every slow thrust of my tongue into her mouth.

She was sweet, and hot…and cautious, it was Aubree’s nature to be so. I almost grinned. Somehow, somewhere, sometime tonight, that caution would disappear. But for now, I’d take her guarded kiss. I’d take the soft, hesitant, giving way of her tongue, take her gentle exhalation inside, and imagine what I could do to make her groan.

I pulled back and gently rubbed my mouth against hers and when she groaned, I got my reward as she made a soft sound deep in her throat and turned into my kiss—but not all the way, still holding back. Still keeping her hands to herself. Still not committing, not submitting—and that’s what I wanted, what I needed. Submission. I knew how incredibly sweet it could be, and I wanted that from her.

But then I remembered that Aubree was a control freak. That was okay with me, too. When I pulled away and reclined against the cushions, her quizzical look made me smile.

“Don’t you want to touch me?” I asked.

She blushed and looked away. “Only for about a million years.”

I spread my hands. “Then touch me. Wherever, however you want.”

She reached for the hem of my t-shirt and pulled it over my head.

Her eyes traveled slowly over me. She studied me, her eyes going soft with a melting heat.

I was so psyched to find out where she would touch me first.

She sidled closer to me. The anticipation was murder.

She reached out and went right for my abs. At the first touch of her fingers, I sucked in air, then she ran her hands down the ridges and back up again like she was performing a glissando, that quick move across the keyboard that hit every key. She then flattened her palm against my rib cage and ran it up to the thick muscle of my chest, her palm gliding over my hard nipple, up to my collarbone, then over my shoulder to the bulge of my biceps.

“You are so beautiful, Booker.”

By this time I was panting, trying to keep my shit together. My throbbing dick was so hard I thought it would explode from the pressure against the fly of my jeans.

I almost got off watching her face as she touched me.

She moved to the muscle cut into my waist.
“Fuucccck,”
I hissed, my hips arched off the cushions at the sensation of Aubree Walker’s hand on me. It was a dream come true.

“Did I do that?”

“Yes, sugar. That’s just my reaction to being touched by you.”

“Oh, wow.”

“I think I’ve created a monster.”

“I know how you get these hip things,” she said smugly.

I looked down and realized she was talking about the indentations curving just above my hips.

“It’s where your abs…” She drew a line from the edge of my defined stomach muscle, “…meet your hip flexors.” Right through the indentation and to the edge of my jeans. “On a man, it forms a V, especially when your abs are ripped.”

“Is that so?” I gritted.

She nodded. “So sexy.”

“Really?” I’d had no clue that women found that area of a man’s body sexy. I would need to pass that on to my brothers.

“Aubree?”

“Huh?”

“Aubree?”

She didn’t respond. She was too busy doing that thing again and watching me unravel. I swallowed hard.

“Aubree?”

I reached forward and slipped my forefinger under her chin and tipped her head up. “I need to ask you something.”

“What?”

“Have you ever been with anyone?”

Please say no.

She took a steadying breath. “Yes.”

Ah, damn.

“But only in my head.”

My heart stalled. “Who?”

“You.”

I closed my eyes. I had to hold on to my composure. My heart felt crushed between the need to hear that and the joy of hearing it. “You patronizing me because you think that’s the right answer?”

She leaned forward and curled her hands into the waistband of my jeans. My dick jumped up toward the proximity of her hands. Propping herself on my hips, she leaned toward me, the warmth of her fingers distracting me. But I shook off the distraction, because I had to hear every nuance of what she was about to say.

“You are so cool. So badass. The unholy trinity. God, that was so sexy. You swaggered around high school like you and your brothers owned the place. All that posturing, all that irresistible charisma.” She leaned closer to me and my chest heaved, her mouth was so close to my lips, her eyes devouring me. Aubree said, “We all wear masks to get by. To hide things from people who would strip us bare. We protect what’s inside because it’s too precious to be exposed. It’s who we are. The real us.”

She brushed her mouth against mine, just a whisper of touch, and my hips jerked. Her voice was soft and compelling, her eyes direct and dead serious.

“You know what it’s like to want something, Booker,” her voice hushed out against my skin, hot, tantalizing, and needy. “Deep down we want to be bare. We want to be exposed. We want to be intimate with someone who gets us. Someone we can trust implicitly. Someone who sees that bare, exposed, intimate part and loves us anyway.

“So, no. I’m not patronizing you in the least.” Her eyes flicked to mine. I strained up towards her, needing the feel of her mouth on mine. She removed her hands from my waistband, dragging the backs of her fingernails against my skin. My back arched, my hips moving with the driving force of the blood pumping through my veins. I closed my eyes and groaned, my skin burning. It had already caught fire the moment she’d touched me. Now I was being consumed. And before I could react, her hands manacled my wrists and her mouth came down hard on mine.