A Perfect Mess (22 page)

Her soft mouth found my jaw and she kissed along the ridge. I closed my eyes to savor each and every moment she touched me. “I know.”

I grabbed her around the waist and swiveled. “Put your legs around me.” I rose and headed down the hall to my bedroom.

“No,” she said softly.

I got confused. Did she not want to…

“The deck.”

“It’s going to rain,” I said. I could hear the thunder in the distance.

“It’s covered and we’ll be protected. Please, Booker.”

I caved. Whatever she wanted, I would try to give it to her.

With her clinging to me like a limpet, I backtracked and headed out onto the porch. While she rode my hips, I kicked the pillows down onto the deck, then folded down onto them.

“I’ll try not to hurt you.”

She nodded, meeting my gaze. “I don’t think it’s the pain I’ll remember from this night. It’s you I wanted to take this step with. I wanted to wait for you, even when I wasn’t sure I would ever come back home.” She crushed me, my lungs, my heart. I stared down into her earnest face. The face that had haunted my adolescent dreams, even as the pain of wanting her beat in time with my heart.

It hurt to want her this much.

“I can’t believe…”

She covered my mouth, her thumb brushed over my lips. “Make love to me, Booker. Show me the possibilities.”

Lightning cracked above us, the thunder booming, vibrating through us like the echo of drums. The storm was right above us. The rain started as a patter on the leaves and the lake. A soft whoosh heralded the downpour, the deluge that was so common in Louisiana.

I sank down on top her, my mouth meeting hers to ease the ache, drinking in the taste of Aubree.

I spread my fingers wide over her jaw, slipping into her hair, mussing the pretty style, trailing down to her throat, the slope of her shoulders. I skimmed over her breast, my thumb finding her hard nipple beneath the silky dress. Her breath caught as I gripped the bodice and fiercely yanked down both it and the soft lace of her bra, exposing her nipple to my gaze. My mouth descended, latching and sucking.

She arched her back, her hand delving into my hair as she moaned softly. I was rough when I stripped her dress off her. She gasped and then her startled eyes collided with mine. Her desire burned just as hot, just as strong, as mine. I let myself get high on her as I deftly removed her bra, then her panties.

I didn’t mean to move this fast, and it was amazing to touch her everywhere, naked, but I told myself to take it easy, to slow down. When I felt her hands at the front of my jeans, felt her fingers undoing my belt, I gave up all thoughts of going slow.

She was heartbreakingly beautiful, from her red hair to her pink, polished toenails. Every inch of her creamy gold.

She pulled on my zipper, and I stood to shuck everything off.

“Oh, god,” she breathed. “You’re beautiful.” Her hands were all over me. My mouth was all over her. Every place I kissed her, she tasted like a promise kept. Every place she touched me, she left a trail of fire.

When I’d waited as long as I could, I protected her. “I’ll be careful,” I whispered, my body on fire.

I covered her.

“I know you will, even though you’re….”

I met her gaze and grinned, “Yeah, I know.” I was big, but I would be careful, and she was so ready for me. I’d made sure of that.

I entered her in slow, excruciating increments, kissing her the whole time, propping myself up so my full weight wasn’t on her. Ruthlessly disciplining my hips to so I could control my dick and not push inside her too soon.

“Booker—” I heard the note of panic in her voice, felt her tighten her grip on my waist.

“Hush. It’s okay,” I murmured, retreating fully and trying again, taking it even easier.

I’d never made love to anyone so slowly in my whole life. My muscles trembled with the effort of holding back. Every breath was filled with the scent of her, and I never wanted any of it to end.

It was her first time. I was her first time. My head reeled with that knowledge. She was giving me something so elemental, so awesome that for a moment I couldn’t breathe and I almost lost complete control it felt so damn good. I was finally in deep enough to thrust. When I did, I felt a slight barrier give way and I heard her gasp.

Holding myself perfectly still, I nuzzled her ear, kissed her mouth. “Are you okay?”

“Mmmm, so powerful, so hard. It feels so good.” She moved against me, lifting her hips ever so slightly, and relief flooded through me. Bracing myself on one arm, I gently cupped her lower back, sliding my hand down to her tight ass. I pulled almost all the way out of her before slowly pushing back in deep. My dick throbbing with excruciating pleasure, I panted, my chest heaving with the emotions locked inside—tenderness, amazement, trust, and heavy arousal. She arched her head back on the soft pillows, and I dragged my tongue down the length of her throat. She was so beautiful. Her breasts full, her nipples softly pink. I leaned and captured one with my mouth and sucked, so gently. She groaned, and the sound went straight to my balls, making them tight. God, this was heaven. She was so responsive, so languorous, and so incredibly hot. She was melting for me, and she was so wet.

The only place I was melting was in my heart. My body was rock-hard

I slanted my lips over hers and thrust into her again. It was her first time, and I wanted her to come for me—and I wanted to give her pleasure, mind-blowing pleasure, because I wanted her to stay.

To stay with me for days, and weeks, and months, maybe forever. She rocked my world, hard, and I wanted to find out everything about her. Beyond the statistics, beyond the superficial, deep down into the core of her.

Carefully pulling all the way out, I moved down her body, kissing her softly on her belly, trailing kisses to the silky insides of her thighs. My heart was racing.

I glided over her core again and again with my tongue and her breath caught on a shocked gasp and a groan that shot through me. When she stiffened, I felt a rush of pleasure so intense it made me groan as my hand tightened convulsively on her waist, holding her still for my delicate assault.

She cried my name and opened for me, for the possibilities, surrendering to my mouth, to my fingers on her. It was her first time, and I wanted to push her to the edge and take her over into a glorious free-fall.

I kissed my way up her body to her mouth, loving being with her, being on top of her and feeling her getting more and more turned on.

I slipped back inside her, pushing in just a little and held myself still.

“Oh, god,” she murmured a soft sound deep in my mouth, her hips lifting toward mine, and I pressed myself deeper, dying just a little, but not going all the way, not yet. The torture was too sweet. I wanted her to come.

I lifted myself above her, resting on my forearms, and moved myself in and out of her in a lazy, heat-inducing rhythm, her tight little chamber squeezing and holding my dick as explosions of pleasure shocked with every shift of my thrusting hips.

Outside the storm shook the night—the rawness, the primal force of it inside her, inside me. Our hearts were beating hard. Mist blew in through the screen, settled like silver dew, shimmering on us like glitter when the lightning flashed, but we glowed from within with the warmth of our joining.

She was accepting me easily now, her body surrendering to me, and when I gave her all of me, she welcomed it with a groan of longing, free of pain. My breath was hitching, my lungs laboring. I was almost mindless with the pleasure of taking her and the need for Aubree to climax and take me back.

“
Booker.
” My name was barely a breath, uttered with such need. I leaned down and kissed her, hard and demanding. Her legs wrapped around my waist, holding me more closely to her as I pumped, and she groaned my name again.

Fuck.
I felt it, too, the edge of pleasure turning intense and explosive.

“
Booker!”
She tossed her head, her hands grabbing me on either side of my waist, pulling me deeper, holding me tighter, the points of her breast hot and hard against my chest.

I hesitated, then thrust, making her wait for a heartbeat or two in varied intervals, slipping my hand between us to stimulate her. It didn’t take much before her body went taut beneath me, my name sighing from her lips, urgent and wanton.

“
Booker. Oh, god, please, don’t, yes!”

I was lost. Every word made sense, her mouth wet on mine, her body slick and balanced on the edge. I slid my other hand up the length of her arm, twining my fingers through hers, rocking into her over and over and over again, until she came, her breath catching, her body pushing up against mine, holding me deep. She gasped my name, and I went rigid, as a deep-seated climax took me over and wave after wave of the purest, sweetest ecstasy claimed me. It rolled through me, making it hard to breathe, impossible to think.

I felt as if I was floating, my body in some sort of never-never land. I rested my forehead on hers, trying to find my breath. I was so high. My muscles were twitching with exquisite pleasure, my mind blown to bits.

I bent down to take her mouth, enjoying every lingering pulse of pleasure. I tasted her tears. “Shit. Did I hurt you?”

She shook her head, her hands sliding up my chest and throat to cup my face, massage over my shoulders and down my back. “No. Not in the least.”

God, I could breathe again, because I got it. It was only sheer luck I wasn’t crying, too. I’d known it would be like this. I lost myself in her heat, in the bliss, in the comfort she offered me without words. I gave myself over to her completely without any barriers, even the fear that had kept some of me walled off from her. I thought of nothing except her. So sweet, so strong. I wanted to give her everything, be everything for her. I wanted to press her to my heart and never let her go. She filled up the hole inside me, flooded all the pain away, made me believe for a moment that everything…could work out, and I was all about the possibilities.

It was genuine. It was heartbreaking.

It was…a perfect mess.

Chapter Eleven

Aubree

He slept so soundly, and I watched him, trailed my eyes over his gorgeous face, the thick eyelashes that were like dark half moons. My heart contracted and I reached out and very gently caressed the line of his tough, relaxed jaw, the black stubble rasping against my fingertip. My eyes followed the line of his body, the fluent shape of his torso and hip, powerful relaxed perfection, his leg drawn up a little. All that glorious skin and bone and muscle that held this man together to carry the heart of him. The heart of him that was unique, special, and whether he wanted to admit it or not, heroic. He was optimistic after living such a life against the unfair reputation that had been thrust onto him by a distant relative. But in almost everything, Booker had met the challenge with his own extraordinary way of looking at the world.

There was only one problem I could see and that was me. I think Booker had an illusion of who I was and I didn’t measure up. Not at all. How bad would the fall from grace be for me? It was a long way down off that pedestal he’d put me on. Tears gathered at the back of my throat. Shit! I didn’t want to hurt him. But the secret that I carried was now like a festering wound inside me and I could no longer hold it back. I was going to hurt him. I could only try to minimize the damage.

A haunting melody drifted through the rain-soaked darkness. That fiddle player again. The exquisite music was full of a poignant, lonely quality that made me feel even more bruised and battered inside. Booker was…he was…more than I could ever have imagined. More than I could ever have wanted. How could I have been so stupid and completely blind?

The music pushed me away from him, twisting and aching inside me as I wandered through Booker’s house like a ghost, relishing the smell of him that was locked in the t-shirt I’d slipped on to ward off the rainy chill. It came to mid-thigh on me. He was asleep on the deck, while the rain continued to fall, but less frenzied, more soothing. It was also a way to gain some comfort. After what we’d shared… I knew what I had to do.

I had memorized his face as he’d made amazing, sweet love to me. I’d had no idea what sex was going to be like. I imagined it would be good…but, god, not like that. I was so glad I had waited, even though I hadn’t dared hope that I would end up here, in his house, in his arms.

I closed my eyes and tried to keep back tears of guilt about the secrets that I still kept from him. When I had arrived back in Hope Parish, I hadn’t wanted to be here, but now I didn’t want to leave. I didn’t want to leave Booker. I sighed. School was too important to me to just walk away from it. But Booker belonged here in the bayou. I couldn’t expect him to give up his home, his family to be with me. But would he? Could that work?