Kiss Me That Way: A Cottonbloom Novel (27 page)

Her words pierced him like an accusation. His own truths poured out as they had that night under the cottonwood tree. “I didn’t want to leave. I had to.”

She tilted her head and waited.

Telling Tally had weakened the dam and the words flowed easier. Monroe listened, the expression on her face never changing.

“Did you want to get caught?” she asked after he fell silent.

“Of course not. Why would you think that?”

“You needed help, Cade. You were exhausted and desperate and hopeless. It got worse every time I saw you.”

He blinked and kicked the engine into a higher gear. His heart matched their acceleration upriver. She stayed facing him, her hair whipping around her face. Was she right?

It didn’t take long before the shadow of the cottonwood tree emerged around a bend. He’d never been this far upriver in the daytime. Old prejudices born from the men who’d split the town kept the ’Sips on their side and the swamp rats on theirs.

He ran the skiff aground close to where he’d hidden it the first time they’d met. In the bright sunlight and with birds trilling, the dark magic he’d found there at night was muted.

He hopped into the shallows and secured the boat. She stood, rocking from side to side, her hands out for balance. The bank was steep, the path they’d used so many years ago carved away. Without warning her, he set his shoulder into her stomach and lifted her up.

She squealed his name, equal amounts of surprise and laughter in her voice. It had always been that way with them, the easy veering from serious to light. One minute they’d be talking about another one of her mother’s binges, and the next she would have him laughing about a trick someone had played on a substitute teacher.

He climbed the bank, using his free hand to grab at exposed roots for leverage. She grabbed the waistband of his shorts and laughed harder.

He crested the top but didn’t put her down. He stared at the tree, surprised at how much bigger it appeared. The leaves rustled in the wind racing over the field of cotton that stretched as far as he could see on the opposite bank. White bolls dotted the landscape.

“Are you going to put me down?” She pushed up from his back.

“In a minute.” He slipped his hand under her skirt, the skin of her thigh like silk against his rough palm, the nerve endings firing along his scar. She went limp, her arms coming around his waist from behind. He removed his hand and gave her bottom a smack.

Her outraged, “Hey!” had him chuckling, and he bent to put her down. Her face was flushed from either arousal or hanging upside down or both.

“I wanted to throw you over my shoulder and haul you out of the party last night.”

“I kind of wish you had.” Her eyebrows waggled. “Maybe next time?”

The implication tempered the happiness in her smile. Would there be a next time? He caressed her cheek and whispered, “Maybe.” Attempting a normal tone, he continued. “I’ll unload the boat.”

He tossed an old quilt into her waiting arms. She disappeared, and he manhandled the cooler up the bank. She had set up camp in their spot, leaning against the trunk.

He dropped the cooler nearby and joined her, not against the tree but lying on his back and staring into the branches. It was both familiar yet almost unrecognizable in the light of day after so many years. Like the connection he shared with Monroe.

“What would have happened if you’d stayed, do you think?” She played in his hair, the sweetness of the feeling indescribable.

“I’d have ended up in jail for sure.”

“No. With us.”

He shifted so he could see her face framed against the sun-dappled leaves. “What do you mean?”

“Did you ever … think about me as more than a little girl back then?”

He blew out a long, slow breath as if preparing for someone to rip off a bandage. “Not at first. Not for years even. I kept coming back for the same reason as you needed me, I suppose. Someone to talk to. Someone to lean on.”

“If not at first? Then eventually?”

He smiled at her hopeful lilt. “I swear one full moon I showed up and you had changed.”

“Like a werewolf?”

A laugh burst from his chest. “Something like that. You went from all skinny edges to curves. I couldn’t help but notice, but I would never have touched you. You were too young, going to college, making a life for yourself. I had nothing to offer. The only place I was headed was trouble.” He brushed her hair back. “But I thought about it. Thought about you.”

“I thought about you, too.” She moved next to him, laying her head on his chest, and he closed his eyes. “I used to pretend my pillow was you and practice kissing it. Mostly, though, I would just hug it and pretend you were hugging me back.”

The intensely vulnerable feeling that shot through him was something he’d never experienced. He’d done crazy things before—some downright dangerous—but he’d never been stymied by fear. He was a risk taker by nature.

“You’re a much better kisser than my pillow.”

“Am I?”

She hummed an affirmative and lifted over him. Her breasts pressed into his chest and she slid her smooth leg between his. Her hair fell forward and tickled his cheeks.

Kissing Monroe under the cottonwood tree had been an unattainable fantasy a decade earlier. The fact that it was happening, and in the light of day no less, was mind-blowing.

It was like a first kiss
, his
first kiss. Soft and sweet and colored with a wealth of sensuality. She set the rhythm, the give-and-take, the devastating invasion and retreat.

He recognized Monroe as both a stranger and a part of himself. A part he’d tried to forget yet was integral to who he was. How had they come so far, so fast? Her kisses picked apart any defense he might mount, and he surrendered.

Chapter Twenty

A rumble welled from his chest and throat, vibrating her body. Or maybe those trembles were entirely of her making. Being in control was a heady feeling. She delved her hands into his hair and skimmed her tongue along his lower lip, slowly, sensually, enjoying the soft pliancy of his mouth under hers.

But her control was fleeting. He cupped the back of her head and pressed a hand along her back, rolling them until he was on top and bending her to fit his will. Passion replaced the slow exploration. Aggressive and demanding, his kiss devastated her senses.

She lost all concept of time or space. Nothing mattered except their kiss. He continued to grapple her closer with rough hands as his tongue toyed with hers. His stubble rubbed at her chin and cheeks.

He pulled away, his lips feathering along her jaw. She tilted her head back, and his mouth trailed down her neck. Breaking away, he propped himself up on his elbows. His eyes were cutting and intense. So different from their childhood meetings when the darkness had tamped down his fierceness.

She played with the hair at his nape. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Everything feels perfect.” He didn’t sound happy about it.

He rolled off her and reached for the cooler. Her body missed the weight of his. Her dress was bunched around her upper thighs, her body on fire.

He handed her an ice-cold can. The shift from rolling around on the ground together as if they couldn’t get close enough to calmly eating lunch was disconcerting. Why did it seem he was completely unaffected by their epic make-out session while she was left reeling and trying to establish some kind of mental balance? She pushed up to sitting and pressed the can against her neck to cool herself down in more ways than one.

“I haven’t had a Nehi in forever.” She popped the top and took several swallows. “Dear Lord, call nine-one-one if I go into a diabetic coma.”

“This’ll help offset the sugar.”

She lifted the top piece of bread off the sandwich. “BLTs. My favorite.”

“Stole the tomatoes from Regan’s mama.”

Monroe froze with her mouth around the corner. He laughed, his head back, his throat working. “Your face. You’d think I’d confessed to stealing the Crown Jewels or something. Rest easy; I got them at the grocery. They’re probably from California.”

She took a bite, and sure enough, the tomato wasn’t sweet enough to be Mississippi grown. “You’re the boy who cried wolf, considering you were out trying to plant rabbits in her garden.”

He shrugged and took a bite of his sandwich, his lips still upturned. “I honestly didn’t know what Sawyer was up to until he handed me the first rabbit out of the trap.”

She finished her sandwich, skipped the chips, but couldn’t deny the lure of an Oreo. “How do you eat yours?”

“With my mouth,” he said dryly.

“But do you twist it apart and lick the cream?” She demonstrated her preferred method. Halfway through the second lick, she slowed. The intensity of his gaze was focused on her show-and-tell, his Oreo hovering halfway to his mouth. She touched her tongue to her top lip, leaving some sweetness behind. Who knew eating a cookie could be so sensual? Maybe she could provoke him to finish what they’d started before lunch.

His phone buzzed.

The curse he muttered was tinged with regret and not rancor. He checked the screen and answered. “What’s up?”

A male voice garbled words like Charlie Brown’s teacher on the other end. Cade checked his watch. “I wasn’t expecting it until tomorrow. I’ll explain everything when I get back up at the house.”

His gaze clashed with hers, his lips quirking. “Messing around out on the river. See you in a bit.”

He slipped the phone back into his pocket. “We’re going to have to head back. My new project arrived and Sawyer is hopping mad.”

She adjusted her skirt and licked the residual cream off her top lip. “Why is he mad?”

“Probably because I’m a bossy cur who’s taking over his garage.”

“Have the two of you been fighting a lot?”

“We’ve been stepping on each other’s toes some.” He repacked the cooler while she shook out the quilt.

They walked side by side to the bank. While she waited for him to load the boat, she turned and looked at their tree. The safety and security it had represented had been false. It was a tree like any other along the river. Cade climbed back up the bank, and she transferred her attention to him.

It was Cade. It always had been. The safety and security she’d craved was in him, not a part of the tree. Her smile beat back the tears she didn’t want to explain. He picked her up again as if she weighed nothing and slip-slid down the bank to deposit her on the seat.

She expected him to gun the engine and fly them back downriver. Instead, they puttered with the slight current, going in and out of shadows and bright sunshine.

Kicking off the flip-flops, she turned sideways and let her feet drag in the water. The water was never clear, but in the summer the dry conditions and teeming plant life provided a greenish-brown cast to it. Tall reeds encroached into the water, narrowing the navigable section to the very middle.

The small dock at the back of Sawyer’s house came into view. She pulled her feet out and slipped her flip-flops back on. Arms crossed, Sawyer stood at the top of the rise like a parent ready to discipline them for stealing the boat.

Cade stepped into the shallow water, the mud sucking at his boots, and pulled the boat half onto the bank, tying it off to a pine tree. He circled her waist and lifted her to dry ground. Instead of making her feel vulnerable, his strength made her feel feminine.

“I didn’t plan to spend my Sunday dealing with your special delivery, Cade.” Sawyer’s voice rang with more ire than the situation seemed to call for.

“Sorry about that. Wasn’t expecting it to arrive until tomorrow.”

“You’re planning to take over my garage, are you?”

“I’d like to use your garage while I’m here.” Cade didn’t seem to be asking for a favor. “Told you I was getting a project shipped down.”

“Sure, shove my stuff aside. It’s certainly not as important as
your
designs.”

Monroe looked back and forth between the brothers. No one could mistake the territorial battle brewing between them. Cade took a step forward. “You’re not even working on anything. What’s your problem, little bro?”

Cade’s jab sent them spiraling further, and Sawyer’s shoulders bowed up. “I had my eye on an old Camaro and was thinking about fixing her up, but now your shit is in my way.”

Monroe wrapped her hands around one of Cade’s biceps, surprised to find it taut and thrumming with static energy. “I have an idea. Divide the garage right down the middle with a long strip of tape. It worked on
The Brady Bunch
.”

Her forced teasing diffused the tension. Sawyer rolled his eyes, but the edge of aggression in his voice dulled. “Could you at least get that motor Delmar dropped off back to him?”

“Sure. I’ll take it over right now.”

Sawyer walked back to the house, his hands shoved into his pockets and his head down. She watched Cade watch Sawyer. As the distance between them grew, Cade’s muscles relaxed under her grip.

“You want to ride along with me?” He didn’t look at her.

“Why not.” She wasn’t sure whether he even wanted to talk about Sawyer, but he spoke before she came up with a question.

“You ever been out to Uncle Delmar’s?” He stepped out of her hands, leaving her to walk at his side.

“Can’t say that I have.”

“Well, are you in for a treat.” While his voice retained shades of his confrontation with Sawyer, his mood lightened, and she decided to follow his lead.

She sat on the metal desk while he backed the old truck into the garage and used the hoist to maneuver the engine into the bed. She enjoyed watching him work, his ease in the environment obvious. Yet he hadn’t seemed out of place in a fancy tuxedo circulating with Cottonbloom’s finest.

He opened the passenger door and helped her in as if it was a date. Maybe it was? If so, it was the most unusual date she’d ever been on. And definitely the best.

The truck bounced over the lightly graveled path to the main driveway in front of Sawyer’s house. As they picked up speed, the wind whipped her hair around her face and she gathered it in her hand as best she could. Between the boat ride and truck, she was going to be a windblown mess.