True for You (11 page)

“Can you?”

Nodding,
I lay my head on his chest again, tracing the outline of one of his
tattoos—a skull—that rests on his lower abdomen.

“Tell
me more about your really,” I lower my voice, “deep
thoughts.”

He
digs his fingers into my side and I snort with laughter, wriggling
away from him. “I’m trying to have a serious conversation
with you.” He pulls me back, hooking a finger under my chin and
lifting until we’re eye to eye. “Earlier… we were
a bit reckless.”

“You
want more than a bit reckless?” I ask, my voice all breathless.

“More
than you know, but—”

“Then
we’ll be married, and the only way to undo it is a divorce.”

He
gives me this look, and I’m half afraid he’ll get up and
leave, but it had to be said. I have to know. Pushing me away while
simultaneously asking me to stay makes my heart hurt and my head
spin.

“Saying
that doesn’t mean I don’t want to stay married to you.
It’s just the truth of our situation,” I add. “Less
messy is better. If we both commit to this, then we both have to be
all in, not constantly worrying if the other shoe will drop. I can’t
live like that, because I’ve been living like that since I was
a little girl.”

His
fierce look melts away, and I think he finally understand what I’ve
been trying to say all along. We can’t be reckless anymore. We
have to be careful and consider all our options.

He
joins our hands together, lifting them up in the air. I notice that
he still has on the wedding ring I’d given him, but I’m
too much of a coward to mention it.

I’d actually
bought Jackson’s ring from the guy who’d performed the
ceremony. It’s made of gunmetal and maybe it’s not as
nice as the one he had given me, but I willingly bought it, knowing
it would take a huge chunk out of the money I saved up. But if
Jackson could be reckless, then so could I.

“So
you wouldn’t be opposed to making this a real honeymoon?”

Of
course he goes right to that, but honestly, what man wouldn’t?
“No. I want to have sex.”

Throwing
back his head, he laughs. “I ask, you answer, just like
always.”

“Why
waste time beating around the bush?”

Lowering
our hands, he kisses my knuckles. “I figured you want some time
to be courted properly.”

“Courted?”

“Wooed.”
He lets go of my hand and rises above me. “Any southern man
worth his salt should woo his lady. And you’re my lady.”
His head dips and my heart speeds up. “My sexy wife.”
There’s nothing between us, but my panties. My soaking wet
panties. “Do you know what the best part of sex is?”

“Orgasms,”
I say with the authority of someone who just had her first. That’s
me, orgasm expert.

He
laughs, sensual and low this time. “Okay, so the second best
part.”

“I’ve
never had sex.” One of his brows raise and I bite my lip,
thinking of his fingers inside of me, his mouth on my most intimate
parts. Yeah, we had sex, sorta. “I’ve never had sex-sex?”

“The
second best part of sex, baby doll,” he brushes a kiss over my
mouth, “is,” another kiss, lower this time, and then he
sucks at a sensitive spot on my neck, “anticipation.” He
nips at my earlobe, and I moan. “Now let’s get something
to eat.”

“Eat?”
Does he mean what I think he means?

“I’m
starving,” he says, and then jumps out of bed, leaving me lying
there, turned on and panting for more.

“You
mean food?”

“Naughty
Bliss.” He grins his wicked at smile at me. “What did you
think I meant?”

Pulling
the covers up to my nose, I eye him. “Nothing.”

He
leans over me, bracing a hand on each side of my shoulders. His blue
eyes are so dark, ringed in an even darker blue. Most people tend to
think the angels in Heaven have blue eyes, not me though.

I’m
convinced it’s only the ones who fell to Earth for sinning.
Fornicating with the daughters of Adam and Eve, according to Miss
Yancy. She read the Bible, every Sunday, from two to four, to all
three of us foster kids.

“Nothing
sure sounds like something.” He kisses the tip of my nose and
hands me my glasses, then stands and walks away. I follow him with my
eyes, admiring the way his muscles flex while he walks, and how firm
his—

“Glad
you like you the show, but do me a favor.” He pauses at the
doorway to his closet and casts a hot look over his shoulder. I
practically melt into the mattress.

I
let the sheet slip a little lower. “What’s that?”

“Stop
staring at me, and get your hot little body out of bed and dressed,
before I go straight from courting to fucking you senseless.”

Chapter Twelve

Jackson

“When
courting a lady,” I flip a pancake high into the air and catch
in the pan on the way down, then set it on the burner so it can
finish cooking, “the first thing you do is take her to dinner.
But when that’s not possible, you make her brunch, and hope
that suffices.”

Glancing
at Bliss, I wink at her.

She
smashes her lips together, but they still curve up in the corners.
I’m not sure if she’s impressed or thinks I’m
ridiculous. Possibly, she thinks I’m both.

“It
more than suffices,” she says, picking up a piece of bacon.
“Food is the way to my heart and stomach.”

I
give her a once over, making those pretty cheeks of hers blush. “What
about the other parts?”

Her
mouth opens and shuts a couple of times before she pushes her glasses
up on her nose. “Kisses work…and touching me.”

A
grin kicks up the corners of my mouth, even as desire rushes through
me. I can’t get the image of her sexy body out of my head. The
way she tasted better than anything I’ve ever had. Then her
hands on my body, stroking and—my dick starts to harden.

“Don’t
stop there, baby doll. You can’t shock me.” I motion to
my groin, and her eyes grow wide. “In fact, I’m enjoying
it.”

“I
think I’m shocking myself,” she murmurs before biting
into the bacon.

Taking
the pan off the burner, I turn off the gas with my free hand and then
slide the pancake onto my plate as I struggle to get control of my
raging hard-on.

After
a minute, I join Bliss at the breakfast table, in a little nook
surrounded by windows. The view of the ocean is amazing, even if it’s
rough as hell right now. Storm clouds are still visible, and most
likely, according to the weather guy, another round will pummel the
coast tonight.

“How
are your pancakes?” I ask, slathering mine with peanut butter,
jelly, and syrup.

“Yummy.
I think I ate more than you.” She licks her fork, little pink
tongue sliding along the tines and making my stomach clench.

“I
can make more,” I offer.

Then
she does licks the fork again and again, until I’m sure nothing
remains on the metal, but I can’t stop staring. “Too
full.”

Finally,
Bliss puts the fork down and places her elbows on the table, cupping
her cheeks with her hands. “Your pancakes are getting cold.”

I
tear my gaze from her mouth. “Huh?”

“Pancakes.
Cold.”

I
eye her, the look of satisfaction giving me pause. “Were you
doing that on purpose?”

“Maybe.”

I
take a bite of my food, mulling over what to say next.

“I
thought that it was only proper to flirt with a southern boy while he
courts me,” she says, her voice all breathy.

I
swallow. “
My
Bliss was flirting?” This is a first. She’s never flirted
with me. Ever. Or at least not so blatantly that I’ve actually
noticed.

She
nods, then glances away. “I guess I was doing it wrong, but
Vi—one of my friends said that guys like it when you draw
attention to your mouth.”

I
don’t miss the little slip. My ex-girlfriend had been schooling
Bliss on how to flirt during the tour? Interesting. “Your
friend had it right. So did you.”

“Oh.”
A pleased smile appears on her face and her hands fall away.

The
thought of Bliss teasing me banishes any thoughts of my ex having a
hand in this. “Would you like to know a guy’s prospective
on the subject?”

“Sure.”

“You
should do whatever you feel comfortable doing. I’m pretty damn
easy to please.” I stab another forkful of pancake. “Feel
like touching me, touch me. Feel like kissing me for no other reason
than it’s two in the afternoon—go for it. Say what you
want. Dirty talking, sweet talking—I don’t care, because
I know everything that comes out of those sexy lips are for me
alone.” With that I finish off the rest of my pancakes.

Exhaling,
her breasts rise and fall under one of my shirts. She watches me as I
drain my glass of orange juice and eat the last piece of bacon, but
not before I offer it to her first.

I’d
love to keep talking to her about flirting, but my libido can’t
take anymore. “There’s something I’ve wanted to ask
you.”

“Okay.”
Settling back into her chair, she waits for me to continue and I
smile. I can’t help it. That’s the Bliss I know, not the
flirting one. One word answers and silence reigning. Whatever she
wants to be around me, I’m fine with, because I don’t
think she’s had the chance to be anyone really. Kind of like
me.

“Don’t
take this the wrong way, because I’m impressed as hell that you
somehow survived being homeless for so long, but how did you get jobs
or even a driver’s license, without being able to read very
well?”

“I
took jobs that paid under the table, like watching kids, or cleaning
homes and offices. Stuff like that.” She let out another shaky
breath, drawing up her legs onto the seat of the chair and wrapping
her arms around her knees. “My driver’s license is
another story… when I lived with the Coreys.
Brian Corey worked for the DMV and administered the test. He gave me
the answers ahead of time, because he and Helen needed me to be able
to drive the kids around when they couldn’t.”

Clenching my jaw at
the unfairness of her situations, I managed to ask, “How was
that your responsibility?”

“I
was earning my keep.”

Beating
out a rhythm on the table, I tamper down my fury. Of course, I’m
not angry at her. I’m angry
for
her. But letting that out, in whatever way it would manifest itself,
serves nothing, not when I’m getting to know this beautiful
girl. Really know her, and not just her body.

“Can I ask you
something?” Her eyes are wary behind her glasses.

“Yes.”
I scoot my chair closer to hers, and then lift her right out of it.
“You belong right here, you know that, don’t you?”

“Sometimes.”
She melts into me, snuggling against my chest. “Are you still
bent on me being your muse, because you want me to be this person
that can inspire you to make music?”

“I
don’t know,” I answer truthfully. What I do know—when
I left the tour, all I wanted was to escape. “I’m not
sure of anything, really, when it comes to my career.”

“It’s
okay not to know or even to change your mind.” She presses a
soft kiss against my throat. “Sometimes what we think we want
isn’t what we really need.”

That
evening, when I take her to bed, I pull her into my arms and hold her
the entire night, not trying to seduce her.

Another
storm rages outside, but I’m not worried at all. Just her
presence gives me comfort I’ve never known. There’s
something so familiar about her, but I can’t put my finger on
it. Maybe it’s just the way she accepts me for who am I.

Only
problem with that, I’m not sure who I want to be anymore.

***

I’m
sitting with Bliss on the dock, fishing for our supper in the sound.
The wind blows gently, ruffling her hair.

Usually,
fishing makes me calm and contemplative, instead of all amped up.
Usually, I fish with my dad or Cameron, not Bliss, the one woman I
want and can’t have because I’m holding myself to the
promise to courting her.

There’s
nothing more I want to do than to lay her down, strip her out of my
old clothes, and—

“Ahh!”
She squeals, scrambling back from the edge. I catch her fishing pole
before it hits the water. “Something bit me!”

“Does
it hurt?” I ask, glancing her way. She’s examining her
foot, bringing it up to her nose to inspect it. It’s comically
arousing. The girl is bendy.

“No.”
She gives me a shy smile. “I might have overreacted.”

After
she sits down beside me again, I hand the fishing pole back to her.
“Most likely it was a crab or a turtle. Now they know how sweet
you taste, they’ll be back for more.” I wiggle my brows
at her, and she rolls her eyes.

The
sound of a boat engine captures our attention.

“Who’s
that?” she asks, shielding her eyes.

“Cameron.”
I stand, hooking my fishing pole on one of the pilings. Bliss does
the same.