Fool's Gold (A sexy funny mystery/romance, Cottonmouth Book 2) (27 page)

“That’s why it’s embarrassing.”

He held her chin. “Look at me.”

“I can’t.”

He shook her lightly. She opened her eyes to
his laser-bright blues.

“That was too fucking incredible for words,”
he whispered, his hot, husky voice caressing her.

She blinked. “Oh.”

“I want to make you do it again, but this
time I want to be inside you.”

No one had ever taken everything she had to
give and asked for more. No words had ever made her feel so
special. He couldn’t possibly mean it. Her heart beat faster and
her eyes clouded up. “But it was so unladylike.”

He gave a short bark of disbelieving
laughter. “Don’t tell me your mother dictated orgasm etiquette to
you.”

Not exactly. “Why would you bring up my
mother at a time like this?”

“I swear I heard her voice coming out of your
mouth.”

She gasped. He hadn’t figured out who her
mother was, had he? “You’ve never even heard her voice.” She
worried her lip. “Have you?”

“I know a quote when I hear one.”

“Oh.” She squirmed. It wasn’t a quote
exactly, more like an overall rule of permissible behavior.
“Nothing, including sex, should ever be done to excess.”

He laughed outright this time, throwing his
head back. She wanted to lick his throat.

“There is definitely one thing that should be
enjoyed to excess, and that’s an orgasm.” He tipped her chin,
holding her gaze. “The world would be a better place if everyone
came like you just did.”

Oh my God. He didn’t care she was a screamer.
He wasn’t like her ex-fiancé. He resembled one of the heroes in her
fantasies, actually enjoying that she was exuberant and excessive.
She could hardly believe it. “What does that mean, Brax?”

“It means, make love, not war.”

“I think that’s a sixties slogan.”

“Smoking too much of the happy weed or not,
they did know a good axiom when they heard one.”

“You might have a point.” Wriggling until she
could lean an elbow on the sofa arm, she put space between them.
She wanted him to throw his arms around her and hug her till she
popped. She wanted to give him everything she’d been holding back
for three years. All her exuberance. “I know another good
axiom.”

He slid down, resting his head against the
couch to watch her through hooded eyes. “And what’s that?”

She trailed a finger from his throat to his
belt, then laid her hand on his buckle. “One good turn deserves
another.”

His gaze turned hot, a fire sparking beneath
those seemingly lazy lids. “What did you have in mind?”

She drew a hand down the bulge in his pants,
then cupped his erection. She felt bold and free, like one of her
characters. “What base are we on if I touch you here?”

He covered her hand, pressing harder. His
gaze captured hers in an endless moment.

Then he whispered, “We’re halfway home.”

Chapter Fifteen

He wanted her mouth on him. He wanted to fill
her with himself. More, he needed to experience again the moment
when she flew apart with his touch, cried out his name, and for one
infinitesimal flash of time, drove the ache from his vital
organs.

She’d admitted feeling selfish because she’d
wanted to forget for a while. She couldn’t imagine how much more he
had to forget.

Halfway home. He wanted to
be
home.
All the way home, deep inside her.

“I think if you so much as touch my bare
flesh, I’m a goner.”

A shadow flitted through her eyes.

“I want to come in you,
with
you. It’s
not a bad thing.”

She dropped her head, stroked him through his
jeans with her cheek. He knew how she’d felt when he played with
her panties.

He pulled her up by her arms, guiding her to
straddle him. Her skirt at her waist made it easier, and the
enticing aroma of hot, wet woman threatened to fog his brain and
cloud his judgment.

She tugged down her skirt modestly, hiding
the very part of her he wanted most.

“I didn’t bring a condom,” he said, running
his hands up and down her arms. “Are you okay with that?”

She shrugged, her hair falling forward.
“Yeah. The pill. You know.”

Being on the pill, probably another
unladylike habit. Her mother jumped even higher on his shit
list.

“It’s been a while for me,” he said. “Long
enough to know I’m clean. And you don’t have to be ashamed of
anything.”

She stared at the center of his chest. “The
only men I’ve been with since I came to Goldstone were in my
dreams. It’s sort of pathetic to have stayed on the pill.”

He pushed her hair back behind both ears.
“Hopeful. Not pathetic. And my good fortune. Do you know how much I
want you?”

She shook her head.

“I want you more than I wanted Mary Alice
Turner in the backseat of my dad’s old car when I was sixteen.”

He hadn’t given her a name when she’d first
introduced him to the theory of anticipation, but he knew she
understood exactly what he meant. When she closed her eyes and
leaned into him, her nipples brushing his chest, he also knew he’d
given her what she needed.

“More than Mary Alice when you were sixteen?”
Barely a whisper on her exhale.

“Yeah. Way more.”

Sliding her skirt up and tilting his hips, he
pressed her down and rocked against her center until his cock
screamed, until she moaned softly. “We’re gonna have an accident
here if you don’t undo my belt buckle pronto.”

“Yes, Sheriff.”

Nimble fingers made fast work of both belt
and zipper. She rose up on her knees, giving him a gorgeous view of
naked womanhood, while he pushed down on the jeans until his
erection slid free.

“Oh, it’s beautiful. May I touch it,
Sheriff?”

He laughed, then groaned as she took him in
hand. Closing his eyes, he savored her cool grip. “Jesus.”

She was so close, her hair cascaded over his
face as she slid her hand down, then up. “Does that feel good?”

“Better than ice cream on a hot day.”

“Is that a not so subtle plea for me to lick
your cone?”

He curled his fist around hers. “Hell, no.
I’d never survive that.”

“Never say never.”

Hot and playful, she made him want to laugh
and come all at the same time. Just as he wanted her to smile over
her tears.

He pried her fingers loose. “You’ve got about
two seconds before I—”

He almost lost it as she slid down on his
cock hard and fast, taking him all the way inside her sweet, lush
body, then settled in for the long haul. Or what he hoped was a
long haul.

“Is this what you wanted, Sheriff?”

She stole his breath. He couldn’t answer,
could only hold on to her as his hips surged, driving higher and
deeper inside her.

Her fingers dug into his arms as she tipped
her head back. “Oh my God, that feels so good.”

She couldn’t know how damn good. Or maybe she
did. Looking down at him once more, she grabbed the bottom of her
T-shirt and pulled it over her head, shaking her gorgeous hair
loose. Her nipples peaked tantalizingly through the lace bra.
Grabbing her by the waist, he pulled her close to take the sweet
tip in his mouth. She arched, strained, cupping the back of his
head as he sucked her through the lace.

“You taste good,” he whispered. He kissed the
swell of breast above her bra, then licked her throat and finally
leaned back to look in her eyes. “And you feel good around me.” He
wanted her heat. Trailing his fingers along the crease of her
thigh, he put his thumb to her clitoris and stroked.

She moaned. “Brax, oh, Brax.” She moved with
him, slightly forward, then back, riding his touch as well as his
cock. The fingers of his left hand bit into her hip.

“Are you ready?” he whispered with his last
ounce of control. So much for the long haul.

“Oh please, I am so ready.”

He couldn’t hold out a second longer,
thrusting up hard, wrapping his arm across her waist and holding
her tight to meet him. She rose and fell, biting her lip, panting,
her gaze never leaving his.

“Let go, baby,” he murmured. “Let it go. God,
I want to hear how good it feels.”

His muscles bunched, his thighs shrieked, his
thumb played her, then he rammed home one last time, and lost
himself in her. A moment later, her body spasmed around him, and
she screamed out her pleasure with abandon.

* * * * *

Darn. She’d screamed again. Loudly. Mr.
Doodle probably heard her over at Flood’s End.

Brax still held on to her, squashing her
breasts to his chest, pumping warm breaths against her neck. He
cupped her butt, stroking, as her heart rate slowed, the flush on
her skin dimmed, and the throb of him inside her subsided.

“Kiss me,” he whispered against her hair.

“What?”

“Kiss me so I know you didn’t use me just for
sex.”

* * * * *

Putting both hands on his shoulders, Simone
pushed back. Brax watched her with a somber face and dancing
eyes.

“I didn’t use you, Sheriff.”

“You called me Brax a few minutes ago. Now
I’m back to being Sheriff. Kiss me so my ego doesn’t get
wounded.”

She wanted to laugh almost more than she
wanted to kiss him. His petulant lower lip won out. She
laughed.

Both hands dropped to her butt, and he pulled
her snug. “I like being inside you.” He brushed his lips over hers.
“I love the way I can make you scream.”

“Hold me, Brax.”
Please God, let him mean
it
. Brax wouldn’t lie about a thing like that. Not when he knew
it was important. And he did know.

He squeezed her tight in his arms. She wanted
to stay that way forever. Safe, warm. Excessive and exuberant.

Then he eased her away, kissed her nose, her
cheeks, finally her forehead. “More than anything, I wish I could
stay with you.” He searched her face a moment. “But I have to go in
case Maggie wakes up.”

Icy water suddenly rushed through her veins,
chilling her skin, raising goose bumps, and turning to crystal
around her heart. “I forgot.”

“I wanted both of us to forget.”

Suddenly tears were as close to the surface
as they’d been when she’d thrown herself sobbing into his arms.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I don’t know how I could have done that
when Carl’s—”

He held her face and her gaze in a powerful
grip. “Don’t take away from what we did. It’s the only good and
beautiful thing I have. And I needed it.”

“But—”

He shook her lightly. “Carl’s dead, and I
have to ask Maggie some real shitty questions even though I know
she’ll fall apart. So let me keep what we did without turning it to
shit, too.”

She pressed her lips together, sniffed. She’d
been terribly selfish in begging, almost forcing him to make love
to her. Then she’d followed it up with her it’s-all-about-me
guiltfest, never even considering how Brax felt. “You’re right.
This was ours. I won’t take it away.”

“Good. Now kiss me.”

She leaned in for a kiss sweeter than she’d
ever tasted. Just a meeting of lips and a tear’s salty taste at the
corner of her mouth.

Then she rose, pulling free of his arms and
his body, the loss of contact tugging at her insides. “I’ll be back
in a minute.” She grabbed her T-shirt off the sofa beside him and
ran.

Cleaning up in the bathroom seemed so
demoralizing. It should have been like one of her fantasies, where
there was no mess, no fuss, no bodily functions, and your hair and
makeup remained perfect.

Instead, the stark fluorescent lights beamed
down on ratty party hair, washed-out skin bare of blush, and
highlighted the mascara streaks and the smear of lipstick on her
chin.

Oh God. She shouldn’t have thrown herself at
him.

She should have at least made him turn out
the lights.

She rubbed the lipstick off her chin, wiped
away the mascara smudges, and smoothed her hair. If only she could
have removed her bad thoughts as easily. Brax had told her not to
be ashamed, not to destroy the beautiful thing they’d done.

Beautiful. He’d used that word, hadn’t he?
She’d screamed out loud, and he told her he loved it.

“It was beautiful,” she whispered, then
returned to him.

He’d fastened his jeans and belt and tucked
in his shirt. The only reminder of their interlude was the slight
ache between her legs.

He held out his hand. “Come here.” Even in
her platforms, she fit securely beneath the arm he draped around
her shoulders. “Kiss me goodbye,” he murmured.

She’d have liked it better if he’d said
goodnight instead of goodbye, but she raised her lips to his. Once
more, he filled her with sweetness and she could have sworn her
morose thoughts flitted away into the night.

Until a car door slammed out on the road and
voices wafted on the summer breeze.

He leaned his forehead to hers. “Expecting
someone?”

“No.” It was probably Sheriff Teesdale for
Brax. With more bad news.

Her screen door whined and the porch creaked
beneath footsteps, then the front door resounded with a loud
knock.

“Better answer it,” he said, brushing his
lips across hers.

She did. Her heart dropped to her stomach,
and her stomach plummeted to her toes.

Her mother stood on her doorstep.

* * * * *

Maggie crept to her bedroom door and
listened.

“I need to get out of here, Chloe.”

Della. In the hallway by her room.
Whispering. The thin, wooden inner doors did nothing to muffle
their voices.

“Wait until Maggie’s brother gets back. We
can’t leave her alone.”

Tyler was gone. That was good. The dark room
spun, dust bunnies from under the bed stuffed her head, her lips
felt like thick slugs, and her wobbly legs threatened to collapse.
But she was awake, and she knew what she had to do. Tyler would
have stopped her.