Sweet Talk Me (32 page)

It was intimate up here. “This was Honey’s special room. I made it into a studio.”

“It’s awesome.”

No, it wasn’t. He was out of her life tomorrow.

“How come I didn’t know you were still doing art?” He scratched the stubble on his jaw, which wasn’t exactly polite, but it was four in the morning. Rules were different then. And she liked the sound anyway.
Beast
, is what she thought. And wanted him to ravish her.

“I don’t tell anyone,” she said. “Only Weezie and Carmela know.”

“Why not Dubose?”

She shrugged and had to look away.

He went to the window. “There’s a big moon.”

“I know. It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

He turned around, his face in shadows. “It’s a super moon. They don’t come around a lot. I saw it tonight and I recognized it. It’s the same moon we had.”

The night they lost their virginity to each other and declared their love
, was the understood end to that statement.

She padded over, her arms folded over her chest. “It
is
a special moon.”

He was looking at it so earnestly, his profile strong and brave, that of a Sewee warrior who’d conquered the world.

All on his own.

They watched a cloud slowly move across the moon’s face. She didn’t want him to go. This was the last time they’d be together like this. Friends. Old lovers. Sharing their own, private space in the world—an enchanted space—for the last time.

“I’ll miss you,” she whispered. “For ten years I’ve been hiding out in the open. My version of Terence Jones. I was too embarrassed to contact you. And ashamed. You came to get me the day after the prom, and I betrayed you.”

“No, you didn’t.” He turned toward her. “I put you in the corner. Tried to force your hand. I’m smarter now. That’s not the way to love. Or be loved.”

“We were kids.”

“Yeah.” He wiped a tear off her cheek with his thumb.

She took a step toward him, and he wrapped his arms around her. Put his chin on her head.

“You’re a good egg,” he said.

She half laughed, half sobbed into his T-shirt. He stroked her hair. She laid her palm on his chest to absorb his heat.

“You’ll keep getting more successful,” she said, “until someday you achieve legendary status. Like Johnny Cash.”

“No one can rival Johnny.”

“Okay, then Tim McGraw.”

“I wish.”

She closed her eyes, sighing. She didn’t want to leave the circle of his arms.

He rubbed her back. “It’s not as if I’ll never see you. Especially if this thing with Gage and Carmela works out.”

“That’s true,” she said hopefully.

But they both knew it wouldn’t be the same. She’d be with Dubose. Harrison might be with another woman. Who knew?

And once she was married, Dubose would be the one man she’d give access to her innermost heart. That was only right. It was what marriage was about: two people becoming one. She wouldn’t disrespect it by yearning after someone other than her husband. Else why get married at all?

Snack on this, girlfriend
. She remembered those words had run through her head the day Harrison dropped her off at Maybank Hall.

“True?”

“Hmmm?”

“Maybe you’d better stop caressing my chest.”

“Oh.” She pulled back, flustered at how curt he suddenly sounded. “Sorry.”

He stared at her a long moment. The sweet intimacy between them was gone. “You knew what you were doing,” he said carefully.

“I said I’m sorry.” She felt guilty. But angry, too. She ran her hand through her hair, suddenly self-conscious. Being in her father’s shirt didn’t help. “I wasn’t thinking.”

“I know,” he said low. “You were playing games. Maybe I’ve been, too, since I got back here. But that moon’s convinced me. I’m not gonna play games with you anymore.”

There was a beat of silence. She didn’t know what to say.

“You’re with the wrong man,” he said, “and we both know it.”

The anger flared up high. “You don’t have any right to say that to me.”

“I can say anything I want. And so can you. You seem to have forgotten that. Or maybe you never learned.”

“I don’t need a lecture. You have no idea what I’ve been through—” Tonight in the tub. This past year. The past
ten
years.

“You’re still with the wrong man.”

Her fingers trembled. “And you’re the right one? Is that what you’re saying?”

“You know damned well I am.”

She reached up and twisted his shirt with her fist. “I’ve had just about enough of your showing off, Mr. Country Music Star. You don’t like not being number one, do you? That’s all this is.”

“You and I both wish.”

The snarky bastard.

But he was right. Neither one of them needed this … this thing between them. She pulled his shirt tighter. “Prove it to me then. Prove to me I’m with the wrong man.”

“Looks like you’ve got something to prove first.”

“Maybe I do.” She reached up and kissed him, boldly exploring his mouth with her tongue. He tasted of wood smoke and sex. “You may be hot. You may have an official Twitter page and a fan club that holds conventions. But I can live without you and your charm, cowboy.”

“Are you sure about that?” Before she knew it, he’d turned her around and was holding the hand that had gripped his shirt behind her back. Then he palmed her belly and hauled her right up against him.

A deep thrill shot through her. She was trapped against him, her bottom pressed up to an erection worthy of a porno. “Yes, I’m sure,” she lied.

He laughed and kissed her neck—soft, sexy, loud kisses—and lifted his mouth a fraction of an inch. “God, you taste good.”

“Mmmm” was all she could manage, and arched back to give him better access. “Don’t think this means anything.”

“No, this is all a big test. You got something to prove.”

“That’s right.”

While she lay back against him, he unbuttoned her shirt. It landed on the floor, and he turned her back around and went right to her breasts, his tongue hot on her nipples.

The shock and pleasure went straight to her core. She gave a little moan, and her hips thrust forward in response. But she was still in charge of herself. She excelled at staying in control. He might have her body, but he didn’t have her heart.

Nosirree.

“Sexy,” he murmured, and put a hand in the space between her thighs.

She clenched around his palm while he suckled her breasts and she held on to his hair.

“Why is it so good with you?” She was desperately trying to be furious. “We’ve barely started.”

He lifted his head and kissed her, a bold kiss that promised fantastic sex. “I don’t try to understand it. It’s like trying to understand a pretty tree. Or really good pizza. It just damned
is
. And you’re glad for it.”

“Come up here.” She ran her hands up his chest to encourage him to straighten so she could tug off his shirt. “Wow.” She pulled back to admire him. “How often are you in the gym?”

“A lot. I have to stay in shape for the road.”

“You look good.”

“It’s lonely”—he pulled her close—“having no one to look good for.” He reminded her of his hand. “Ride it, baby. If you dare.”

Unable to resist the pure pleasure the heel of his palm afforded her, she did just that.

“Sweet Jesus, this is my lucky day.” He watched her through half-slitted eyes. “Admit it. It’s yours, too.”

She was about to come to a rip-roaring climax. “No,” she whispered.

“Too proud for your own good. You always have been.”

She moaned. He was doing everything he could with his hands, and now his mouth, to make her capitulate. “Don’t stop,” she heard herself begging, almost over the edge.

But in one swift move, he turned her around, buckled the backs of her knees with his own, and lowered her to the floor with his he-man grip. Next thing she knew, he was hunched over her. Boxer-less. “Got any condoms?”

She didn’t
care
. She wanted his hands back on her, playing her like a fiddle.

“My little hedonist.” He chuckled. “You’re annoyed, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” she admitted.

“You won’t be for long,” he said silkily.

She inhaled a shaky breath. “Look in the closet. I bought some for Weezie and stored them in a bag up here—in case I ever need to give some to her.”

“Don’t move.” A second later, he was back with a tinfoil package. “You do need to give them to her. Before she starts school.”

“Really?” True closed her eyes.

“It doesn’t mean she’ll use them.” He spanked her lightly. “But she needs them.”

“You’re right.”

“You’re hell on a man.” She sensed him moving around, readying himself. “But you’re a good sister.”

“Thanks … I think.”

He straddled her, one muscled arm holding his weight up, the other running up and down her belly, his fingers finally settling at the nubbin that was the center of her pleasure—and frustration. “You have to make a decision,” he said into her ear. “It’s me or him.”

“No.” She drew in a quivery breath and pulsed her bottom against his hand. She couldn’t help herself. He brought out the heathen in her.

His erection pressed relentlessly against her flesh. “You’re the only one who’s ever made me crazy. Ever.” One hand on her breast, he entered her from behind.

Sweet mercy. The fullness of him inside her! She rolled her head in a circle and moaned with the sheer wonder of it.

“Choose,” he said, stroking her slowly.

“Later.” She was panting, for goodness’ sake. Couldn’t a girl enjoy the moment?

“
Now
. You can see all the good turning away from me does for you. I’m still the one. And I always will be.”

In. Out. A sweet pinch of her nipple. A slow roll of his hips. He was torturing her.

“Make me come,” she said. “
Please
.”

“You’re a stubborn woman.”

She didn’t deny it.

He quickened the pace of his ministrations. “Say you choose me.”

“I—”

She was coming. She was on the brink.

“Say it.”

“I choose—” He was pumping now, the eroticism so great she was getting lost in it, the sweet, heady prelude to utter bliss.

But then he withdrew, pushed himself off the floor. She felt him behind her, but she was cold. Oh, so cold.

“Make a decision, True.”

“Come back,” she whimpered.

“No more chances. I walked away from you once, and I can do it again. Can you?”

God, she felt empty. Cold. A shell without him. She bowed her head. “No,” she whispered to the floor. She’d lost her little game.

But it felt so good to admit it.

Finally
.

She gave a little sob. “I choose you. I do.”

She felt him over her again, his solid, comforting presence. “It’s all right, baby,” he murmured into her ear. Then he kissed her shoulder and entered her once more, showing no mercy until she climaxed with a roar.

At least, it felt like a roar. She was a tigress on a high rock, proclaiming that this was her territory—this man, this time, this place, this love.

“Oh, God. Just like the Katy Perry song.” She gave a little laugh, and wilted against his hand on her belly.

He chuckled and lowered her down so that her cheek pressed against the floor and her arms splayed out. Only then did he take his own pleasure, supporting her lower body weight and caressing her flank as he entered her again from behind. She came again with him, a wild woman dangling from his arms.

A woman who’d chosen.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Harrison lay down beside her and they kissed, a long, luxurious kiss, a let’s-not-let-this-end kind. She laid her head on the crook of his arm. He was a sated version of da Vinci’s Vitruvian Man. She was his.
His.
He didn’t know how they’d work things out. But she wasn’t going to marry Dubose.

No way. No how.

“Let’s go outside,” she said eventually, “to really catch this moon in all its glory.”

“I like how you said that.” He sprang to his feet without making any noise, fully alert.

“Don’t tell me you take ninja classes, too,” she said with a chuckle.

“Nope. I
teach
them. Superhero classes, too.” He helped her into her father’s shirt, then pulled on his own T-shirt and boxers. “What about the dogs?”

“They’ll try to get up and ask us what’s going on, but if we give them a quick head rub, they’ll go right back to sleep. We’ll go out the back door.”

“Gage sleeps hard,” he said.

“So does Weezie.”

Their plan went off without a hitch, and they stepped into a friendly darkness. The earth was sleeping off a heady day. They held hands and walked into the tomato field.

“Everything looks so different at night.” He enjoyed the feel of the cold dirt between his toes and the green vegetation smell of the ripened crop. His heart rate was still a little elevated from the hot sex and True’s nearness.

She crouched between the rows, looking like a stealthy cat in the jungle. And then she sat with her palms back and lifted her gaze to the moon.

God, now she was a she-wolf.

He’d waited so long for this. Too long.

He sat at her feet and leaned on her shins. “We’re good together,” he said simply.

“I know.” She stroked his long, silky hair.

She let her legs fall open, and he landed on her belly. Then she lay on her back in the dirt and they both laughed.

“This dirt feels amazing.” She wrapped her legs around his chest. “I’m not letting you go.”

Dang. He was so overwhelmed, he wanted to have sex again. It came the closest to expressing how he felt about her. He caressed her shins with his hands, and then he twisted around and cradled her in his arms.

They started kissing. Before long, they were naked between the tomato plants, his shirt and boxers laid in chivalrous fashion beneath her bottom. He had a hard-on that was begging for release.

“I didn’t bring anything,” he said.

“Check Daddy’s shirt pocket.” She grinned. “I slipped a condom in there. Why do you think I wanted us to come outside?”

“Ah,” he said. “She a hot tamale
and
a vixen, all rolled into one luscious, vanilla-scented package.”