The Naked Truth (The Honeybrook Hamdens Book 1) (8 page)

“You—“ Her mouth widened and her eyes rolled back in her head as he guided her thigh to the side and slid into her with one long thrust.

Then, without thinking, he gripped both her thighs and pushed her higher up against the tree until her legs were wrapped around his back and he was deep inside her, pulsing along with her quaking walls.

“Oh god,” she murmured, and he kissed her neck, still hardly believing that this was happening. That she was finally his and she was just as tight and responsive as he’d ever dreamed.

Again and again he pushed into her, but with every thrust she pulled him in deeper, arched against the tree and willed him to work harder, to take everything she had.

“Chase, I…” she panted, but he knew, knew what she wanted, what she needed.

Hoisting her higher with one hand, he slipped his fingers between them and circled her sensitive bud.

“Chase, Chase,” she chanted his name, and he pounded into her harder with every moan, savoring every little tremor of her walls until they quaked and she tightened around him, her heels digging into his ass as the fissions of her pleasure overtook her.

He captured her mouth with his, kissing her deeper and deeper until he knew it was safe to join her in her ecstasy.

“Fuck yes,” he ground out, and then he was pistoning in and out so hard and fast that her breasts bounced with every thrust.

“Yes, baby, yes,” she moaned for him, and he found her mouth again and kissed her deep and hard as his balls drew up and he throttled off the edge and into the wild abyss of his own pleasure.

When the last waves of his orgasm had subsided, he stayed there inside her, staring down at her face as she panted along with him, and then he set her down on the ground and rolled over until they were side by side on the grass.

After a long pause, though, she smiled and said, “I’ve waited a long time to do that.”

He grinned back at her. “Me too.”

“It was perfect.” She let out a soft sound of contentment, and he didn’t bother to put his clothes back on. Not yet. With an absent finger, he stroked up and down her nude form, studying every curve. He couldn’t let this, tonight, be the last time for them. Couldn’t let her walk away. Not again.

“Julie…” he started, trying to find the words he needed, and she turned to him, her long hair still fanned out behind her.

“What?” she asked.

“The city…”

“I don’t want to talk about the city.”

“You have to, though, don’t you?”

“Not right now. Not while I’m with you.” She breathed deep, then said, “Chase, can’t we for just once in our relationship live in the here and now and not worry about what might happen or what could be?”

“No,” he said simply.

“Why?”

“That’s not how life works.”

She scrubbed a hand over her face, then said, “No, I guess it’s not.”

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

“Helping my family.”

“And then?”

She rolled onto her stomach, the tips of her nipples skimming the grass as she lifted herself onto her elbows. “I honestly don’t know. There’s nothing left for me in the city. No job, no boyfriend…But I have to go back before the show. I have to make this work. Somehow. I need to find something to tell my family…”

“You could just go with the truth.”

“That I got fired? I don’t think so.”

“They’ll understand.”

“Did they understand when I scraped my way through high school? When I dropped out of college? When I broke up with one boyfriend after another?”

“Julie—”

“You don’t understand. You’re not…”

“I’m not what?”

“You’re not one of us. My mother, my sister, my brother…they don’t hold you to the same standards.”

“Right.” He nodded and something sharp twisted between his ribs.

“Just trust me, okay, I have this under control.”

“So you say.”

“I do.” Julie nodded solemnly.

“So, since you’re the great decider, how about you tell me what you and I are supposed to do now.” His gaze roved over her, taking in every inch of her naked body. Given his way, he’d take her all over again right here and now.

And based on the way she got onto her knees and sang her cute little butt in the air? She was just as game for round two as he was.

I
t was
wrong to kiss her back.

Every part of him was screaming for him to stop, to back away, but when his lips had found hers, all he wanted to do was dive deeper, explore just how far he could go.

With one hand, he wove his fingers between her honey locks and with the other he dragged her closer, pulling her to him so he could feel her shallow breathing  against his chest.

“Chase,” she breathed his name, but he cut her off with another kiss, time coaxing her to kiss him deeper, until her tongue joined his and they were pushing and pulling, flirting with disaster and loving every moment of it.

“Chase,” she tried again, and this time he backed away, his eyes still half-hooded as he took her in in the firelight.

How many years now had he wondered what that would be like? How long had it been since he’d last felt this good? This right?

“Jules,” he said.

“I…don’t know what I wanted to say.”

“Then don’t say anything,” he said, and he pulled her to him again.

Julie's cell phone hadn't stopped ringing for what felt like the past two days. If it wasn't problems with the guest list, then it was issues with the models or even the lighting technicians. This show--the show that was supposedly the trademark of her future in the independent fashion world-was falling to pieces around her.

And it wasn't even late enough to justify getting herself a drink.

With a deep sigh, she clicked on her phone and called Trina, who she knew would be on her usual 1:30 lunch break, then held her breath for some shred of good news.

When the line clicked to life, Trina didn't bother saying hello. Instead, she said, "The clothing just arrived."

Julie's gut twisted as she pictured what the clothes probably looked like when they were rolled into the office. It was a moment she'd been dreaming about for years now. The first time she'd see her clothes preparing to be displayed.

But then, of course, she hadn't been there. And even if she told everyone and their mother that the designs were hers, nobody would believe her. Not when believing her put their own fragile careers at risk.

She let out a breath and asked tentatively, "How do they look?"

"Oh Julie, I think you really outdid yourself. They're even better in person than they are on paper. And you know what else? I think a few people are suspicious. I mean, you've seen Troy's designs. These are much sleeker than his stuff. People are noticing."

"Oh good. I'm glad my clothes got him some extra attention."

"I'm just saying..." Trina started, but Julie didn't have the heart to listen.

"Look, I'm over it. It's okay, really. How is everything else?"

"I really don't think--"

“Trina.”

"Are you sure you want to know?"

"I'm positive."

"The catwalk broke."

"The...what did what?" Julie blinked.

"They were installing the catwalk at the venue and it splintered on the way over. It's totally uneven now and with all the girls walking in Troy's crazy heels..."

"We're screwed."

"Screwed might be--"

"Totally appropriate. We're screwed." Julie hung her head. "Okay. I'll think of something. And how is Troy? Is he suspicious?"

"Well, between you and me, I don't think all these things are coincidences. I've worked here for a long time and bad stuff always happens before big events, but this many in a row... Julie, I really think you ought to come back to the city and handle everything in person. It's a lot harder to sabotage someone when they're there to defend themselves."

Julie hesitated. She'd really been hoping that she wouldn't have to go back to the city or the office or Troy or anything like that until she was ready to handle it. And when she was ten pounds thinner and a thousand times more successful. To be honest, she wasn't even sure if she'd go to the show she'd spent the past few weeks planning.

Still, what Trina had said made sense. If Troy was bent on destroying her, it only made sense to try and thwart him. Even if every victory made about as much difference as a sneeze in a hurricane.

She let out a deep breath. "Okay, can you book me a cheap room near the venue? Don’t tell anyone I'm coming. Just make sure everything is all set for me."

"You got it, boss."

"Trina, one day when I'm a famous fashion designer, I'm going to make sure you're a star."

"A well-paid star, I hope."

"The best." Julie smiled, then said her goodbyes and hung up before flopping down onto her bed.

So this was it. She'd have to go back to New York with her tail between her failure legs. Troy had beaten her, and worse than that he'd kicked her while she was down.

She blew out a deep breath and watched the strand of hair in front of her face float up and fall back down, then sat up and decided to do something. Anything. She needed to unwind. To clear her head.

Crossing the room, she reached into her messenger bag and pulled out the thick yellow notebook that had replaced her stolen red one. Turning to a fresh page, she sat down on the bed and tucked the tip of her pencil between her lips.

An image came to mind. A pretty, flowy bridal gown with a high collar and long, elegant sleeves. She shook her head. No, she didn't do bridal designs.

But then she imagined herself as the model. And Chase as a groom, standing up there all dapper and smiling while she practically floated down the aisle.

It was a stupid dream. The kind she'd had so many years ago when she was sixteen and used to scrawl Mrs. Chase Westmore in her notebooks. Still, her pencil got to moving without her consent, and by the end of an hour, she'd not only sketched out a bridal gown, but also a pretty tulle confection that would compliment Amy and Trina's figures both.

Who knew? Maybe by the time she got married, there'd be a third Hamden woman there, too. Luke might have a wife or girlfriend. She tried to picture what kind of woman her brother might end up with, then the door rattled and she jumped up, scrambling across the room to hide her book before the visitor entered her little domain.

"C-come in," she said, standing beside the still-swaying rocker.

Chase rounded the door, his eyebrows knit as he surveyed her. "Your mom sent me up. She wanted me to tell you that we're having pork chops for dinner and you're supposed to set the table."

She blinked, taken aback for a moment by the deja vu of it all. Chase had been in the house nearly every day this week, and normal as it was to see him with her family, she still hadn't quite gotten used to the jolt of electricity that sparked to life in her whenever she saw him. Or the pull she felt to make excuses to hang around with him when he was there.

"Okay, let her know I'll be right down."

"Hang on. Not so fast. What are you doing up here?"

"Working."

"On what?" He walked toward the messenger bag and Julie took another step forward, defending it against his prying eyes.

"Nothing. I'll be down in a second."

"Julie."

"What?"

"Whatever you've got, you've got to share it with the whole class." He made to walk away, then faked back and grabbed her bag off the seat. She reached out, but it was too late. He swept a hand inside, then came up with...

"Cigarettes?" He twirled the packet in his hand, then wrinkled his nose. "Were you smoking up here?"

"No. Those...those are a long story."

"They make Lucky Strikes still?" He examined the box, then glanced at Julie. "You sure you're not smoking?"

"Positive. Now if you'd just--"

She reached for the bag again, but he dipped his hand inside again and pulled out her thick yellow notebook. "A diary?"

"No."

"You sure? Your face is getting awful red."

She pressed a palm to her cheek and felt the rising heat, then tore it away and said, “Positive. Now if you’d just—“

He flipped the front-page open, then glanced at the picture and then up at her face. “These are yours?”

“Yes, okay? They’re mine, but—“

He turned the page, then ran his thumb along the sampled fabric she’d glued beside her design. “They look just like you.”

“I don’t—“

“They’re beautiful, Jules. Really.” He looked at the next page, and this time she glanced at it to see a dress she’d designed for her first big fashion show. It was a purple number with a trumpet waist and a low, sculpted neckline. Ever since she’d drawn it, she’d pictured herself in it a hundred times over.

“Thank you.” She said the words quietly, and he set the notebook down, their eyes meeting in that same, meaningful way that they had that night in the woods.

And in that instant, she knew what she wanted more than anything else in the world.

“We’re alone. Why are you still wearing clothes?” She reached to unbutton his pants, as little as she could move, anyway, but he swatted her hand away again.

He laughed, and then pulled away for a moment to lift his t-shirt over his head. What he did afterward she couldn’t say. She was too focused on the way the moonlight glowed against his rippling muscles, on the glint of his belt buckle as he undid it. She must have, she realized, been undressing too, but damn it all if she knew what she was doing.

He was too beautiful for her to tear her eyes away from him, too perfect, and after all the years she’d waited for this moment, she wasn’t about to miss a single instant. When he pulled his pants away, she caught her breath, then licked her lips are she took in his hard length. He was huge, bigger than she’d ever seen, and for a moment she was worried she might not be able to take all of him.

He rolled a condom over his length, and then he smiled. Before she knew it she was pulling aside her panties and leaving them in the grass, forgotten.

He groaned, pressing his hard, naked body against her. “I had a whole other plan for us tonight, but fuck if I don’t want to scrap it.” He took her wrist and guided her hand to the space between her legs. “Keep going,” he murmured, his voice so full of longing, it was all the encouragement she needed.

He curled his body over hers and she could feel the weight of his stare as he peered over her shoulder. She closed her eyes again, working the jet between her thighs, loving the feel of his cock pressed against her back, growing stiffer by the second.

“That’s so hot,” he groaned in a pained voice.

Good, because she was hurting just as badly. She strained forward, biting her lip as the tension wound tighter and tighter. His low whispers spurred her on, and her motions became almost frantic. He covered her breasts with his hands and plucked her nipples, sending her hurtling off the precipice.

She came hard, shudders wracking her body. Dimly, even as her muscles contracted and flexed, she realized he was yanking her hand away, moving that delicious pressure. She wanted to cry out, to tell him she wasn’t done yet, but an instant later, words were impossible as he bent her over and slid deep inside her in one long thrust.

Aftershocks still tore through her and her inner walls clenched over his distended cock. She was filled with him, and the sensation was so sublime she could barely keep a thought in her head.

“That’s what I wanted to feel,” he said, his breathing so labored, it came out on a gasp.

His hand snaked around her again, but this time at hip level, and the sensual water massage was back again, lapping at her most sensitive bundle of nerves even as he worked himself deeper, nudging against that spot deep inside her that made her want to scream.

He was ruthless, determined.

There was no teasing, no drawing it out, or making her wait this time. He used his body like a machine, pounding into her, sending her hurdling headlong into a brutal climax that had her chanting his name amidst broken cries.

* * *

C
hase’s blood thrummed
, and he groaned. “That’s so damned good.” Calling on every ounce of discipline he had, he drew back, ignoring the insistent pulse in his cock, the drag of her flesh against his, calling to him.

If he wasn’t strong enough to control his need for her, the least he could do was make sure this coupling wrecked her as surely as it was wrecking him.

He tugged her wrists above her head. He leaned into her, moving her hard against the grass, and pressed his hips and chest to hers. She moaned and arched her back, straining to get closer to him as he rotated his hips and ground against her.

She began to pant, rocking against him, begging him, “Come on.”

Her pleas amped him almost to the tipping point. He needed her. Needed to explore how far they could go. He had so much more to show her. So many things he wanted to share with her.

Oh, and also? He’d wanted this every damn day for ten years.

The only way to find out if the feeling was mutual was to test the waters. But right now, he had to focus on dealing with the waters at hand. He slid his wet palm down her neck, over her straining breasts, but skimming past her nipples. Down her flat, smooth belly and between her thighs. He cupped her pussy and gave a firm squeeze, and she writhed against his hand.