“That is a fact. If you do, I’ll get you home safe.”
That made me smile, and a warmth that had nothing to do with the liquor spread through me. I knew he would get me home safe. I could drink myself into oblivion, leaving me completely vulnerable, and I’d wake up in his bed tomorrow, no harm done—save the wicked hangover I’d be nursing. I trusted him.
Who else in this world did I trust like that? Almost no one.
I took another sip. It was damn good. “Thanks.”
A burst of laughter from near the pool tables carried over the music. Scarlett and Cassidy were cracking up at something. Devlin watched Scarlett, the end of his pool cue resting on the ground by his foot. Even from over here, I could see the adoration on his face. Bowie was looking at Cassidy with the same eyes.
I glanced around the bar again. At Shelby and Jonah, who’d joined the others at the pool tables, standing close together like they didn’t want to stop touching. At George and June, now the sole occupants of the dance floor, swaying to “Tennessee Whiskey.” At Jameson holding Leah Mae’s hand over their table, idly twisting her engagement ring while they talked.
They had a potential crisis on their hands, but I realized none of them were going to stop living. Watching Gibson’s family, I saw smiles and laughter. Good-natured shit talking. Kisses and soft touches. These people were spilling love all over the place.
It made me want to tuck them into my pocket and keep them forever. And the notion that I could maybe one day be a part of this—really, truly a part of it—brought the sting of tears to my eyes.
It also sent another fierce jolt of resolve pouring through me. I wasn’t going to let my family ruin these people. No matter what it took.
Gibson reached across the table and took my hand. He straightened my arm and traced his fingers over my tattoos. Across the subtle ridges on my wrist, up to my elbow on the inside of my arm. “This is why you always wore long sleeves, isn’t it? Why you were wearing a cardigan, even though it was summer.”
I nodded. “I always did. I found lightweight ones so I didn’t get too hot. And I suppose I was used to it.”
His brow creased and he kept caressing my arm. “You even had one of those swimming shirts, didn’t you? One with sleeves.”
I glanced at his hand against my tattoos, thinking back. Somehow with him touching me like this, I could draw on the memories without feeling like they’d drown me. “Yeah, a rash guard. The one I had that summer was pink and blue, with bikini bottoms to match. I always left the house with shorts on so my parents wouldn’t object to it. Even though it had sleeves, it was cropped pretty high. Showed a lot of my midsection.”
“Why didn’t we ever notice?” he asked. “Why didn’t any of us wonder why you always wore long sleeves?”
I slid my fingers along the back of his hand. “I was very good at hiding my secrets. I’d started early, so it was second nature. I knew exactly how to behave to make it look like I was a normal girl. How to draw attention away from any little clues that might tip someone off. And people see what they expect to see most of the time. If my face didn’t show my fear or pain, people didn’t know to look for it.”
“I should have known.”
“No, you shouldn’t have,” I said. “And Gibs, those days we spent in the woods meant more to me than I know how to say. You made me feel good, and safe, at a time when I needed that more than anything.”
His face lifted, his blue eyes meeting mine. “Oh my god.”
“What?”
“I didn’t even think about it when you said your name. Maya Davis. Davis ain’t your Blue Moon family’s last name, is it?”
I nibbled my bottom lip, feeling that little tug of sheepishness again. “No. Theirs is Holly.”
“Davis is my middle name.”
“Yeah, I kinda borrowed it from you.”
A slow grin spread across his face and he took my hands, bringing them to his lips. “You can keep it. Although maybe someday…”
He trailed off, but I knew what he was thinking. He didn’t need to say it. Maybe someday he’d give me his last name, too.
Right then and there, it happened. There was no stopping it now. I felt light, like I could float off this stool, filled with a heady euphoria. I wasn’t getting tipsy from the moonshine. But I was drunk, all right. Drunk in love with Gibson Bodine.
26
GIBSON
The scars on Callie’s arms weren’t noticeable when you looked at her, not with those beautiful tattoos. But I could feel them beneath my fingertips. Small ridges marring her otherwise smooth skin.
They rekindled my anger at her father, but instead of giving into it—and probably taking it out on someone else—I turned away from the raging heat that burned in my gut. It was still there. That man needed justice—Bootleg or otherwise—before I’d ever truly let it go.
But tonight, I didn’t want to simmer in rage, like a pot threatening to boil over. I wanted to have a good night with my girl. Wanted it more than I wanted to be mad.
And damn, she made it easy.
That smile. Those hazel eyes, so pretty and clear. Her long wavy hair hung around her shoulders—a wild mix of blond, purple, turquoise, and blue. Her flowy dress was a hippie sort of sexy, like she ought to be wearing a crown of flowers on her head. She had a thin gold ring on one index finger, and a ring with a purple stone on another.
It hit me, like a punch to the face, that she was here with me. This beautiful girl with a spine of steel and a survivor’s spirit was sitting across from me, looking into my eyes, smiling.
She’d borrowed my middle name, taken it with her when she’d left. Truth was, she’d taken more than that. She’d taken a piece of me. But instead of wishing for it back, all I wanted was to give her the rest.
Suddenly all those old country love songs I’d played so often made perfect sense.
“Did that teenage daydream of yours happen to involve dancing?” I asked.
Her eyes lit up. “You dance?”
“I’m a man, ain’t I?” I said, almost offended that she was surprised. “Every Bootleg man worth his salt knows how to dance.”
I took her hand and led her to the open space we used as a dance floor. June and George were still there. Bowie and Cass had joined them. I slipped a hand around Callie’s waist, to the small of her back, and pulled her close.
Truth be told, my dancing skills were probably a bit rusty—I rarely used them—but for a slow song, it didn’t matter. I knew how to lead, and that was the important part. And simply having Callie next to me—the excuse to touch her—was enough.
The slow song ended, and it rolled into a new one. “Meant to Be.” It was a little more upbeat, and too new for us to have ever played it together before. But I knew the words, and I was feeling it in my bones, so I quietly sang along. Singing it just for her.
I wasn’t trying to make a show of it, but Callie lit up. She smiled and danced with me while I sang to her. So I turned it up a little. Sang a bit louder.
The song was a duet, and Callie came in on the next verse, her voice full and clear. That special magic we had together filled the bar. We sang lyrics about love and taking a chance and letting it be. Seeing where things led, just like we’d said before. Sang it for each other while we danced.
Applause erupted at the end of the song, but neither of us acknowledged the crowd. Just looked into each other’s eyes, smiling. I was on some kind of high I’d never felt before and I didn’t want it to end.
The cheers died down, a new song taking their place. “Die A Happy Man.” It was whiskey-smooth with a slow beat. I pulled her in close and breathed in the scent of her hair. Felt her body pressed against mine. Felt those damn lyrics in my soul.
We moved slow and I leaned my forehead down to touch hers. The fabric of her dress felt thin beneath my hands, barely concealing the curves of her body. I touched her, running my hands over her, skimming the line of what was decent.
She tilted her chin up
and I kissed her. Instead of meeting my kiss with softness, she ran her fingers through my hair and parted her lips. I delved into her mouth with my tongue, tasting a hint of apple pie moonshine. The desire I’d fought so hard at first came roaring to life. The music, the feel of her in my arms, and the taste of her lips made my blood run hot.
I was instantly hard for her and for half a second, I thought about shifting so she wouldn’t feel my erection through my jeans. But she pressed herself closer, rubbing up against me. And all I could think about were her words when we’d walked in.
I’m not a teenager anymore.
No, she was not. She was all woman. A woman who was currently driving me crazy on the dance floor.
I leaned in to speak low into her ear. “You’re doing somethin’ to me. You know that?”
“Maybe you should be doing something to me.”
“Honey, you have no idea how much I want to.”
“Then what are you waiting for?” She nipped my earlobe with her teeth. “Take me home.”
She didn’t have to tell me twice. I grabbed her hand and led her straight for the door.
We tumbled out into the quiet night, the air warm and still. She giggled, hanging on my arm as I led her to my truck.
“I didn’t finish my moonshine,” she said.
I knew she was teasing, but I spun her around and pushed her up against the side of my truck. Took her mouth in a kiss. This wasn’t soft or sweet. It was me—rough and untamed. Hard and demanding. I growled into her mouth, pinning her against my truck, and made her melt for me. Pressed my hard-on against her. I didn’t stop until I was sure she knew I was fucking her tonight.
When I finally pulled back, her eyes were glassy and dazed.
“I’ll buy you another one. Now get in the truck.”
For the first time since building it, I regretted my house’s location. It wasn’t far from town, but my consciousness was filled with a haze of lust as I drove. More than lust. I wanted her, but not just for a quick fuck. I wasn’t bringing her home to scratch an itch.
I wanted to love every inch of her.
Finally, we pulled down my long gravel driveway. I got out and she didn’t wait for me to open her door. Cash was out in his yard, but it was warm and he had everything he needed, so I didn’t worry about him for now.
We rushed inside and as soon as I’d slammed the front door behind us, clothes started falling to the floor. She kicked off her sandals and slipped out of her dress. I tore my shirt off and paused with my jeans halfway down my legs, getting my first real look at her.
She stood in front of me in nothing but a light pink bra and panties. Reaching behind, she unclasped her bra and slowly let it drop to the floor.
The sight of those full tits and hard pink nipples short-circuited my brain.
She bit her bottom lip and curled her finger at me. “Get those pants off and come here.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I said, stepping out of my jeans.
She backed up toward my bedroom, a wicked gleam in her eyes. I followed, like a man in a trance, devouring the sight of her. The air between us snapped with electricity, anticipation making my heart thump in my chest.
Stopping next to the bed, she beckoned to me again. I licked my lips and grabbed my cock through my underwear, giving it a short tug as I approached her.
“Ooh,” she cooed, her eyes on my cock. “Big, dirty boy.”
“You have no fucking idea,” I growled.
I grabbed her waist and hauled her against me, feeling her tits press against my chest. Kissed her hard and deep, tasting the cinnamon on her tongue. She slid her hands across my shoulders, to the back of my neck. Her skin was warm and soft against mine, the contact making my nerve endings fire, lighting up the primal parts of my brain.
“On the bed,” I said, giving her a light shove.
She grinned, falling onto her back and scooting up the bed. I climbed on and kissed my way up her thighs. Grabbed her panties with my teeth and pulled them down her toned legs.
“Goddamn, you’re beautiful.”
“I’m on birth control, but we should probably still use a condom,” she said.
“Don’t worry, honey, I got us covered.”
As much as I ached to be inside her, I took my time loving on her body. Kissed her hip bone and across the smooth skin of her belly. Made my way up to her tits. She moaned as I slid one hand down between her legs and licked her nipple.
Sucking on her hard peak, I teased her clit with soft strokes. Dipped a finger into her opening.
“Damn, Callie, your pussy’s wet.”
She moaned again. “Gibs, I’ve been wet for you all night. I need you to fuck me.”
“Yeah?” I pushed my finger inside her and she shuddered. “You need more of this, sweet girl?”
Her only answer was a whimper.
“I’ll give you what you need, darlin’.” I slid a second finger inside her. Pumped them a few times to feel for what she liked. Her eyes rolled back with a groan and I knew I’d found the right spot.
“Gibs.”
I sucked on her tits while I fingered her, getting her good and ready. Enjoyed the feel of her nipple in my mouth, the taste of her skin. She rolled her hips against my hand, soft moans escaping her lips.
I’d never been so turned on in my life.
She gasped as I pulled my fingers out. I brought them to my mouth and sucked off her wetness.
“You taste so fucking good.”
Her cheeks were flushed a delicate pink. She reached down and grabbed my dick, giving it a solid squeeze.
I grunted at the pressure. “You need that, don’t you? You need my cock inside you.”
“So bad,” she breathed.
I leaned down, our mouths meeting in a messy kiss. She squeezed my dick again and I was done playing. I tore off my underwear, grabbed a condom out of the nightstand, and rolled it on.
She opened her legs and pulled me on top of her. Without hesitation, I pushed my cock inside her, groaning as the heat of her pussy enveloped me.
There was no waiting. No long, slow thrust while we sank into it. The tension between us was pulled too tight. I could feel what we both needed. We needed to fuck, and we needed to fuck hard.
I was happy to oblige.
She reached overhead to brace herself against the headboard while I drove in deep. My hips thrust, my muscles flexed. Her pussy felt so good, the heat and pressure overwhelming.
“Yes, Gibson. Fuck, that’s good.”
I kept going. Hard, steady thrusts, making her tits bounce. The pressure in my groin rose fast, but I didn’t let it unleash. Not yet. She needed more, and I was going to give it to her.
Leaning down, I found her mouth again. Kissed her. Sucked on her lower lip. She wrapped her arms around me, holding on tight, and drew her knees toward her shoulders. I drove deeper, slamming my cock into her, grunting with the intensity of it.
Her pussy tightened with a rolling tremor.
“That’s it, honey. You want to come on my cock?”
“Yes, Gibs,” she whimpered. “Make me come.”
“I want this pussy,” I growled into her ear. “It’s fucking mine. You hear me?”
“All yours, baby.” Her fingers dug into my back. “And that cock is all mine.”
That was the hottest thing I’d ever heard in my life. “Only yours, Callie.”
She moved her hands down to grab my ass, pushing me deeper inside her. For a second, I thought about pulling out and turning her over. Maybe getting her on her knees so I could pound her from behind, or lying down so she could ride me. Hell, she was pretty fucking flexible, we probably had a lot of options.
But tonight wasn’t about sexual acrobatics or mixing up positions. Tonight was about one thing, and one thing only. Good old-fashioned dirty fucking.
I felt the tension ease in both of us—anger and fear burning away in the heat of our passion. It was an outlet. A primal release of pent-up emotions. She needed it. I needed
it. And together, alone in my room in the dark of night, we made a new kind of magic.
Her body was new to me, but I let instinct be my guide. She was coming before me—or with me—no matter what I had to do to get an orgasm out of her. Hard and deep seemed to be working for her, but I slowed down, just a little. Enough that I could really grind against her each time I thrust inside.
That was what she needed. Her pussy tightened and her moans turned into uninhibited cries. Her fingers dug into my back while she chanted a breathy stream of yes, yes, yes.
“Yes, baby,” I growled.
I drove in and held there, burying myself to the hilt. I needed to kiss her. To meld my mouth with hers while our bodies joined. Taste her and feel her tongue lapping against mine.
With our mouths still tangling, I resumed my rhythm. She kissed me like she was desperate. Like I was oxygen. I drove harder, faster, feeling her body respond, the heat in her pussy rising. So tight. So hot. Fuck, I was about to unload inside her. I didn’t know if I could hold out much longer.
With a carnal moan, she came apart under me. Her pussy clenched, pulsing with her climax. I rode it out with her, feeling the pressure in my groin intensify.
Like a ripple through still water, all my nerve endings fired, the sensation in my cock staggering. And I came fucking undone.
The most powerful orgasm I’d ever had ripped through me. My cock throbbed inside her as I burst, exploding with a loud groan. I thrust deep, bottoming out. With my face buried in her neck, I growled, muscles clenching, overpowered by the sheer force of it.
My climax subsided, but I stayed inside her, breathing hard into the sheets. Her arms were wrapped around my back and she hooked her legs around my waist.
“I love you,” I whispered, suddenly not giving a shit that it was too soon to say it. I felt it, deep in my soul, and I needed her to know. I knew all too well what it was like to lose someone before you’d had a chance to tell them how you felt. I wasn’t taking that chance with her. “I fucking love you so much, Callie.”
“I love you too,” she said, her voice breaking. “I can’t let you go, Gibson. I can’t.”
Highball Rush: Bootleg Springs Book 6 Page 20