by Lucy Score
Phoebe shrugged, not wanting to cop to falling for what now sounded like an idiotic train of thought.
“You think you’re that irresistible?” he asked, those gray eyes dark and searching.
“Excuse me! Some people think I’m a catch,” she argued. “To put it in terms that you’d understand, some men would be thrilled to be ‘an item’ with me.”
“Guess you’ll have to take Cardona off that list,” John said, nodding across the dance floor.
Momentarily forgetting her own angst, Phoebe softened. Michael was dancing with Hazel, and the look on his face was positively sinful. Hazel didn’t look like she minded it a bit.
“It’s about damn time,” John muttered.
“If it’s about damn time, why haven’t you done anything to help him in that direction?” Phoebe wondered.
“I did. I just told him to get his head out of his ass.”
“Just told him as in recently?” Phoebe asked.
“Yeah. A week or two ago.”
“What the hell took you so long? I was here all of a week when I realized he’s head over heels for her.”
“I let nature take its course,” John shot back. “Things work out best when you don’t try to force them.”
“Or they never happen at all,” she argued. “Sometimes things need a little push in the right direction.”
“That’s not the way I operate,” he told her.
Phoebe rolled her eyes. “Oh, believe me. I know.”
“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Now he was getting annoyed.
“You a plodder.”
“A plotter?”
“P-L-O-D. You’re not a mover and shaker. You don’t make quick decisions because you’re too busy weighing out every possible outcome.”
“There are consequences to every decision,” John reminded her, irritated.
“Yeah, yeah. And sometimes, when you spend all your time worrying about the consequences, you miss out on some really great opportunities because you think everything to death!”
“What are you talking about?” he demanded.
“Ugh. Forget it. Just forget everything.” Phoebe pulled herself out of his grasp and stalked away.
She didn’t want to go back to the blanket with her mood black as the darkening night sky. She wanted to be alone and fume in peace. She slipped around the gazebo and away from the merriment, cursing the crazy town’s crazy vibes that were making her crazy.
The man was infuriating. He had a smart, interesting, attractive, willing woman—one that he admitted to being attracted to—under his roof for the next month, and John Pierce, with his glacier-like moves and 1950s etiquette, couldn’t get beyond his pro/con list. If he wasn’t worried about falling head over ass for her, then maybe he just wasn’t interested. And he could have saved her a ton of angst by admitting it, letting her suffer her embarrassment, and then moving on.
She felt better, letting her temper guide her to a tree line just beyond the gazebo. On the other side of the park, hundreds of Mooners were anxiously awaiting their co-dependent town’s celebration of independence. And she should be enjoying it with them. It was a once in a lifetime chance to be right here, right now. And she was wasting it moping over a man who was never going to make his move.
“What is my problem?” she asked the night.
“You lack patience. You need to know what you want and be patient enough to get it.”
John’s hands were on her, turning her to him. She opened her mouth to argue, to apologize, to promise she’d give it a rest. But the words never came out. John’s mouth was on hers, softly, sweetly, with a steady undercurrent of determination.
Chapter Seventeen
Explosions of color and fire lit the sky in a spectacular show. But it was nothing compared to what Phoebe saw when John’s mouth covered hers. Softly at first, sweetly, his lips moved over hers. His fingertips held her face, still giving his mouth free rein to explore. The heat, the tenderness overwhelmed her. She was dizzy with it as he unglued her piece by piece.
Finally, when she thought she could take no more, John deepened the kiss. His tongue swept inside her mouth to taste and tease. Phoebe felt her toes curl into her sandals as if they were trying to hold her upright. She clung to him, fingers cramping from the strength of her grip on his shoulders.
She felt the booms of the fireworks in her bones, and the rest of her body vibrated with the need that John had ignited within her. His hands were on the move, sliding down her back to the curve of her ass. He squeezed, lifted, hitching Phoebe up his body. She wrapped her legs around his waist and enjoyed the new angle of the kiss.
Her brain completely blanked. All that registered was pleasure and need, and there was so much of both.
He pulled away even as she tried to drag him back, hold him still. “We need to go home. Now.” His voice was jagged like shards of glass.
“God, yes.”
Half stumbling, they made the mad dash to John’s truck in the shadows, pausing only twice to fuse their mouths together again, hands wandering, fingers gripping.
He opened her door, feasted on her mouth until she was frantic, and then slammed the door shut in her face before racing around to the driver’s side.
He jumped in, starting the engine before his door was even shut. Phoebe was already sliding across the seat to him.
“Do not distract the driver,” he ordered.
Phoebe ignored the direct order and shucked her t-shirt over her head.
“Oh, sweet Jesus,” he muttered, shooting her breasts a desperate look as they careened toward home.
“I’ve never seen you drive so fast,” Phoebe murmured, returning her mouth to the tensile curve of his bicep. She nipped. “Usually you’re so slow and methodical.”
“If you don’t behave, we’re going to end up in a ditch.”
“I don’t care where we are as long as you’re inside me.”
“Christ. When you talk like that, it drives me insane. There’s no blood left in my brain.”
Phoebe slid her hand down his chest, over taut abs to the waistband of his Levi’s. “I wonder where it all went?” Playfully, she yanked the button on his fly open.
“I think I’m going to black out.” He pressed the accelerator down to the floor as they left the town limits. The old truck reluctantly picked up speed.
She drew down the zipper on his jeans with her last ounce of patience.
“Phoebe.” There was a warning in there somewhere tangled up with breathless yearning.
“Just drive, John.” She plunged her hand into the loosened waist band and breathed hot against his shoulder when she found him hard.
They were flying now at least as fast as the truck could manage, which wasn’t much higher than the speed limit. But she was done waiting, done over-thinking, done letting him plot and plan and weigh his options. She slipped her fingers under the band of his boxers and gripped flesh, hot steel flesh.
The way John gritted out her name made her shaky and weak.
She bit her lip to keep the desperate noises that were clawing their way up her throat quiet. Determined to drive him to the edge, Phoebe stroked down from the crown of his cock to the thick root.
John cut the wheel hard to the left on an oath. She felt the truck slide, heard the grate of gravel churning beneath them, and felt the dull thud of an impact. “Close enough.”
They were in his driveway—technically next to it—the tailgate gently kissing the fence post it had fishtailed into.
John cut the engine and lifted his hips, shoving down his jeans.
“Yes,” she hissed, yanking his boxers with the jeans. And when he sprang free, one of those moans clamored its way out of her throat.
He was on her then, hands cupping her breasts through the lace of her bra, mouth tasting what her lips offered.
“We need to slow down,” he murmured, against her jaw.
“No tim
e.” Phoebe fought his shirt over his head and licked and bit a path over his chest.
He sucked in a breath through his teeth which turned into a groan when she wrapped her tight fist around his shaft and stroked, pumping him hard enough to coat his blunt crown with moisture.
“Damn it.” He shoved the straps of her bra off her shoulders and unhooked the closure. She spilled free into his hands and then his mouth was on her. First one tender peak and then the other. His desperate pulls had Phoebe arching her back, offering him more. Overwhelmed, out of control. That’s how he made her feel.
He stroked the flat of his tongue over her nipple, and Phoebe’s head fell back on her shoulders. She wanted this, to be awash in nothing but pleasure, sharp and jagged, and John was taking her there as if he already knew every secret desire she had.
“Are you still thinking of the future Mrs. Pierce?” she gasped out the words.
“I can forget about her for a night,” he murmured against her breast. “Besides, technically we’re not in the house.”
She grabbed his face in her hands. “You’re not going to want to marry me after this, are you?”
“God no. You’re not my type,” John promised.
Her laugh was breathless. He tore himself away from her mouth and feasted on her neck, making her tremble as his rough jaw stroked over her flesh. Her nipples, damp now, strained for more.
“I can’t catch my breath,” she whispered.
“You can have mine,” he promised.
She sucked in an unsteady breath. “Please tell me you have a condom.”
His mouth froze on the upper curve of her breast, just over where her heart hammered. “Fuck.”
She shook her head. “I’m just messing with you. I have one in my pocket.”
His head came up, gray eyes dark. “You’re evil. You’ve been carrying a condom around with you?”
“Lucky charm. Do you want to argue about my optimism, or do you want to put my condom to use?” Phoebe settled the question by unbuttoning the fly of her shorts.
Even in the dark, she could see those gray eyes go molten.
“Take them off,” he ordered, voice harsh.
There was no “please,” no determination to go slow. She’d won, and that dark victory had her heart pounding, blood scorching its way through her veins. She would belong to him tonight, and he to her.
He bit her lightly on the shoulder, and Phoebe’s fingers tremored when she retrieved the condom from her pocket.
“Here.” She thrust it at him and, with more enthusiasm than finesse, rid herself of her shorts and underwear.
John tore the wrapper open and fumbled once, refusing to take his eyes off her. Phoebe grabbed the condom, and as she rolled it down that thick column of flesh, John licked two fingers and guided them between her legs.
“Oh, my God.”
“Just you wait,” he said darkly, sliding them into the wet heat of her core.
The invasion had her thighs trembling as she fought to stay on her knees. He pulled out and slid home again, Phoebe riding his hand as he moved.
“I want to touch you,” she whispered, reaching for his hard-on.
“Later. I won’t last if I give you free rein.”
She was already quivering around his fingers, dangerously close to the edge. “I need you, John.”
And then he was lifting her to straddle him, and she was opening for him. He thrust into her in one, smooth motion and then clutched her to him. For a second, Phoebe just felt. The brutal fullness. The quick rise of his chest as it played over the tips of her breasts. The charge in her blood that begged her to move, to take.
He held her there, reminding her exactly who had taken her to this edge. And when he finally moved, finally stroked in and out of her, she was coming hard and bright, gripping his shoulders with all her might so she wouldn’t come apart in his arms.
“Yes,” he grunted as she rode him violently until the tremors subsided to little shivers of pleasure.
She collapsed against him for a moment, collecting her breath. Surprised to find his heart pounding in time with her own.
“More,” she whispered against his neck.
He gave her more, one hand between her legs stroking her where she needed it. John leaned forward and latched onto her breast. His thrusts were faster now, and she could feel the build coiling within him. He was going to come, and she was going to take him there, wrapped around him, shattering with him.
She slammed down against his thighs drawing a satisfying groan from him. His hand gripped her hip hard, callused palms against smooth curves.
“Come for me again, Phoebe. Take me with you.” His demand was a joy to fulfill.
Phoebe met his furious thrusts beat for beat, rocking her hips into him until sweat dotted her skin. The cab of the truck, their own personal pleasure den, was humid like a rain forest. She smelled him, that scent of wind and sun and sweat and straw. Felt his muscles bunch under her hands as his entire body tensed.
She was taking him over the edge. She tightened around him, and he made a desperate noise. He gripped her hips with both hands and slammed her down on his cock holding her there. His muscles froze, and she felt him come. His shout was triumphant, and it dragged her over the cliff after him. With him fully sheathed in her, her orgasm bloomed, and then he began to move again, thrusting through each shattering wave they shared until there was nothing left to give, and she was like water in his arms.
--------
The sound of a horn brought them back from the orgasmic abyss. The mental fog of satisfaction was so thick, it took a full ten seconds for Phoebe to realize it was her ass resting against the steering wheel that was making the horn sound.
John lifted her off the wheel.
“Did that just happen?” Phoebe murmured against his neck where she’d buried her face. His rough fingers trailed up and down her back in delicious, feather-light strokes.
“Yeah, it happened.”
“You don’t sound pleased. Are you mad?”
She felt rather than heard his laugh. “I don’t see how someone could be human and be mad after that.”
“But this wasn’t your plan,” she pressed.
John’s fingers found their way into her hair, combing their way through, still gentle.
“Maybe there’s something to be said about a detour. You know me, I like to work with nature rather than against it.”
“This was very natural,” she said, a sexy smile spreading her swollen lips. “No regrets?”
“Just one.”
Phoebe lifted her head to look into his eyes. He was relaxed, thoughtful, and still touching her in slow, sweet strokes. “What’s your regret?”
“That I didn’t listen to you sooner.”
She laughed and pressed a kiss to his closed lips. “Repeat after me. Phoebe is always right.”
He tickled her instead, and she got a funny feeling in her stomach when he flashed that crinkle-eyed grin. They were still joined, and the moment was so intimate it gave her pause. Mrs. Nordemann’s words echoed in her head. He’s ready to settle down. Why don’t you stay here?
From where she sat, with him still inside her, the idea didn’t sound quite as ludicrous. And that was what prompted her to lift off of John’s lap and slip onto the seat next to him. She needed to break that connection, or she’d end up broken hearted at the end of the summer.
John would fall for a different kind of woman. One who thrived on long silences and the quiet isolation of farm life. She had different plans for herself, different needs. As long as she could keep a sliver of distance between them, they could part ways at the end of the summer. Each free to pursue the future they’d planned.
He ran a finger over the line between her eyebrows. “Deep thoughts?”
“Anyone who has the power to think after that is inhuman,” she declared.
“I find your silence disconcerting,” he teased. “I like i
t better when you’re blurting out everything that goes through your mind.”
She laughed and leaned in to hug him. “Bet you wouldn’t have thought you’d feel that way when we first met.”
He grinned at her, and she pressed her face to his shoulder to quell the quiver in her belly.
“I have a question,” she confessed to his skin.
“What’s that?”
She trailed her teeth up his neck and over the edge of his jaw. “Can we do it again?”
He held her by her forearms. “Hang on, insatiable. Let’s talk a minute.”
“What’s there to talk about?” she asked innocently.
“Phoebe.” He said her name with a world weariness. “That was a big decision we just made. Let’s lay some ground rules.”
“No sex in the house?” she offered, thinking of the future Mrs. Pierce.
John stared down at her breasts that she’d neglected to cover. “I think it will be easier if I just tear down the house and start over.”
“Okay, good. Because I don’t want to get hay in my crevices. What else?”
“What does this mean?”
She laughed and rubbed her nose against his cheek with affection. “Isn’t that my line?”
“It appears I’m the only one concerned with the long-term effects of this.”
He was dead wrong, but she wasn’t about to get into all that and ruin the afterglow. “What do you want this to mean?” she asked, linking her hands behind his neck.
He shrugged. “I may be able to eventually wrap my head around temporary, but I can’t do casual.”
“So, monogamous then?” Phoebe clarified.
“Hard line.”
“Agreed,” she said cheerfully.
“You make it sound like we’re deciding on appetizers.”
“If that was an appetizer,” she said, gaze sliding to his crouch, “I may not survive the entrée.”
He pinched her. “Be serious for five seconds, please.”
“John. I like you, you like me. We know this can’t go anywhere beyond the summer. Let’s just be okay with that and enjoy it. I want to look back on you as my most memorable summer. Everyone should have a summer love that they remember forever.”