A Taste of Sugar

by Marina Adair

  “Jace!” she cried as his warm tongue passed through the promised land with a one-way ticket to heaven when his fingers got involved, deliberate and talented, taking her higher and higher and so unbearably high that she was quivering from head to toe.

  He sank his finger in even deeper, a soft, long stroke, followed by a not so soft one, going so exquisitely deep it was as if her entire body held its breath. Waiting.

  Anticipating.

  And Jace delivered, the man always delivered, going for a full withdrawal before sinking back in as he licked and worshipped her so thoroughly she was gasping his name. More like chanting. It was embarrassing, really, in a matter of minutes he had her shaking so hard she was certain her body would come apart. Then gave one final lick and twisted his fingers just how he knew she liked it, and she came apart. Her vision narrowed, her breathing turned nonexistent, and a pleasure so intense rocked her until she exploded.

  “Oh, Jace, yes,” she heard herself cry out, then she was pretty sure she lost consciousness for a brief moment. And that at some point she’d gripped his head and held him there because when she finally came, too, Jace was standing at the foot of the bed, his hair on end from her fingers, her legs dangling lifelessly to the floor.

  He gave her a slow, sexy-as-hell grin. “Not counting that rhythmic chanting you were doing there at the end, I believe you screamed my name twice. And I haven’t even kissed you yet.” He pulled up one leg, then the other, locking them behind his back, positioning their bodies so that all their best parts were perfectly aligned. “At least not on the mouth.”

  The smug male look he was wearing had her preparing for him to enter her in one hard thrust. She was praying it would be one hard thrust. But instead he leaned over her and gently brushed her lips with his, in a kiss that was so breathtakingly tender she felt her throat tighten. Cupping her face, he kissed her eyelids, her cheek, the tip of her nose.

  “Jace,” she whispered, looking up into his eyes.

  “I love it when you scream out my name,” he said, giving her another kiss, this one just as tender, but it seemed to last forever. “But when you say it like that, it slays me. Completely and shamelessly slays me.”

  He kissed her again so she said it again, but what she really meant was I love you. Yet no matter how many times she tried to say it, all that came out was his name.

  Too overcome by the way he was holding her, how reverently his hands, those deliciously rough and demanding hands, softened to form to her every curve, to realize that they were already moving together—making love.

  Mouth on hers, Jace cradled her to him, one hand cupping her face, the other her bottom, pressing them so close that they were sharing the same space, the same breath as their bodies slid against each other, creating a beautiful friction and connection that she had never experienced before. Not even with Jace. He wasn’t being delicate or giving her the debutante treatment, this was different. He was different. Raw and all-encompassing, as though he couldn’t get close enough, deep enough.

  As though he couldn’t get enough.

  He didn’t withdraw or release his grip, just loved her over and over with short, urgent thrusts, until she felt what she feared were tears—blurring the lines until there were none to be found. No rules or hesitation or fear. Just the two of them, open and vulnerable, unafraid of the possible fallout.

  Because whatever the fallout was, it would be worth this moment. This time together.

  The way he made her feel as he kissed her, cherished her with his hands. Down her neck to her breast, as though memorizing the shape of her waist and hips, then back up to her face.

  “Jace,” she said again, and when he pulled back enough to meet her gaze, their bodies so slick with heat they were moving in perfect synch, she went all in. Because it was exactly what he’d promised, a religious experience where she was too tired to fight anymore.

  As she looked deep into his eyes, she could feel herself being pulled, while simultaneously being freed with every stroke. She gracefully gave in to the promise and adoration he showed in his gaze, when he brought her to the point of no return and her body tightened around his, then released.

  Jace caught her gasp with his mouth as he came with her, and whatever little piece of Charlotte she’d been holding back she handed over. Freely.

  A few minutes passed before Charlotte was confident that she could speak without embarrassing herself. She opened her eyes to find Jace propped up on one elbow, smiling down at her. “You’re beautiful when you let go like that.”

  “I feel beautiful when I let go with you,” she admitted, her heart beating so fast she could feel it reaching out for his.

  He looked at her mouth and groaned. “Before you start waving that lower lip at me, I need to tell you that you are probably late to your parents’. I know I talked a big game, one I would love to finish, but I’m pretty sure they were expecting you right about now,” he said, his fingers dancing across her stomach.

  “Don’t you have to go to Brett’s?” He gave her a noncommittal shrug.

  “Then I’m right where I want to be.” And there was nothing noncommittal about the way she felt, or the way he was looking at her.

  With unsure expectancy in his eyes, he asked, “Are you sure?”

  She’d never been more sure of anything in her life. Because although she’d promised to go in headfirst, she was pretty sure that she had just jumped in heart first. And she could have sworn when Jace pulled her in close, cradling her against him as if he was finally home, that he had, too.

  * * *

  After a long day, Jace wanted nothing more than to go home and play another round of She Works Hard for Her Money. Charlotte had chosen the perfect dress, which Jace had been dreaming about all day—only she wasn’t home. And Cal and Brett had each texted him nine thousand times, which was how he found himself at the local watering hole, crammed into a too small booth between his two older brothers.

  “I’m already on my second glass,” Cal said. “You’d better catch up.”

  Jace looked at Brett, who held up his soda. “I’m the designated driver.”

  The Saddle Rack, a leave-your-shitkickers at the door and your cash on the counter kind of place, was already packed. Classic country was playing on the jukebox, the Falcons were on the giant plasma screens, and the bar was shoulder-to-shoulder cashmere and pearls. It seemed that the Sugar Peaches had called an emergency meeting, which meant that the lovely Dr. Holden was holding court in a pretty cream dress that was fitted at the waist but flared out at the hem to flirt around her knees. It wasn’t the dress, but close enough, and it was flirting with him all right, brushing sexily back and forth and calling out, teasing him until he was half hard.

  Too bad its owner wasn’t as breezy, he thought, taking a swig of beer, since she looked as if she was about ready to stab Darleen with her knitting needles.

  “How’s the car coming?” Brett asked.

  Jace took one last look, then dragged his attention to his brother. “The paint’s been ordered, Harvey loaded up the car on his truck about an hour ago, and if all goes well it should be delivered to the upholstery shop Thursday and back to us Saturday morning.” Which gave Jace a few hours after his last class to give her one final inspection and make her parade-ready. A tough timeline, but if everyone did their job, not impossible, something to celebrate.

  Or so he thought.

  “But you didn’t call me to talk about the car.” Or grab a celebratory beer.

  Jace had walked in to find a full pitcher and Cal’s ugly mug, and he knew this wasn’t a simple shoot-the-shit bro night. And by the storm brewing in Cal’s eyes, it most likely had something to do with him skipping family night. “Is this about dinner last night? Because I called Joie, explained that I couldn’t make it, but could do Wednesday.”

  He was even thinking of asking Charlotte if she wanted to go.

  “I’m good, bro.” Brett sat back and sipped his soda. “I’m just here to play re
feree.” Brett looked at Cal. Cal said nothing. Brett sighed and said, “He heard you’re helping Charlotte out with the Founder’s Day parade.”

  “Is that a problem?” Jace asked, sensing that it was.

  “Are you still set on leaving next week?” Cal asked.

  “That’s the plan.”

  Cal leaned forward. “Then yeah, it might be, since I also heard you’re taking day trips and sharing bunks with her, too.”

  Jace’s pulse idled. “Where did you hear that?”

  He waited for Cal to answer, but the uncomfortable silence stretched on. Not a surprise, Jace thought, knowing he’d been lucky to keep his brothers in the dark this long. And if there was one thing Cal hated, it was being kept in the dark. A residual tick from having one’s wife walk out on him for another man.

  Which was why he’d planned on telling them later that week. Only someone had beat him to the punch.

  “I can’t believe I expected Hattie to keep it quiet.” He should have known, in this town secrets were as precious as babies, whoever had bragging rights was bound to flap their lips. And if Hattie told Cal, and Cal told Brett, then that left the question, who the hell else knew?

  “Hattie knows?” Cal asked in disgust, and Jace held in a groan.

  “Yeah, you might have wanted to keep that to yourself,” Brett whispered. “I had my suspicions when the dingy went MIA and Cal had channeled that big-brother oracle shit he does, but you just confirmed it.”

  “I was going to tell you,” Jace said, then wondered if he was telling the truth. He’d never mentioned the marriage because Charlotte had her reasons, justified reasons, looking back, but when he’d come home or taken her to Atlanta, what had stopped him then?

  “Payton went to your room to talk about cars last night and found an empty bed. When you weren’t back by breakfast she freaked,” Cal said, running a hand down his face. “If you want to play sleepover with a lady, fine, just don’t do it with Glory’s boss and pretend you’re sleeping at my house. Come on, bro, we’re all too old to be sneaking out windows. And Payton is too smart not to figure out what you’re doing, and maybe try it on her own someday.”

  Jace hadn’t thought that far. Never for a second did he stop to consider how it would affect the rest of his family. “I should have been straight up with you.”

  “All right then, here’s your chance.” Cal pulled out a thick manila envelope and slid it across the table. Jace looked at the names typed across the front and everything suddenly became real.

  Mr. and Mrs. Jace McGraw

  18526 Sugar Lake Circle

  Sugar, Georgia 30359

  “Doesn’t anyone in this family respect address labels?” He looked over to make sure Charlotte wasn’t looking back, then palmed the package and tucked the envelope under the table. The second his hands made contact, though, his stomach turned. He’d known the annulment was coming, he just hadn’t expected it until later in the week.

  And after last night he was hoping it would never come.

  Yet there it was, sitting in his lap, as concrete as the weight in his chest. Everything he’d wanted, had come to Sugar to achieve, was just a signature away.

  “I didn’t open it. I should have, but I didn’t.” Cal said. “Hattie kept asking if I checked the mail, which meant she was checking the mail, most likely for something that wasn’t addressed to her. So when I saw a contract-size envelope from the county recorder’s office in Atlanta made out to you and the missus I decided to hand deliver it myself.”

  “Thanks,” Jace said, wishing Hattie had found it and hid it from him like she had the other one because then he wouldn’t have to tell Charlotte that the annulment was in. And she could end their marriage a week early.

  “Is that what you and Charlotte went to Atlanta for?” Brett asked. “To get married?”

  “No.” Jace flipped his ball cap backward and ran a hand down his face. “Not even close.”

  “Then why are you spending time at the pretty doctor’s house?” Brett wanted to know, and the disappointment in his voice damn near took Jace under. Had him regretting not telling them earlier, because they deserved to know. And he needed advice, bad. Who better to give it than the two men who had sworn off love, only to find it here in Sugar?

  Jace looked over at Charlotte. She was pressed and primped and holding court, and she was so damn perfect for him his chest hurt. “Four years ago Charlotte and I filed for an annulment.”

  “Rewind,” Brett said. “Because when the hell did you get married?”

  “About three weeks before we filed to end it. Only there was a mix-up with the paperwork, and, well,” he gestured to the contract in his lap, “we’re still married. For another few days anyway.”

  “I need a beer.” Brett took Jace’s mug and drained it in one swallow.

  “Better?” Jace asked.

  “Hell no,” Brett said, looking appalled. “You’re married, man. To the hottest doctor in town. And you’re moving to Atlanta?”

  Yeah, that pretty much summed it up.

  “I need another beer.” Brett reached for Cal’s.

  Cal smacked his hand away. “Back up and start at the beginning.”

  Jace did, not leaving anything out. And when he got to the part about Charlotte’s job in Atlanta and the rumored lawsuit with Dylan McAdams, he felt like he was going through it all over again. After that story broke, Jace’s arrest photos had been everywhere. It would have cost her that job, no question. But looking at how things turned out, he knew in his gut that it was a bad move. She’d left Atlanta anyway.

  Only she’d left alone and heartbroken.

  “So you need the annulment to get the loan?” Cal asked after Jace finished.

  Jace nodded and Brett let out a low whistle. “Then it’s either the garage or the girl?”

  “It’s more complicated than that,” Jace felt the need to say, because when phrased that way it didn’t even sound like there was a choice to be made.

  “Then let me uncomplicate it,” Cal said leaning in on his elbows. “Are you going to sign it?”

  “I don’t know.” Charlotte had agreed to three weeks. At the end, if he couldn’t convince her for more, then he wasn’t sure what he’d do.

  “Do you love her?” Brett asked, and Jace shot him a hard look. “Right, you married her.”

  “Charlotte’s it,” Jace admitted, finding himself watching her again. No matter how hard he tried, he was always drawn back in, like a moth to the flame. But this time she was watching back.

  Oh, her eyes weren’t on him just then, so to anyone else Dr. Charlotte Holden, current regent of the Sugar Peaches, appeared to be hard at work doing Peachy things. But to someone who knew her, someone like, say, Jace, who knew that every time she ran her finger over her pearls, or nibbled that lower lip, she was flirting. But that flirting quickly became foreplay when she scooted her sweet ass around the table so she had to bend way over to point to something on the other side, causing her prim and proper skirt to ride up the back of her thighs.

  It didn’t reveal much, but just enough to remind Jace that hidden under that Sunday dress was one hell of a sexy woman who had a penchant for trouble. “For me, she’s it. Always has been.”

  Always would be.

  “Does she know that?” Cal asked.

  “Still working on that part.” Which was why he needed every day he’d been promised.

  Brett laughed. “Right, because nothing says I love you like moving two hundred miles away.” Jace opened his mouth to explain that he was figuring that part out, had a few ideas spinning in his head, only Brett, being the girl he was, wasn’t done bitching. “And before you go saying that Atlanta Motorsports is your dream, acknowledge that you came up with that dream when we were kids. Sitting on mom’s shag rug, eating Popsicles while playing with your Hot Wheels in our tighty-whities.”

  “Sure, but that doesn’t invalidate it.”

  “You were seven.” He grabbed a cocktail napkin and scri
bbled a rudimentary car on it and held it up. “Boy’s dream.” Then pointed to Charlotte. “Man’s dream.”

  “Who the hell are you to talk? You call your loafers cleats and hit little balls with a stick. How manly is that?” he pointed out. But Brett had a point, working on exotic cars had been a kid’s dream, and he’d lived out most of it. Buying Atlanta Motorsports seemed like the next logical step. Then again, thinking logically never seemed to work that well for him.

  Brett shrugged. “Joie thinks golf is sexy.”

  And Charlotte thought Jace with his unfriendly tattoos and unapproachable demeanor was sexy. She’d also thought, at one point, that he was a sound bet.

  Him.

  Jace McGraw.

  The guy who spent most of his youth running wild and his teen years chasing trouble. The guy who cut out after graduation, then cut out on her when things got complicated. The same guy whose unwillingness to listen cost his parents their lives.

  Charlotte looked at that guy and promised him forever. And what a lucky SOB he was, because once again Charlotte was giving him a chance to be the kind of man she deserved. A man like his brothers. A man like his dad.

  She was also giving him a prime view of those mile-long legs again. And yet he was thinking of moving away.

  Cal laughed and sat back. “Ah, shit, bro. I know that look.”

  “What look?” he asked, wondering if he was frowning again.

  “The one that says you’re screwed and you know it.” Cal refilled both mugs to the top. “I bet there will be other garages in your future, but when it comes to the right woman, you usually only get one shot, damn lucky if you get two. But I guarantee you won’t get a third.”

  Jace lifted his beer. “To not blowing it.”

  Cal held up his beer in salute, and Brett put his hands out as if calling a foul on the play. “How come when I fuck up, you’re all ‘man up, bro’ over a bowl of cereal? But when he fucks up you buy him a beer?”

  “I always liked him better,” Cal said, and Jace toasted to that.

  * * *

  Charlotte slid her panties into her purse and did her best not to giggle. But she couldn’t quite pull it off as she smoothed down her skirt, knowing that underneath she was commando. Jace’s favorite color. Better yet, it came with a matching bra.