He coughed into his fist, hoping it would make his voice sound more normal. “Well, it helps when there are neighbors around on their porches to visit with or a little music to play.” His phone beeped and he jumped, coming to his feet as he dug it out of his pocket.
“Everything okay?” Andra asked, her hand freezing halfway to her glass of lemonade.
He barely heard her over the pounding of his heart. The text was from his friend Ty, but it was only asking for his help with some building-permit paperwork. Nothing about Mama. He picked up his glass and swallowed half of it down without even tasting the sweet burn of the citrus he’d spent half an hour perfecting.
“LJ?” She touched his wrist, her brows knit low now. “Is it your mom? How’s she doing?”
He shook his head. “Wasn’t her. She missed work again yesterday. I called there looking for her, they said she took the day sick, and when I called home, she wouldn’t answer. Had to get a friend to go check on her. She was sleeping, and she still won’t admit she’s getting sick again.”
The creaking of Andra’s rocker paused, the bees in the yard louder in the silence. “Can I ask what her diagnosis is? I mean, if you don’t mind talking about it?”
“Lupus.” He shoved a knuckle across his lower lip. “It’s an autoimmune thing. Like AIDS, but backward, because your body attacks everything: germs, its own self.” He tried to smile. “Figures. My mama never did know how to stop fighting, even when it was time to rest. The lupus comes and goes, and when she gets sick with anything else, it makes it flare up. Sometimes she’s fine, and sometimes she has spells where she’s so weak, it’s all she can do to lift her hand with nothing in it.”
Sympathy drew deep lines at the corners of Andra’s eyes. “It must have been hard on her, being a single mom with that to deal with.”
“She went to work every day, even if she could barely walk across a room without resting.” LJ shook his head. “Wouldn’t let me quit school to help with the bills, so I had to do what I could with after-school jobs, getting off shift at midnight and running my ass all the way home so I wouldn’t miss curfew. She got a lot worse after Katrina, though. I don’t know if it was being wet for so long, or not getting enough to eat in the Superdome, or the damn formaldehyde leaking out of the walls of our FEMA trailer.” He scrubbed both his hands over his head, leaning his elbows forward onto his knees. “Probably all of that and more. Seems like everybody was sicker after Katrina.”
She glanced down. “Is there any treatment for lupus?”
“Pills. Doesn’t fix it.” He shrugged. “I wanted to move away after college, but she was never well enough to be alone until recently. She’s been so healthy this past year, and I thought—” He sat back in his chair. “I don’t know what I thought. That I was selfish and I wanted a life of my own, I guess.” The wind picked up, rustling through the grass, and even that sound was different from home. He liked it, even as nostalgia echoed riverboat foghorns in the back of his mind.
“Are you going to have to go back?” She wasn’t looking at him. Her long lashes were swept down, muscle knotted tightly around every vertebra in her spine. He reached over and smoothed his palm down her back, aching in all the space between his ears that he’d forced into silence.
He knew the answer to her question.
But he also knew that the touch of his fingers could ease the tension in her muscles. He wanted her brilliant-green eyes to look his way and brighten with the laughter he could always tease out of her.
He didn’t want to admit his life in Montana had been a pipe dream, one a part of him had always known couldn’t last.
Eighteen
When they’d first come out onto the porch, Andra had been starving. Now she was just nauseated. Her stomach twisted so tightly she couldn’t quite sit up straight, even with LJ’s hand soothing its way down her back, rubbing the knots out of muscles she hadn’t even known she was clenching.
LJ had been different lately, more and more sadness creeping in around the edges of his brilliant smile. He talked about his home more often, and it was becoming clear the greater part of him was still anchored there. She bit the inside of her lip. His fingers danced lightly down her back, but her body was a wad of old bolts, all rusted together.
She couldn’t imagine knowing your parent needed your help and being so far away. She couldn’t imagine what would ever hold him here if his mama asked him to go.
“Hey, come over here,” LJ murmured. She moved almost too quickly, glad he was missing her touch, too. He guided her into his lap, and his arms wrapped around her, his chest so wide there was plenty of room for her to curl in beneath his chin. “Didn’t mean to let my mood get you down, Andie-girl,” he murmured.
She shook her head, her hair catching on the button of his shirt. “Wasn’t your fault.”
The warmth of his skin melted through her, starting in all the places where they touched and sighing its way in further, her muscles relaxing as if under a deep massage. The way she felt when LJ touched her . . . it wasn’t a feeling she could remember from any other time in her life. Not even in middle school, when simply holding hands could leave her breathless and giggling into the phone to Stacia long after she was supposed to be asleep.
If he left, would anything make her feel this way again?
The three days when she’d had dinner alone loomed in her memory, and she tilted her head up, hoping he would see the invitation.
He smiled when their eyes met, his finger grazing her chin to lift it the last little bit he needed. His soft lips held hers, the scratch of the stubble beyond them harsh when she deepened the kiss. Her hand cupped his throat, and his pulse sped up, beating more urgently against her palm.
A moan rose in Andra’s chest, and she pressed closer, her free hand pulling the hem of his shirt out of his pants so she could feel his skin. It was impossibly smooth, the muscles flexing beneath in immediate reaction to her touch. For a moment, she hesitated, remembering how he’d stopped her the last time she’d gone for the buttons on his shirt. But this time his hands were rough on her waist, hugging her into him so tightly it was almost hard to move, and she wanted more than this.
Her teeth grazed his bottom lip as she shoved his shirt out of the way, her palms making it as high as the thick pads of his pecs. He half growled and shifted beneath her. “Andra, you—”
She didn’t let him finish, her tongue bolder than it had ever been. Every space between their bodies was a nagging reminder of what it was like when her house was empty of the lilt of his drawl, and she hated it.
She stepped off his lap and grabbed his shirt in both fists, hauling him up after her. She stumbled but he caught her, ending their kiss with a ragged gulp of air. His brown eyes were hazy with need. She pulled him inside, the front door banging back against the wall and ricocheting closed. His weight shifted toward the couch, but she took his hand in hers and slid the old multipaned doors aside on their tracks.
“I, uh—” he said.
It was the first time he’d been past those doors into her bedroom, and she kept toward the center of the room so he wouldn’t hit his head on the ceiling that sloped down to either side. He looked huge in here, so tall in her nook of a bedroom, but somehow familiar, too. The way he’d looked at home in her kitchen the first time he’d stepped through the door.
When she made it to the foot of the bed, she spun around, her heart pounding so hard the movement made her head swim.
“I want to . . .” She squeezed his hand. “I want to feel you.” She lost her nerve to look into his eyes and focused on his buttons instead, popping them open from the bottom as if he’d be less likely to stop her there than if she dared to begin at the top.
His lips brushed her bent forehead. “You can do anything you want to when it comes to me, sweet girl.”
She exhaled in a little cry of inarticulate air and pushed up onto her toes,
kissing him hard and fast with no plan at all. It meant so much to be wanted so completely, even when her hands were more unpracticed and clumsy than sensual.
LJ’s palms cupped her waist and slid around the small of her back, thumbs rubbing slow and steady.
His shirt came all the way open under her urgent tugs. She dropped to stand flat-footed and watch as she pushed the fabric up and over the muscles of his shoulders. Her hand was starkly pale, fingers trembling as she traced a path down the ripples of his abs to the button on his jeans. Her throat pinched closed as she took hold of the fastening with both hands. Somehow, she felt if she could be naked next to him, it would soothe the sprinting fear. As close as they were right now, something in her was still screaming that he might leave and once he was gone, there were no guarantees she’d ever hear his voice again.
And even as wanting him wrung her mouth dry, she knew there was a good chance that pulling down his zipper would throw her into an attack she had no chance of stopping.
“You scared?” LJ’s hands covered hers where they had been frozen on his button for three long breaths. His thumb tucked inside the curl of her bloodless fingers, fitting just right into the hollow at the center of her palm. “Most girls are,” he said conversationally. “‘LJ, it’s so big and hard,’” he added in a southern falsetto. “‘Ain’t no earthly way it’s gonna fit in there. Couldn’t you make it a little smaller now?’”
She choked on the laugh that caught her by surprise, lifting her head to find his eyes warm and his smirk a little crooked. “Aren’t you ever serious? I’m trying to seduce you here.”
“Oh, I’m plenty serious. And you’re plenty seducing me.” His smile deepened. “Weren’t we just talking about how scary big you made my dick?” His thumb stayed cuddled inside her palm as he took his other hand and gave his fly a sharp pat. “Behave yourself, now. Don’t frighten the lady off.”
Her gaze wavered on his, her giggle fading away too fast. “I want to,” she said. “But I also don’t want to have a stupid panic attack right now.”
He winked. “If you do, I promise we can make out when you’re done.”
She burst out laughing again. “LJ, you’re shameless.”
“Horny,” he corrected. “‘Horny’ is the word you’re looking for, darlin’. Here, we’ll do it together. You want the high road or the low road?”
She caught her breath, heat pooling between her legs even though she wasn’t sure what he meant. She wanted every kind of road, as long as he was offering it to her in that voice. “Low road.” Whatever that was, it sounded dirtier, and for the first time in years, Andra thought she might like dirty.
“We southern boys are great fans of the low road.” LJ flicked his button open and slid down his zipper. Maybe the high road was over the pants, and the low road was under. She hoped so.
Through the opening in his jeans peeked blue boxer briefs: tight for riding, cheap cotton worn thin over the bulge beneath that made all his jokes about size seem like maybe not jokes at all. His thumb smoothed its way out of her palm and over her knuckles as he eased both their hands into his pants. His hand supported hers, warm and undemanding even as he dropped his head back and groaned.
“Love that low road.”
She giggled breathlessly, her fingers relaxing enough to curl around him. His cock flexed and hardened into her grip, and she realized she was still breathing—no attack in sight. She laughed again.
“Not the response I was going for there, sweetheart,” he rasped.
She didn’t respond to his joke, because she couldn’t unglue her eyes from the thick ridge beneath her hand. She inched upward, feeling the line that marked the head of his cock through the cotton. He sucked in a breath and let go of her hand, giving her all the freedom she wanted to explore on her own.
“Can I?”
He nodded quickly, and she dipped past the elastic of his boxers, the heat of his erection searing against her hand. The skin was so much silkier than the rest of his body, and her heart fisted. She’d forgotten that: how penises felt.
Andra shoved the breath out of her lungs and reached for LJ with her free hand, his side hard and comforting. His cock jumped eagerly in her hand, and she closed her thumb around it, happy that he liked the contact as much as she did. His hips curled, rocking himself a little bit deeper into her fist as a matching thrill of arousal rose in her. He wrapped his arms over her shoulders as his cheek came down to rest against her temple. Stray hairs tickled her cheek, stirred by his fast breathing. A subtle tension radiated out from his body despite his relaxed stance.
“Feels good,” he murmured.
Slowly, the tingles in the rest of her body centered on her hand, that drugging ease he always brought seeping into her in waves. Oxygen filled her lungs, washed the fear out of her. His erection wasn’t any different than the rest of him. A little too hard, a little too big, and comfortingly familiar in a way it shouldn’t have been, considering how recently they’d met.
She began to explore in earnest, testing his response to a firm grip, a soft slide of her palm. Listening to his breathing change when she stroked the pad of one finger over his tip. He dropped his forehead to the top of her head and swallowed audibly.
“Does the low road have a low road?” Andra asked. “Like a basement road, maybe.”
He chuckled, the sound as deep and fathomless as the pulse of a bass drum. “You tell me.”
She slipped her other hand into his pants and pushed them down. The muscular curve of his ass branded her palms on their way by, and as soon as he was busy kicking out of his boots, that’s where her hands returned.
He was naked.
She knew it, but it took her eyes a little longer to take in the full reality of it. Her gaze fell from his collarbone to his arms to his slim hips and that lean V-cut that led straight to his erection. The strength of his body was written in every line of him, blaringly impossible to ignore without the buffer of clothes. It should have scared her.
She brushed her knuckles down his abs, watching them shiver under her touch. LJ had the power to force anything he wanted, but he had always let her lead, everywhere they’d ever been together.
“Please kiss me,” he whispered hoarsely, his arousal swelling even as he said the words.
She slid her hands around his back and did. His dick hard against her belly, her lips slow and deliberate. Not rushing because she was afraid he’d say no or accidentally clashing teeth because she didn’t remember exactly how kisses were supposed to go. Just melting open to make room for his tongue to stroke hers, the sensation of it trickling down through her chest and prickling along her inner thighs. Her body felt languid, soft. Sensitive to every ripple of his muscle pressed against her clothes.
His hand sank into her hair as he groaned against her lips, then took her mouth even more deeply. His hips twitched forward, rubbing his arousal against her belly. An arrow of heat streaked up inside her, and long-unused muscles squeezed wantonly. A sense of hollowness began to grow in her, and her inner muscles flexed again. Andra gasped, writhing against him.
“God,” he growled, deep and low. “You can’t do that, darlin’. Or you need to never stop doing it. One or the other.”
Every one of his heartbeats was clear in his erection now, pulsing against her stomach. Her hands reluctantly left his skin, rising to her own buttons.
LJ stepped back, and her hands froze before she realized he was doing exactly what she had done—pulling away so his eyes could feast as much as his hands had. And then she remembered seeing his whole glorious body unveiled. If she looked half that beautiful to him, she wanted to watch his expression when he saw her for the first time.
Andra lifted her gaze to his face. He lagged for a second before his own eyes came up to meet hers. She smiled. “It’s okay,” she said. “You can watch.”
He swallowed. “Best news I’ve had all
year.” He bobbed his eyebrows. “Need any help? Buttons are feisty little things, but I’ve pretty much got a handle on them. Happy to show you, if you want.”
Her smile grew at the familiar rhythm his drawl settled into when he was trying to tease a laugh out of her. She liked that it didn’t change, even when he was stark naked in her bedroom. Her hands moved swiftly down the buttons, the shirt falling open to reveal a black sports bra. The button on her jeans didn’t bother her the way his had, because she was watching LJ’s face. His jaw ticked tighter, then tighter still.
She pulled her zipper down and stepped out of her jeans. Her sports bra was more of a wrestling match. LJ rescued her halfway through, pulling it up over her head and freeing her arms. It seemed symbolic to undress for him, and she’d wanted to do it herself, but she couldn’t remember why once his long fingers slipped into the sides of her panties, because that felt even better.
That hollow feeling throbbed sharply as he pulled her underwear down her legs, and she found herself hoping his hands would retrace their route back upward.
Instead, he stood, cupping her face in his hands. His kiss was warm and rough, and frustrating as all hell because she wanted more than that now. At least until his chest bumped hers and her nipples hardened immediately, the sensation painfully bright without her bra.
“Lay with me,” she whispered, walking backward to her bed. When the cool wood of her footboard hit her thighs, she edged around to the side, sitting and scooting backward so she could lie down. LJ’s eyes devoured every part of her, even as his hands stayed well away from all the flesh she’d bared for him.
But that wasn’t what she wanted.
She wanted to rub herself over every inch of his body, to soak up the slow, deep magic of him so she could live on the memory of that alone. Just in case.
Unbreak Me Page 14