He rolls away, pulling me into his arms against his chest. He drops a kiss on my hair, laying his jaw against my head.
“Talk.”
I swallow the trepidation swelling the muscles in my throat.
“I did what I thought was right.”
He stiffens, but doesn’t loosen his hold on me or otherwise move.
“Fi, I haven’t been in many myself, but I’ve heard that in relationships, people actually decide together what’s best for the two of them.”
“We weren’t in a relationship.”
“Your choice, not mine.” His voice falls flat between us in the silence that only moments ago had been filled with our moans.
“I thought you’d be happy that I didn’t sleep with Bark.”
“You have no idea how it feels to be your first…but five years. Baby, we lost five years.”
“We didn’t lose them. We both did what we were supposed to do; focused on what we should have been focusing on. You were starting college. Mama needed my attention when she got out.”
I give him a pointed look. “And you told me not to come after you. You said you needed space.”
“Space. Not five years.”
“You could have contacted me,” I remind him.
Justice rolls up to sit on the side of the bed, facing away from me. I stare at the tanned, muscled terrain of his back stretching up and out from his narrow waist.
“I was so angry with you. So disappointed.” Justice glances over his shoulder, his eyes running over my face and hair and the sheet I’ve pulled up over my naked breasts. “This is the picture I’ve carried around of you in my head for five years, but with Barkley. And now to find out it was a lie…”
I sit up, clutching the sheet under my arms. I run my hand over his shoulder, down his arm until I reach his hand. I raise our hands together and kiss his knuckles.
I could defend all night. Could detail how Margo and I schemed to convince him things should remain platonic between us. Could go through every moment of that night when I’d actually thought I could give myself to Barkley; that it wasn’t a big deal, only to think of Justice every time he touched me. But I’m just so ready to get past it now. I’m finally ready to be with Justice like a woman can only be with a man. Ready to leave those conflicted days behind.
“Please forgive me, Justice.”
“That’s it?” He turns, one leg off, and one knee bent on the bed between us. “Forgive you? It’s that simple?”
“It’s not that I think it’s simple. It’s just all that matters. Either you’ll forgive me and we can move forward in our relationship, or you won’t.” I pluck at the sheet covering my legs, unable to meet his eyes for the next sentence. “And I guess we’d go back to being whatever we were before.”
Justice moves so quickly I barely register it until I’m flattened back against the pillows with him on top of me, positioned between my legs. Even with the sheet separating us, I feel him semi-hard and pressed into me.
Already. Wow.
“Now see that’s where you’re wrong.” Justice leans forward until his nose touches mine, his lips brush mine, branding my lips with each word. “I’m pretty sure I said no going back. That you are now mine.”
I wonder if he can tell I’m getting wetter and wetter between my legs under him. He looms over me with those broad shoulders bunching as he supports himself on his elbows. That silver and gold hair hanging down over the one eyebrow he has raised.
“Fi, do we understand each other?”
The only thing I really understand right this second, is that despite feeling sore and raw, I want him inside of me again. I bite my lip so I won’t beg him to toss the sheet to the floor and pound into me. He must read it in my eyes, though. A miracle of white teeth and full lips sketches a wicked smile on his face.
He leans down until his lips touch my ear.
“You want me.”
I’m too proud to whimper, but it’s a near thing. I gulp down the pitiful, needy sound my body wants to offer up as a sacrifice to have him again. Justice runs his tongue along the shell of my ear. I shudder, turning my head to catch his lips, but he moves back, just out of kissing range. His voice, when it comes, is threaded with the same rough want knotting low in my belly like hot rope.
“Don’t doubt for a minute that I want you, too,” he says, sliding one hand under the sheets to grab behind my knee, pulling it up by his side. “But I want everything, Fiona. Every thought, every dream, every kiss, every orgasm. Every. Thing. And you’ll give it to me.”
I thank the stars above for years of conditioning and my strength as an athlete. As big as he is, I manage to flip him onto his back with almost as much swiftness as he demonstrated. I settle on top of him, my toned thighs straddling his hips, trapping him beneath me.
“And do you think I’ll accept any less than everything from you, Kenner?”
I expect him to fire back some smart ass retort, but he doesn’t. He pushes the hair over my shoulder, baring the breast the fallen sheet exposes. I watch all that was angry, all that was commanding and lusty in his eyes, surrender completely to a tenderness that rubs a salve into any remaining ache in my heart.
“Fi, I’ve always wanted to give you everything.”
I bow at my waist, folding onto him, ignoring for the moment the way my nipples pebble against the stonewall of his chest. I bury my nose in the sinews of his neck, drawing in the scent of ocean air and home that he somehow carries in his skin.
“Do you know why I was so upset when I realized you were still a virgin, sweetheart?”
The endearment slips so naturally from his lips and into every crevice of my heart.
“Because I know how much it meant to you.”
I try to sit back up, but his hand presses into my naked back restraining me.
“Just listen for a minute. To think you had given something so precious to Barkley, and maybe to prove some point or win some argument between us, that hurt so badly, Fi. And then tonight, to know that you were still a virgin…”
I won’t entertain guilt or regret. I wanted Justice no matter what. And now I have him. That is enough for me. Was it not enough for him? Had I misjudged the situation entirely? Next to all the girls he’s had before; experienced women willing to do anything to please him, did I seem naïve? Untutored? Vanilla?
“Did you, um, did you not enjoy it, Justice?” I blink to keep the tears from falling, hoping he doesn’t feel my wet lashes against his neck.
He tugs at the hair spilling down my spine, forcing me to sit back up and look into his eyes.
“I once told you there was a difference between fucking and making love.”
I can’t speak. I’m afraid to. The emotion saturating Justice’s eyes is all adoring possession, and it tethers me to him in a way I’ve never been connected to another person.
“Tonight, we made love, Fiona. And it was my first time, too. What I had before, what I did before, I don’t want it ever again. I want what you and I had tonight.”
He grips my chin, his eyes heating up to fire-blue, holding mine. Burning through any guards I have left against his sweet attack on my heart.
“And I only want it with you.”
About the Author
Kennedy Ryan is a Southern girl gone Southern California. A Top 40 Amazon Bestseller, Kennedy writes romance about remarkable women who thrive even in tough times, the love they find, and the men who cherish them.
She is a wife to her lifetime lover and mother to an extraordinary son. She has always leveraged her journalism background to write for charity and non-profit organizations, but enjoys writing to raise Autism awareness most. A contributor for Modern Mom Magazine, Kennedy’s writings have appeared in Chicken Soup for the Soul, USA Today and many others. The founder and executive director of a foundation serving Georgia families living with Autism, Kennedy has appeared on Headline News, Montel Williams, NPR and other media outlets as a voice for families living with autism.
Lucy Score
Lucy Score’s Titles
Where It All Began
No More Secrets
Fall into Temptation
The Last Second Chance
Not Part of the Plan
Holding on to Chaos
Pretend You’re Mine
Sinner & Saint: Crossing the Line
Sinner & Saint: Breaking the Rules
Undercover Love
Mr. Fixer Upper
The Christmas Fix
Heart of Hope: Hope Falls (Kindle Worlds)
The Worst Best Man
Whiskey Chaser
One
Colton
“How about we ease back on the throttle?”
This was somewhere around Colton Hayes’ eight thousandth hour in the air so the fact that his student was hurtling them toward the runway in the flight school’s brand-new Cessna wasn’t overly concerning… yet.
Faith, a tiny Latino woman in her fifties who sat on a cushion to see over the instrument panel, overcompensated and half a dozen alarms went off in the cockpit.
“Oops!” She gentled her touch on the throttle and eased it forward until the alarms stopped screeching.
“Very nice,” Colton told her, loosening his death grip on the door. It made students more nervous when he grabbed the yoke in a panic. The turquoise blue waters of St. Pete Beach glimmered under the plane’s belly as Faith lined them up on the runway. Colton kept his hands loose and ready in his lap should he need to take control. “You’ve got this. Just skim over it and act like you’re not going to land. And watch out for that sailboat mast.”
Albert Whitted Airport was tucked away on the edge of the Port of St. Petersburg and many boat captains weren’t aware of its existence… until a small plane scared the hell out of them.
Faith grinned and cracked her gum, treating her first solo landing like it was just another day. “You got it, boss.”
They bumped and bounced a little on touchdown but overall, it was an excellent first landing.
“Nicely done,” Colton told her through the headset.
Faith whooped and did a little shimmy in her seat as she taxied down the tarmac. She parked—crookedly—but in the right general area and popped her headset off. She whipped out her tidy little notebook, wet a finger, and flipped through to the appropriate page. “Solo landing?” She crossed it off with a flourish of her pencil.
Colton high-fived her. “Suck it cancer!”
Faith came to him eight months ago with a new cancer diagnosis and a bucket list. While her cancer had been kicked to the curb officially as of last month, fly a plane had been upgraded to earn pilot’s license.
They ran through the post-flight checklist carefully before he released her to her nervous husband, Al, who sat in the waiting room and prayed the rosary while Faith was in the air. Al picked her up mid-stride and twirled her around on the tarmac.
Life was short. And no one knew it better than the Delgados.
“Thanks, Colt,” Faith said, beaming at him with her arm wrapped firmly around Al’s waist.
“Anytime,” he grinned. “Going for ice cream?”
“You bet! Wanna come?” Al offered.
“Nah, not today,” Colton told them. “I’ve got plans.”
Faith raised an eyebrow. “Mm-hmm. She say yes yet?”
He laughed and shook his head. “Not yet.” Colton had spent the last eight months pursuing the bartender/night manager at Sunset Point, an open-air dive bar a short walk from the airport. The bar had a killer view of St. Pete’s two best attractions: the daily sunset that turned the sky to an artist’s canvas and McKinley.
Faith patted his arm. “You’ll wear her down. I believe in you.”
The Delgados left, arm in arm, and Colton tied down the plane and gave it another once over. He’d thought briefly of taking it back up for a short solo. Some folks meditated, some prayed, Colton flew. There was something peaceful, almost spiritual about feeling the earth drop away beneath him, being suspended between ocean and clouds.
But tonight, he wanted his feet firmly on the ground and his ass on a bar stool with a view of the prettiest, sharp-tongued bartender in the city.
He headed into the flight school office and handed over the headsets at the desk. “How’d she do?” Talia asked. Talia was the no-nonsense office manager for the airport. Even she’d developed a soft spot for Faith.
“One of the best firsts I’ve seen,” Colton said, filling out the plane rental paperwork.
“Think she’ll get her license?”
“Nothing’s gonna stop her,” he said, sliding the clipboard over the counter to her.
“Speaking of, you trying for your 900th shoot down tonight?” Talia’s brown eyes sparkled.
It wasn’t a secret that he had a thing for McKinley. It had become a bit of a sport for his co-workers watching him get turned down at the bar time after time.
“She can’t say yes if I stop asking,” Colton said with a good-natured shrug.
“Mmm-hmm,” she hummed giving him the side-eye.
“Where’s Walt?”
“Where do you think?” Talia said, waving a heavily ringed hand toward the hallway. Colton headed in the same direction and soon caught the sound of soft snores. He poked his head into the observation lounge. It was a bright, sunny room with a large window facing the runway. And curled on a luxury bed that Talia and the rest of the staff had chipped in for was Walter the rescue beagle. At nine, he wasn’t quite as obese as he had been when Colton found him sad-eyeing him from the confines of his cage at St. Pete’s Animal Rescue. There were slightly fewer neck rolls now and his belly no longer wobbled like gelatin. But he was still hefty for his breed.
“Walt,” Colton said, nudging the dog bed with his toe.
The dog grumbled, but his white tipped tail thumped out a lazy beat.
“Come on buddy. Let’s go back to the hangar and then I’ll take you home.”
On the word home, Walter’s bloodshot eyes opened. Home meant dinner and maybe a romp around the backyard before Animal Planet.
“Let’s go,” Colton said, patting his thighs. “Come on!”
Walter grumbled and heaved himself up. He gave a stretch accompanied by a doggie groan and padded after his master.
“See ya tonight, Talia,” Colton called on his way out.
“Bye, Colt. Bye, Walt.”
Two
McKinley
McKinley’s day couldn’t get much worse. The ice maker had stopped working on the lunch shift and she’d had to waste a precious half hour of the beginning of her shift buying out the convenience store’s supply of bagged ice. They were out of two draft beers. And she’d had to fire a waitress today for “forgetting” to card a table of underage tourists. Her replacement was good and pissed about being called in on her day off.
And McKinley didn’t blame her a bit.
She shoved a hand into her thick curls and dropped the sunglasses down over her eyes to head back out onto the deck.
It was busy even for a Saturday evening, which meant money for everyone and fun for the crowd. Every table on the sunshine yellow deck was full of people laughing, talking, drinking. The band was warming up. She gave a salute to the bass player who signaled for another round. McKinley dropped a bucket of beers off at a table full of sunburned fishermen and a plate of loaded nachos for their neighbors, a ladies’ night out from the looks of them.
She swung back inside and ducked behind the bar, pouring beers and waters for the band.
Leeta stabbed at the register screen next to her. “Well, I guess if Sandy was going to get fired at least she had the sense to do it on a night that I’ll make enough cash for those sexy Maui Jim’s,” she said.
McKinley snorted. “Yeah, there’s always a right time to serve underage customers.”
“Technically she only tried to serve them. You caught her before any beer was actually delivered.”
“Stil
l,” McKinley grumbled. “It’s my ass if something like that happens.”
“And what a fine ass it is,” Leeta said with an exaggerated wink.
McKinley rolled her eyes. “You’re the worst.”
“You looooove me,” Leeta reminded her. “Besides if you won’t date customers, you might as well date me. We can share clothes and rub each other’s feet after shift.”
“You and Byron break up?” McKinley asked, piling the drinks on her tray and pouring six shots of Fireball for the wrist-banded twenty-somethings at the corner of the bar.
“Ugh. He turned out to be an ass.”
“If only someone would have warned you not to get involved… again.”
“Yeah, yeah. ‘Don’t date customers.’ Don’t you get tired of being right?” Leeta demanded.
“Never,” McKinley answered with a shake of her head. “Now go make lots of money so you can be my sugar mama.” She doled out shots followed by six waters for the partiers and spun back through to serve the band. “Bring the house down, boys,” she told them.
They were a Jimmy Buffet cover band that usually had customers crowding onto the dance floor before the first song was over. “You comin’ out for ‘Brown Eyed Girl’?”
“I’ll be here. Just give me a little warning where you are in the set list,” McKinley promised.
Behind the bar again, she delivered burgers and frozen drinks and the requisite smile for people enjoying their vacations while she worked her ass off. Not that she minded. She liked the work, the pace, the casual acquaintance with an ever-changing crowd.
Leeta claimed McKinley was a commitment phobe. And she wasn’t wrong. McKinley had been there before. Committed, married, blindsided. But she’d moved on, rebuilt. Well, most areas of her life, at least. Despite the fact that she was thirty-five in a spring break town, she got plenty of attention behind the bar. Harmless flirting, drunken propositions. But she wasn’t in any hurry to stop enjoying her alone time. She had a cute little apartment two blocks from the water, a job that energized her, and a circle of friends that didn’t care if she was divorced or single.
Beach Reads Page 13