Tough Luck Hero

by Maisey Yates

  Reluctantly, he slid his hands downward, reveling in the soft silk of her skin as he blazed the path down to her skirt, pulling her panties and all down to the ground. She was still wearing her shoes, which was the only thing that made her tall enough to do what he did next.

  “Trust me,” he said again.

  He protected them both, then tested the entrance to her body with the blunt head of his arousal. She gasped, her shoulders tensing. He pressed his palms flat between her shoulder blades, until he felt her relax. He reached around, one hand firm on her stomach, the other braced on her back as he pushed deeply inside of her.

  “Good?” he asked.

  “Good,” she responded, shivering delicately.

  He moved his hand between her thighs, teasing the source of her pleasure with his every thrust, trying to push her higher before he reached the edge. Because he was so close, so desperately close. She was so tight, so hot, so undeniably his. No other woman had ever responded to him this way before, and he had never desired another woman like this. This was theirs. It was only theirs. It was intimate in a way sex had never been before. Intense in a way he hadn’t known desire could be. And it was all wrapped up in things he normally would have turned away from. But he was turning into them now. Embracing them. Needing them. Needing her.

  He was lost in her. In the soft sounds of pleasure she made with his every thrust deep into her body, in the sweet, floral scent of her that was so deceptive in its fragility, then wound itself around him like a creeping vine, threatening to strangle him with all of its feminine magic.

  Just like Lydia.

  From the first moment he laid eyes on her she had grabbed hold of something deep and unknown inside of him. And from that first moment, she’d had him. He’d convinced himself it was annoyance. That she was an irritation. Nothing more. And then she had continued to burrow her way under his skin, completely undetected. Until, when he was drunk, the first thing he’d done was haul her off to Vegas and marry her. Because that was how powerful it was. That was how powerful she was.

  She’d said he had to prove he was strong enough to take her. But he knew for certain, he didn’t possess enough strength, enough self-control, to do anything but take her. The road had always been leading here. From that first moment they’d met in Ace’s bar, it had always been leading here.

  He stroked her, moving his fingers over her slick flesh, responding to her every sound of pleasure, to her every command. Until he felt her lose control, her internal muscles gripping his body tight as she went over the edge. Then he gripped her hips, losing himself in her completely, losing his control entirely. He came on a ragged, uncivilized sound, his entire body shaking as his orgasm raged through him like a freight train.

  He held her against him, his chest pressed against her back, still buried deep inside of her. He had started this to avoid talking about feelings. To avoid uncovering yet more uncomfortable, vulnerable things that he didn’t want to deal with. And that plan had backfired spectacularly. Because this had left him feeling raw, exposed in a way he never had been before. He had no control. He had no strength. If she were to turn around and push him over he would fall straight onto his ass, and he wouldn’t be able to get back up.

  Lydia Carpenter didn’t just test his control, she destroyed it.

  She made a small, kittenish sound, and he released his hold on her, withdrawing from her. She turned toward him, resting her head on his chest, her palm placed right over his heart. And he felt like she was touching him there. Beneath his skin, beneath his muscle, like she had managed to achieve direct contact with his most vital organ.

  It was far more affecting than when she’d grabbed on to his cock.

  He wrapped his arms around her, holding her against him, resting in this feeling. Memorizing the way she fit against his body. The way it felt to be pressed against her, skin to skin, from head to toe.

  He hadn’t seen it coming. He was a man, after all. Orgasm was supposed to be the be-all and end-all. It was when sex was finished. But this was something. This moment. When the intimacy of everything they had done settled around them like a blanket, wrapping around both of them, binding them together.

  “Let’s go to bed,” he said, his voice rough.

  “I didn’t finish my coffee,” she said.

  “I don’t care about your coffee.”

  “I don’t know if I have energy for more sex,” she said.

  “No, I mean let’s go to bed and sleep.”

  She froze against him, and he knew why. Because, for all the nights they’d made love, she’d gone back to her own room when they were finished. Because they didn’t sleep together, since that would blur lines and make it more like being a couple.

  Dammit, he wanted to blur lines. He didn’t know to what end, only that he wanted to.

  “Okay,” she said, her voice soft, small. “I did still have more mix for my revenge bread.”

  “I guess you’ll have to finish getting revenge on me tomorrow.”

  “I can do that.”

  So, even though they hadn’t finished their conversation, and she hadn’t finished baking her bread, Colton and Lydia went to bed.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  COLTON WAS STILL lost in the pleasure of the night before when one of his workers came and found him while he was installing cabinets in the kitchen of the house they were working on.

  “There’s someone here to see you,” he said.

  “Who?”

  The guy lifted his shoulder. “A woman.”

  Colton’s heart hit the front of his chest. Lydia.

  He set his nail gun down, walking through the house that was still in various stages of being assembled and out to the front of the property. But it wasn’t Lydia standing there. Instead, it was a pretty blonde he hadn’t seen in quite some time.

  “Natalie,” he said. “What are you doing here?”

  She shifted in place, adjusting her purse two or three times before letting it settle awkwardly on her left shoulder. “I thought it was time we talked.”

  “About what?”

  “About the weather. Or maybe about our wedding that I didn’t show up for, Colton—you could pick the topic if you want.”

  Oh, Natalie. “I assume you want to talk about the wedding.”

  She let out an exasperated sigh. “I’m not sure that I want to, but I think that we have to.”

  “We don’t have to if we don’t want to. It may have escaped your notice, but I’ve moved on.” The moment he said it, he realized how true it was. It didn’t feel like a lie. Didn’t feel like a carefully constructed phrase in order to make her think that his relationship with Lydia was more than it was. He didn’t know how his relationship with Lydia could be any more than it was. They were married, after all. And he...well, he’d never felt more for anyone than he felt for her.

  “Right,” she said, her tone clipped. “And, honestly, I’m not surprised. I saw the way you looked at her when I first introduced you. I’m actually shocked that you didn’t run off with her then.”

  It was strange, that someone like Natalie—someone he would have characterized as being exceedingly self-centered—seemed to have more insight into his initial feelings for Lydia than he did.

  It had taken him a lot longer to untangle exactly what it was he felt for her, why he felt on edge and restless when she was around. But, regardless, she did have a few things wrong.

  “I didn’t run off with her the way that you’re implying. I never touched her before you left me at the altar, which I kind of figured meant we were done.”

  She looked down, angry color flooding her cheeks. She couldn’t deny it, but he knew that she hated being called on the carpet when she did something wrong. When they’d been together, he’d been more than willing to let a lot of things slide. They
had constructed a relationship made of convenient fictions and carefully accepted deceptions.

  He, for his part, pretended that Natalie was every bit as delightful as she could be. Even when she was being decidedly nondelightful. For her part, she had ignored the fact that he clearly wasn’t completely invested in the relationship on an emotional front. Both of them pretended that everything was okay, even while they both knew it wasn’t.

  “I thought we might have a chance to talk,” she said.

  “You slept with someone else.”

  She looked up at him, her eyes wide. “I guess Lydia told you.”

  “Of course she told me. That’s not something you keep from someone, especially not your husband.”

  “I didn’t want to hurt you,” she said. He believed that. Except, the thing was, she hadn’t. And that was maybe more notable than anything else.

  “I’m not hurt. I was angry. I chose you to be my wife because I thought that you understood what was important. I thought that you would make the perfect final puzzle piece to my life. That if I married you, everything would kind of fall into place and be easy from here on out. We didn’t fight. We had an agreement.”

  “I know,” she said, her voice catching.

  “But you didn’t hurt me. And I don’t think that’s a good thing. I think that’s every sign we ever needed that getting married was a mistake.”

  “But it’s not...it’s not fair,” she said. “We should work. This should have worked.”

  “Maybe. But it couldn’t. Because I didn’t choose you because of the enormity of what I felt for you. I chose you because what I felt for you was manageable. You told Lydia that you and I didn’t have passion. You told her I wasn’t passionate. And I wasn’t with you.”

  “I didn’t know that you were going to spend our entire conversation insulting me, Colton.”

  “I’m not meaning to insult you. Because it isn’t you. It’s me. It’s us. Don’t tell me you were passionately in love with me, Natalie.”

  “Well,” she said, “no. But you’re perfect. And our wedding was going to be perfect. And our children would have been perfect.”

  “The guy you’re with now?”

  Her face turned an even deeper shade of pink. “He’s not perfect.”

  “But he makes you feel things.”

  She blinked rapidly, gripping her purse strap even tighter. “Awkward topic. But yes.”

  “We were too good for each other, and that was bad. We would have let each other go on and never challenged each other at all.”

  “Still sounds perfect to me,” she said, her voice hushed.

  “Of course. Because it’s easy.” And he had wanted easy. He had gotten it into his head that if he married Natalie everything would be fine. That he could ease up on his control. That he would maybe stop wanting so many other things; that it would make going forward, transitioning into the man he was supposed to be easier.

  God knew, being with Natalie would’ve been easier. She would never have pushed him to defy his parents. Would never have ripped him right out of his comfort zone, made him lose his mind with her touch, with her kiss. Would never have baked him revenge zucchini bread. And he would never have taken her on his kitchen counter.

  Natalie had been what he’d wanted. What he’d needed, in many ways, to continue on down the path he’d set his foot on more than fifteen years ago. When he had decided to pick up every piece of slack his brother had left. She was a part of that. Something that he had acquired to help enable him to continue on.

  Lydia didn’t enable him in any way. Lydia made his life feel claustrophobic; she made it feel too small. She made him realize that he wanted more, that he wanted different. Because the man who couldn’t control himself when she was around, the man who said rough, dirty things to her in the dark, who had found a passion inside of himself he hadn’t imagined existed, could never be content with a life that had been designed for another man. Could never be content with a future that was simply stepping into the shadow of his older brother.

  He understood now. Why he had chosen Natalie. And why he wouldn’t choose her now.

  And he understood that he wanted Lydia. For more than a month. For more than just an election, or to keep his family happy. He wanted more. Because of her, he wanted more.

  “I really messed things up,” Natalie said. “I really did. And I...”

  “You don’t want me,” he responded.

  She shook her head. “No.”

  “Don’t feel bad about that. Don’t waste time being sorry that you’ve found something better.”

  “But it isn’t better. My father will never—”

  “Your father isn’t the one who has to sleep with your spouse for the rest of your life. You are. You’re the one who has to live with the guy for the rest of your life.”

  “I’m not sure it’s as serious as that.”

  “You’re clearly terrified of what he makes you feel. Enough that you were going to see if I would take you back. I would say it’s that serious. At least for you.”

  She let out a heavy sigh. “It’s awful.”

  He agreed. He really did. This was uncomfortable. It reminded him of that year he’d been in tenth grade or so, and he’d grown too many inches all at once and each and every limb had felt stretched. Growing hurt. That was just the damn truth.

  “It’s pretty terrible,” he agreed.

  “Lydia does that to you?”

  He took a deep breath and looked out across the property, toward the mountains. They were the same mountains he looked at every day, but today something felt different. He was different, maybe.

  “Yeah,” he said finally. “She does.”

  “For what it’s worth I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. Okay, I’m still not exactly thrilled about being left at the altar in front of the entire town, but thank you. For not marrying me. You had sense when I didn’t.”

  “I think that might be the first time anyone has ever accused me of being sensible.”

  It was strange looking at the woman he’d thought he would share his life with, knowing that this was it. That it wasn’t happening. And feeling more grateful for her leaving him at the altar than he’d ever felt for anything in his life.

  “Be happy,” he said.

  And he meant it with everything he had.

  “You too,” she said.

  She turned around and walked away from him then, and he watched her until she got into her car. Then he took a deep breath, looking back at the mountains. He felt like he was having an out-of-body experience. To understand so clearly why he had done something, and how ridiculous it was, wasn’t exactly typical. He had gone through life reacting, doing whatever he needed to do to keep his family together. Assuming every single responsibility to prove that he would never be like Gage. And he had been using Natalie as a literal ball and chain. To keep him tethered to that responsibility. To ensure that he carried on as he had started.

  And the very thing that had irritated him about Lydia from the beginning wasn’t even so much the attraction as what it signaled. The fact that she was a woman who wouldn’t let him do this. A woman who didn’t want to chain him further, but who insisted he be set free.

  He had a feeling he was the only man on the planet who had wanted marriage to imprison him further. Damn Lydia and her insight. Damn Lydia and the way she made him feel. The way she made him want.

  But God bless her too, because she wanted him and he had never wanted anything or anyone as much as he wanted her.

  It just didn’t make it any less terrifying.

  He had a feeling she had grabbed hold of him that very first moment they’d met, but he hadn’t realized just how deep she grabbed hold of him until years later.

  Like a bomb with a long fus
e.

  And it had just ignited inside of him. Now he had to figure out what to do with the wreckage. He didn’t have a clue in hell. But things seemed to make more sense when he was with Lydia, so he figured that was a good place to start.

  * * *

  LYDIA EXAMINED HER reflection in the mirror, thinking that it was interesting how different this political event had been from the last one. The dinner that she’d had at the Garretts’ a month ago had felt very Copper Ridge, at least, Copper Ridge as she knew it. This was an entirely different subset of people. While she had definitely done her share of rubbing elbows with them, they weren’t exactly the constituents she had initially set out to appeal to. Seeing as she expected them to vote for Richard Bailey. But that had changed when Nathan West had officially given her his endorsement at the country club.

  Anyway, it was a much easier thing to think about than the fact that it was actually election day, and the results would be in soon. She and Colton had dropped their ballots off this morning, and she could only assume the rest of the town would be doing the same soon.

  Imagining the lines in front of the drop boxes gave her a twist of excitement and anxiety. She wasn’t watching any of the early numbers. It was just too much to handle. She didn’t want to know. Well, she did want to know, but she had to somehow get through tonight with grace and poise. And, seeing as she was currently in a dress that required foundational garments and high heels, she really had to work to find grace and poise.

  She looked back at herself, examining the way the black dress fitted to her figure, hoping it was appropriate for the new mayor. Assuming she was the new mayor. If not, it was going to be one sad party. Wow, she hadn’t fully considered that. That would be kind of awful.

  She grabbed a bracelet off the nightstand and slipped it onto her hand, jiggling her wrist and watching it glitter in the mirror.