Famous in a Small Town

by Kristina Knight

  “Savannah...” he started to say. But before he could say more, she pressed her mouth to his. Her small hands wound through the hair at his nape, holding his head in place while she nipped at his mouth with her teeth, sending a jolt of heat through him.

  Collin put his arms around her waist, pulling her over his lap. One knee on either side of his hips, Savannah settled over him, her tongue jousting with his while he ran his hands over her slick body.

  “I still say this dock isn’t the place to do this,” he said, pulling his mouth from hers and breathing unevenly. “But if you kiss me like that again, it’s going to happen right here, right now.”

  “That clearing is just through the trees,” she said, and the want in her honey-brown gaze nearly undid him. Who cared about a big, soft bed when he had a woman with wicked curves in his lap?

  “There’s another option.”

  “I’m living in my childhood bedroom, and it doesn’t matter that I’m twenty-seven, Mama Hazel is not going to react well to us defiling that childhood bed.”

  “I was thinking of the hunting cabin at the back edge of the orchard.” She raised an eyebrow. “It has the bonus of being private.”

  “Private could be good.”

  “Private will be amazing,” he said.

  She stood, and Collin took her hand, leading her to the Gator.

  They were going to get that bed, rustic though it was, after all.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  IT ONLY TOOK a couple of minutes to reach the small hunting cabin, set in a clearing near the corner where the grove of pear trees met the apple. Behind it, tall fir trees soared toward the sky and the branches of two massive trees laced together.

  When he’d built the cabin, Collin’s grandfather had taken great care to make sure it would be comfortable for both summer and winter dwelling. There were the massive trees along the ridge to break the winter winds, and the trees on the back side of the house provided summer shade. They parked under one of the trees, and Savannah picked up something that looked similar to a cucumber. There were more hanging from the branches of the trees above.

  “It’s a cucumber magnolia,” Collin said when he saw her looking at the thing in her hand. “Granddad planted them for Gran when they were first married. This was their first house.”

  “They’re beautiful,” she said and walked to the small porch, turned the doorknob and went inside.

  Collin followed.

  The interior of the cabin was sparsely but comfortably furnished. There was a small kitchenette with outdated but clean appliances along the back wall, a couple of comfortable-looking rocking chairs and a plaid sofa near a fireplace along one side. On the other side of the room behind a small screen was a small bed with an old iron frame. A patchwork quilt covered the mattress. His grandmother had made it before arthritis had made quilting difficult for her.

  There were no pictures on the walls, just large windows offering views of the orchard in front and the forest in back.

  He’d never actually used this place as a hunting cabin, instead preferring it when late frosts threatened the orchard. There was little he could do about late frosts, but it made him feel better to be with his trees. He made a point to check on the place every few weeks, wiping down the surfaces for dust and checking that no rodents had gotten inside.

  Collin swallowed. This wasn’t just some random shack where they could expend a little excess attraction and energy. This place had been a home to his grandparents, and he still used it or at least visited it often.

  Savannah ran her hands over the smooth wood of the small kitchen table.

  And now she was going to be part of it.

  Maybe he should have thought this through a little more.

  “It’s beautiful,” she said, her voice soft. “Levi and our dad hunt, but they just go out in the morning and are home by noon.”

  “It was my grandparents’ home first, and later Granddad used it as a hunting cabin. Mostly I use it when I’m watching the weather.”

  “You take good care of it.”

  Collin shrugged. “I don’t like to see things go to waste. It’s a useful place when quick summer storms blow up or frosts threaten the trees. Keeping it clean and in good shape means it’ll hold up under bad conditions.”

  He didn’t want to talk about it anymore. He wanted to stop talking and thinking, and just be with her. So Collin took her in his arms and pressed his mouth to hers. Then he pushed her back against the wall, ravishing her neck.

  “I guess the small talk is over,” she said with a chuckle.

  “I’ve never been enamored of it,” he returned as his hands found her breasts. Her suit had mostly dried, but her nipples were hard beneath the fabric. He pinched and rolled them, liking it when a little moan escaped her lips.

  Savannah pushed her hands past the waistband of his cargos, squeezing his buttocks, and Collin’s brain short-circuited for a second. He insinuated one leg between hers, feeling the heat between her legs against his upper thigh.

  He unbuckled his belt and pushed his cargos past his hips. No boxer briefs today—not that he’d been expecting sex, he’d simply been preparing for the heat.

  And the possibility of sex.

  Savannah reached her hand behind her, pulling the strings and loosening her bikini top. It fell to the floor, and he couldn’t resist a taste of her breasts. Savannah’s hands fisted in his hair, and he was content to focus his attention there.

  She banged her head against the wall, muttered an, “Ow,” but didn’t release her grip on him. He kissed his way back up her chest to her neck and then to the sensitive place behind her ear.

  “More,” she said, wrapping one leg around his, pulling his hips more firmly against her own.

  He reached one hand down, pressed her bikini bottoms past her hips and then cupped her center, feeling her slick heat against his skin.

  The thought rolled around his brain that if this moment never ended it would be okay.

  * * *

  THIS PLACE WAS part of Collin. And he’d brought her here.

  Savannah’s heart melted, not in anticipation of the sex that was already happening, but because they could have just had sex in the shade of the trees or taken their chances on the dock. But instead he’d brought her here, to this sweet little cabin with its rocking chairs and patchwork quilt.

  She didn’t care that this was stupid. She just knew that having sex with Collin was like no other sex she’d had, but getting involved with him...that was dangerous. She’d come to terms with the very real possibility that Nashville likely wasn’t part of her future, but she remained unsure if Slippery Rock was part of it. Having sex with him again would make it so much harder to leave.

  Right now, making things harder for Future Savannah wasn’t nearly as important as being with Collin in the present. Not when his mouth was doing amazing things to that spot beneath her ear, and not when his hands were hot against her skin.

  She liked the way she felt with Collin.

  And she wanted to feel more of it. He sucked at that spot behind her ear again and her head lolled back, banging against the wall, the pain warring with the pleasure his hands were giving her.

  But she didn’t want a concussion.

  Savannah wrapped her arms around Collin’s neck, reached up on her tiptoes and took his lips with hers. She twisted them away from the wall and then began walking backward.

  When the backs of her legs hit the soft cotton of the quilt, Savannah sank onto the comfortable mattress. Collin rested one knee between her legs as he followed her down, down until her head rested on a small pillow.

  “Savannah.” He said her name quietly as his hands played with the sensitized skin of her lower abdomen. His gaze caught hers and, for a moment, it seemed as if time would stop. She could o
nly look into his clear blue eyes and wonder what he was thinking. Then his mouth descended on hers and time seemed to speed back up.

  First his hands were on her belly then one hand was over her breast. He’d left his shirt outside, so her hands were free to explore his ridged abdomen. Unlike the men she’d known in California and Tennessee, a light mat of hair covered his chest, tapering down to a vee that disappeared beneath his cargo shorts—when he wore cargos, anyway. She took his length in her hand, liking the feel of him. Soft at the surface but hard beneath. She wrapped one leg around him, bringing his hips up hard against her own.

  “Better?” he asked, grinning at her.

  “Immensely,” she replied and pushed her hands against his shoulders until he rested on his back. She lay atop him for a while, their legs tangled, chest to chest, pressing little kisses along his collarbone, the way he’d done that day at the lake. Collin’s hands explored her, and she let her fingers walk down through his chest hair. She felt his abs clench when her hand passed his belly button, and when she wrapped her hand around his length again, he growled.

  Savannah grinned. “You like that.” It was nice to know she affected him physically, especially when he affected her in so many different ways.

  “What’s not to like?” he asked as she ran her hand gently along his length and then squeezed.

  “I definitely like,” she said, but her voice just missed the playful note she’d been going for. He was too much. Too good with his hands. Her eyes closed when he closed his mouth over her breast. Too good with his mouth. “Oh, God.”

  Too good to be with a girl like her, but she wasn’t about to tell him that. Telling him that would mean those hands and that mouth would be gone from her life. It would mean no more moonlit conversations at the marina in which she was just a woman. Not a woman with baggage. Not the teenager who’d run away.

  Not the singer who should have never allowed herself to become so uncomfortable with the life she led that she was easily taken in by the enticing words of her tour-mate’s husband.

  Savannah shoved that thought out of her mind.

  She wasn’t that person from those few weeks ago. She wasn’t. Even on the tour bus, she’d known she didn’t want to be there. Before the tour bus, she’d known she didn’t want to be in the spotlight, on a stage, or in any more interviews. She’d wanted to be...here. In Slippery Rock.

  Most of all, right now she wanted to be with Collin, and she wasn’t going to mess that up by bringing the past into this pretty little cabin at the edge of the orchard.

  Savannah buried her hands in his thick blond hair and pressed her mouth to his. He tasted sweet, like the sodas they’d had with lunch. Smelled like the lake and sweat and sunshine and everything good in her life right now.

  “I like this,” she said against his mouth.

  “So do I,” he said and flipped her onto her back.

  His hands were big and rough, and the sensation of his skin against her sensitized breasts was magnificent. He pressed his flat palms against them, making her nipples tingle at the contact. She tangled her legs with his and felt him settle more comfortably between her legs.

  “I like this a lot,” she said.

  Collin tweaked her nipples with his fingers and the cabin seemed to sizzle with the heat. “And you’ll like this, too,” he said, and she could only nod because Collin then put his mouth on her, soothing the sensual burning from his hands.

  “A lot, a lot,” she said, and the words brought another grin to his face.

  “Let’s see what else you like,” he said, his blue gaze locked on hers. But he didn’t move. His hands were warm against her waist, his mouth set in that silly grin for a long moment, and although their legs were tangled atop the quilt they were both completely still.

  “I like you,” she said, trying for light and breezy but knew the catch in her voice gave her away.

  She hadn’t been a virgin in a long time, but it was as if Collin’s hands were different. The reactions he elicited were new and a little uncomfortable because Savannah already knew she couldn’t hold back when she was in his arms. When the world came crashing down around them, she was like one of those rowboats wrecked on the lakeshore.

  No man had ever wrecked her before.

  “I like you, too,” he said, and she was glad his voice sounded just a little unsteady. It made them even.

  She pressed her lips against his, trying to lock in every scent and taste and feel because this couldn’t last. Collin Tyler, good guy and football star and orchard owner, couldn’t want Savannah Walters, bad girl and screwed-up ex-singer, not for long. He kissed her back, his hands caressing her ribs and moving over her hips. Savannah thought it had to be the most delicious kiss she’d ever shared.

  His thumb found her entrance, and he teased the opening. Savannah sucked an unsteady breath between her teeth, arching her back and burying her hands in his hair as if she might hold him in place. Then he slipped two fingers inside her, and she thought her body might explode from the exquisite touch.

  Collin bit her nipple gently, and the pain was the most pleasurable thing she had ever experienced. It sent a wave of wetness between her legs and, sweet God, his mouth might be her favorite part of his body. Savannah began to feel wobbly on the razor wire of desire.

  God, he felt good.

  She tried to hold on, tried to think of anything that would slow her body’s reaction to Collin, but he surrounded her. His skin against hers, the smell of him—all sunshine and fruit trees and lake water—was everywhere.

  He flicked his thumb against her clitoris, and she went over, her internal muscles in spasms as his hand continued to work her core.

  Savannah’s hands tightened against his head and then everything went soft, from the sunlight coming through the windows to the way her body seemed to melt against his. It was all she could do to drag rough breaths into her lungs.

  Collin rolled onto his side, resting on one elbow as he kissed his way down her belly, stopping for a long moment to play with the blue stone dangling at her belly button.

  “I liked the green one, but the blue was a nice surprise.”

  She’d changed it because the color of the stone reminded her of his eyes. And how lame was it to wear a piece of jewelry because it reminded her of the man she was in bed with?

  “You like?” She levered her eyes open to look at him. He had a satisfied look on his face, and maybe it was because she’d just had the best oral orgasm of her life, but the expression was almost sweet. He took pleasure in giving her pleasure, and she couldn’t wait to give it right back to him.

  He shot her a glance. Nodded. “Holy hell.”

  Savannah laughed. “If you like that, you might just die when you take a closer look at my hip.”

  “A man can dream.” But his hand stilled on her hip. “What do you mean a closer look?”

  She shook her head.

  Slowly, his gaze traveled down her body and it was as if he could touch her with the molten heat she saw there. She trembled despite her tensed muscles.

  His hand caressed her hip, his callused fingers gentle against her. He paused above her right hip bone to trace the lace hummingbird she’d had tattooed there in white ink when she’d graduated from Slippery Rock High. A flower rose up before the bird and it held an infinity loop in its feet. It was several shades lighter than her own caramel skin tone, but most people still didn’t notice it, not even when she wore a bathing suit.

  “It’s beautiful,” he said, placing a light kiss on the bird.

  Her stomach muscles quivered. Savannah reached for him, pulling him to her until their lips met again.

  “Why no ink on this amazing body?” she asked. “It’s practically a rite of passage for our generation.”

  “George Strait, remember? Old school is my favorite school. I
’m am pathetically, boringly un-inked,” he said, not really answering her question as he nipped her lip. “And I’m perfectly okay with that.”

  Somehow, not having a tattoo seemed absolutely Collin.

  Savannah let her hands drift down his torso to the almost pointed edge of the vee of hair covering his chest and abs, liking the feel of his flat, trembling muscles beneath her hands.

  She had brought this man to his knees—well, his side—and the sight of him hard and full and long made Savannah bite her lip.

  God, he was beautiful. His skin tanned golden by the summer sun, that light smattering of wiry blond hairs covering his body. Hands that were work roughened, but the most gentle she had ever felt on her body. And he was hers.

  For now.

  Collin left her, grabbed his shorts from near the wall and pulled his wallet from the back pocket. He sheathed himself and then returned to her.

  “You prepared again.”

  “I’ve never found my penchant for preparation more useful than this moment. Or the one by the lake.”

  He sank down on the mattress, taking her breast in his mouth as he thrust inside her, making her catch her breath. Despite the toe-curling orgasm of a moment ago, she was ready to plunge over that ledge with him again.

  Collin withdrew and when he thrust back inside her, Savannah raised her hips to meet his. She locked her legs around his hips as he plunged deep inside her once more.

  “Collin,” she said, his name a whisper against his shoulder. He reached his hand between them, finding that bundle of nerves easily. “Holy. Hell,” she said, echoing his words from a moment before. The two words were part plea and part exaltation. She raked her hands down his back, wanting more of him. Collin gave it. He caught her mouth with his and the wave of her orgasm crested once more, taking her over the edge and toward oblivion.

  “Savannah,” he said, her name a fierce growl from his lips as he thrust in and out, in and out. He grunted his own release a moment later, his body tensed and he collapsed on top of her.