Sin and Cider (Sweet Sinners Book 1)

by Kimberly Reese

  Langley: Hot damn, Mac! You look good! The women at the sex store told me it was perfect for some extracurricular activities outdoors, but I didn’t think you’d look so classy. I know you’re showing more skin, but that’s got to help in the heat. Besides, it’s not like you’re doing anything too crazy out there.

  Me: I’m going to ignore the sex store comment in hopes that you’re joking. You’re insane. And yes, they’re more comfortable. I just feel naked.

  Langley: You’re a big girl. Own it, Mac. I’m helping you. I gotta go, but I can’t wait to hear how much you love these by the end of the day. I’m sure Lawson will appreciate them, too. Like I said, you can thank me later. ;)

  Me: I hate you, you snake.

  Langley: Hissssssssssss. :P

  I take another look at myself in the mirror as I throw my phone back on my bed. I have nothing else to wear and need to get started before it gets too hot. I’m going to kill Langley.

  Today I’m focusing on uprooting a bunch of the weeds that have sprouted up around the barn. I could mow them down, but I don’t want them to sprout up like a case of bad acne once it rains. When I stepped outside to work Lawson was nowhere in sight, thank goodness. To be safe, I start at the back of the barn and away from the road so no one can see me. Time passes quickly and, although I’ll probably regret it later, I savor the burn in my muscles from the exertion. Eventually the burn starts to get to me, and I decide to take a break. Walking over to the faucet on the side of the barn, I look forward to cooling down a little and bend down for a drink of water.

  The cool water is a relief to my dry throat, so much so that I extend the relief to my neck by splashing some of the water on my skin. As I rub the water on my throat and moan at the cooling sensation I hear a crash behind me, followed by a curse. I turn slowly as dread fills me and douses my relief; of course, Lawson is here now. My heart rate picks up as I see him standing there, his tool box lying forgotten at his feet, staring at me. Seconds pass as he stares and then he starts to move toward me, the intense look in his eyes putting the look he gave me on Friday night to shame. The closer he gets the hotter I feel and, before I can blink or draw in a breath he’s standing in front of me, looking at me like I’m the last drink of water that will give him life. Lord, help me.

  Lawson

  She’s trying to kill me. I was hoping I’d run into Mac and had even tried to stop by over the weekend, but luck wasn’t on my side. I got caught up on another job this morning and raced over to the orchard, hoping I’d see her and continue our conversation from Friday. As soon as I pulled up I kept an eye out for her but didn’t see her anywhere inside the barn. I decided to check around the barn and was not prepared to be struck speechless as soon as I rounded the corner because hot damn.

  I’m not sure if I’m hallucinating and my imagination is going into overdrive, or if today is finally my lucky day. Mac is bent over by the faucet in a sorry excuse for clothing. I don’t know where her baggy coveralls went, but I know I never want to see them again. The dark navy color emphasizes the gold tone of her skin, the short bottoms teasing me as her ass cheeks play peekaboo. I’m hypnotized by her lips as they try to capture the pouring water and by the long line of her legs. Her hair is up in a messy bun instead of her usual ponytail, and I’m jealous of the wet, wispy tendrils of hair that have escaped and are kissing her neck. She stands and the slow stretch showcases the sleek curve of her back.

  I was hard the instant I saw her, my lengthening cock uncomfortably smothered by my jeans. I reach down and adjust myself and wince at the pleasure-pain. Mac doesn’t help my situation at all because she cups some water with her hands and starts patting her body with it. Her slender hands are rubbing it onto the back of her neck and into her throat. The low moan she lets free runs through my body like lightening, and I groan at the erotic sound. I don’t even realize I’ve dropped my tool box until her body stiffens slightly. Slowly, she turns to look at me and the rose-colored flush on her cheeks is what I imagine would be there when she’s coming. Fuck. I stare at her and she stays still, the only movement from the bite she gives her plump lower lip and the bead of water or sweat that rolls down, down, down into the deep vee of her outfit.

  I can hear her suck in a breath as she stares at me, and it spurs me to move. I ignore my fallen tools and stalk over to her, determination and an overriding need to touch her adding purpose to my strides. Her eyes widen slightly as I get close and the spark, the heat—whatever the fuck is between us—consumes me. I walk right up to her and stop right before our bodies brush, both of us silent for a moment. As much as her body tempts me, the combination of that with her gorgeous face makes it impossible to stay away. I have to have this woman.

  As if she’s trying to speak, Mac swallows a couple times. I can see arousal and apprehension in her eyes, which prompts me to pick her up just as her lips part. Her parting comments from Friday night come to mind; I can’t let her think this won’t be a good time or that she can take care of herself. Her gasp of surprise runs straight through my body and makes me walk faster. I head for my pickup truck, which is parked on the other side of the barn under some trees, as I maneuver her legs so they’re wrapped around my waist. She doesn’t know yet but I’m about to show her a glimpse of just how well I can take care of her needs.

  I make it to my truck, and I hold her body up with one arm while the other releases the catch for the bed of my truck. I set her down on the tailgate and stay between her spread thighs, my big body keeping them spread apart. As I move closer I can see a fleeting hint of pain or discomfort cross her face.

  “Are you hurt?” I ask, leaning down a little bit so we’re eye to eye.

  “What? Why do you think I’m hurt?” Her look of confusion is adorable, but I know what I saw.

  “When I do this,” I move a little closer between her legs and she winces, “you do that. What’s wrong?”

  Her skin flushes a darker shade of rose. “My thighs burn from pulling weeds outside the barn all morning. It was a lot of squatting and bending that I’m not used to.”

  Her tight ass and toned thighs could’ve fooled me. I look at her and feel a smirk creep up on my face as an awesome idea comes to me. I take both hands off the tailgate and bring them to her thighs. She jolts and slides backward slightly, but I hold her in place.

  “What are you—?” Her sentence cuts off and a strangled moan escapes her throat as I start to massage her thighs. Before she can overthink what’s happening or say anything, I move forward with my plan.

  “I told you I’d take care of you, Mac.” Her eyes must’ve closed with my ministrations because her eyes fly open at my words, a mix of panic and arousal swirling in their hazel depths. “Now,” I say, leaning in closer to her ear as I continue to massage her thighs, “tell me what happened on Friday night.”

  Oh God, he’s rubbing my thighs and it feels incredible. Lawson Westbrook is massaging my thighs. Have I died and gone to heaven? His big hands make my thighs feel small, and the callouses on his palms and fingers add a slight scratch to his movements. I feel myself getting wet with each pass of his thumb and each squeeze of my skin. I can barely think, and now he’s asking me questions.

  “I’m sorry, what?” It’s so difficult to get the words out and, judging by his sexy smirk, he knows what he’s doing to me.

  “You told me on Friday night you can take care of yourself, in any way you need. Well,” he arches a brow, “how is that working out for you? Cause from where I’m standing, I’m the one doing that.”

  My thoughts are sluggish, but I fight to put them together in a way that makes sense. “I hardly think that giving my legs a massage constitutes as taking care of me.”

  He smiles and that, combined with his hypnotic hands, sets my body on fire. His voice is raspy as he responds. “I beg to differ. I think, from these sexy as fuck blushes and your shallow breaths, that you’re a little turned on, darlin’.”

  I can’t even lie because it’s the truth. Damn him
. His smirk widens as I sit here.

  “And since that’s the case, I think we both know your response to my touch is a clear signal I’m the only one that’ll give you any type of relief.” As he says this his hands move higher up my legs, the seductive swipe of his thumbs adding more pressure to the inside of my thighs. He’s getting dangerously close to my center, and all I can think about is how I don’t want him to stop.

  “We c-can’t, Lawson,” I stutter.

  “And why is that? Seems like we’re both attracted to one another, right Mac?” Swipe, squeeze, swipe.

  “Yes, but we work together.” I’m desperately trying to keep it together and hold my ground, but it’s so hard. So, so hard.

  “Not really. I’m not your boss, and I’m just helping your family out. We’ve known each other for years, Mac. What else do you got?”

  “I’m only here for the summer.”

  “Well, that’s not a bad thing. I’m not looking for anything serious. Are you?” His voice is deep, slightly raspy, and is lulling me further into his clutches.

  With the little resistance I have left, I lean back a bit to get some air. “No, I plan to go back to Chicago. I’m not that kind of girl, Lawson. I won’t be your hit it and quit it girl. I came here to focus on me.”

  “Mac, darlin’, I respect you enough to tell you now what my intentions are. I’m not lookin’ for anything serious at all, and I think we could have some fun this summer. You can still focus on you. Just,” he pauses, leans back into my space, and runs his nose along the length of my neck, “let me focus on you, too.”

  Oh God, how can I say no to that? I don’t even want to risk getting my heart broken in pieces because surely that’s what will happen if I give in to him. For years I harbored feelings for this man, and even if my heart as a woman wouldn’t break upon leaving him, I know the heart of the insecure teenage girl I used to be would.

  As my mind freaks out, he slowly runs the tip of his nose from my neck across my jawline and to the corner of my mouth. Oh God, is he going to kiss me? He continues to nuzzle me and traces the shape of my lips before he stops, resting his forehead against mine.

  “Lawson?” I question, my breath once again getting caught in my chest.

  “Hmm?” He leans in closer so his mouth is almost touching mine. Our breaths mingle, and I can see the rise and fall of his broad chest.

  I’m sure once he realizes I’m not that easy and won’t be giving in, he’ll give up and ignore me like he used to. I’m not sure how I manage it, but I speak and force myself to sound sure. “I can’t, Lawson. I’m sorry. Let’s just stick to being friends.”

  He doesn’t sigh or express his displeasure in any way, which I grudgingly admit is disappointing. Instead, he steps back from me and slides his hands back down my thighs, his fingertips catching on my knees. He looks serious and with one last look at my lips he says, “Okay.”

  I should leave it at that and get on with my day, but I can’t stop the word vomit that erupts from my mouth. “Were you about to kiss me?” I sound breathy and, dammit, excited.

  My words cause his smirk to reappear. He doesn’t touch me, but he leans in a bit closer and lowers his voice. “Trust me, you’ll know when I’m going to kiss you because my lips will already be on yours. There will be no waiting or wondering. Besides,” he leans out of my space and takes another step back, “you’re not ready for my kiss. Not really. When you are you’ll beg me for it or I’ll just take it, whichever comes first.”

  Then, with a wink, he steps away from me and swaggers back to his forgotten tool box. As he walks away I can feel my resolve start to chip away faster than the barn’s faded paint. I am way in over my head with this man.

  7

  I gave myself a pep talk in an effort to steel my resolve and convince myself to not be a hussy after the thigh-rubbing incident on Monday. On Tuesday, I woke up ready to say no but didn’t even have to turn Lawson down once. I still haven’t bought a new “complete” set of coveralls and decided to stick with the more comfortable, showy version Langley got me. I thought for sure Lawson would try to seduce me into giving in, but he’s stayed a complete gentleman. I’ll even shamefully admit that I’ve bent over at the waist a little more than is necessary when pulling weeds and still get no response. If we happen to cross paths he keeps his distance and gives me a polite nod before getting back to work.

  Now it’s Thursday, and he hasn’t so much as made an inappropriate comment or stepped within five feet of me. I know I told him I didn’t want anything outside of friendship, but the lack of attention when he had been so into me just days ago is driving me absolutely crazy. What makes it worse is he’s upped his sex appeal, the bastard. I thought I had it bad last week when he was pouring water over himself, but it’s infinitely worse now. Whenever he’s here he’s working shirtless and good God, seeing those muscles glistening in sweat are tempting enough to make a devout nun lift up her skirt and pray for an orgasm. I knew Lawson had a cut body but I think seeing him in his element, wielding tools and fixing things, leaves my mouth dry and my panties wet every single time. Right now I’m ogling him because he’s lifting spare slats of wood out of the bed of his truck, his biceps flexing with each movement. He’s really too gorgeous for my sanity.

  Shaking the lust from my mind, I decide to turn my focus to the inside of the barn now that I’ve finished the thankless task of clearing out weeds. I had pulled out some of the rubbish inside already but still have a lot of work to do. I pull one of the doors to the side, the gentle creaking sound washing over me in a wave of nostalgia. I make my way inside and step over dried leaves and debris, each step kicking up a layer of dust. I look ahead and broken slats of wood are on the ground; those must be part of the original roof that was destroyed. I survey the space and take in the old tanks where we used to make cider and the empty jugs, some whole and some broken, lining the walls on shelves covered in cobwebs. When I was a kid this barn was spotless and welcoming, the perfect place to make cider and greet visitors. Now it looks like an old photograph and not the treasured memory it really is. I take a deep breath and the smells of dust and mold fill my nose instead of crisp apples and warm spices. It’s in this moment I make a promise to myself: I’m going to restore this barn to its former glory.

  I pick my way across the worn and dirty hardwood and undo the latch on one of the windows. As soon as it swings open the sweet smell of flowers permeates the air and rays of sunshine filter in, the shafts of light instantly brightening up the room. I open the window on the other side and feel excited about the task at hand. This barn is a dirty penny and just needs to shine again.

  I’m in the middle of clearing out the barn of everything so I can dust when I catch another glimpse of Lawson through the window. He’s right in my line of sight and is adjusting his tool belt. The belt hangs low on his hips and is only surpassed in indecency by the even lower rise of his faded blue jeans. He can’t see me drooling like an open faucet because his head is lowered, focusing on the task at hand. His torso twists as he modifies the fit of the belt, all the sinew and lean muscles of his abs bunching slightly whenever his body shifts. My gaze keeps drifting between the deep vee of his hips and the light happy trail that starts after the last set of abs and leads straight into his pants. His body is perfect, and the muscles I’m so openly devouring are made through the hard work he puts in each day and honed further in the gym. He finally seems satisfied with how the belt sits on his hips and glances up at me. His eyes capture mine and I quickly look away, a heated blush suffusing my cheeks. How embarrassing. A few seconds later I chance a glance back at him and am relieved to see he’s turned his back to me. I lick my lips as I realize the view from the back is almost as enticing as the view from the front. He’s all broad shoulders, hard muscles, and his tight ass looks good enough to squeeze.

  “Get a grip, Mac,” I mutter to myself. “Stay strong.”

  With renewed fervor I finish clearing out the barn, which is now wonderfully emp
ty since everything is outside in organized piles. I twist my hair up further from the ponytail I haphazardly made this morning and put it in a messy bun, thankful to have the hair off my neck. Placing my hands on my hips, I survey the space and am pleased with the progress. Now I just need to do a deep clean, organize, and decorate. I smile to myself and feel beads of sweat drip from my forehead and into my shirt. Now that I’m standing still I realize just how warm my body is and decide to take a break. I wipe my brow and fan my face with my hands in an effort to cool down.

  Before I have the chance to turn and head outside a heated presence appears at my back, searing me from the inside out. The heat intensifies as Lawson leans down to speak in my ear in his low, raspy voice. Sweet Jesus.

  “Here darlin’,” he whispers. “You look hot.”

  My body jerks in surprise as he brings a wet washcloth to my skin. He starts at my throat, his arm around my body, and the only contact between us is where the cool cloth caresses my overheated skin. The contrast in sensations and his proximity causes me to shudder and release shallow gasps.

  “Doesn’t that feel better, Mac?” he asks, dragging the wash cloth briefly over the part of my breasts exposed by my coveralls and moving to each arm. My only response is a hitched breath as up and down, up and down he runs the cloth along my arms, simultaneously cooling my skin yet creating an inferno in my panties.

  Finally he moves to the back of my neck, the cooling sensation mingling with his warm breath. After one last swipe I feel the hot press of his lips against me. It’s the first physical contact we’ve had since Monday, and I feel like my skin is on fire. His lips linger on my neck and, just when I think he’s going to pull his lips away, he lifts them and gifts me with another kiss. His arms are down at his side now, and I’m tempted to grasp his hands and put them all over me. Instead I stand here like a deer who caught sight of a hunter, unable to move or process what’s happening.