The One You Can’t Forget

by Loren, Roni

  Her fingers curled around the edge of the steel table, need pulsing hard at the center of her. “Wes…”

  “Patience. This is a multicourse meal.” The tip of his tongue tasted the inside of her knee and then trailed upward, making her muscles clench and her back arch. “I want to enjoy every bite of it.”

  He was going to kill her. Just make her melt like cheese on a griddle and slide right onto the floor. But when she looked down at him and saw the strong lines of his face in the moonlight, the intent look in his eyes, she knew he was torturing himself as well. The chef knew how to savor, how to build up for the main course so that every morsel provided the ultimate satisfaction. He wasn’t going to let either of them go hungry.

  She lay back on the table, not trusting her muscles to hold her up, and he teased her for a little longer with his tongue, with his skilled fingers, with his dirty words. But when she cried out his name, the begging note cracking in her voice, he finally relented. He kissed the center of her, dragging his tongue over her clit one last time and then slipped his fingers out of her.

  He stood, his gaze devouring her as he undid his jeans and shoved them down. The fact that he didn’t kick them off just made her burn hotter. He was desperate now too. Hungry.

  He took himself in his hand and gave his cock a stroke as he stepped between her legs, dragging all her attention to the filthy, toe-curling display. She reached out and put her hand over his, following his movements for a moment, her fingers getting slick with his arousal.

  Wes grunted under his breath and took her hand in his, bringing it to his mouth and kissing her knuckles. “Keep that up, and this will be done quickly.”

  She smiled and leaned back on her elbows. “I have trouble keeping my hands off you.”

  He tucked his hands behind her knees and moved closer, rubbing the head of his erection against her and setting off every needy nerve ending inside her. “I know the feeling. I guess addiction isn’t always a bad thing.”

  “Not this time.”

  Wes pushed inside her, filling that empty, aching space in her body and all the formerly empty spaces in her heart. The connection electrified every sensitive inch of her, and her head tipped back in pleasure. Wes was done with the teasing, his hips pumping deep and steady.

  “Touch yourself,” he said, the words thick with need. “I want to see my girl take what she needs.”

  In her former life, those words would’ve made her freeze up. Sex had always been such a clandestine affair in the dark. A balance of hiding her scars and trying not to overthink things. Now, no fear entered her system. With Wes, she always felt beautiful and sexy. No performance, no smoke and mirrors, no covers to hide beneath. Just her. Naked and free. In every way possible.

  She slipped her hand between them and touched herself where she liked. Wes made a pained sound. “I’m never going to be able to look at this table again without picturing this. We’re going to have to sell the bus, or I’ll get nothing done.”

  She laughed, though the sound came out choked and twined with a sound of pleasure. “Worth it.”

  “So worth it.” He picked up the speed of his thrusts, his chest damp and glistening with exertion, and she forgot how to respond to any kind of conversation.

  She closed her eyes and tilted her head back. The feel of him inside her, her slippery fingers, and him watching her were too much. Her body was racing past any kind of control. “Wes…”

  “Bec.” Her name was a plea, and she felt herself go over, crying out and arching on the steel table, the metal warm beneath her. Wes followed quickly behind, burying deep as he came, and gripping her legs like he would fall apart.

  A satisfied moan rocked through the interior of the bus as they both floated back down to earth. Wes braced himself on his elbows, poised above her and breathing hard. “The bus is going to need a good, hard cleaning.”

  Rebecca grinned up at him. “Butt prints on a table are definitely a health code violation.”

  He laughed, the thunderous sound filling her up from the inside. “Yep. Don’t care right now, though.”

  “Me neither. This was just what I needed. You.”

  He peered down at her, and the look that came across his face nearly broke her in two. He kissed her forehead. “You are the best part of my day, Bec. I’m so glad you’re home.”

  She closed her eyes and let the words melt into her. Home.

  All her life that word had been barbed. Home was the place she’d almost run away from when her mom had left. Home was the empty hallways when her dad worked late. Home was Long Acre where she’d lost so many people and so much of herself.

  Home had never felt like this. Like the right key sliding into the matching lock.

  Like forever.

  Finally, she was exactly where she was supposed to be.

  She reached up and cupped his jaw. “I love you, Wes Garrett.”

  He kissed her again. “I love you back, Mrs. Garrett.”

  A tingly ripple of contentment went through Rebecca at the sound of that. No one knew to call her that yet, no one knew what they’d done on their seemingly spontaneous trip to Paris last weekend. “Think we should tell everyone yet?”

  Wes smiled down at her, his handsome face so familiar to her now but no less breath-stealing. Dimples appeared beneath his scruff. “We’re going to freak everyone out.”

  “You look super worried about that,” she said drolly.

  He eased away from her and pulled up his jeans. “I’m not. I’m not worried what anyone thinks but you and me. I’ve never been so sure of a decision in my life.”

  She sat up and then let him drag her into his lap in the booth seat. She laid her head on his shoulder. “Me neither.”

  And that was the truth. She’d spent her life following the rules, doing what was proper, what was expected. Her one act of rebellion early on had cost her so much that she’d been terrified to ever stray off script again. But now she realized that the best parts of life were outside the lines, scribbled in the margins, in the parts without facts and rules and closing arguments. There, it was just feelings and intuition and knowing down to your bones that you’d found the person you wanted to be with forever.

  So when she’d walked into that Paris church with Wes and promised him a lifetime, she’d never felt so reckless or so very sure of something in all her life.

  Soon, they would tell everyone and make it official here. They’d plan a proper party to celebrate and invite family and friends.

  But for now, forever was just for them.

  Order Roni Loren’s next book in

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  Shaw Miller made his coffee order at the counter of the bustling shop and dug a few bills from his wallet. He could feel the gaze and smile of the cashier on him as he plucked out the money, but he chose not to look up. He would need at least two cups of coffee and a different personality before he was in the mood for small talk.

  The pretty redhead took the money and kept her gaze on him. “Hey, have we met before? I don’t think I’ve seen you in here, but you look familiar for some reason.”

  He glanced up briefly and tried to appear nonchalant, even though the words sent his gut twisting into a knot. “I don’t think so. But I’ve been told I have one of those faces.”

  “Maybe so. Or maybe I was just wishing I’d met you before.” She gave him a sly grin.

  The flirtation bounced off him like hail against a windshield. He shoved two bucks in the tip jar. “Where do I wait for my coffee?”

  Her smile faltered a bit at his flat tone, but she cocked her head to the right. “Over there. Chris will set you right up. And here—” She slid a loyalty card across the counter. “Next time we’ll be even faster because we’ll already know your order.”

  He pocketed the card an
d mentally scratched this coffee shop off his list of places to frequent. “Thanks.”

  “Anytime, darling.”

  As long as anytime is never.

  With his coffee in hand, Shaw hurried out of the mocha-scented shop and into the cool morning. You look familiar. His long strides ate up the sidewalk as he headed to work, and he couldn’t help checking over his shoulder to see if anyone was following—an old habit he couldn’t seem to break.

  Rivers, Shaw’s best friend and the one who’d coaxed him back to this town, would tell him that he was overreacting. Rivers had assured him that his fears about returning to Austin were overblown. Shaw had changed his name, his look, and had cut the traceable ties to his old life as much as anyone could in the world of the internet. He’d covered all the bases. But the woman at the coffee shop had, for a moment, looked at him like she’d recognized him for real, and that had sent ice through his veins.

  Shaw wanted to dismiss it as his own paranoia. It wouldn’t be the first time that he’d thought someone was looking at him askance, only to be reading too much into it. Last night at the bar, he’d even had a brief snap of fear that the sexy singer who’d lost her shoe had looked at him with some hint of familiarity at first. But based on the fact that “James with a z” had been about to ask him to coffee, he knew he’d been wrong on that one. Of course, that hadn’t meant he could accept her invitation—as much as he’d been tempted by it—but it did prove he was prone to thinking the worst.

  Being stalked by the press for so many years made him see motives in everyone and feel like he was constantly under surveillance. But this time at the coffee shop, he’d seen real recognition in the woman’s eyes. She just hadn’t placed him. That was what had made the cold hand of fear grip his chest. Maybe later on today, her brain would click, and she’d realize who she’d been talking to. Maybe not. Either way, he wasn’t going back to that coffee shop.

  When he unlocked the back door of the soon-to-be-open Gym Xtreme, the steamy, chlorine-scented air hit him in the face like dragon breath. He grimaced and finished the rest of his coffee before tossing the cup in a trash can in the hallway. As Shaw entered the main part of the gym, his footsteps echoed in the cavernous warehouse space like he was in some horror movie, but fear was the last thing he felt when he stopped and looked around.

  Sunlight streamed in from the skylights he and Rivers had gotten installed, but the main lights weren’t on. Dust motes danced in the air, and the reflection off the pools painted blue patterns on the far wall. Despite the stuffy atmosphere and too-warm temperature, the tension in Shaw’s shoulders eased. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. A quiet gym was like entering his own version of church. It was the only place where his mind went still.

  A clink of metal sounded to his left, and Shaw craned his neck that way. Rivers was balancing on a ladder as he adjusted something on a set of still rings in the gymnastic area, his blond hair slicked back from either sweat or a dip in the pool.

  “How’d it go at the permits office?” Rivers asked, not looking away from his task but apparently hearing Shaw’s footsteps. “I hope it’s more fun than the DMV.”

  Shaw snorted as he walked over. “It made the DMV look like a rave, but we’re all squared away. I’s dotted, t’s crossed, ridiculous fees paid.”

  “Great.”

  Shaw pulled his shirt away from his chest, the material starting to cling. “What happened to the AC? It feels like the inside of a gym sock and smells like a swim meet in here. Are you trying to save money on the electric bill?”

  Rivers sniffed. “No, I’m not choosing this misery. The system froze up. I already had a guy out to look at it. He said to turn off the units for a few hours so they can thaw and to consider adding another one to cover this much square footage. He said once we have people in here, it will only get hotter quicker, and in the summer, we’ll be completely screwed.”

  “Fantastic. More expenses,” Shaw groused. The gym was bleeding money, and Shaw was having a hard time finding ways to stanch the wound. He’d helped Rivers plan this project down to the penny, but the old building had issues they hadn’t been expecting, the equipment had been pricier to build than the original estimates, and the insurance was through the roof. If they didn’t have a stellar opening month, they were going to drown before they ever made their first lap around the pool.

  “I know. It sucks.” Rivers glanced down at him. “But it is what it is. We can’t have people passing out from the heat.”

  “At this rate, we’re not going to have people at all because we’re never going to open.”

  “It’ll all work out.” Rivers smiled, unperturbed, which tended to be a natural state for him—hence the reason Shaw was in charge of the business finances. Rivers returned to checking the still rings, yanking on them. “The smell is because I got all the pools treated again. The chemical balance was off. Now they’re clean and ready to catch all the people who will fall off our badass challenges.”

  Shaw smirked and stepped under the rings. “I’m not sure I would market them that way. Come to the gym that is sure to crush your spirits!”

  Rivers snorted. “Breaking spirits to rebuild them, Shaw.” Rivers put a hand to his chest, a dramatic look on his face. “We’re doing spiritual work here. The people need us.”

  “Yeah, okay, Reverend McGowan.” Shaw eyed the other side of the high-ceilinged space that they’d converted into what would hopefully become Austin’s premier extreme gym—a place for people who wanted to train and test themselves on ultimate athletic challenges. The side he and Rivers were on had more traditional exercise equipment and weights, along with a full setup for gymnastics. Equipment to get people ready for the harder stuff. Those things were vital, but the other side was hopefully where the money would be made. There were crazy-hard obstacles that tested strength and balance to the extreme—a huge curved wall to run up, rock climbing apparatus with nearly impossible angles, rolling cylinders to run over, ropes to swing on, various riffs on monkey bars to test upper body strength, and two deep swimming pools and a few foam pits that would catch people if they fell off the obstacles.

  He and Rivers had come up with the idea after drinking too much beer one night and watching too many episodes of Ninja Warrior Challenge when Rivers had come into town to visit him. Shaw had thought his best friend was joking. They’d had crazy conversations like that before when they’d been college roommates. Rivers was an inventor by nature and a big talker. But then a month later, Rivers had shown up on Shaw’s doorstep in Chicago with a stack of paperwork. Rivers had leased out the warehouse in Austin, quit his engineering job, and had developed a business plan—a plan that included Shaw moving back to the town he’d sworn he’d never return to and running the gym with him.

  Shaw had refused. His life plan was to lie low and to never do anything that would have the press ever sniffing his way again. So what if he was miserable and unable to find decent work because of the reputation that followed him around like a plague? But when Rivers had laid out the plan—Shaw changing his legal name, the business being listed under Rivers even though they’d split the profits, and Shaw getting to handle the business’s finances while also being a trainer—Shaw hadn’t been able to walk away.

  Besides the much-needed job, his friend had been offering him a taste of freedom he wasn’t sure he deserved but that sounded like a dream. A fresh start. A job that would let him be in an environment he loved. His best friend—hell, his only friend—living down the street instead of across the country. The only sticking point was that it was in Austin, just down the road from the place of his nightmares, where everything in his world had been ripped away and burned to ashes. Where he wasn’t just hated and feared in a general sense, but in very, very specific and personal sense.

  He deserved that hate.

  Shaw had come anyway, even when he knew it would be temporary. Everything in his life was. Putting down roots anywhere had always invoked trouble. He’d lost the right to roo
ts. Secretly, Shaw had vowed to give time to this project for a year. He’d take some business classes to finish up the degree he’d had to abandon all those years ago and work as a trainer at the gym. He’d help Rivers get the business off the ground, build himself a little nest egg, buy a houseboat, and then leave Rivers to run the gym. He hadn’t told Rivers that he wasn’t planning on staying permanently, but he’d cross that bridge when necessary.

  The close call in the coffee shop today had only confirmed the necessity of that plan. It’d probably been a false alarm this time, but it wouldn’t be every time. He just hoped that he could actually make it the full year. The clock was already ticking. Someone would eventually recognize him. Someone would call the press. The cycle would start over.

  “We’re still on track to open next week?” Shaw asked, examining his friend’s work on the rings.

  “Yep.” Rivers climbed down from the ladder and wiped his damp face with his T-shirt. “Well, open to the public at least. I signed us up for a charity event tomorrow morning.”

  “A what?”

  “You’re coming. Don’t try to get out of it. If we get a lot of interest, I may open for a sneak preview this week and give a few tours. I don’t want to lose good leads if we get them. The event looks very Austin quirky, so I have a feeling it will get some press, which we desperately need.”

  “A charity event with press?” Shaw’s stomach sank. “No way. You know I can’t be anywhere near a goddamned camera.”

  Rivers made a dismissive sound. “You won’t be. I’ve already thought this through. It’s a Halloween run, costumes encouraged. We’ll make sure you have a good one. You’ll just be there to participate and give out flyers for the gym. As far as anyone knows, Lucas Shaw is just a trainer here. They have no reason to pay attention to you.”

  Shaw let out a breath, the name Lucas still sounding weird in his ear. He’d chosen to keep the Shaw part of his real name, Shaw Miller, because if he or Rivers slipped up and used the name Shaw, there would be an easy explanation. But getting used to an entirely new first name was going to take a while.