The Southern Comfort Prequel Trilogy Box Set

by Lisa Clark O'Neill

  Since Cal’s workshop currently occupied what had once been the detached garage – he had plans to add a garage onto the house, he’d explained earlier – he pulled her SUV as close to the front porch as he could get it.

  Ainsley unbuckled and reached back to pull the crutches from behind the seat, and Cal snorted.

  “You don’t seriously think you’re going to hobble up the stairs in this deluge, do you?”

  “No, I thought I would sprout wings.”

  “So it’s true what they say about bloodsuckers turning into bats.”

  “Lawyer jokes. They just never get old.”

  “Good, because I’ve got a bunch of them. Stay put.”

  Cal opened the door and darted out, ducking his head against the pounding rain as he crossed in front of the hood. Then he yanked open her door and leaned in. “Arms around my neck,” he ordered.

  Ainsley wanted to sigh, but also didn’t feel like getting wetter than she had to. So instead of arguing over his tone, she let him scoop her out of the seat and cart her up the stairs.

  Really, this was getting embarrassing.

  Especially since she’d discovered some previously unrecognized part of herself that kind of enjoyed it.

  In any case, they got wet anyway.

  It was pretty much impossible not to, given that the rain was coming down so hard that it formed a solid sheet. Cal shifted her in his arms in order to insert the key into the lock, and then used his shoulder to push the door open.

  Frantic barking greeted them, and Cal cursed under his breath before depositing her on a leather recliner in front of the fireplace.

  “Be right back.”

  Ainsley watched him go, his thick brown hair plastered to his head, the absence of the unruly waves giving her an idea of what he must have looked like with a buzz cut.

  Handsome, of course. Probably impossibly so in his uniform. Likely intimidating, too. He had the kind of bone structure that lent itself to his features forming a hard mask when he scowled, as he had been when she’d first seen him.

  Definitely intimidating.

  But, she thought when he emerged from the back of the house carrying the now deliriously happy puppy, he could be a marshmallow, too.

  The dog squirmed around until it could reach his face with its tongue, landing a kiss right on Cal’s lips.

  “Ugh.” Grimacing, he frowned at the dog. “Stop that.”

  Beaumont, of course, ignored him, turning his affections onto Ainsley as soon as Cal set him down. Ainsley leaned over to scratch his head.

  “Here.” Cal pulled a towel from his shoulder. He’d obviously picked it up in the laundry room when he’d gone to retrieve Beau. “Just try to stay out of the creek, will you? I’m almost out of clean towels.”

  She rolled her eyes. “You’re impossible.”

  “Impossibly sexy?” He bent down and hit the lever to raise the footrest on the recliner. “Why thank you. You’re relatively attractive yourself.”

  Ainsley shot him a withering look, to which he responded by bobbing his eyebrows. She laughed. She couldn’t help it. He made her want to strangle him and kiss him brainless all at the same time.

  Cal grabbed a dog toy off of the sofa, tossing it onto the wood floor and sending Beaumont into paroxysms of delight, before plopping down himself. She knew he was tired. He had to be. He couldn’t have slept very well on that loveseat last night.

  Was that just last night? It seemed as if weeks had passed since then.

  Ainsley glanced out the window. The rain hadn’t let up, and her heart hurt thinking of the possibility that Sabrina was out there somewhere, injured and exposed.

  She knew that there were things Ben hadn’t told her, and it frustrated her not to have all of the available pieces of the puzzle to work with. She understood more than most that he couldn’t risk compromising an open investigation, but that didn’t lessen her agitation.

  She could call her friend Beth, have her send Ainsley’s backup for her computer files so that she could see if there was something there that could possibly shed some light on Bree’s disappearance, though she didn’t think that was the case. Whoever had taken the laptop perhaps did so only to make it look more like a random burglary, or maybe they were just covering their bases. It suggested, of course, that – assuming it wasn’t a random burglary – they knew Bree well enough to know that she was close with Ainsley. And that they were aware enough of events in town to know that Ainsley was here, and where she was staying.

  Or had been staying, at any rate.

  The smell of burning wood began to fill the room, and Ainsley turned away from the window.

  Cal was crouched in front of the fireplace, drawing the protective screen closed. Beaumont had obviously tired himself out, and was snoozing beside the fire.

  “I didn’t even hear you get up,” she said.

  “You were lost in thought.”

  “I can’t make sense of how all of this fits together. Sabrina. The journals. Carly.”

  “I guess that’s why they call it an investigation,” he said. “If things were obvious, you wouldn’t have to look for the connections.” He studied her as he stood up. “I know it’s difficult, but you should try to give yourself a break for a little while. I can find a movie, or get you a book. Or you could knit, if you brought yarn or whatever with you.”

  Ainsley stared at him. He looked so earnest, standing there. So solid and dependable.

  And some emotion that she hesitated to name flowed through her, warming her more than any fire.

  Reaching down, she lowered the footrest without taking her eyes from his.

  Ainsley wished she wasn’t hindered by a medical boot, so that she could glide across the floor. She wished that she didn’t currently resemble a partially drowned rodent.

  But she had firelight. She had the rain coming down in buckets outside, making the room seem all the cozier.

  And she had a man – a solid, dependable, and yes, sexy man – to whom she was almost painfully attracted.

  Cal watched her stand, watched her make her way toward him. When she drew even with him, laid her hand against his chest, his gaze drifted from her eyes down to her mouth, and then back again.

  He laid his hand over hers.

  “Is this one of those moves I’ve been hearing about?”

  “If you have to ask, I might need to be a little less subtle.” She slid her arms around his neck, pressed her lips to his, opened in invitation.

  He kissed her back, gentle at first, his mouth as warm and soothing as the crackling fire.

  Then with a sound deep in his throat he slid his hand around to her back, pulled her closer, palming her butt to hitch her up a little more until the vee of her thighs bumped against him, and the powerful erection swelling there.

  She wiggled to get a better fit, causing the sound he made to border on pain.

  Blood rushed through Ainsley’s veins as her heart began to pump double-time, the smell and taste and feel of him combining into the most potent of natural drugs.

  “God,” he groaned, nipping her lip before coming up for air. His eyes when he looked into hers seemed to reflect the flames leaping beside them. “Are you sure about this?”

  “Do I seem like the kind of woman who sits around twiddling her thumbs when she wants something?”

  A smile tugged at the corners of his sensual, sexy mouth. “No.”

  “I’m sure.”

  “Then you better hang on.”

  Before she knew what was happening she was back in his arms, this time with her legs wrapped around his waist. His mouth fused to hers with more demand than tenderness, and Ainsley realized that he’d been holding himself in check.

  The thought excited more than alarmed.

  Her back hit the cushions of the wide, plush sectional, and Ainsley expected Cal to come down on top of her. Instead, he stood beside the couch, gaze raking her from head to foot.

  The desire in his eyes was so palpable that
Ainsley reached out a hand.

  Cal took it, turned it over and pressed a kiss to the inside of her wrist. But he didn’t join her.

  Instead, he started working the Velcro fastenings on her medical boot, pulling it off and setting it aside before unlacing the tennis shoe she wore on the other foot.

  Then he removed her socks, kissing each of her insteps.

  A log in the fireplace snapped as it settled, the only sound in the room aside from Beaumont’s soft snores and her rapid breathing. Cal ran his hands up her legs, feeling their shape before deftly unbuttoning her jeans and lowering the zipper.

  He watched her the entire time he slid both them and her underwear down, being careful of her ankle. Only after he’d tossed them onto the floor did his gaze fall below her waist.

  He stared, and Ainsley felt the power of her own sexuality when his chest rose and fell beneath his shirt. Finally he reached out, rubbed his hand over her mound before pushing two long fingers boldly and unapologetically inside her. With his thumb he pressed down, circling, circling, and then curling his fingers so that she was caught by the pressure between the opposing forces, in and out, in and out.

  Her breathing grew erratic. Her cheeks began to heat.

  Cal’s gaze slid up her torso, blazing a trail nearly as palpable as his touch, eventually locking with hers.

  And it was the look in his eyes, the unfettered desire, that peculiarly male tone of possession, that pushed her over the edge.

  Ainsley’s back arched off the couch as the unexpected orgasm slammed into her.

  “Okay,” she finally managed to say. “I like your moves, too.”

  Cal smiled, his expression pleased and just a little bit nasty. “Did I mention that I was a wide receiver? We’re renowned for our skilled hands.” He slid those hands under her shirt, pushing it up as he went. “And to continue with the football jargon, that was just the kickoff.”

  “I would get my defensive line in place, except that I have every intention of allowing you to make a touchdown.”

  The smile bumped up to a grin. “Damn. A woman who can dispense football innuendo and free legal advice?”

  “Who said anything about free? That kickoff was just the retainer. Now get down here and pay up.”

  Ainsley slid one hand around the back of his neck, pulling his mouth down to meet hers. With the other she began unbuttoning his shirt.

  “This is faster,” Cal murmured, yanking the half-buttoned flannel over his head and tossing it onto the floor.

  Ainsley brushed her fingers lightly across his bruised pectoral and then leaned up, circled the uninjured nipple with her tongue. Cal swore, watching her while his hands clenched into fists.

  After several prolonged moments of gentle torment, he gathered her shirt in his hands and sent it to join his on the floor. Her bra was next, and then Cal paused, taking several moments to do a thorough inspection.

  “You’re bruised, too.” He frowned at the mark on her chest. “I wondered last night, but I wasn’t going to look, considering.”

  “It’s not as bad as yours.”

  His frown deepened, and he brushed the hair away from her face, looking at the bandage on her forehead. He muttered another curse, and Ainsley sensed his sudden hesitation.

  “Don’t worry. I’m not that fragile.”

  “I’m not that gentle.”

  “I didn’t ask you to be.”

  His eyes flashed, but he shook his head, clearly exasperated. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “If something hurts – and not in a good way – I’ll tell you.”

  The breath that eased from between his lips sounded like a hiss, and with another rasped curse he reached into his pocket. Ainsley watched as he extracted a couple of condoms before going to work on his fly.

  “I put them in my pocket before I stopped by your hotel yesterday.”

  “Pretty sure of yourself, are you?”

  “You compel me to point out that you’re currently naked on my couch.”

  Ainsley would have come up with a suitable retort if she weren’t so interested in what lay behind his zipper. He shoved his jeans and boxers down his hips, and Ainsley sucked in a breath.

  “You have a better chance of catching the ball,” he quipped before lying down beside her, bringing them skin to skin “if you have a long… reach.”

  She found herself laughing again, until his mouth found hers, and then all traces of humor ceased.

  He used lips and teeth and tongue, working his way from her mouth to her ear, blazing an erotic trail down her neck. He lingered there, nipping, sucking, licking, and Ainsley sank her hands into his hair, the thick mess of it still damp between her fingers.

  Despite his protestations that he wasn’t gentle, he took care not to hurt her injured breast when he cupped it, tested its weight, molded it to fit his hand.

  And then he kissed his way lower.

  “Your legs,” he murmured after dipping his tongue into her belly button “were the first thing I noticed. Striding along the path in those high-heeled boots and tight jeans. I thought to myself: She’s trespassing, and she’s probably going to break her neck before she gets very far, but damn, her legs sure would look good wrapped around your waist.”

  “Like this?” Ainsley hooked her legs around him, used her uninjured foot to bring him closer.

  “Exactly like that,” he agreed, snaking one hand behind the knee of her good leg and pushing it toward her chest. “But not yet.”

  His hands – and oh, they were indeed talented – worked in conjunction, cupping her ass, squeezing it, holding her steady for his mouth. Ainsley thought that she should feel a little bit guilty, since up to this point he’d done all the work, but she wasn’t going to protest, or suggest that he stop.

  In fact… “Don’t stop,” she said when he’d brought her to the brink and then backed off, flicking too lightly with his tongue to push her over.

  He looked up at her from between her legs, hooded green eyes reflecting the firelight that danced over their naked bodies. The sight was so erotic that Ainsley thought she would also burst into flame.

  “Please.”

  “Please what?”

  He touched her with the tip of his tongue. “Say please.”

  She wanted to kick him, but more than that, she wanted him to finish. In battles of will, Ainsley hardly ever conceded.

  But he cocked an inquiring eyebrow, and Ainsley considered that sometimes, conceding didn’t mean losing. “Please.”

  And God. Oh God, had she made the right decision. Cal’s fingers joined his lips, his tongue, moving both inside and out. But just when she’d approached that final crest again, he pulled back.

  “You are cruel,” Ainsley gasped, torn between killing him and begging.

  Undaunted, Cal reached for one of the condoms. “I want to be inside you this time. Put it on.”

  When she simply stared, he lifted an eyebrow. Then she snatched the condom from his hand, opened the wrapper with her teeth. It was either that or spontaneously combust.

  “I think I hate you.”

  “But you want me.”

  She laughed her disbelief. “I’m going to strangle you. After.”

  And she rolled the condom on. Slowly. Feeling his length, his girth. Giving his balls a squeeze.

  His nostrils flared, but he smiled at her. A wicked, wicked smile.

  And before Ainsley knew what was happening he’d grabbed her hips, pulled her down the sofa and beneath him.

  And plunged.

  Ainsley’s mouth fell open on a silent scream, her head dropping back against the cushion. Good lord. Good lord. He hadn’t just entered, he’d invaded.

  Cal slid a hand beneath her head, gathered her hair in his fist, bringing her mouth to his. He kissed her deeply, thoroughly, reverently as he began to move his hips.

  After that her thoughts scattered, her body becoming one giant exposed nerve, one pulsing bundle of sensation. He kept his weight slightly off
of her – probably in deference to her bruise – but other than that he was absolutely correct.

  He wasn’t gentle.

  He was, however, thorough. Very, very thorough. Sweat began to glaze their skin, making them slide against each other. A flush suffused Ainsley’s entire body and she dug her heels into his calves – wincing at a sharp pain in her ankle that she would no doubt regret later – in order to grind her hips into his.

  Cal made a noise deep in his throat before kissing his way to her ear. Then he told her, in very explicit terms, exactly what he was doing.

  Ainsley shattered. A million tiny pieces, like sparks from the fire. Vaguely, she heard his answering groan, coming as if from a distance, felt his body stiffen with the power of his release.

  A little death, she thought. She’d never before realized how much that phrase fit.

  Cal collapsed, but quickly shifted his weight so that he wasn’t lying across her chest. Ainsley tried to lift a hand to pat his butt, but only made it as far as his hip. She was too boneless to move it farther. Her ankle throbbed, but then so did everything else at this point, and the former was a small price to pay for the latter.

  After what seemed an eternity, she cracked open an eye, noted that Cal’s own eyes were closed, his lips slightly parted. From the steadiness of his breathing, she assumed he’d fallen asleep.

  Tenderness washed through her with as strong a pull as her earlier lust, and Ainsley lifted a hand, ran it over Cal’s hair. Making a small hum of approval, he opened his eyes, stared into hers.

  And Ainsley was sunk.

  “Shit,” she whispered, and Cal studied her face, one corner of his mouth lifting in a rueful smile.

  “The city slicker and the mountain man. Who’d have thought?”

  Certainly not her. She usually went for elegant, urbane men… with the exception of the only man she’d ever come close to falling in love with, she realized. Her boss’s brother. Jesse. He was as earthy as Jack was polished.

  And because she’d almost fallen in love with him, he’d scared the hell out of her, and she’d picked men who were his polar opposite after they’d parted ways.

  Until Cal. Although she couldn’t say she’d exactly picked him. It was more accurate to say she’d been blindsided.