by D. L. Roan
The odd mixture of sensations had been surreal, new and addictive, and he could have slept beside her all day had Connor not woken them. Slept being the key word. The flu had sucked every bit of sexual energy from his body and allowed him to just be with her. The experience was strange—nice.
The talk with Connor that followed had upended everything. He still didn’t know what had happened. Maybe waking up with her in his arms had fried his brain, but when he’d asked Connor outright if he wanted to share her and saw how much his brother wanted it, he couldn’t say no.
A part of him had hoped that she and Connor would go out that night, fuck like rabbits and decide to do their own thing without him, but four hours later Connor came down with the same shitty bug and found himself flat on his back, hacking up a lung and quarantined to their parents’ house with him, away from anyone who could spread anything to Papa Joe—which included Breezy, of course—who’d managed to avoid both them and the flu altogether since that day. That ended tonight.
Despite his prior suspicions, and a dozen other important reasons he shouldn’t, he’d thought about her every damn second of every damn day. In the last ten days he’d wavered between calling everything off or keeping his mouth shut and going with whatever Connor wanted. The constant back and forth and the memory of how well they fit together, the feel of her against him, had tormented him to distraction.
Spending more than a week cooped up with Connor, listening to him describe the way she’d responded to him that day in the field, only added to his frustration and eventually cemented his decision. They both wanted her. God, did he ever want her. He just had to keep his dick in his pants and let Connor set the pace.
Once he was deemed contagion-free, he’d used every excuse in the book to see her. He’d made countless trips to his grandparents’ house, disguising his intentions with offers to help Papa Nate with the garden, or take his Gran something she’d called to borrow from his mom. He’d endured an entire afternoon listening to Papa Jake explain the inner workings of a band saw, hoping she’d come outside for two freaking seconds so he could see her.
Nothing. A solid week she’d avoided him. He hadn’t seen so much as a shadow, and even wondered at one point if she’d done as he’d asked and left town, but his grandparents hadn’t told him. How unacceptable he’d found that thought added another complicated layer to his irritation.
After climbing the walls for a week, he’d escaped to the barn earlier that day to find Cory’s skin mag stash and rub one out. Hidden right where he’d showed his baby brother the last time he and Connor had come home to visit, he’d dug one out and flipped through the pages of debauchery before tossing it back under the loose floorboard with a disappointed sigh. There was nothing there he hadn’t already seen a million times, nothing that came close to making a dent in his perpetual frustration. He had a feeling nothing would—nothing but Breezy. He’d been right.
Encased in skin-tight blue jeans, her sweet little ass swayed across the dance floor, the red cowgirl boots she’d borrowed from Dani beckoning his cock like a matador’s cape would a charging bull. What was this hold she had on him?
Whatever it was, it had him moving through the shadows and across the dance floor before he knew what hit him. The music had ended. Breezy was walking towards the refreshments when he snagged her hand and drew her into the darkness behind the concessions.
“What are you doing?” she asked in a breathless rush as they neared the tree line.
Back in the shadows, and away from any lurking photogs, Carson slowed his strides. “Making sure we’re not seen.”
“No,” she said, jerking her hand free of his. “I mean, what are you doing here? Connor said you couldn’t come because of the media. And you’re both sick.”
“I’ve recovered,” he said, taking her hand back into his. “And when did you talk to Con?”
“Yesterday. And what about the press?” Her head swiveled from side to side, looking for anything suspicious.
“Come on. I know a place where they won’t find us.”
“Car, wait!” She pulled him to a stop. “Why are you here?”
Now that he was standing in front of her he wished to hell he knew. He and Connor agreed it was best not to come. Everyone had already left for town and he’d settled into a chair on the front porch with a beer to watch the sunset alone, when Jonah came barreling back up the driveway to retrieve his forgotten phone. Jumping into his truck had been a complete lack of impulse control, but he would have gone crazy if he had to spend another night without seeing her.
“I only want to talk.” He glanced down at the bare swatch of milky skin that peeked out from under the hem of her short tee shirt. No, talking wasn’t even on the first page of the long list of things he wanted to do with her.
“Unless you have a million dollar check in your pocket, what else could you want to talk to me about?”
Ouch. Carson nodded. He’d give her that one. “You change your mind about the letter of recommendation?”
“No. Did you change your mind and decide to seek therapy?”
He couldn’t help but chuckle at her sassiness. “No.” A little time between the sheets with her was all the therapy he needed.
“That’s too bad,” she said and turned to leave.
“Breezy, wait.” He caught her arm, but let it go, falling into stride beside her instead.
“Car, I don’t want to fight with you,” she said, advancing her retreat.
“That’s not why I’m here.”
“I understand this is difficult for you, and I’ve tried to give you space.” She stopped and turned to face him. “Joe is recovering remarkably well, so I’ll be gone in a few weeks anyway. Can’t we just ignore each other until then?”
Even if he wanted to, the last week had proven him incapable of ignoring her. “Breezy, I’m sorry, for everything. I handled things poorly, but I want to start over. Can we just talk?”
Her brows drew together before she looked away, crossing her arms over her chest as she considered his peace offering; at least he hoped she was. She tipped her head back with a defeated sigh. When she raised it again her teeth were clamped down on her plump bottom lip, the seductive sight destroying his new ‘peace talk’ initiative and his focus.
She gave him a reluctant nod. “What do you want to talk about?”
Talk? Oh right. He shrugged, searching for a subject of conversation that wouldn’t result in another colossal fuck-up and send her running away again.
“What did you and Connor talk about yesterday?” he asked, shoving his hands into his pockets to keep them from wandering in her direction.
“Nothing, really.” She began walking along the tree line. “He called to ask about Joe.”
“You said he was getting better. Will he ever fully recover?” he asked, falling into step beside her.
“Yes. I mean, every patient is different, but I believe he will.”
Carson was relieved at the news. With all the time he’d spent at his grandparents’ house trying to catch a glimpse of her, he’d heard the same, but it was more reassuring coming from her. “What made you decide to become a nurse?”
“Um, I’m not a nurse. I’m an occupational therapist,” she clarified. “And it wasn’t a decision, really. A lot of people helped me when I couldn’t help myself. I want to give something back.”
“Connor told me about the people who took you in after the accident.” Damn. The words were out before he could take them back, but it was unavoidable. Everything between them revolved around what happened that night.
“The Brightons,” she confirmed with a nod. “They’re good people, like your family.”
“Did they have a lot of children, too?”
Breezy shook her head. “Their son died in the war in Afghanistan. I was the first and only foster child they ever took in.”
“Lucky you. Not that you were lucky because they...I meant lucky you didn’t grow up with ten other people in the h
ouse, like my family. It’s an insane experience.” Shit, this talking thing was hard.
He wasn’t any closer to getting the answers he needed, but coming out and asking if she’d been beaten or abused as a child seemed crass. He’d committed to doing this thing with her and Connor, but first he had to know the truth about what happened that night.
“I was lucky, yes, but not because of that. I would have loved to have had another bro—more siblings.”
Damn, he’d done it again! Their mangled past reared its ugly head at every turn. He needed answers, but he didn’t want to see that haunting look of sadness in her eyes that he’d already caused one too many times. He didn’t know what else to do. Going into full interrogation mode wasn’t an option.
He didn’t want to make it worse, but needed to know the truth. He hesitated, searching for the right words before he blurted out something moronic.
“Breezy, what did you mean the other day, when you said you didn’t know where Ford was buried?” he finally asked. Aside from her being neglected as a child, that revelation had troubled him the most.
She stumbled and he reached out to steady her. “Sorry,” she said, releasing his hand when she regained her balance, looking back at the ground behind them. “Must have been a root or something, and I’m not used to walking in these boots.”
“Yeah, it’s kind of hard to see them in the dark. Let’s walk over here.” He cupped her elbow and led her towards a walking path he hoped was still there. “I understand if you don’t want to tell me,” he prodded after they’d found the path and the silence between them had grown into what he was sure was avoidance.
“No, it’s not that.” She hesitated, but cleared her throat and eventually continued. “It’s kind of personal, and a little embarrassing to talk about.”
“I understand,” he offered.
“Our pa was arrested that night. He didn’t have any money for bail and there was no one else to claim Ford’s body after they completed the autopsy. I was too young and just getting acclimated into the foster system, so, as next of kin, the Grunions had him cremated.”
“They didn’t invite you to the funeral?”
“They didn’t have a funeral,” she said, her voice small and trembling. “The Brightons contacted them once, to ask where he was buried, but they refused to say.”
Carson stopped in his tracks in disbelief at such cruelty. “What the hell? Breezy, that’s bullshit!”
She blanched at his outburst, taking a step away from him. “You don’t believe me?”
“No!” Oh God, no. He reached out and pulled her into his arms. “I’m sorry. I meant that it’s bullshit that they won’t tell you.” He had his own issues with her and her brother, but not having a funeral, or even telling her where he was buried, was downright cruel even by Grunion standards. “Have you searched online? Maybe there’s an obituary. There has to be some record,” he insisted when she shook her head.
She stepped away from him, replacing his embrace with her own. The sight of her standing in the darkness, her arms wrapped tight around her stomach as if she were holding herself together, pulled at something deep within him and made him wish he’d never asked.
“I’ve contacted all the local cemeteries. There’s no central database that keeps track of stuff like that after a body has been released. I only found out that Ford was cremated because one of the guys who knew him from the grocery store happened to work for the coroner when I finally worked up the nerve to call him years later.”
This was screwed up. He wanted to punch something. He wanted to drive over to the Grunion’s farm and punch one of them! “There has to be something you can do. We’ll sue the bastards if we have to.”
“No, Car. Please,” Breezy begged.
“Why not? We get sued all the time.”
Fresh tears spilled from her eyes as she reached out and clutched his arm. “Car, don’t. Please, I don’t want to cause trouble. I only came here to help Joe because—”
“Shh, it’s okay.” He pulled her back into his arms, her body trembling against him as he held her tight and tried to reassure her. “I won’t say anything, not if you don’t want me to.” But, damn this was wrong. How horrible had the Grunion’s been to her that she was afraid to fight them to find her brother’s final resting place? “I’m sorry I pushed you.” He was suddenly sorry about a whole lot of things.
Her arms tightened around his waist, shaking and quivering with her quiet sobs. Carson held her closer, whispering reassuring words into her ear as his mind raced with thoughts of brutal justice. He’d promised he wouldn’t say anything to the Grunions, but he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to get some answers from someone.
Sometime later her breathing calmed. Her body had relaxed against his and they stood on the darkened path just outside the park where hundreds of people were gathered for the fireworks celebration. He could have been smack dab in the middle of them and never noticed. The feel of her in his arms again was pure bliss.
She lifted her head from his chest and wiped at her tears, but he was reluctant to let her go. He’d waited days to feel her again. He buried his nose in her hair and breathed her in, savoring the fruity smell of her shampoo.
Intoxicated by her scent, he kissed the top of her head, the silkiness of her hair tickling his lips as he trailed them down to her temple, her ear, the rosy skin on her cheek, leaving feather-light kisses at every stop.
He paused just shy of her lips. Her breasts rose and fell with every breath she took, the hypnotic, excited rhythm matching his own. The world stilled around them. They stood frozen in time. Everything disappeared; there were no last names, no horrifying past, no guilt or blame. They were just two people, two human beings breathing the same air, feeling the same current of desire weaving a mystical spell around them.
He turned his head, sliding his lips to the corner of her mouth. She tensed in his arms, her last breath going in, but never coming out. A helpless squeak bubbled from her throat instead as she shifted the fraction of an inch until her lips brushed against his.
A powerful concoction of lust and need thundered through his veins when her lips parted and the tip of her hot tongue touched his. She melted in his arms as their mouths parted and their tongues slid smoothly together.
She slid her palm up and over his chest, gliding over his shirt and leaving a trail of stimulated awareness in its wake. Her arms circled his neck and she tilted her head, inviting him to take a longer, deeper taste of her sweet, hot mouth. He accepted the invitation, sliding his tongue alongside hers in a series of long, languid caresses he felt all the way to the tip of his engorged cock. Fuck, she kissed like a wet dream.
He gripped her hips and pressed his hard length against her belly. Intense male satisfaction flooded his body when she pressed against him in response. She matched his every move, every kiss stroke for stroke, her tongue curling around his. He was awed by her responses, so natural, so wild and with a genuineness that made him crave more.
Urgency overran caution. He drove her backward until they were hidden beneath a darkened canopy of limbs, pinning her against the nearest tree. She clung to him, chasing his desires with avid need. Oh, and he definitely desired. He wanted more and, forgetting the world around him, he meant to take it.
He gripped her ass and drew her upward, hooking her legs around his hips, pressing his hard cock into the soft, hot wedge between them. Her needy whimper drew a low groan from deep inside and he rolled his hips against her, the movement creating the exquisite pressure he sought. It was only a taste of what it would take to satisfy the acute hunger inside him.
A nearby rustle of leaves slashed through the hazy lust that had overtaken them. He raised his head and peered into the darkness toward the crowded park, seeing nothing but shadows. A bright burst of blue and gold sparks exploded overhead and Breezy jolted, sliding from his hold to the ground. The spell broken, he stepped away, his breaths as labored and frantic as hers.
“I’m
sorry,” she said, her hands working to smooth her shirt back into place. “I shouldn’t have done that.”
She shouldn’t have done that? He’d been the one who’d dry-humped her against a tree after she’d cried her heart out. But before he could say as much, she slipped past him and ran down the trail towards the crowd. He took several long strides, intending to catch up to her and apologize, but stopped outside the tree line as his next thought struck him like a bolt of lightning. Not only was he not sorry, he wanted more, and he didn’t trust himself to wait for Connor to take it.
Chapter Seventeen
Carson stared at the lights on the dashboard for a while, and then counted the broken dividing lines in the center of the road as they passed beneath Grey’s truck until he lost count. The sound of Grey’s jaw popping as he ground his teeth together was the only sound that could be heard in the otherwise quiet cab—a ticking time bomb he was sure was about to explode.
His knee bounced in anticipation as they passed the Grassland city limits sign, counting the minutes until they were home. He hoped to hell Breezy was there.
After deciding not to chase after her, he’d turned back onto the trail and taken a long walk through the woods to clear his head. When he’d returned to the park, the fireworks had ended and the crowd had dwindled down to a few stragglers and those packing up the concessions. Breezy was nowhere to be found.
When he called his mom to check on her, she said she’d seen Breezy getting into Dani’s Jeep, but she wasn’t sure if they were coming straight home.
He’d hoped to bum a ride back home with Uncle Cade or Daniel—anyone but their dads—but Cade had felt ill after dinner so he and Papa Daniel left early. His next best option to avoid the impending family intervention he’d sensed coming was their dad, Mason.
At least Mason would be the least explosive option, but he’d been two minutes too late. Mason had already headed out with Mom and Cory, with Matt minutes ahead of them. That left Dani or Grey. Dani hadn’t answered her cellphone.