by Maisey Yates
He threw the truck in Reverse and she had to grip the door handle to steady herself. “Just let us do something nice for you.”
“Well, you seem so pissed about it that you don’t really make a girl want to accept your charity.”
“I’m not pissed.”
“Yes, you are.”
“It isn’t personal. There’s a lot going on here, and I have a lot on my plate already. Adding anything to it just seems...”
“Impossible?”
He paused for a second. “You know the feeling?”
“No,” she said, realizing the truth of it even as she said it, “actually I don’t. I pretty much never have anything on my plate. And I’m not being sarcastic. That’s the benefit of not having very many personal connections in your life.”
“I have too many. Maybe we need to trade some around.”
“No, thanks. You’re not exactly selling me on the institution of family.”
Silence gathered between them, tightening like a fist, and she took a deep breath, trying to dispel some of it. It didn’t ease up. “This isn’t exactly what you bargained for when you left your keys with me, is it?”
He huffed out a laugh. “To say the least.”
They completed the drive to the campground in relative silence. As soon as he put the truck in Park and killed the engine, she scrambled out, desperate to escape the tension between them. At least, there was tension on her end. As far as his side went, it could just be that he thought she was annoying.
She heard the driver-side door slam, and she kept her eyes fixed ahead on the trail that led to her campsite.
“It’s just up here,” she said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and squinting into the darkness. Small solar lamps lined the walk, casting a soft orange glow over the asphalt. Trees loomed on either side of the walk. Every night, walking through alone, she’d imagined they were like a wall, closed off completely. Nothing lurking in the space between.
But now she could hear his heavy footsteps behind her, and she found it to be strangely comforting. It was nice to have him here.
Nice.
There was that word again.
Time to say something irreverent to diffuse that bit of warm fuzzy. “Welcome to my home,” she said as they approached the space. “You know, since you let me into yours, it only seems fair.”
An unanticipated bit of shame crept through her, heat bleeding into her cheeks as she saw her living situation through his eyes. It was all right for her. She barely looked at it anymore. Came home in the dark, curled up in her sleeping bag and went to sleep.
But looking at it, really looking at it, like someone who was just seeing it for the first time, was a whole different thing. One small tent, a sad little fire ring and nothing else. It was modest at best, derelict at worst. It was... Well, it was her life.
“Why don’t you go get your things, and I’ll help you take the tent down,” he said, his voice hard, unreadable.
“I have to say,” she said, finding a snarky comment to help break up the heavy rock that had settled in her chest, “many a man has pitched a tent because of me, but you’re the first to help me take one down.”
He said nothing, didn’t even laugh.
“That was a penis joke,” she said.
“I got it,” he said, his voice rough.
“You don’t seem amused.”
“I’m not.” He moved ahead of her, making his way to the tent and unzipping the flap. “Go get your things. I don’t intend to stand here all night.”
She smiled as sweetly as possible. “You are the meanest guardian angel a girl could ever hope for.” She swept past him, going into the tent and kneeling down. The chill from the ground beneath seeped up through her jeans. She was not going to miss sleeping on this.
She rolled the sleeping bag up quickly and zipped up her duffel bag. Then she took both things and chucked them out in front of the tent before following them back outside.
“That’s it. That’s my life. I can pack up and go in five minutes. Well, except for the tent.” He didn’t say anything. “You’re a tough customer.”
“Am I?”
She rolled her eyes and started detaching the tent poles from the pockets they were settled in. “You don’t have much of a sense of humor.”
He moved over to help, placing his hands dangerously close to where hers were. She could feel the warmth emanating from his body. From his skin. She wanted to touch him. Wanted to lean in close and rest her head on all that strength. She didn’t know where that desire had come from, only that it was strong, and very real. She blinked, pulling away quickly.
“I just want to get the tent taken down,” he said, shot. Clipped. “I’m sorry that I’m not humorous enough for you.”
“It’s not... It isn’t...” What was wrong with her? Why was she stuttering? Men did not make her stutter. She made them stutter.
“My dad has alienated so many of our clients, I’m afraid that we’re not going to break even this spring.” He said the words in a hushed tone, all the while continuing to work on her tent. “I’ve just had a lot on my mind.”
“Sounds pretty stressful.”
She wondered why she had moved away from his touch. Why she hadn’t leaned into it. Really, what would be the harm? She was going to be staying with him, after all. And she didn’t like the idea of feeling in debt. Maybe they could blow off a little steam together, and she could feel a bit more like this was a fair exchange.
She looked up, rolling her shoulders back, even though she knew he couldn’t see what that bit of enhanced posture did for her boobs, not in this light. Still, she felt sexier. And that was what counted.
“Maybe you need a little bit of stress relief.” She took a step toward the tent, and placed her hand very purposefully over the top of his. He froze, looking up, his eyes meeting hers in the darkness, illuminated by the little solar lights.
“What?”
“I was saying that maybe you and I could relieve a little stress together. Trust me, staying in a campground for the past couple weeks hasn’t exactly been a picnic for me. Hell, the past few months haven’t exactly been a picnic.” In all honesty, the past life hadn’t been much of a picnic.
“Do you feel obligated to make a pass at me because I’m letting you stay with my family?”
Heat stung her face, her cheeks. A sense of crawling shame—foreign and completely unwelcome—assaulted her. “I don’t... No.” Except, yes.
“You keep making comments about it. The first time we had a conversation you basically accused me of angling to blackmail you into giving me a blow job. I don’t know what you think this is, but if I want to get laid, I can damn well do it and I don’t need you to offer me your body as a trade.”
The way that he said it...as though she were dirty. As though suggesting it at all had impugned his character.
Didn’t it?
Sure. Maybe in this world. Where people could afford morals and shit. Where they had a bed to go to every night no matter what and could always eat dinner when they were hungry.
But that wasn’t her world. In hers, this was just the cost of doing business, and no guy that she’d ever come across would have batted an eye over it.
Maybe this one doesn’t want you.
Now, there was something that hadn’t occurred to her. Until now.
Now she felt guilty, ashamed and horrified. This was new.
Anger emerged from the center of her discomfort and she embraced it. “I’m sorry, okay? I just thought you might want to have a little fun. Sex isn’t that big of a deal. Don’t act like I asked you to kick a puppy.”
“Sex is kind of a big deal,” he said.
Why did that make her feel things? What the hell was wrong with her? That made her even angrier. “Oh, is it? I’m sorry, I missed that memo. No, maybe I didn’t. Maybe one of my foster parents gave me the chastity talk. But I was only with them for a couple of months, so it didn’t really stick.”
> She hated the way that she sounded now. Harsh, defensive. It was way too betraying of how she felt. About all of this. About herself. About the past. He didn’t deserve that. He did not deserve to know her for five minutes, offer her a place to sleep, and pass judgment on the way she’d survived for the past twenty-two years. “I don’t owe you an explanation of myself.”
“I didn’t say you did.”
She gritted her teeth, curling her hands into fists. “If you want to call me a slut, just do it.”
He paused, the tent still halfway intact. “I wasn’t going to.”
“You were thinking it.” Had he been? Maybe not. But she felt like one. She felt dirty and it was his fault. “So, are you a virgin, Aiden?”
“No,” he said through gritted teeth, his voice low, dangerous.
“Right. So, don’t go standing there acting like you can lecture me on purity or some shit.”
“I wasn’t lecturing you on purity. I was lecturing you on acting like you have to trade sex for a place to sleep.”
“Maybe I just want to do you. You’re kind of hot. Well, cancel that. I thought you were hot until this. This is ridiculous.”
“It’s not how I do things.”
“What? You only bang your girlfriends?”
“I’m not having this discussion with you. Do you want to sleep out here? Or do you want to spend the night in the trailer?”
“Neither. Not right this second.”
“I don’t recall presenting you with a third option.”
Anger, and most of all embarrassment, made her reckless. “Right now? I just want to knock you off your high horse.”
And with that, she closed the distance between them, wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her lips to his.
CHAPTER FIVE
AIDEN WASN’T SURE how he’d gone from being yelled at to being kissed in the space of only a few seconds. He’d seen it happen in movies before, but it had never happened to him.
She’d asked if he was a virgin, and the answer was—of course—no. But he wasn’t as far away from one as he’d like to be.
One woman. He’d only ever slept with one woman.
Their attraction had been companionable, but not connected to love. It had been about convenience. And when he’d imagined a future with Caroline, it had been about comfort. Stability. Logic.
Caroline had been easy. Caroline had been fun. This was neither.
Casey was tough. She was intense. Casey was angry—he could taste it on her lips. On her tongue. She pressed herself against him, her breasts crushed against his chest as she slid her tongue across the seam to his mouth, delving deeper, kissing him harder.
He should stop it. Should push her away. But he found he wasn’t very motivated to do that. Heat roared through his veins like a beast, tearing at him, a new, unfamiliar sensation that had nothing to do with the kind of kisses he’d had before.
The sex with Caroline had all been carefully planned. Carefully agreed upon. He had known her as well as he knew anyone. This... This was not that.
An angry, deep, passionate kiss from a stranger was about as far as you could get from a cautious, careful kiss from a friend.
He raised his hands, planting them on her hips, getting ready to push her away from him, but instead he found himself hanging on. Clinging to her, the blunt tips of his fingers digging into her soft body. She shifted, tilting her head, nipping his lower lip slightly before she soothed away the sting with her tongue. This woman knew what she was doing, no mistaking that.
And judgmental was not how he was feeling. No. He was in awe, grateful and so damn horny he could barely see straight.
She pulled her mouth away from his, kissing the line of his jaw, down his neck, tracing a path with the tip of her tongue.
Fire exploded in his midsection, his cock so hard it was painful. And he decided he was done letting her have the control. He growled, pulling her in tightly, letting her feel the effect she had on him as he claimed her mouth with his, tasting her as deep as he could.
She whimpered, her arms going tighter around his neck as she surrendered completely to the kiss. To letting him lead. Letting him have control.
He didn’t possess the skills she did, but what he had was six months’ worth of pent-up celibacy and raw, untried lust built up to the point of bursting.
He’d never felt anything like this before, and he was lost in it, only able to be carried out by the strength of the tide. Helpless against the current of need that had overtaken him completely.
She whimpered. A sound of feminine urgency unlike anything he had ever heard before. She was different than Caroline. It was impossible not to compare. Not because he had cared especially for her, but because she was the only woman he had ever touched like this until now. Until Casey.
Casey. This woman whose name he’d only learned twenty minutes ago. A woman he’d first laid eyes on last night.
He couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do anything but bury his fingers even more deeply in Casey’s hair. She was so soft. Everything about her. More than that, she was like a shot of alcohol to his system. Every damn shot of whiskey he had denied himself for the past twenty-six years.
Suddenly, he keenly felt the years of denial. The abstinence. From sex. From alcohol. From pleasure in all its forms. Because it canceled out his control, and he knew it. He knew that he had to do better than that, knew that he had to guard against it. But not now. He couldn’t do it now.
She traced his bottom lip with the tip of her tongue and a deep, intense shudder racked his body.
She slid her hand down his back, then around, placing her palm over the hardened length of his cock, squeezing him as she deepened their kiss. A rough, harsh growl rumbled in his chest. A hard, feral sound unlike any he’d ever heard come from his body before.
She laughed, the sound tasting sweet on his lips as she tightened her hold on his length, curling her other arm around his neck and holding him tightly against her. Not that he was tempted to pull away. Never in his life had he been past the point of no return. He was a man who prized his control above everything else. But now? Now there was nothing else but this. This campground, this tent, this woman.
With the darkness closing in tightly around them, it was easy to believe that.
She wrenched her mouth away from his, pressing a kiss to his neck before angling her face up, her lips brushing against his ear. “How about you take me inside the tent and fuck me?”
Never in his life had a woman uttered those words to him. He’d never even fantasized about such a thing. So he was completely unprepared for the effect that it had on him. He wrapped his arms around her, curving one tightly around her waist, sliding his other hand down over her ass before reaching lower, curling his fingers around her thigh and tugging her up, wrapping her legs around his waist as he held her tightly and took them both to the front of the tent.
She planted her feet back on the ground as he bent to haul them both inside, never breaking the kiss as he settled over her. She parted her thighs, arching against him, pressing herself hard against his arousal. She reached between them, flicking open the snap on his jeans and drawing the zipper down before reaching inside and gripping him tight. He hissed as her soft skin made contact with his own bare flesh as she squeezed and stroked him, while continuing to kiss him deep.
Without thinking, he put his hand on her stomach, pushed his fingertips up beneath the edge of her shirt, over her flat stomach, moving up to cup one perfect breast. Her bra was thin, lacy and insubstantial, and he could feel her nipple, tight and hard, through the fabric. He moved his thumb over the tightened bud and she gasped, tugging her mouth away from his as she did, panting and clearly as affected by all of this as he was.
She let go of him, wrenching her shirt up over her head and contorting so she could reach behind her back and unhook her bra, leaving her completely topless. It was too dark in the tent for him to see much beyond the pale shape of her body. He sl
id his hands down her sides, then covered both of her breasts with his palms.
“Oh, yes,” she said, the words a sigh on her soft lips.
A shot of straight adrenaline to his system.
He traced the elegant curve of her body, down beneath the waistband of her jeans, beneath the flimsy fabric of her lace panties, until he made contact with her hot, wet center. She bucked against him and he kissed her as he stroked her, teased her.
“You like that?” he asked, his lips still pressed against hers.
“Yes.”
Satisfaction roared through him like a beast and he shifted, sliding one finger inside of her as he continued to stroke her clit.
He couldn’t believe he was doing such an intimate thing with a woman he’d barely had two conversations with. He didn’t know how old she was, where she was from, whether or not she liked chocolate or George Strait. Real, important questions that a man should know the answers to before he put his hand between a woman’s thighs.
But as she moaned and moved against his touch, he couldn’t imagine doing this with someone who knew him. Because the stranger-thing cut both ways.
She didn’t know he was doing his best to be responsible. Didn’t know he’d only slept with one woman. Didn’t know he’d never picked up a stranger or done a reckless thing in his whole life.
He could be anyone with her. Do anything.
He slipped a second finger inside her she moaned, flexing her hips against his hand, rubbing harder against him as she chased her release.
He wanted her to have it, before things went any further, needed her to have it. To defy the years spent not doing things like this because control had been so much more important.
“Come for me,” he said, the words rough, unrecognizable.
She let out a hard, shuddering breath as she rocked against him, her internal muscles clenching around his fingers as she climaxed almost on command.
“Oh,” she said, throwing her arm over her eyes, breathing hard. “That was...unexpected.”
He nuzzled her neck, kissing her there. “Was it?”