In Too Deep (Wildfire Lake)

by Skye Jordan

  For the life of me, I can’t understand the earlier insinuation that she hasn’t had orgasms with other men. She’s so responsive, so hungry. And, damn, it’s a fucking turn-on. This is a play right out of my fantasy playbook, fingering her until she begs for release. The idea of hearing her beg lights a fiery need inside me, and I soften my touch, less demand, more tease. She groans and lifts her hips into my hand. It’s a total rush, I can’t lie.

  “Levi.” There’s a pleading tone in her voice now. Her fingers fist my hair. And I drop brief kisses to her lips so I can watch her eyes, witness the ecstasy wash through her, knowing I’m the one who delivered. An ego boost for sure, but I figure I’m due.

  “If you want orgasms,” I say at her ear, “you’ve got to get out of your head. And it wouldn’t hurt to have a man who’s not afraid to take control. A woman who bosses people around all day has got to want someone to take the reins at night, right? Fuckin’ city boys don’t know what to do with a woman like you.”

  Just before she peaks, her eyes slide closed, her mouth drops open on a sound of raw pleasure. I wrap my left arm around her waist, holding her steady as I take her the rest of the way. And when the climax hits, it rocks her body in a hard, jerking release, followed by little quakes and Laiyla loose in my arms.

  “Fuck.” She breathes the word, head on my shoulder. She combs her hand through my hair, opens her eyes and meets mine for a long, intense second.

  Time freezes somewhere between past and present, and an ache yawns inside me. I still want this. I still want her. Even after twelve years of a broken heart, that hasn’t changed. And after twelve years of trying and failing to replace her with other women, that realization is terrifying.

  I tighten my arm around her waist and climb the rest of the way up the ladder, laying her down on the cushioned platform one step up from the fiberglass swim deck.

  She angles up, takes my face in both hands, and kisses me long and hot. “Want you,” she murmurs between kisses. “So bad.”

  If I could only bottle that desire, I’d pay any price. I kiss her hard, pressing her into the cushion beneath her, let my weight sink onto her, feeling every last inch of her delicious body. I want to own her in a way so fierce, it’s nearly all-consuming, yet another part of my brain knows I can’t have her. That what we had is in the past and this is only a temporary bubble of time that will pop as soon as this is over and our hunger is sated.

  All I can do now is drag it out.

  I break the kiss for air, then slowly kiss my way down her body, appreciating all the soft skin, all the hills and valleys and planes. When I press a kiss between her legs, she shivers, and an explosion of tingles eddies through my chest. I slide my hands under her ass, her tight, supple ass, use my shoulders to spread her soft thighs and fulfill another long-standing fantasy.

  I take my first long taste, and her nails score my scalp. I take another, and her hands fist in my hair. The woman still makes me crazy. Every hint of pleasure fuels the need for more. And before I know it, my face is buried between her legs wringing orgasm after orgasm out of her. I don’t stop until she cups my face, and I look up. Her lids are heavy, her breaths rocking her chest.

  “Come here.” Her voice is soft and rich, and I obey, moving up her body, resting on my forearms. I let some of my weight sink onto her, our legs tangled.

  Staring into her eyes makes everything slide into slow motion. I scan her face, wishing I could memorize it. While she catches her breath, she traces my face with her fingers, sending me back in time to some deeply bittersweet memories.

  I close my eyes and kiss her hand, then take her fingers into my mouth.

  She watches me suck them. “This reminds me of…”

  Her words are nothing but a whisper, and I finish her thought. “Our first time.”

  Her eyes slide back to mine, and there are so many emotions floating there, it overwhelms me. I kiss her and kiss her and kiss her. I can’t get enough. At the same time, a kernel of sadness forms beneath my ribs with the realization that this won’t fix anything from the past. Not only won’t it cure old wounds, it could very well create new ones. But I couldn’t stop loving her even with a gun to my head.

  Her arms are around my neck, her thighs gripping my hips, her body straining toward mine.

  I break the kiss and rest my forehead against hers. “Birth control?”

  She nods, tilts her head, and kisses me again. One hand slides down my back, between our bodies, and takes me in her hand. She stares into my eyes as she strokes my length, making my breath stutter. Then she slides the head of my cock along her heat, and my hips rock forward.

  I’m suddenly buried inside her, and a rush of insane pleasure closes my throat. I stay deep inside her, gritting my teeth as I find control. But Laiyla’s hungry again, rocking her hips against mine. Digging her fingers into my ass and pulling me deeper.

  I sit back and take her with me. Splayed across my lap, she can take everything she wants, get everything she needs, and I revel in watching her take it. Her body moves in sexy undulations of abandonment, letting her head drop back and her mouth fall open. I take one breast in my mouth, suck and nibble, then the other. And when her movements grow quicker, I grip her ass and meet her thrusts until she flies with a cry I swallow so it doesn’t skip across the lake.

  Then she’s boneless, her weight easing onto me and driving me deeper into her body. I kiss her shoulder, her neck, draw her head back, and sink into her mouth. When I catch my breath, I lay her down, grip the safety bar over her head, and thrust. I’m rabid and impatient. The desire has built up until I can’t see straight. I need this release so bad, I can taste it in the back of my throat. And even as I hold her gaze and fuck her, one deep stroke at a time, I feel things shift inside me, like my DNA is rearranging itself to perfectly mesh with this one woman.

  I slide my free hand behind her head and take a solid grip on her neck. It keeps her gaze on mine, keeps her body from moving with my thrusts, long and hard. She whimpers and meets my hips, her thighs tight around me, feet crossed behind my back. I watch as our pleasure rises together, watch as a climax rolls through her eyes, and cover her mouth with my hand right before she bucks and screams. The sight and sound pumps lust through every cell of my body. I’ve never felt so fucking alive and on fire as I do right now. And I can’t stop. Can’t stop driving myself into the heaven of her body. Don’t ever want this to end.

  I release her mouth and kiss her the way I’m fucking her. Her mouth is loose, her hands sloppy, and I love knowing I’ve altered her ability to control basic functions. I want to fuck her until I own her again, heart and soul, even while knowing it’s not possible.

  “Levi…” The word is filled with awe, disbelief, realization. “Jesus…”

  She squeezes me, signaling yet another impending orgasm. I curl her hair into my hand and pull gently, just enough to get her drunken eyes to focus on me. “You wait,” I demand. “You fucking wait for me, Laiyla.”

  A thrill washes through me as I watch her rise to climax with a new, intense awareness that she can’t just let go. “That’s it.” I keep my strokes long, deep, hard, and steady. Too fast and this will be over too soon. It’s maddening and rhythmic, layering pleasure on pleasure. “That’s it,” I croon even as she’s struggling. “Wait, Laiyla. I want you to feel me spill into you. Watch the realization flood your eyes. Feel you clamp around me.”

  “Levi…”

  I tighten my hand in her hair, and she winces. A little pain goes a long way toward holding off an orgasm, making it so much more intense when it comes.

  “You have to wait.” I draw out of her body, all the way to my tip, then drive back in. My vision spins. “Like a good girl.” And I drag my hips back again, gritting my teeth and hesitating before lunging. Our bodies collide, pushing a sound out of her mouth. “You come when I say.” Thrust. “God, Laiyla.” Thrust. “Laiyla.” Thrust. “Laiyla.”

  “Yes,” she whispers. “Please, please, please.�
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  I can’t stop saying her name, as if I can’t believe it’s really her. And so much better than any fantasy. I press my forehead to hers. “Laiyla.”

  She’s trembling. “Yes.”

  I quicken my pace, intensify my thrust. “Let go, Laiyla. Come for me.”

  And damn if she doesn’t come on demand, in multiple hot, racking waves. I manage to pull my hand from her hair and cover her mouth just as my own release hits. A wash of white-hot light explodes in my brain, blinding me with ecstasy. I ride the delirious waves with my face against her neck, muffling my own cries. My own multiple releases.

  It feels like a long damn time before I can function again. Until my vision clears. Until my body will work right. Until I can pull from Laiyla’s body and flop onto my back beside her.

  And as I look up at the stars cutting a swath across the sky, instead of feeling elated, I’m swamped with an emotion I can only describe as loss. Even when Laiyla rolls toward me, presses kisses to my neck, and rests her head on my shoulder, the emptiness grows until my eyes sting.

  I don’t understand. When I felt like this with other women, I got it, but now, I’m confused as hell. Laiyla’s quiet and affectionate. Sweet. Which only seems to drive the sensation of loneliness deeper.

  I don’t understand. I can’t put it into words. All I know is that I can’t do this again. I won’t survive another fall from a cliff this high.

  Before my breathing has returned to normal, I roll away from Laiyla.

  “Levi?”

  I pick up our clothes and let hers fall to the deck beside her, then drag on my own.

  She sits up, clothes against her chest. “What’s wrong?”

  “I don’t know.” I shake my head and button my jeans, then lean one hand against the cabin wall and draw my hair off my face. “I just… I can’t do this.”

  Shock registers on her beautiful face. So gorgeous and glowing in the aftermath of half a dozen orgasms. Certainly, the best sex of my fucking life, hands down. I want to reach for her, envelop her, make her promises. I want to believe—in love, in her, in us. Badly. So badly. But I don’t. I’m twelve years older and wiser and sick to realize I don’t fucking believe anymore.

  I haul up the anchor, turn over the engine, and angle the boat toward the marina. I pull up to the end of the dock, right beside the houseboat she’s staying in. Yeah, on purpose, because I doubt she’ll question me with her friends so close. And I’m right. She just studies me a long silent moment, and I let her, still trying to untangle whatever knot closed up my heart.

  When she still doesn’t step to the dock, I say, “I’ll put the boat away.”

  It hurts to see the disillusionment and pain in her eyes. Hurts to know I can’t seem to bridge the cavern between us, even though part of me wants to. And I feel like royal shit knowing she probably believes I wanted to fuck her just to fuck her, like I’m evening the score or something. Maybe I’m just broken. Maybe it’s just been too long, and my heart is rusted shut. All I know right this second is that I can’t let her believe it’s going to continue.

  “Will you talk to me?”

  I shake my head. “Not now. Not about this. Mitch or I will be by with a few other guys to start work tomorrow.”

  She exhales and stares at the dock a long minute, then steps out. I shove the boat into gear, make a tight turn, and return the boat to its slip, tuck the keys under the driver’s seat, and make my way to my truck, feeling like the worst excuse of humankind on the planet.

  12

  Laiyla

  It’s another stunning summer day, but I feel like one of those cartoons with a storm cloud hovering over my head everywhere I go.

  I stand in front of the office door to Mecklenburg Paving and take a deep breath, but I can’t seem to fill my lungs. A pain cuts off my breath at the half-full mark. I haven’t been able to take a painless full breath since Levi dropped me off at the dock, now eight days ago.

  God, it feels like forever.

  I’ve seen him every day since, and we get along fine. He’s polite and professional, and he works hard. But he’s got invisible concrete walls erected around him, twenty feet tall and a foot thick. I haven’t seen him smile once since our night together, and he won’t talk to me about anything other than the development.

  I rub at the pain in the center of my chest.

  My phone pings with a text from Michael. Are you ever coming back? I could use a road trip, can I come up and see what you’re doing up there? I’ll take you wine-tasting.

  I drop my head back and groan, then push into the office. There is a middle-aged woman behind the desk. She looks familiar, but I can’t place her. She looks up with a polite smile. “Good morn—”

  She recognizes me, as I do her. She used to supply baked goods to Grandpa’s market. Her mouth tightens, and my heart sinks, which is saying something when it’s been residing at my feet for over a week.

  “What can I do for you?” Her tone tells me no matter what I ask for, I can’t have it.

  I’ve learned over the last couple of weeks that no one holds a grudge like the residents of Wildfire. Even having the city’s favorite son working on the project hasn’t changed anyone’s behavior toward me.

  “Hi, I’d like to get an estimate for paving a road and two parking lots.”

  “Sorry, we’re booked.”

  “I didn’t even tell you when I needed it done.”

  She shakes her head. “We have jobs lined up for the rest of the year.”

  “Then it’s a good thing I don’t need it done until next summer.”

  “Summer is our busiest time. We can’t help you.”

  The look on her face is all too familiar. “I guess I’ll have to give the work to someone from out of town, then.”

  “I guess you will.”

  I shake my head and leave the office. I still can’t believe everyone in this town is forgoing work out of spite. It’s so disheartening, it makes me rethink the renovations. But I’m doing this for Grandpa, not them. So I cross the street, wander down the row of shops, and enter the local hardware store. A teenaged boy mans the cash register, and I think I may be in luck this time.

  “Can I help you?” he asks.

  “Yes, I need some extermination work done. I was told I could contact Dan of Exterminators Plus through this store.”

  “Sure.” He points. “His office is right back there.”

  I thank the kid and move down the aisle, thinking this is a bizarre setup for an exterminator’s office, but after spotting a dark shadow darting across the floor last night, KT’s empty traps aren’t providing the security I need, and I’ll beg, borrow, and steal if it means getting a professional exterminator out to the boat.

  When I reach the back of the store, I find an open door with a red sign displaying the company’s name. Inside, a middle-aged man sits behind a desk, filling out forms. I knock on the open door, and the man gives me a glance, then does a comical double take before his expression turns interested—and not in a professional way.

  “Hello,” he says, giving me his full attention. “What can I do for you?”

  I step into the office and smile. “I have mice. I’m hoping you can get rid of them.”

  His smile widens. “Rodents are my specialty.”

  I almost laugh, but he says it with real pride, so I stifle the hit of humor.

  “Have a seat.” He pulls a blank form from the desk drawer and gives me his undivided attention. “What’s your name?”

  “Laiyla Saxon.”

  “What a beautiful name.”

  “Thank you.”

  He scribbles down my name then looks at me again. This time, his eyes aren’t on mine; they’re on my breasts. I’m wearing a normal tank and Roxie board shorts. I’m a very basic B+ cup, nothing to write home about, but he acts like he’s never seen a pair of breasts before.

  “And where do you live, Laiyla?” There’s the slightest hint of lechery in his tone, making my skin crawl the
same way it does when I think about the mice I’m hiring him to kill.

  “I’m out at Wildfire Lake, at the marina on the north end.”

  His gaze snaps back to mine and clears. “Otto’s place?”

  Ah, shit. Here we go. “Yes, sir. The mice are on several of the houseboats, including the one I’m staying in, and I’d like a full service, whatever it takes to remove them and keep them away.”

  He twirls his pen, glances at my breasts again, as if trying to decide whether or not I’m worth crossing some invisible line for. In the end, I’m not, and he returns his gaze to his previous work. “Sorry, can’t help you. I’ve got a lot of work right now.”

  I sit there, dumbfounded at the depth of cohesiveness in this town. I should be grateful that Grandpa has such loyal friends, people who loved him so fiercely, they would deny themselves an income to stand in solidarity against the woman who let his business die. Right?

  The heat in my chest begs for me to argue, but I’m too exhausted, mentally and physically. To keep my mind busy when I’m not working on a website or promotional development, I’ve been clearing out the broken houseboats. Partially to be closer to Levi, partially to let off steam, partially to keep my mind off the hurt beating in my heart. And, yeah, I keep thinking if I’m in proximity to him, he’ll come around and breakdown the wall of silence. Hell, I was on that boat too. I saw and felt and heard how badly he wanted me. You can’t fake that shit. I have no freaking idea how he just shuts it off.

  In the end, I decide not to fight the exterminator. Instead, I leave the office and find the aisle with rodent-killing supplies. And there are shelves and shelves of them, all claiming to be “the best” at ridding a mouse problem.

  I sigh and decide to end this unproductive morning. I leave the store planning a research binge on the web and a purchase from Amazon. Luckily, Amazon doesn’t hold grudges.