by Sarra Cannon
When he reaches the lace trim of my underwear, he traces along it from side to side, and the space between my legs tightens, growing wet.
“You like to tease, huh?” I say, breathless.
His eyes shoot back to mine, a smile teasing his lips. “I have wanted this so badly, for so long, I don't want to take a single moment for granted,” he says.
His choice of words brings unexpected tears to my eyes. My heart swells with emotion, and it suddenly hits me how far gone I already am. How much I am already falling in love with the most unlikely guy in the world.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Preston
My fingers slide along Jenna's body, exploring every inch of her velvety skin. I almost can't believe we're here, and that she's finally opening up to me.
When she pushed through my apartment door earlier this afternoon, her face red with anger, I thought I'd screwed up beyond repair. I thought she was bringing me here to tell me it was over between us, closing herself off to me like she has done so many times before.
I never expected her to tell me the truth about her past. I had no idea she'd suffered so much as a child, or how hard she's worked to get where she is now. If I lost everything today, would I be so strong?
My body hungers for hers, but I don't want to rush through this. I don't want to give her any chance for regret. I want to make it last, and prove to her that I'm not just looking for a one-night stand or a good time.
I want to remember every touch, every kiss of this first time with her.
My fingers keep dipping to the top of her underwear. I want so badly to push them down and find the wet center of her desire. I want to watch her face when I touch her.
But I'm so hard, I'm not sure how much longer I can hold out. I want her with a hunger I've never known before.
When she reaches for the belt on my jeans, I rise to my knees and let her unbuckle it. The leather makes a zipping sound as she pulls it from my pants. The area around our blanket is a mess of discarded clothes, but there are a few key pieces still to go.
Her fingers are cold against my flushed skin as she slides them under the waistband of my jeans and unbuttons the top. I stand and pull my jeans off. My erection tents my boxer-briefs and I kneel beside her, knowing we are dangerously close to the moment I've been dreaming of for months.
I couldn't still the beating of my heart if I tried.
She comes up to meet me, our bodies pressed together in the wind. We touch and explore, our tongues teasing and tasting as our hands roam.
And then one hand slowly dips to my waist. Her eyes meet mine in one breathless moment as she slips her hand under the elastic waist and takes me into her hand. I inhale at the soft touch as she moves up and down, caressing me slowly.
“Now who's teasing?” I ask, barely recognizing my own voice.
“I'm just getting started,” she says.
The thought of what else we could do to each other throws me over the edge. I loop my fingers in the top of her underwear and pull them down. She wiggles her body until they are resting on her foot. She gives them a little kick and they sail into the sand.
I take a deep breath and pull my boxers down, and just like that, we're naked together for the first time, me hardening to the point of pain against her stomach as I kiss her.
She pulls away and bends over, searching for her shorts. I bite my bottom lip, my eyes devouring her perfect form as she crawls across the sand in the moonlight.
Jenna pulls a condom from her back pocket and tosses it to me. I smile and open the condom. My family definitely doesn't need another surprise pregnancy, but I'm surprised Jenna brought a condom with her tonight. Had she known where this was heading all along?
“I brought it just in case,” she says, as if reading my mind.
“Good thinking,” I say, even though I have two in my wallet. Just in case.
She lies back against the blanket and watches as I slide the condom on.
I position myself above her, still on my knees. With one hand, I grip her thigh and pull her legs open slightly. She writhes, but opens to me as I slide my hands up her leg until I touch the patch of soft blond hair. She breathes in and her eyes widen as I slip one finger inside her. God, she's so wet. I can hardly catch my breath as I touch her, exploring her until she moans, and her body tenses, lifting up against my palm.
She reaches for me, pulling me down on top of her.
“No more teasing,” she says. “I want you.”
I am helpless to do anything but obey. I position myself at the tip of her opening, and with eyes locked, I slowly push into her.
Her body grips me, warm and wet and tight. I begin to move and she opens even more, wrapping her legs around me, lifting her body to meet mine with each thrust.
I start out slowly, wanting to make sure she's comfortable, but I'm so close to the edge already, I'm having a hard time controlling myself.
“More,” she says, her voice husky with desire. “Harder.”
I groan and push into her. Her nails dig into my back and she pulls my lips to hers. We move together, sweat making us sticky and wet even in the cool spring air. Our bodies press tightly, hard and fast as the tension inside me fills to a breaking point.
I pull my mouth away from hers and bury my face in her neck, breathing hard as I come in one last, fevered thrust.
Jenna runs her fingers through my hair and kisses my neck as my body shudders, and then stills.
I move beside her, one leg laying over hers, covering her body from the wind.
When my breath settles, I softly kiss her neck and cheek. She smiles and runs lazy circles across my arm.
“Did you come?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “No, but don't take it personally,” she says. “I don't usually, from just intercourse.”
“Really?”
“Women are slightly more complicated than men, in case you haven't noticed.”
I smile and nod. “Oh, I've noticed,” I say. “But I'm not letting you leave this beach without feeling the way I feel right now.”
She giggles, but then moans as my fingers find their way back to her.
Her legs spread open as I touch her, but I never take my eyes off her face. Her eyes close, and I watch for every sign of pleasure. Tense eyebrows, moans, a sharp intake of breath. I let her sounds and movements guide me until her body begins to writhe with each touch. My breath speeds up again as her back lifts from the sand, arching upward as her hips grind against my hand.
Her hand tightens around my arm and her nails dig in as her mouth opens and a pleasured moan sounds deep in her throat. Her body bucks against me and a rush of wetness floods over my fingertips. I continue to caress her until her body settles back against the blanket and her legs hang limply against me.
When her eyes open, she smiles and laughs. She buries her head against my arm, so I pull her closer, our legs tangling together. I reach over and wrap the edges of the blanket around us like a little cocoon.
We stare into each other's eyes for a long time, smiling and kissing, and I think this must be as close to heaven as you can get on this earth.
“That was amazing,” she says. “I've never had anyone do that before.”
I study her. “What? Give you an orgasm?”
She shakes her head. “No, I mean, I've never had a guy make sure I was taken care of after they already got off.”
I laugh. “I hate that term, got off. It sounds so cheap for what just happened.”
She lifts a hand to my cheek and runs her fingers across my skin. “Thank you for listening to me tonight,” she says. “I try to avoid talking about my past and my family, because I don't want people to define me by where I came from.”
“I understand that more than you know,” I say. “I know we come from completely different worlds, but I struggle with that, too.”
“I think I'm seeing that more and more,” she says. She turns slightly so she's lying flat on her back, looking up at the
stars.
I join her, slipping my arm under her head as we lay in our cocoon, watching the stars and listening to the lull of the ocean.
“I just hope you can understand that where I come from doesn't define me any more than it does you,” I say. “I'm more than just my parents' money or my name.”
She snuggles in close, one hand on my chest right above my heart.
“If I thought that was all you are, I never would have come here tonight,” she says.
I hold her in my arms for what seems like hours, wishing our whole lives could be as simple as this. PRobing we can remember the way we feel right now when the storms come again.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Jenna
I roll over in my bed, expecting to find a warm body, but the space is empty.
I open my eyes and sit up, sick at the thought of Preston leaving without even saying goodbye. I am not used to having a guy sleep over, but after our time on the beach, it seemed natural to invite him back to my place for the night. I thought things would be different with him.
His clothes are gone from the floor, and I collapse back onto the bed. Dammit. Have I made a huge mistake?
I sigh and pull the covers off my naked body. As I begin to stand, the door to my bedroom flies open. I scream and grab the first thing I can think to use as a weapon from the bedside table—a paper mache sculpture of the white rabbit from Alice in Wonderland. I lift it over my head, ready to strike.
Preston nearly drops the tRob he's carrying. He's laughing so hard, the glass on the tRob is rattling.
“Preston, good Lord, you scared me to death,” I say. I fall back against the bed and wrap the discarded sheet around my body. “I thought you left.”
“I did,” he says. His eyes are dancing. He comes around and sets the tRob of food and flowers on the bed. “I had to go out and get breakfast. Your fridge is totally empty, by the way. I wanted to surprise you.”
“Surprise me? You nearly gave me a heart attack,” I say, laughing. “I thought someone had broken in.”
“And what? You were going to beat them with a paper rabbit?” His face is all smiles.
I realize I'm still holding the rabbit in a death grip. I set the little guy back on the table and straighten his pocket watch, which is now crumpled and distorted. I bring a hand to my mouth, unable to stop laughing. “Poor little guy,” I say. “He was only trying to protect me.”
“And now you've maimed him,” Preston says. He sits close to me on the bed.
I turn and smack his arm. “You should have at least told me you were up and getting breakfast,” I say. “I thought you'd gotten spooked and abandoned ship.”
“Not a chance,” he says. He threads his arms around my waist and pulls me closer. His lips descend on mine and warmth rushes through me.
I let go of the sheet and come around to straddle him, pressing my body against his. Our kiss deepens. I run my hands through his hair and wish like hell he hadn't gotten dressed.
He groans and pulls away. “I made breakfast,” he says.
“Made? Or bought?” I say, eying the tRob. There are two perfectly made egg and cheese biscuits sitting on a plate with hash browns. “You're either capable of performing miracles in my kitchen or you bought that and put it on a plate.”
He laughs. “Do you have to call me out on every single thing?”
“Always,” I say.
“I can't even tell you how much I adore that about you.” He kisses me again, his hands roaming over my bare skin, growing needier.
It's my turn to pull away. “After breakfast,” I say. “I'm hungry.”
“I have plans for us after breakfast,” he says.
I slide off his lap and sit back against the pillows, pulling the sheets back up to cover my chest. I motion toward the tRob and Preston moves it between us. “What plans?”
“You'll see,” he says, mischief gleaming in his eyes. “Now eat, you're going to need your stamina.”
I raise an eyebrow and take a bite of my biscuit, happiness filling me like a warm light.
**
Despite my best efforts to convince Preston to spend the whole day in bed with me, I'm dressed and sitting in the passenger seat of his car by eleven.
“Where are we going?”
“I'm taking you to get a dress,” he says. There's laughter in his tone.
“We talked about this,” I say. “I don't want to go to some boutique, and I don't want you to buy me anything.”
“I promise I'll let you pay for it yourself,” he says. “Trust me on this.”
I sit quietly as he drives us through town. It's quiet because nearly everyone in this town goes to church on Sundays. I know from working a thousand Sunday shifts that in an hour, most of the church-goers will end up at Brantley's for the Sunday buffet. I'm so happy to not be at work today that I'm willing to let him take me to whatever shop he wants.
My mouth drops open when he pulls into the parking lot of Jolene's Thrift Shop. I smile and shake my head. “You sly little devil,” I say. “How did you know this is my favorite shop in town?”
He shrugs and hides a smile. “I pay attention.”
“Not enough,” I say. “Jolene isn't open on Sundays.”
“She is today,” he says. He gets out of the car and closes the door before I can question him.
To my surprise, Jolene is waiting for us. She opens the door as soon as she sees us. “Well, come on in, I ain't got all day,” she says. She winks at me as I pass by her into the store.
“What is going on here?” I ask.
Jolene motions to Preston and shrugs. “If you need me, I'll be in the back watching TV,” she says. “And I was just kidding. Take all the time you want. I have nothing else to do all day but relax. When you're ready for me to ring you up, just holler.”
She shuffles back to the plain wooden door that leads to her apartment.
“What did you do?” I put my hands on my hips and stare at Preston.
“You don't want a fancy boutique? Fine by me,” he says. “But if we're going to be seeing each other, you have to let me do nice things for you every once in a while. And believe it or not, I can be creative beyond spending money.”
I bite down on my lower lip, trying not to smile like a silly girl. I thought sex would complicate things, and it probably has in ways I just don't understand quite yet, but I love that he took the time to arrange this for me. It proves he really was listening last night.
“You have the whole place to yourself for as long as you want,” he says. “And we don't even have to worry about people coming in and putting in their two cents or asking us what the big occasion is. Just you and me. If you agree to be my date at this dinner, you can wear anything you want. All I care about is you being there and being comfortable.”
I tilt my head and study him. “You may change your tune once you see the look on your mother's face,” I say.
“If you could steer clear of tube tops and overalls, it would be in our best interest,” he says. “But other than that, go wild.”
I laugh and give him a big hug. “Thank you,” I say.
“Is that a yes?”
“Yes,” I say, wondering if this is the dumbest thing I've ever done in my life. “It could be fun.”
“As long as we're together, I know it will be,” he says. “Now go forth and shop.”
“What are you going to do?”
He points to the well-worn leather recliner near the dressing rooms. “I'm going to park myself on this recliner and watch,” he says. “I would not be opposed to seeing you model some dresses. The tighter and shorter, the better.”
I roll my eyes and make my way to the dress section. Since I moved to Fairhope several years ago, I've been in this store nearly once a week. I adore thrift shops, which I guess is odd considering my past experience with hand-me-downs. But searching for treasure in a place like this is different from someone giving you a bag full of clothes that barely fit, because they know
you can't afford your own.
I like the anonymity of thrift shops. I don't know who these clothes used to belong to, and I don't care. I can find things on the cheap and alter them to fit my own style. I've been known to rip sleeves off jackets and holes in jeans, or shorten the skirt of a dress. When you grow up never having anything new, you find ways to make it seem new and different. I'm handy with a sewing machine and bought a used one when I was fifteen, which I still have in my apartment.
I flip through the dresses on the rack and an orange taffeta bridesmaid nightmare of a dress catches my eye. I glance over a Preston, who is reclined on the leather chair and reading something on his phone. If he's really not bothered about the time, we might as well have a little fun. I take the orange dress off the rack and go through the rest quickly, choosing every hideous dress I can find.
“I'm heading back to the dressing room,” I call out, both hands full of hangers.
Preston barely looks up from his phone, and I smile. I pile into the dressing room with all my treasures and undress quickly down to just my underwear. I pull on that first taffeta dress and stand back, admiring the worst of it in the mirror. The dress has huge puffy sleeves, is about two sizes too big, and there's a dark chocolate stain near the bottom. Or at least I hope that's chocolate.
I wonder how far I can take this before he goes running for the hills. There is no way he would let me walk into a fancy dinner wearing this dress. His mother would probably strangle him.
The thought makes me laugh out loud.
I open the door and lift the long ruffled skirt as I walk toward where he's sitting.
“What about this one?” I ask. I smile widely. “Isn't this adorable? It would be perfect, don't you think?”
Preston glances up from his phone and his eyes widen. The sheer terror on his face is priceless. He clears his throat and takes a deep breath. I can literally see the debate going on inside his head. “It's cute,” he says, his voice a couple tones higher than normal. “If that's the one you love, let's get it.”