Leave the Night On

by Laura Trentham

  “How-to…? You mean pornos?” His voice raised in tone and volume with his amusement.

  Instead of wanting to crawl into a hole, she laughed along with him. Wyatt made her feel playful and empowered, even given her amateur status. “The ladies made it look fun.”

  With all his uncertainty erased, he sank farther into the couch, lacing his hands behind his head and widening his stance. “Who am I to deny a lady her fun?”

  She eased the tab of his zipper south, the parting of the teeth revealing a vee of black underwear. Scraping her fingernails down the length of him, she marveled at the fully visible outline and wondered why she hadn’t done this ages ago. But the thought of doing something so intimate with anyone other than Wyatt stirred a squirmy feeling in her stomach.

  She gripped the waistband of his underwear and pulled them down. He shifted his hips until jeans and underwear were bunched mid-thigh. Her breathing quickened at the sight. As if faced with an all-you-can-eat buffet after a week of fasting, her mouth watered, and her body reacted in kind. She shifted her knees together, trying to ease the ache between her legs. Later, she would ask him to take care of her, but for now it was all about him.

  Forgetting about the videos and her game plan, she acted on instinct, circling her hand around the base and lifting the tip to her lips. A lick across the top had him abandoning his casual stance, her hands catching in her hair. One twirl of her tongue around the flanged head had him whispering, “Jesus Christ.”

  She blew across the area she’d just licked. “I want to hear you say my name like that.”

  His chuckle was strained and hoarse. She loved she could have an effect on him before she even got down to business. Opening her mouth, she took him in as far as she was able, starting a rhythm that mimicked sex.

  She was wrong, this act wasn’t only about his pleasure. She was deriving more satisfaction than she’d imagined possible from making him call out her name and tug at her hair. It went beyond the physical and onto some other plane.

  She had no idea how much time passed, but the movement of his hips grew jerkier and she glanced up at him, the sight making her stop. His eyes were closed and his lips parted, a sheen of sweat on his forehead. The tendons of his neck stood out and his biceps bulged. He was a man on the edge.

  She’d done that to him. Driven him as wild as he made her feel, and now she wanted to push him over. He opened his eyes, his heavy gaze indiscernibly potent and sexy. Without looking away, she took two more strokes with her mouth. With a yell that bordered on primal, he pushed her away by the shoulder, his body curling forward as he grabbed himself.

  After his orgasm, he collapsed back onto the couch and pulled her up with him, his eyes closed and his pants open.

  She smiled and snuggled into his side, laying kisses along his jaw. “I would have finished you if you’d let me.”

  He opened one eye. “Well, then. Something to look forward to for next time. Give me five minutes, and I’ll reciprocate. Promise.”

  “It’s okay if you’re too tired.”

  He lifted his head to look at her through barely slit-open eyes then dropped his head back down with a sigh. “I do feel like Superman faced with a huge-ass piece of kryptonite.”

  “I’m your kryptonite?” She smiled into his shoulder.

  “I’m afraid so.” The seriousness of his tone had her raising up on her elbow to see his face, but in spite of the good-natured, seemingly simple front he put on, Wyatt Abbott was complicated and confusing and fascinating.

  His ringtone sounded, and he fumbled in his pants pocket for his phone, adjusting his underwear and jeans in the process. With his eyes still half-closed, he glanced at the screen before answering.

  “Hello, sweets.”

  The endearment coiled a black, ugly feeling in her chest, and she pushed away from him, curling her hands over her knees. Was it an ex-girlfriend? Or maybe it was the girl that would eventually take her place.

  “Of course I can.” Wyatt stood, tucked the phone between his ear and shoulder, and did up his pants. “I’ll be there in five.”

  After he’d disconnected, he turned and threw his hands up. “My aunts Hazel and Hyacinth are stranded with a flat.”

  “That was your aunt.” Relief tinged with shame flooded her. Why had she let something so minor send her so far down a dark path? All her sexual confidence and bravado was a thinly spackled façade. She hadn’t really changed.

  “It’s going to be hot and buggy and dirty.” He held out a hand and smiled. “You wanna come?”

  She slipped her hand in his, her heart skipping ahead. “How could I possibly say no?”

  He laughed and lead the way to the Hornet. “On the upside, you’ll get to formally meet my aunts.”

  “You’re super close with them, aren’t you?” Both her parents were only children, leaving her and Maggie with no extended family.

  He pulled out onto the parish road with a spin of tires. “After my mom took off, they attempted to mother us. Neither one of them had the instinct, so we ran wild, but they made sure we had clothes for school and groceries and never let us part ways without a hug. Things worked out pretty good by my reckoning.”

  “You turned out better than good.” Sutton patted his knee but kept her hand there, inching it up his thigh.

  He covered it with his own. “No time for more fun.”

  A car was on the side of the road in a graveled area and two ladies turned to watch them pull in behind. She slipped out of the car and hung back. The setting sun sent every shade of orange across the sky.

  “Hello, aunties.” Wyatt put an arm around each lady and pulled them in for a hug.

  “Sorry if we took you away from your ladyfriend.” The smaller of the two ladies smiled, not unkindly but with a shrewdness that set Sutton on edge.

  Unlike the casual tracksuit of her taller sister, she might have been on her way to or from church. Black, low-heeled shoes matched a patent-leather pocketbook that was a fashion requirement of ladies of a certain age.

  “Sutton, this is Aunt Hazel,” Wyatt pointed to the shorter sister, “and that one is Aunt Hyacinth. Now what seems to be the problem?”

  “I hit something,” Hyacinth said.

  “I didn’t see any bodies—animal or human—so I’m assuming something inanimate?”

  “Har-har. Yes but I don’t know what. We were tooling along singing along to some John Denver—” Hyacinth turned abruptly to Sutton. “Do you like John Denver, honey?”

  The question drew a surprised laugh from her. “Yeah, sure. ‘Rocky Mountain High,’ right?”

  “Exactly. Speaking of, what do you think about medicinal marijuana for my arthritis, Wyatt?”

  “Whatever floats your boat, Aunt Hy.” Wyatt’s voice was full of easy-going humor.

  “Whatever I hit clanked against the underside and next thing I knew the tire just plumb gave out. Come look.” Wyatt joined Hyacinth on the other side of the car and squatted, only the top of his head visible.

  Sutton’s job was to make conversation and put people at ease, but something about the way Hazel looked her over made her think of job interviews and interrogations.

  “It’s nice to meet you finally. Wyatt’s told me so much about you and your sister,” Sutton said.

  “Has he now?” Her tone was speculative, and Sutton tensed, anticipating more questions. Instead, Hazel said, “I never married.”

  After a beat of silence, Sutton found her footing again. “Wyatt told me about the family curse.”

  “Curse.” Hazel made a scoffing noise. “Hogwash. I didn’t get married because I didn’t want some man bossing me around. Our father was bad enough.”

  Not knowing what else to say, she murmured an apology.

  “Wyatt and Jackson have got it in their fool heads that they’re destined to never marry or have a family either. Like that sort of thing is predetermined at birth. Silliness.”

  Wyatt had joked about the curse. Did he really believe it? Any w
oman would be lucky to have Wyatt. “It is rather silly.”

  “Don’t tell the others but Wyatt’s my favorite. I never wanted children—taking care of my younger siblings for too many years soured me—but when his mama left, Hyacinth and I answered the call and never regretted it.”

  “He told me how you made sure he had school clothes and such.”

  “That was the easy part.” The patent-leather purse creaked as she adjusted her hold. “Wyatt’s more like Hyacinth. Open, affectionate. The other boys always acted like a hug was a stealthy method of passing on communicable diseases, but Wyatt always gave as good as he got.”

  “He’s special, isn’t he?” Sutton asked, her gaze on the man in question. He had popped his aunts’ trunk and was pulling out the jack and spare tire.

  “I’m terribly biased, but yes, he is.” Without turning to look at Sutton, she continued. “And don’t believe all that talk about how many girls he’s dated, because never, not once has he brought a young lady to meet us.”

  “You’ve never met any of his girlfriends?”

  “Not a single one. Until now.”

  Sutton wasn’t sure what to make of that. She wasn’t technically Wyatt’s girlfriend, even though they’d had sex. Amazing, glorious, life-altering sex didn’t necessarily mean anything. Yet, between the sex, they’d laughed and talked. A lot and about everything.

  “Jackson tells me Wyatt is your date to the Cottonbloom gala this weekend?”

  Dread traipsed around her heart like a crazy bearded man holding a placard with THE END IS NIGH stamped across it.

  “That’s the plan.” She tried to swallow down the sudden onslaught of emotion that turned her eyes watery. Getting serious with Wyatt wasn’t an option. Yet neither was walking away. Her mental vertigo returned with a vengeance.

  * * *

  Wyatt released the hydraulic jack and checked the lug nuts one more time. Wiping his hands on the back of his jeans, he joined Sutton and Aunt Hazel. “The donut will get you home and to the shop in the morning. Don’t drive it anywhere else.”

  Something about Sutton’s stance and expression had him trying to catch his Aunt Hazel’s eye.

  “We can always count on you, son.” Hazel leaned in to give him a half hug.

  Hyacinth gave him a little wave of thanks before slipping behind the wheel. Hazel turned to Sutton and patted her hand. “It was lovely to meet you. I hope we see lots more of each other.”

  Sutton murmured a polite answer with a tight smile. Once they were cocooned back in his car, he propped one arm across the steering wheel and one along the back of her seat, facing her. “What did Aunt Hazel say to you?”

  “Nothing. I mean, we made small talk, is all.” She stared out the front window.

  His long silence did nothing to make her give up more info. “You sure? Because you seem upset.”

  “Why would you think that?”

  He huffed, started the car, and got them back on the road. “When you’re embarrassed or turned on, you flush pink from your chest all the way to your cheeks. When you’re angry, you get this cute little crinkle right between your eyes. And, when you’re upset, your mouth gets tight and if you do smile, it never gets to your eyes.”

  When she didn’t respond, he glanced from the road to her. She looked stunned, and maybe slightly pleased. Or pissed. He couldn’t tell in the darkened interior. When she grabbed his hand in hers, he concluded it was the former.

  “I’m dirty.” He tugged at his hand, but she kept hold and laid a kiss on the back.

  “I don’t care,” she whispered.

  Everything in his chest tightened with the realization he had totally and irrevocably fallen for her. He loved the fact she’d researched pornos for him and brought him a casserole when he’d been grieving and held his hand even though he was filthy. He loved her too-nice beigeness but also the rainbow of colors she’d revealed in his bed. He loved her dedication to the boutique and the fact she was finally letting the dream she’d nurtured for so long bloom.

  She didn’t feel the same way about him, but maybe someday she would. He would wait a lifetime to find out. The silence that built on the drive back to the shop carried with it expectation. He parked around the side of the garage and made straight for the barn, her hand in his, grease be damned.

  As soon as they were up the stairs and in the loft, he kissed her, running his hands down her back to knead her bottom. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and squirmed closer. He lifted her, and she wrapped her legs around his hips, still kissing him.

  He shuffled forward until his knees hit the mattress, both of them falling, him on top of her. Their clothes came off with record speed. Desperation jerked his movements, and she seemed equally as frantic.

  For him, though, it wasn’t about achieving sexual gratification, it was about possession and surrender. He hooked his hands under her knees and drew her legs apart. She was his definition of heaven, spread out, her hair painting his bedspread, and the telltale flush across her chest. All for him. Only for him.

  His thrust was firm and deep, and her response was to arch her back and tempt him with her breasts. He’d taken notes about what she liked, and her breasts were beautifully sensitive to his touch. He dropped her knees to caress over them and pinch her nipples. He left a dark mark of grease along her side. His other hand left another smudge on the white skin of her breast.

  The sight fired a primal satisfaction in his chest, and he slid out of her and back in with enough force to move her up the bed. He needed to leave his mark on her, no matter how temporary.

  Up until this point, he’d handled her gently, knowing he needed to coax out her obvious passion. But tonight proved she had learned to embrace her desires. He’d never experienced a more erotic blow job in his life. The picture she’d made looking up at him through her lashes, cheeks flushed and hollowed out would be forever locked away in his memories.

  “You feel so good.” Her breathless encouragement was all he needed to let loose on her.

  With his control slipping, he felt her tightening around him, only dimly registering her throaty groans through the rushing in his ears. Tingles shot all the way to his toes, and they curled. An honest-to-God toe-curling orgasm. He collapsed on top of her, both of them damp and breathing hard.

  I love you. The words wound around and around his heart and felt like they were cutting off his circulation.

  “What? What did you say?” She pushed at his shoulders.

  Even though his body begged to stay put, his mind was in full panic mode, and he eased out of her. Had he actually said it out loud? “Nothing. Forget it.”

  She grabbed the sheet and covered herself, pushing back into the pillows. Her eyes were wide, her mouth open, her hands fisted at the top of the sheet. He imagined her reaction was on par with him having revealed a virulent STD.

  “But you said—”

  “I said, I love U2. Bono. The Edge. Classic stuff. Pop used to play it when we were kids.” He avoided her eyes.

  “Wyatt. You couldn’t have meant that you actually … you know.” She deftly skipped over his lame excuse to the heart of the matter.

  What choice did he have except to own his stupid honesty? Considering they were at his place, he couldn’t exactly make a run for it. He leaned against the headboard and tried unsuccessfully to squash the defensiveness that rose. “What if I did? Is it so horrible a thought? Trust me, I didn’t mean for it to happen.”

  As if the bed had caught fire, she leapt up and grabbed her clothes. She was already moving toward the stairs as she pulled on her shorts, stumbling and nearly toppling over.

  The irony of the situation wasn’t lost on him, and if he’d been watching it unfold on TV, he would have laughed. How many times had he made a hasty exit when things got too serious or real?

  “Sutton.” The desperate commanding tenor of his voice made her freeze. He waited until she looked over her shoulder at him. “Don’t go.”

  “I’m not re
ady … I can’t…”

  He took it as a victory she hadn’t moved and pulled the sheet around his torso, approaching her slowly, afraid she’d spook like a wild animal avoiding a trap. “I don’t expect anything from you.”

  She looked toward the stairs and escape. “I’m really confused.”

  “You can’t deny there’s something between us besides a good time. Don’t you feel it too?”

  “I do, but—” She turned to face him and for a moment, he thought he’d won. She held a hand up to ward him off and shuffled backward. A retreat. “I can’t think right now.”

  “Babe, please.” He hated the pathetic, pleading note in his voice almost as much as he hated the emptiness growing around his heart. It was eerily reminiscent of the days after his father’s death. He hadn’t realized how fully she’d filled that space until now.

  She ran down the stairs barefoot, her shoes dangling from one hand. He followed as fast as his impromptu toga would allow, but he only caught a glimpse of her taillights as she sped away.

  Defeat was bitter. Was this a battle he’d lost or the war?

  Chapter Nineteen

  On the evening of the gala, Wyatt sprawled on the couch and stared out at the trees. Too early yet for the leaves to put on their show. He thought about getting a beer, but the energy it would take to walk the ten feet to the fridge wasn’t worth it.

  He’d slept like crap the past two nights since his monumental screwup with Sutton. She had returned his text and asked for time to figure things out. He understood, but feared the more time they spent apart, the easier it would be for her to tag whatever they’d shared as an experience and move on.

  Mack came through the back of the garage, dressed for a date with the body bag. Wyatt had spent the day avoiding his family, so it was no surprise when Mack joined him on the couch.