Summer Fling

by Vi Keeland, Penelope Ward, LJ Shen, RS Grey, Willow Winters, Sarina Bowen, Helena Hunting

  I told her then, I do what feels right. And Dean… everything about him feels right. Up until he’s gone, that is.

  “I want you in bed, if that’s what you mean.” His strong muscles coil as he pulls his shirt off, dragging it along and revealing himself to me inch by inch until the shirt is nothing but a crumpled ball of cloth he tosses carelessly on the floor. The way he looks at me, like he wants to devour me, steals my breath.

  His barefoot self only in blue jeans making his way to me forces me to take one step back. This man is too much. He has a power over me like no one else.

  My back hits the door at the same time his strong hands grab my hips, pinning them there, and his lips meet mine in a heated kiss I’ve missed for far too many nights.

  Everything is hot instantly, my body dying to be touched, begging him to press against me, so I can feel him and only him. I don’t want to feel anything else.

  His left hand stays where it is, but his right roams up my body, slipping up the curve of my waist, barely touching me and teasing me. All the while my lips part for his deepening kiss, letting him take me as he wants.

  With a deft flick of his fingers, he undoes my bra and before the straps can even slip down my shoulder beneath my shirt, his large hand cups my breasts and he moans into my mouth with need. His cock hardened and pressing against my lower belly through the denim of his jeans.

  When he pinches my nipple, pulling it ever so slightly, I have to break the kiss to throw my head back. I writhe under him and he doesn’t waste another second, pulling me into his arms and taking me to my bedroom, a room he knows all too well.

  Even though his gait is large, and his steps swift, he peels the clothes away from me as we go, until I match him in attire.

  I can’t help but to let out a small squeal of surprise and glee when he tosses me onto my bed. The moonlight peeks through my curtains and that’s the only light I have to see him as he kicks off his jeans, along with his boxers and stands in all his glory.

  “Pants off,” he tells me, stroking himself. The sheen from precum already leaking from him has me licking my lips as I obey. He spreads it around his thick head though, pushing me onto my back even though I got on my knees to lick him.

  “Not now, I need to be inside of you,” he groans when I mewl in protest. What this man does to me… I just don’t know how or why but he plays my body like it was made for him. Bracing himself on top of me, one forearm above my head, he spreads my legs and I spread them even wider in response, tilting my hips for him.

  His hand cups my heat and when he presses his palm to my clit, my back arches from the sudden touch and instant desire. “You’re so fucking wet for me, baby,” his whispers the rushed words out, his lips finding my neck as he pushes two thick fingers inside of me. With his stubble tickling along my neck, his kisses roaming carelessly as he fingerfucks me, the heat inside of me intensifies, burning along my skin and igniting every nerve ending that I haven’t felt since he’s been here last.

  Curving his fingers, he hits that sweet spot inside of me, and rubs my clit with his rough palm at the same time, turning over the waves of pleasure until they finally crash inside of me.

  “Dean!” I cry out his name like I need him, like he’s the only one I’ve ever needed as my toes curl and my neck arches with the pleasure rolling through me.

  He doesn’t wait for me to finish, he doesn’t give me a moment to catch my breath. He slams inside of me to the hilt and I scream out in utter rapture. He pistons his hips and it feels like it’s too much. My body instinctively curls around his, my legs around his hips as he picks up his pace.

  His breath is hot along my neck and every small touch, every deep groan, every thrust from him takes me higher and higher, prolonging the pleasure and keeping me on the edge of falling until he finds his release with my second for the night.

  I can’t breathe, I can barely move onto my side to close my legs when he leaves the bed to go to the bathroom. The heated waves leave me and the cool air would give me shivers if he hadn’t pulled the sheets up around me.

  When he comes back, he makes sure I’m alright to fall asleep, before climbing back in.

  If tonight is anything like the other nights, he’ll have me again in just a little while, and I’ll wake up to another round, longer and more gentle, but with just as much pleasure in the morning.

  If only I could have him always. If only I knew he wasn’t going to leave again…

  The thought keeps me from sleeping. It keeps me from feeling the comfort I usually have with him.

  Everything just feels out of place. Like something’s horribly wrong.

  “You’re my worst habit,” I shake my head, brushing my hair out of my face. I need a shower or even better, a nice long bath with him beside me in that large claw foot tub. But right now, all I want to do is lie here beside him, before he gets up and leaves me again.

  “Now I’m a drug?” he chuckles, deep and rough.

  “You’re a mistake,” I correct him, hating the truth that’s there. I wish it was only ever a joke. It’s not though. The way my heart already hurts and he’s not even gone yet… he is a mistake and I know it. I just can’t say no to him.

  “That’s the second time you said that tonight.”

  Unless I’m mistaken, a hint of his cadence sounds wounded. When I roll over on the bed, still naked and my bare shoulders showing, the sheets roll with me but they don’t cover my upper half. A simper dances along my lips when his gaze lowers to my exposed breasts. Part of me wants to tease him, to tell him, I hope you like the view. Instead I hold my ground, saying something I’ve been thinking, every time he leaves me here with only a parting kiss and not even a date when he’ll be back.

  I whisper, not hiding the pain in the truth, “How could this not be a mistake?” The rustling of the sheets mixes with my words as I lay myself down onto his hard chest, just wanting my skin to be touching his. As if the words I just said aren’t going to make him climb out right this second. Contrary to my initial thought, he stays perfectly still. Only for a fraction of a second and I stare at my pillow he’s laying against, the masculine scent of him filling my lungs. “You could have a girl like me in every town,” I try to joke, to make my voice teasing and force a smile to my lips, but I fail.

  “I told you I don’t and I don’t like you saying that,” his voice is hard, but the way his hand comes down around the back of my head, smoothing my hair down is nothing but gentle. “I only have you.” Every breath he makes is deep and his chest rises and falls with my cheek on his hot skin. I turn my head ever so slightly, just to kiss his chest. Because a statement like that deserves a kiss at least.

  I only have you. It sounds so romantic, but he has me for a weekend and that’s all. Then he’s gone and I get a call every once in a while, a text here or there, but we’re both busy, we live two different lives. The fact that I need to end this weighs on me heavily. This isn’t what I want. I don’t want a hookup every once in a while. Even if he says all the right things. Even if the smell of him on my pillows lulls me to sleep when he’s gone.

  “Dean, I--”

  “You what, Lysa? You miss me when I’m gone?” he questions me in a tone I don’t recognize and it forces me to look up at him. In the depths of his sharp blue gaze there’s something there I haven’t seen before. Something raw and wounded. “Cause I miss you too. I miss you so much that I don’t want to leave.”

  In this moment, my heart twists. I swear everything stops because my heart can’t pump when it’s in a knot like it is. There aren’t words to fix everything. He asked me once to come with him, to take a vacation and just ride with him. I can’t leave the bar though. It’s the only piece of my family I have left. It’s all on my shoulders.

  “I’m tired of missing you,” I confess and nearly choke on the words. “I’m too lonely to miss someone who chooses to be gone.” His expression doesn’t change but his grip on me tightens. I lean forward, needing to be closer to him, pray
ing he understands I just hurt too much when he’s gone. My bed creaks with the shift in our weight. “I get it, I do. I swear I understand the family business and--”

  Dean’s thumb stops me from speaking, pressing it against my lips as his other fingers grace my jaw and he cups my chin, shushing me. I’m not a girl to be shushed though. He leans his head down, in an effort to rest his forehead against mine, but I pull away. I need it to be over. I am addicted to him, but this is killing me.

  I think I love you. And it kills me that you don’t choose me. It’s what I want to say to him. But the words tumble over each other at the back of my throat. My face is hot and my eyes prick with tears and I have to get away and get off this bed to put space between us.

  “Lysa, baby, stop,” Dean’s quick to snatch my wrist, jumping out of the bed and pulling my body against his. He’s so much taller, and warmer, every inch of me wants to mold to his masculine form. With soft kisses in my hair, he says something… something that sounds like I love you, but it can’t be that.

  I try to pull away again, but his strong arm wraps around my waist, pulling me in close again. With both of my palms against his chest, both of us still bared to one another, I’m caught in his heated gaze when he tells me clear as day, “I love you Lysa. And if you’ll have me, I want to be here with you. I sold the truck, I left the business. I just want to stay right here with you.”

  “What?” I’m breathless.

  “I sold it, invested the money and I have some left over I thought…” shaking his head, Dean looks past me for a moment then licks his lower lip, his grip loosening on me and vulnerability shining in his pale blue eyes.

  “But that’s all you’ve ever known…” the words come out as a murmur.

  “No. There’s something else I know,” he looks down at me with nothing but love. “Something I value more.”

  “Dean--”

  “I thought I could help you with the bar. I don’t need you to pay me, you can treat the money like a loan or a gift, whatever you want. I don’t need the money, I have enough on my own. I just want to be with you.”

  Everything blurs around us as the silence passes. Time slows and I know I’ll remember this moment forever. I dreamed a thousand dreams over the years, wanting to confess, but he always wanted me to run away with him, like I wanted to do that first time I saw him, back when my father was still here and he would be there to take care of the bar. “Did you say you loved me?” I have no idea how the words manage to escape my lips in a whisper, or where they even came from.

  For the first time that I can remember, Dean blushes. With his large hand running down the back of his neck, he grins at me, a boyish grin. “I might have. I might have said I love you so damn much it hurts.”

  His grin falters slightly until I lift up onto my tip toes to press my lips against his and give him all of me in that one touch.

  I don’t know when I gave my heart to him, but right now, I vow to give him all of me.

  “I love you Dean.” I love him so damn much it hurts too. “You promise you’ll stay with me?”

  Wrapping his arms around me and pulling me into his chest, he brings me back to bed. “I’ll stay with you Lysa. I’m here with you. I’m right here. And I’m not leaving anymore.”

  He repeats, “I love you.”

  BY WILLOW WINTERS

  Merciless World

  A Kiss to Tell

  Possessive

  Seductive

  Merciless

  Heartless

  Breathless

  Endless

  All He’ll Ever Be

  A Kiss To Keep

  A Single Glance

  A Single Kiss

  A Single Touch

  Hard to Love

  Desperate to Touch

  Tempted to Kiss

  Easy to Fall

  This Love Hurts

  Merciless World Spin Off

  It’s Our Secret

  Standalone Novels:

  Broken

  Forget Me Not

  Sins and Secrets Duets:

  Imperfect (Imperfect Duet book 1)

  Unforgiven (Imperfect Duet book 2)

  Damaged (Damaged Duet book 1)

  Scarred (Damaged Duet book 2)

  Willow Winters

  Standalone Novels:

  All I Want is a Kiss

  Tell Me To Stay

  Second Chance

  Knocking Boots

  Promise Me

  Burned Promises

  Forsaken, cowritten with B. B. Hamel

  Collections

  Don’t Let Go

  Deepen The Kiss

  Kisses and Wishes

  Valetti Crime Family Series:

  Dirty Dom

  His Hostage

  Rough Touch

  Cuffed Kiss

  Bad Boy

  Highest Bidder Series,

  cowritten with Lauren Landish:

  Bought

  Sold

  Owned

  Given

  Bad Boy Standalones,

  cowritten with Lauren Landish:

  Inked

  Tempted

  Mr. CEO

  ABOUT WILLOW WINTERS

  Thank you so much for reading my romances. I’m just a stay at home mom and avid reader turned author and I couldn’t be happier. I hope you love my books as much as I do!

  More by W Winters

  www.willowwinterswrites.com/books/

  Sign up for my Newsletter to get all my romance releases, sales, sneak peeks and a FREE Romance, Burned Promises.

  If you prefer text alerts so you don’t miss any of my new releases, text "Willow" to 797979

  CONTACT W WINTERS

  Bookbub | Twitter | Goodreads | Email

  Instagram | Facebook Page | Website

  Damsel Dude in Distress

  Copyright © 2020 Helena Hunting

  All rights reserved

  Published by Helena Hunting

  Editing by Paige Maroney Smith

  Proofing by the Hustlers

  Road Trip is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are all products of the author’s twisted imagination and are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locals, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Except as permitted under the US Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the author.

  Roadside Attraction

  Nevah

  “I’M ON MY way to you. Other than Cactus Candy, is there anything else you need me to pick up?” I use my knee to control the steering wheel and pull my hair into a ponytail. It’s a gorgeous day and I want to drive with the top down as soon as I’m finished talking to my sister. Wind and phone conversations are not a winning combination.

  The body of my 1959 Cadillac Eldorado needs serious TLC, and the interior is worn and dated, but any car lover knows those things can be fixed. It’s what’s under the hood that really counts.

  Although, I will say that having AC on a drive through the desert is essential, and the one thing I made sure was in working order. No one likes underboob sweat on a cross-country road trip.

  I stroke the steering wheel with real affection. I have big plans for this car, and when I’m done restoring her, she’s going to be gorgeous.

  I plan to bring this beauty into the twenty-first century with a top-of-the-line, state-of-the-art sound system, so I don’t have to worry about things like being hands-free and not having access to my favorite road trip playlists. For the time being, my portable speaker will have to suffice.

  “I’m so jealous that you’re driving here.” My younger sister’s wistful tone makes me smile.

  “Must be hard to travel the world by private jet,” I tease.

  My Vegas born and bred sister is married to Griffin Mills, heir to a multi-billion dollar hotel empire.
We grew up living a very middle-class existence. Cosy, who is two years my junior, has always been a bit on the nomadic side, traveling as far as her beat-up cars would allow, until she met Griffin and they fell hopelessly in love with each other.

  They’re a totally unlikely pair from completely different backgrounds and worlds, but they work. It gives me hope that I’ll find my soulmate one day. Maybe. If I can stop being attracted to the wrong kind of guy.

  “I’m not going to complain about comfortable travel, but I miss road trips. We need to take one before Griffin knocks me up.”

  “Amen to that, sister. I assume if you’re bringing it up, it means that’s high on his list of priorities.”

  “He’s been sending me links to baby name sites. He’s also marked my fertile days on the calendar for the next six months.” I can’t tell if Cosy is amused or irritated by this. Probably the former over the latter.

  “You’re not even thirty.”

  “Yeah, but he’s closing in on forty and he’d like to be done with teenagers by the time he’s sixty.”

  “I can see the validity in that.”

  Griffin Mills is a very type A, yet slightly impulsive guy. When he’s in, he’s all in, which is how he is with Cosy. He doesn’t half-ass anything about their relationship. It’s part of the reason I’m driving to Colorado to celebrate her birthday, along with what I’m suspecting will be about two hundred other people. And that’s a conservative estimate.

  Cosy loves Colorado and live concerts, and her favorite band just happens to be playing at the Red Rocks Amphitheatre this weekend. What’s even more impressive is that Griffin somehow managed to plan this event far enough in advance (probably before he even proposed to her) and secured the band and the amphitheatre for a private concert—Cosy happens to be unaware of this fact.