by Emily Bishop
“Oh,” he said. “Oh. I’ll help you.”
“I don’t need help.” I tried for a smile.
“ I want to,” he replied and brushed his fingers through that wavy brown hair “I’ll help you pack up. You wouldn’t have this problem if I’d come during regular hours.”
“It’s OK. I can do it on my own.”
“It’s fucking pouring out there,” he said. “It’s already flooding. I’m helping you.”
I stared at him, breathing hard, my heart pounding against the inside of my ribcage. “All right, but you’re going to get wet. I live in the RV park outside the fairgrounds.”
“No problem.”
We made quick work of it—packing the crystals, books, and tarot cards into a wooden box decorated in silver etchings. I covered the top of it with the velvet tablecloth. “That’s everything. Oh, wait, the sign,” I said. “It’s wooden. I don’t want it to rot.”
“I’ll get it. You take this.”
Jarryd marched out into the rain before I could utter another word. I splashed out into the thunderstorm with the little box. Chain lightning arced through the sky, and the wind picked up, splattering raindrops against my back. I shivered and rushed past Jarryd while he heaved the sign from the ground and toward the exit.
The thrill of the storm, and the fact that he was behind me, rushing through the rain to help—there was a celebrity here, in my little field—was enough to trip me up, and I stumbled, straightened then continued. I led the path to the RV, shuddering from the cold, and thundered up the front steps. I forced the door open, stumbled in, and dumped the box on the mini-kitchen table. I’d leave the bookshelf and the table out—neither were made of wood and wouldn’t take damage.
Footsteps thumped up the two steps behind me, followed by the creak of wood and scrape of something being placed. “There.”
I turned and slammed into Jarryd’s hard, muscled torso. He caught my arms and kept me from falling. “Whoa, easy there.”
I sucked in a breath and looked up at him. “Th—you—thanks. I—the sign?” He dripped water, his suit jacket sodden but hanging open to reveal the wet, white cotton shirt underneath, stuck to his abs, displaying the outline clearly. The scent of his cologne, kind of woody and mixed with the musk of pure skin, drifted between us. His eyes glinted, danced up and down, studying me.
He moved forward, and the wetness pressed against me, water spread between us, joined us. I melted internally, barely holding myself together.
“It’s right there.” He tilted his head to the left.
I didn’t look. Neither did he. We were connected by something, tangible strings of attraction, and it was all I could do to keep breathing. He had a dimple on his chin.
Jarryd Tombs—him, the celebrity, an actual famous person—inhaled and kept me silent by the magnitude of his presence. His fingers smoothed the silk of my blouse over my arms. “Do you need anything else?”
Yes. You. I shook my head.
“Are you sure?”
No. I need you. I nodded.
“You don’t look sure.”
I swallowed, and the strings thickened, the length shortened. So close. So close, and it’d been so long, it’d been five years since I’d felt anything, done anything. Since I’d trusted and been rewarded with pain.
“So beautiful,” he muttered, almost to himself. “I don’t even know your name. What’s your name?”
“Aurora,” I replied, at last. “My name is Aurora.”
“Like the northern lights. A natural wonder of the world,” he said and brushed chilled fingers down my cheek. “It suits you.”
Chapter 3
Jarryd
Two weeks after a breakup, and I couldn’t take my eyes off this woman. This mysterious, totally opposite-to-me female who had curves in all the right places and long dark hair. I pictured grabbing a handful of it, tilting her head back, and ravaging her throat with hot, sweet kisses.
“You’re wet,” she said.
“Yeah,” I replied and finally let go of her. If I held on much longer it’d drive me crazy, or give me an inappropriate boner. I ran my fingers through my hair and grimaced. Water scattered to the carpet.
“Hold on. I’ll get you a towel.” Aurora walked down the length of the RV and to a door at the far end. She opened it and revealed a glimpse of a bedroom, a double bed squeezed into the space, decked in plain white sheets. It looked comfortable, not too flashy.
Nothing like what Felicity would’ve chosen if we’d gone through with it. Nah, I’d have been stuck with purple silky crap.
“Nice place you’ve got here,” I said.
She returned and held out the towel at arm’s length, the distance between us too great for my liking. “You mean nice for a fortune-teller?”
“No, I meant nice. Like nice. Nice in general.”
“Say nice one more time and I’ll believe you,” Aurora said, and a tiny smile flickered around the corners of those full lips. Full enough to taste. “Look, you’d better get out of that suit. You’ll catch pneumonia like that.”
I looked down at the wet jacket. An Armani suit, ruined. “You’re right,” I replied. “Got any old men’s clothes laying around?”
“No, sorry,” Aurora replied and shrugged.
“Nothing?”
“No. Why, is that weird?” She colored slightly. It was cute. Why would she care if I thought it was weird or not?
“It’s good. But it doesn’t help my situation here.”
“Hold on a sec.” She shuttled off to the bedroom again, disappeared inside. The creak of cupboards followed, and I waited, towel in hand. Aurora reappeared holding what looked to be a pink blanket. “Here,” she said and thrust it toward me. “This has always been a little big for me.”
“Big for you and miniature for me,” I replied. “What is it? Some kind of blanket?”
“It’s a robe,” she said and held it up.
“With a rose on the front.” I poked it.
“Beggars can’t be choosers,” she replied and giggled behind the pink curtain separating us. “Besides, you only have to wear it until I dry off your suit. Then you can head back to your car and –”
“I didn’t bring a car,” I replied.
“What?” She lowered the robe. “Are you—you mean, you walked here?”
“That’s right,” I said. “I mentioned I’d had a beer, right? It seemed like a good idea at the time.” Luckily, the effects of the alcohol had long since worn off. Probably had something to do with being told I’d lose money and possibly fall in love. Oh, and there was disaster on the way. Disaster for my movie, Pride’s Death.
“You walked,” Aurora repeated then looked up at the ceiling of the RV.
Rain drummed on the top of vehicle, thunder rolled outside. “Yeah. I’ll call a cab and be out of here in a couple minutes.” Not that I wanted to.
Aurora walked toward me, swaying as she did. She reminded me of a fertility symbol, all woman, feminine in motion and sound.
Aurora snorted. “A cab? There are no cabs here. OK, there’s one, but old Bobby doesn’t drive during storms or at night. He’s got night blindness. Really dangerous.”
“Old Bobby? Who’s old Bobby?”
“The cab driver?” Aurora smiled, a tremulous shifting of those lips.
It was as if someone had punched me dead in the gut. Beyond gorgeous. Perfect. “I’m not used to small towns.” Or women who affected me like this.
“Well, Moondance is an atypical small town. The cab driver won’t be working until tomorrow, and that’s if the rain doesn’t muddy up the dirt roads too badly.” Her smile faded slowly.
I stepped forward. “I’ll walk. You got an umbrella? I’ll bring it back tomorrow and pay you for your trouble.”
“What? Don’t be crazy.” Aurora didn’t shy away from me, but she did twitch. “You can’t walk in this. There are trees out there.”
“Terrifying. I hear they’re rooted down, though,” I replied and w
inked at her.
She flinched again. Was it the wink that’d done it? “The lightning. You’ll get electrocuted or sick or something. Look, it’s fine. You change into the robe and sleep on the sofa, see?” Aurora gestured to the tiny sofa next to the even tinier kitchen table. “Or—yeah, I’ll sleep on the sofa and—”
“No,” I said. “The sofa is fine for me. Thanks.”
Aurora nodded. “Good, right, OK. Good.”
“You said that already.”
She blushed again, but this time it was an overwhelming flush that crept from the base of her neck, up her throat, to her cheeks, and right to the roots of her hair. Adorable and vulnerable, yet feisty.
“Right, so I’ll leave you to change out of those clothes. Just lay them over the, uh, over the—” She swayed from side-to-side, looked around. “The table. Put them on the table to dry, and if they’re not dry by tomorrow, I’ll heat them up. Or—yeah, OK. Goodnight then.” She turned stiffly and walked to the bedroom. She shut the thin door behind her.
“Goodnight.” That’d gone well.
I stood in place and listened.
Soft sounds from the room, rustling, the thump of a drawer. Clothes changing. Images of her naked came uninvited and nearly doubled me over. I moved without thinking, closer to the wood that separated us.
Her scent permeated the space around me and flooded my nostrils with lavender. It was gentle, though, not too overpowering, feminine. I halted in front of her door and lifted my fist.
The door opened before I could connect with it.
“What are you doing?” Aurora asked, now wearing a silken nightie. Her nipples pricked at the fabric, and goosebumps decorated the slopes of her breasts. “You’re still wearing wet clothes. You’re going to catch cold. Seriously, change into the robe. I don’t have anything else that—”
I moved in fast, cupped her face in my hands, and searched her eyes.
“Wh-what?” She shivered beneath me. “Jarryd?”
My name on her lips. Fuck it, that sounded good. I bent my head and looked at her mouth. Her lips, parted slightly, let out tiny breaths.
“Jarryd.” Less of a question this time.
So close to her. Our lips almost touching but not quite there. The tension ramped up, and she quivered. No longer subtle tremors but visibly shaking.
“You want me,” I said.
Aurora swallowed, wet her lips.
“Say my name again.”
She squeezed her eyes shut. “Jarryd.”
I watched her say my name then brushed my finger along her bottom lip. “Aurora.”
Finally, I kissed her, melting her and myself with that embrace. I slid my arms around her and down her spine, pressing the silk to her skin, tracing the long line down her back to the swell of her ass.
Aurora moaned into my mouth—a tiny sound that lit me from the inside.
I pressed her body to mine.
She gasped and shuddered. “Cold,” she said and pulled back from the kiss.
Shit, I was still wet from the storm.
I stripped off my jacket and dropped it on the table behind me. Her front was wet, now, and the material clung to her breasts, to her flat belly, a slight dip at her belly button.
I lost my shirt next, left the pants on. She had a choice, and I wanted her to make it.
Aurora’s gaze danced across my body from my pecs, to my abs, to the tattoo down my left bicep, and finally it sank lower, to the bulge at the front of my suit pants. She trembled and let out a squeak.
“What are you going to do?” I asked. It came out as a command rather than a question.
She undid my belt, slowly, and dragged it off then unbuttoned the top button of my pants. They dropped to the floor, and she inhaled sharply.
“It’s—you’re…”
“Nice?” I suggested.
“Huge,” she replied.
Talk about calling a spade a spade. I tilted my head and studied her, chest rising and falling rapidly, that silk still clinging to her. “Take it off,” I said.
Aurora’s eyes flashed but she didn’t argue. She slipped her thumbs underneath the thin straps of her nightie, lifted them, and let them fall from her shoulders. The nightie clung to her still, and she wormed out of it. Finally, it dropped and revealed all of her.
Shaven, breasts full, and nipples puckering in the cold air.
“Good,” I said and slipped my arms around her waist. I tugged her close, grasped the back of her neck and kissed her again. I parted her lips and tasted her mouth. Slightly sweet and wet.
She kissed me back, hard, almost desperate, and her arousal drove me toward the edge. I was painfully hard, already.
I grabbed her ass cheeks and lifted her.
She wrapped her legs around my waist, arms around my neck, and continued kissing as if I was the only person she’d ever had. The only one worthy. Fuck it, that made me throb.
I walked her into the bedroom and dumped her on those sheets. She yelped and stared up at me, wide-eyed then opened her arms and beckoned. “More,” she said. “Please.”
“More.” I nodded.
I lowered myself to the bed beside her, braced myself with one elbow. I kissed her forehead, her nose, her lips, and ran a finger down her throat, between her breasts, over the slight curve of her stomach, to the smooth mound between her legs.
She squirmed. “Please,” she whispered.
“What do you want?” I asked. “Tell me.”
“You,” she replied. “Jarryd, please. I want you.”
I parted her lips and slipped my finger between them, down to the entrance of her pussy. She was deliciously wet. I collected the juices and ran them over her clit.
Aurora bucked and gasped again. “Oh, god.”
I had to taste her. I raised that finger, watching her reaction, and sucked her flavor from it.
“Please,” she said, again. “I want it. Please!”
I lifted her head, placed it on my arm, and scooched closer to her. I tugged on her hip, flipped her onto her side, brushed hair from her neck, and feasted on the flesh there. Devoured it as I’d imagined before. God damn, she tasted good. I sucked and licked, working my way from the crook to her earlobe.
I breathed into her ear.
She whimpered and pressed her ass into me, against my dick, which was already screaming to be inside her, pulsing every other second, almost in time with my fucking heartbeat. Pre-cum dribbled from my head, and I reached between us, grabbed the base, and slipped myself between her legs, rubbing my sensitive skin against hers.
“Ready?”
Aurora couldn’t reply. She’d bitten her bottom lip and wouldn’t speak.
I moved my head between her folds, mixing our fluids, stroking past her clit and back again. Over and over, I drove it between her legs. “I asked if you’re ready.”
“It’s yours,” she said, at last. “Take it. Stop teasing me.”
“No,” I replied and hooked my arm, tilted her head back, and claimed her mouth again. I placed my head at the entrance of her pussy and pushed gently. I slid in an inch.
She cried out against my lips.
“More?”
“Yes,” she hissed.
I entered her slowly, drawing out the ecstasy for both of us, and reached around, circled her clit with my middle finger, using the wetness to drive her higher, closer to her peak. She would come for me before this was over. Once, maybe twice. I wanted her to tighten around me, to break to pieces in my arms so I could put her back together again.
“So good,” she whispered. “I can’t. I’m going to—” It came out choked, and she tensed beneath me.
I thrust inside her, the first true thrust, and she let out a feral grunt.
Our sweat mingled, a thin sheen on either of us, and we moved together.
Aurora pressed her ass into me, gripped my thigh, and kissed me.
Building pleasure, the huffs of breaths, and her gentle moans. I quickened the pace, circling her clit with ur
gency, moving inside her, my dick thickening even more.
Fuck, I’d never been this aroused. This wasn’t normal. Or was this how it was meant to be, and I’d never experienced it before?
Aurora broke the kiss and breathed against my lips. “Don’t stop. I’m going to—I—Jarryd, oh, god.” She tensed against me, arched her back. Her eyes rolled back in her head—the series of reactions only drove me closer to the edge.
And then it happened.
Aurora’s already tight pussy clenched around me, tightening and releasing, pulsing. She pressed her breasts out and gave one long, low groan.
It was too much. Too good.
I laced my fingers through her hair, turned her head again so her lips were against mine, still half-open, her body and mind freed by ecstasy, and pressed my forehead to hers.
Tingling started deep within me, a building fountain of pressure. I pounded into Aurora, finding the tempo, which finally pushed me over the edge. “Aurora,” I growled.
She whimpered into my mouth, opened her eyes, swallowed me whole.
I burst over the cusp and throbbed inside her, filling her with everything I had in four deep thrusts. It was beyond pleasure—I lost my breath, the will to move, and collapsed beside her.
I rolled onto my back then tugged her onto my chest and nestled my nose in her hair, inhaling the natural scent of her. Mystical. Still the only word I could use to describe her and this experience.
Sleep enveloped me. Her breathing evened out. For the first time in months, I relaxed.
Chapter 4
Aurora
Flashes of two bodies twisted together, desire unfolding in my core, and I opened my eyes, too afraid to move. What the hell did you do, Aurora? It wasn’t my mother’s voice, at least. Sometimes, when I’d made a crappy decision, my conscience would wear her motherly tone and masquerade around in my mind all day.
A one-night stand—I’d never had one before—and with an actor. Unadulterated shame burbled inside me. I winced, turned my head slowly then sighed.
The bed was empty. Rumpled sheets and one pillow hanging off the side of the mattress.
Thank god. Hopefully, it’d all been a highly erotic, satisfying dream, and I hadn’t sold out for one night with a superhot celebrity.