Last Chance Book Club

by Hope Ramsay

  Well, of course he had to retaliate. So he cupped her breast. It was just the right size, and her nipples were straining against her T-shirt. He ran his thumb over one of them, and she growled. A flush of lust came at him like a big, fat, floating curveball right over the plate.

  A man like him had no defense for something like that. None. Whatsoever. He had to take a swing at it. Didn’t he?

  The Orangeburg Motor Lodge looked like any motel you might find by the side of an interstate. In this case, the two-story stucco building stood right at the intersection of I-26 and Route 301, about twenty-five miles northeast of Last Chance and smack-dab in the middle of the route between Columbia and Charleston. Yessir, this jumping-off place in the middle of nowhere couldn’t have been more anonymous if it tried.

  Maybe that’s why the proprietors had erected a giant sign for passing motorists that proclaimed a room rate of only fifty dollars a night. And for that you got a small swimming pool, cable television, and a continental breakfast in the bargain.

  Dash procured the room key, no doubt paying cash for it, and he drove his Cadillac around to the back of the building, away from the access road.

  He killed the engine and set the brake. He turned his hip into the seat, and for the first time in the last forty-five minutes, he looked her right in the eye. “Honey, are you sure about this?”

  Was she sure? No way. Confusion, insecurity, and fear ruled her emotions at this moment. But all of that was nothing compared with the lust, which made her feel alive.

  She needed to get back into his arms.

  She looked out the passenger’s window at the blue motel door bearing the brass numbers above its peephole. She needed to remember this, but the door couldn’t have been less extraordinary. It looked like every motel door she had ever seen.

  She could imagine the room beyond. A single picture window with a view of the parking lot and heavy drapes that hid the air-conditioning unit. A chair, a lamp, a couple of forgettable prints on the wall, a counter bolted to the wall in a dark, walnut Formica. Two double beds with rough sheets and ugly bedspreads, separated by another built-in containing a cubbyhole where you’d find Gideon’s Bible.

  She focused on the door number for a moment. Forty-seven. Nothing came to mind to connect this number with anything else in her life.

  Maybe that was a good thing.

  She pulled the car door handle and got out of the car. She wasn’t going to look at Dash, and she wasn’t going to talk to him either. She didn’t quite trust him right at this moment. He might work himself back to the point of being noble and chucking the whole plan or he might actually talk her out of it.

  He got out of the car, too. They walked to the room door in silence and he opened it. A blast of air-conditioning, heavy with that impersonal motel scent, hit them like a slap across the face.

  A moment later, they stood in the room with the glare of highway traffic streaming through the large window. Dash drew the heavy curtains closed. Savannah switched on the lamp between the two beds.

  He looked at her from across the room. Studied her, in fact, while she studied him, trying hard to memorize the contours of his face—the lines at the corners of his cheeks, the little fold of skin that appeared at the bridge of his nose when he raised his eyebrows, the dent in his chin, his lopsided half grin. There wasn’t anything not to like in his face.

  “So now what?” she asked.

  He crossed the distance between them and stood there looking down at her, without touching her at all. Time hung suspended, the venture suddenly teetering on a fulcrum. Which way would they fall?

  She couldn’t risk that he might change his mind. With a trembling finger, she reached out to touch the dimple in his chin.

  He took a deep breath in through his nose and closed his eyes. “You need a shower,” he said.

  He hauled her over his shoulder and carried her into the tiny bathroom at the back of the room.

  He set her on her feet in front of the mirror.

  “Oh, my God,” she said, “I look like a refugee from a coal mine.”

  She turned toward him. “And you let me kiss you looking like this?”

  He shrugged. “Honey, you taste a little like Earl Williams’s barbecue.”

  “I do not.”

  His mouth tilted. “Uh, well, there’s a solution to that problem. And I gotta tell you, princess, I’ve been having a lot of shower fantasies recently.”

  “Me too.”

  “Well, what are we waiting for, then?”

  That must have been some kind of rhetorical question because, in the very next instant, he pushed her back against the bathroom door, his big body invading her space. His mouth closed hot and heavy on hers, and his tongue assaulted her mouth. He undid her ponytail, and her hair tumbled over her shoulders. He ran his fingers through it, cocking her head back so that he had access to her neck. He had her imprisoned between his hard thighs, his massive chest, and his warm lips.

  She couldn’t breathe even when he backed off a fraction, letting his tongue travel lightly over her bottom lip, nipping at her, dipping back into her mouth, and then finally traveling over her cheek to the hollow of her neck.

  While all this transpired, her hands developed a mind of their own. They crept around his waist and tugged at his shirttail until it came free of its moorings. She finally insinuated her hands under the fabric and came up against the warm skin of his back. The unexpected silkiness of his skin sent another rush right through her.

  Her fingers climbed up his back as tension corkscrewed inside her belly. She wanted to climb right inside his skin, but instead of getting closer, he backed away.

  “Okay, it’s shower time.” He pulled off his shirt. The T-shirt left his hair all spiked around his head, but she wasn’t paying much attention. God, he had an incredible chest, sculpted by hours in the gym and sprinkled with just a little hair right over his nipples. He snaked his arms around her waist and pulled her a little closer, his hands sliding down to her backside. She resisted his pull because she wanted to study his chest, imprint the look of it in her mind. She ran her hands over him, zeroing in on his hard brown nipples, brushing them with the backs of her fingers. He tensed beneath her touch, his fingers clamping a little harder onto her butt. Then he chuckled.

  “Honey, we’re gonna run out of hot water if we don’t hurry.”

  She ignored him and sank her head onto his chest, his unique male scent filling her head. If she couldn’t crawl into his skin then maybe she could just eat him up. Oh, God, he tasted sweet and salty all at once as she let her mouth roam over the expanse of muscle and sinew until she found a particularly delicious spot on his neck. She nibbled at the warm skin there for a few moments until Dash captured her head and tilted it up to look at him.

  “Darlin’, there are a couple of rules about illicit sex in rural South Carolina that you need to learn, and the first one is—no hickeys above the clavicle. Love bites on the neck can be mighty hard to explain. And Lillian Bray has a way of noticing things like that. And if Miz Lillian sees a hickey on my neck, she’s going to make some assumptions about Hettie Marshall that are liable to get the gossips in an uproar.” He smiled at her like a cherub. “However, you may proceed to bite me anywhere else, if you are so inclined.” He let go of her head and maintained his position against the door awaiting her next move.

  She sank against his chest. “I can’t believe you just said that.”

  “Sorry, did that break your concentration?” He didn’t wait for her reply. Instead, he pivoted, and Savannah found the tables turned again, with her up against the door.

  He ran his fingers down her jawline and over her collarbones. “He who hesitates is lost,” he said softly. His gaze roamed briefly over her face then sank down to the vee in her cotton tee where her cleavage showed.

  Dash pulled his gaze back up to her face, capturing her eyes. He licked her bottom lip, he pressed kisses along her jaw, he laved the lobe of her ear until she thought sh
e would die from the pleasure that once again coiled down inside her.

  Suddenly she needed more. “You’re right, the water is hot. I can see steam or fog or something. I… I think I want to get naked.”

  His hands moved under the hem of her top and before she even knew what happened, Dash had unhooked her bra and pulled her T-shirt over her head. The garments hit the bathroom floor.

  He pushed her back against the door again. His mouth traced a line of pure fire down her throat, while his hands roamed over her rib cage and then brushed the undersides of her breasts. His mouth and his fingers circled and circled, building up the tension in her until she thought she would scream. Just when she couldn’t bear it a moment longer, his mouth finally closed over her nipple.

  He drew it tenderly into his mouth. He suckled, and he licked, and he finally bit. She went a little crazy.

  His hands, so incredibly warm, inserted themselves between her and her blue jeans. He unsnapped them and peeled back the fabric, all while his mouth was doing incredible things to her.

  Her pants and panties dropped to her ankles. She braced herself on his shoulders and kicked them and her sandals away.

  Without shoes, she came only up to his shoulders, and she suddenly felt tiny in his arms as he ran his hands down along the skin of her bottom and then up over the bumps in her spine. The caress was ever so gentle, and for the first time, she became truly aware of Dash’s own state of arousal. He was breathing hard and his heart was racing against the fingers she had splayed against his chest.

  He stepped away from her and undid his belt and then attacked the zipper on his pants. He seemed a little less graceful kicking off his boots and getting himself out of his old, faded jeans. His pants and underwear managed to tangle themselves around his ankles, and he had to hop on one foot and then the other to extract himself. Savannah stood there naked, not feeling remotely embarrassed as she watched his little floor show with undisguised interest.

  “Oh, my,” she said on a soft puff of air as he finally managed to get off his last sock.

  He straightened up. “You like it?” he asked with an unabashed grin on his face.

  “It’s very… impressive.”

  His eyes traveled down to her ankles and back up to her chest. “So are you. Impressively dirty.”

  He pulled her into the tiny shower. And the next thing she knew, he had a washcloth and a bar of soap, and he was getting her all squeaky clean, and incredibly high.

  And when the soot had been washed away, he pulled her close, all soapy, and he kissed her again. And he started touching her in all the right spots. Spots that sent up sparks in every direction.

  “Oh, God,” she ground out between her teeth.

  “Does that feel good?” he asked in a hoarse voice.

  “Oh, God, yes.”

  He chuckled against her breast. “Didn’t your granddaddy ever tell you it was a sin to take the name of the Lord in vain?”

  “Shut up. I can’t think right now.”

  “That’s good, darlin’. Neither of us should try that right at this moment.”

  She reached for him then, part out of pique and part out of sheer curiosity. Her hand glided down across the ridges of his belly and closed in a tight fist around him. He let the fondling go on for a long time until he finally said, “That’s it, darlin’. I’m a strong man, but you have to stop doing that, now.”

  “Now?” she said, her fingers running up and down him, ignoring his command.

  “Yeah, now,” he said, swatting her hand away. He pushed the shower curtain out of the way and reached for the jeans he’d left on the bathroom floor. Several choice curse words escaped his lips as he rummaged through the pockets until he came up with a small foil packet.

  He tore it open, sheathed himself, then took her right to the stars.

  CHAPTER 17

  Dash had serious talent when it came to sex. Unfortunately, Savannah’s bad-boy cousin also had a finely tuned sense of guilt.

  Once their big moment in the shower had ended, the guilt arrived right on cue.

  “Our goose is cooked,” he muttered as he turned off the water, which was starting to get cold. “We need to dry off, go get Molly’s car, and get on back home before Miriam and Todd bust a gut.”

  So much for romance.

  But he was absolutely right. Miriam and Todd could get seriously hurt by what they’d just done in the shower.

  She dried off, using the tiny motel-rough towel. It took about five minutes to sort out their discarded clothing.

  All in all, they spent a grand total of about forty minutes in that forgettable hotel room before they were back in the Cadillac heading home to Last Chance.

  “You okay?” he asked after about ten minutes on the road.

  She nodded. She didn’t feel like talking.

  He glanced at her. “You sure?”

  She gazed at his handsome profile, lit up by the dashboard lights. She didn’t know where to start a conversation. Should she thank him for giving her a sexual fantasy that she would never, ever forget? That seemed kind of silly. Two people sneaking around to have low-down dirty sex shouldn’t have to talk, should they?

  It seemed like a very dangerous moment to start talking. She was liable to blurt out all kinds of things. Like how she wanted to hear him laugh more, like he’d done in the shower. Or how she wanted to take care of him when he was sick or discouraged. She wanted to cook him a three-course dinner. She wanted, God forbid, to knit him a sweater.

  Most of all, she wanted to sleep with him. But how could she do that? All the guys she’d ever slept with had turned into big mistakes. So maybe she should promise herself never to sleep with him or knit him anything. Cooking his dinner was already a done deal.

  “I’m good,” she said in answer to his question. “I had fun. How about you?”

  What does a man say to the most incredible lover he’s ever known? Does he tell her he thinks he loves her? Only he’s not sure what love is because in his whole life none of his lovers have ever loved him back. Does he admit that he’s kind of afraid of being loved back?

  Or maybe he just says he’s confused, which would be nothing but the unadulterated truth.

  “I had fun, too,” he said. It was an understatement of monumental proportions.

  She gave him a sweet smile. Her chocolate-drop eyes sparked with the light from the dashboard. His body ached from wanting her. Again. Someone should have told him that sex was much better sober. It might have helped with his recovery.

  They didn’t speak again until he pulled the Eldorado off the side of the road where they had left Molly’s Charger.

  “So, you want me to follow you to Molly’s?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “Molly has my car. You go on home. I’ll be fine.” She hesitated before she got out of the car. “Uh, Dash?” she said.

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Do you think we could sneak off again sometime?”

  He had to struggle to keep a smile from his lips; now that he’d tasted this forbidden fruit, he was completely hooked. He wanted her more than ever. “Maybe we could find a better hotel next time.”

  “Okay, if you want. But, um, well… it was also kind of exciting to do it in a seedy motel like that. And I’ve never had shower sex before.”

  Great. She just wanted the low-down dirty part of it. Not all the rest. That was the story of his life, wasn’t it? “Yeah, sneaking around lends a certain element of excitement to it,” he said. He didn’t think she wanted to hear him say that next time he wanted to sleep with her all night and wake up next to her in the morning.

  “So, when do you think we could do it again?” she asked.

  He was addicted. “How about tomorrow? Maybe we could sneak out to the river house when Todd’s in school.” He said the words, and a wave of lust washed through him.

  “Tomorrow sounds good,” she murmured. Then she opened the Caddy’s door and got out.

  Savannah stood in the ruins of The
Kismet’s auditorium staring up at what was left of the roof. The bright blue of another beautiful spring day shone through the burn holes.

  The insurance adjuster and the Allenberg County fire chief had just left the premises after imparting the shocking news that he believed the fire had been purposefully set.

  The Allenberg Fire Department had determined that the blaze started in a corner of the auditorium, far from any ignition sources. Their inspection of the scene suggested accelerants or some kind of flammable liquid had been used. The episode was still under investigation, and the determination wouldn’t be final until the lab up in Orangeburg finished their analysis of samples taken from the scene.

  Of course, the insurance company wasn’t about to hand out any checks if this was a case of arson. And the two men had not been very impressed by the fact that she had been in the yarn shop when the blaze started.

  “Ma’am, you could have hired anyone to start that fire. Heck, Zeph Gibbs has been in and out of here for two weeks, and everyone knows he’s crazy. You should think twice about having that man around, if you ask me.” The chief of the ACFD had been more than blunt.

  Savannah didn’t think, for one minute, that Zeph had started the fire. Not when he’d risked his life to rescue Maverick and herself.

  She was processing all of this disastrous news when John Rodgers strolled into what remained of The Kismet. He seemed more than chipper this morning as he started inspecting the damage and making notations in a hard-backed notebook. He had the audacity to whistle while he worked. No doubt he was totaling up the increase in his fees.

  Savannah was just trying to decide whether to plead with him or kick him out on his backside when Dash arrived.

  Her heart flipped over in her chest. She hadn’t seen him since she’d left him by the roadside last night. She’d purposefully gotten up early so as to miss him at the bathroom door. She wasn’t sure what she was feeling about him. Lust, certainly. But it was so much more than that.

  And yet, all the angry tension disappeared the minute he strolled into the auditorium, replaced with something else altogether. Dash was here. She was safe. Even if someone had tried to burn down her theater.