by Kira Blakely
We strode toward the end of the street and toward the entry to the gated path that led into the forest. I paid the gatekeeper for two tickets to enter the park, and we tracked down the path, past trees.
The natural sounds of leaves rustling and the gentle trickle of water nearby set the tone.
“I should’ve changed my shoes,” Charlie said and blushed right away. She stumbled and I caught her wrist, swinging the picnic basket in my other hand.
“Easy,” I said. “I think you’re fine in those.”
She laughed and walked on, then stumbled again. It was my second save, but this time, I pressed her to my side to keep her upright. Her breath feathered across my throat and sent tingles spiraling down my spine.
I looked down at her, slanting my head to catch the view. “You all right?’
“I’m not usually this clumsy,” she said. “I just—I guess I didn’t expect to see you again. This is a surprise.”
“A nice surprise,” I said.
“Yeah.” She swallowed.
“The spring is just around the corner.” I got us moving again but kept my arm around her. Used the excuse that she might fall again if I let go. The going wasn’t steep or too rocky, and in no time, we settled on the picnic blanket I’d laid out.
She kept a tiny space between us.
“That’s better,” I said and popped the tab of one of the pomegranate iced teas, handed it to her.
“Thanks.” She drank deeply. A drop escaped the corner of her mouth and snaked down her chin and onto her neck.
I had to fucking restrain myself mentally or I’d lick it up and follow that with another romp. This time, under the canopy of leaves overhead.
Charlie got the stray droplet herself and spluttered a laugh. “Seriously, I don’t know what’s wrong with me today. Anyway, thanks for, uh, helping me out back there. I was about two seconds from kneeing him in the gonads,” she said. “And that would have probably lost me my job.”
“Yeah, I’ve heard that about schools. You get sexually harassed and defend yourself and they fire you,” I said, that anger swimming through me again.
“His wife hates me. She would’ve made up some excuse. Made me look bad. Demanded I leave. They’re all major benefactors to the school.”
This was why rich people got such a bad rep. Because of assholes who thought they could buy their way into any circumstance at any time. “You should quit,” I said. “Sounds like a bad place to work.”
“No, I’ll never quit,” she said, softly, and shook those long locks back, smiled at the steam rising from the hot spring beside our spot in the grass. “I love working with children, and if I lose the job, I don’t get my shot.”
“Your shot?” I asked, my brain immediately conjuring up images of hypodermic needles.
“I—it sounds dumb when I say it.” She lifted the bottle to her lips again. “But, I’d really like to be a pediatric nurse. I’ve always wanted to work with kids. I didn’t get into school for it though. We didn’t have the money, and I didn’t want to put more of a financial burden on my mom and dad.” Her tone grew somber. There was more to that than met the eye. I didn’t press her for the information.
“A pediatric nurse,” I said. “Good choice.”
“Yeah?” She fluttered those long dark lashes at me. Stunned me with the crystal blue orbs beneath them. “It’s not a doctor, but it’s something I’ve always been passionate about. That’s why I can’t lose this job. I want to save enough to study for it.”
“So, you studied a Bachelor’s in Education instead of nursing?” I asked. It came out a little too sharp.
Her lips drew into a thin white line.
“Sorry,” I said, and it slipped off my tongue easy. Way easier than it ever had before. Apologizing to her didn’t taste bitter. “I didn’t mean to be a dick. I was just curious.”
“It’s fine,” she said. “Things are complicated at home. I got a loan, and I wasn’t approved for anything more than my undergrad degree. I always wanted to work with kids, and halfway through my degree I realized that it wasn’t just that, it was about helping them too. Healing them, as cheesy as that sounds. By then it was too late to change tack. We just didn’t have the cash. I—this is dumb. Let’s talk about something else. Not about me.” She rolled her eyes as if it was the most boring topic in the world.
I took her free hand and squeezed. It sent a jolt through my core. “I like talking about you.”
“That’s—OK,” she said and squeezed out an awkward laugh. “Thanks, I guess? But what about you. You’re going to Alaska. That sounds awesome. Exciting! Adventurous.”
“Insert another buzz word for the fuck of it.” I winked. Christ, since when did I wink? I never showed any emotion, and now I was picnicking next to a spring, holding hands, and winking?
“I don’t have another one.”
“I’m going because it’s the only place left for me to go,” I said and let go of her hand. Thinking about what’d happened always did this to me. Trust was an issue better not explored.
“They’re lacking GPs in Alaska?” She asked.
“I’m not a GP,” I said and sniffed, probably a little too haughtily since she raised an eyebrow. Fuck it, all that deflated ego had ballooned up again in the interim. “I deliver babies for a living.”
Charlie’s eyes lit up.
Score one for Doctor Pope.
Chapter 9
Charlie
The rest of the picnic passed too quickly. We sat side by side with a tiny space between us, so close I could’ve touched him, but I didn’t. I had to think this over.
This was supposed to be one night. I wasn’t going to see him again.
The fact that he was here, right beside me, sipping on iced tea and regaling me with tales of furious mothers shrieking at the nurses in the maternity ward, had me off balance. How was I supposed to react to this?
What did it mean?
Ugh, overthinking as usual. Naturally, I wanted to assume it meant more than what it was, and that, in itself, scared me right to the tips of my practical, flat-soled pumps.
This didn’t have to mean anything.
So, a day had turned into a week. So, what? That wasn’t a big deal.
Except he’s gorgeous, and arrogant, and seriously dangerous.
Finally, we packed up the remains of our meal and he helped me up. The sun was a hazy ball in the late afternoon sky. Houston’s hand dwarfed mine. He was so much taller than me that I had to crane my neck to look up at him.
“This was amazing,” I said and looked over at the water in the hot spring. “Maybe next time, we can take a dip.”
“Maybe,” he replied.
The word didn’t crush me into dust or anything, but it certainly reminded me that this wasn’t anything more than a week of fun and possibly subterfuge.
“What are you doing this evening?” he asked.
“Me? Oh, I’ve got a hot night ahead. I’ve got a whole bunch of Letter ‘A’ flash cards to cut out,” I replied. “Can’t wait.”
“Need help with that?” he asked.
I scoffed. “Seriously? You want to help me cut out letters?” I shook my head. “I’ve got to tell you, Doctor, it’s more challenging than you’d expect.”
“I’m willing to learn,” he said and placed his hand on his heart. He let it fall, then took my palm and led me back up the road toward the exit. “Where do you live?”
I swallowed. This was actually happening? “Uh—”
Think, think, think. Is Pammy home tonight? No! She’d gone out to meet with an old friend at the Clear Springs Bar. Two nights in a row, hot damn, but my aunt had style. Or just an unsinkable partying attitude.
“Yeah, OK, I’m just off the main street on Bridgeway.” I took the lead. This was a conscious choice, of course. I didn’t want to spread rumors that’d drive the mommies into a froth-mouthed furor, but it wasn’t as if I was walking down Main Street in my underwear with my hand in Houston’s pocket.
And the house would be quiet, especially with Pammy not there.
I still hadn’t told her about the whole losing my v-card thing. I wanted to keep that to myself a little longer. That and the memories of what happened.
Houston and I strolled down Main Street with the setting sun at our backs. I cringed all the way through the center of town, glancing askance at store windows. No one peered out, eyes wide and jaws dropped.
Jenny wasn’t waiting with a pitchfork, accompanied by Melissa with a torch. God, working at Daisy Oaks and encountering these women every day had made me jumpy.
“Are you all right?” Houston asked. “You feeling froggy?”
“I’m fine,” I replied. “Just fine.”
“Stop worrying about the douchebags in this town. They’re a bunch of snobbish assholes for the most part.” He gestured to the window of a pizzeria and the line inside—two women clutching designer bags. “I grew up here. I know what it’s like.”
“You did?”
“Yeah,” Houston said, the corners of his lips twitching. “My mom happens to be one of the rich snobs, except she’s not a snob. She’s pretty fucking awesome. Albeit a little intrusive.”
I let that one lie. Just a week. You don’t need to pry into his family life.
We turned the corner without incident—no pitchforks, yay—and entered my street. Or Pammy’s street.
“You moved here recently?” he asked, as I opened the quaint picket gate. He was right behind me, the pressure of his body against mine.
I stepped inside to alleviate the risk of naughty thoughts. “A couple months ago. My aunt hooked me up with the job. I—yeah, never mind.”
“You can tell me,” Houston said and entered.
“My dad was really sick for a long time. I stayed home to help him, but my mom kind of chased me out. In a good way. She sent me here because I’d spent most of my young adult life, as she called it, tending to Dad.” I forced the images of my father, pale and wan, out of my mind.
“Sorry.”
“No need,” I said and flashed him a grin.
We walked up to the house, and I let us both into Pammy’s cottage as I liked to call it.
A long hall bathed in buttery yellow light, offset by pictures on the walls—classy art because Pammy loved it—and three doorways, and entry to the kitchen at the end of the hall.
Houston crowded into the hall, larger than life and so out of place.
You don’t really know him at all. This man is basically a stranger in your aunt’s house.
Houston shut the door behind himself and turned the lock. “So, which one’s your bedroom?”
I’d already invited him in. I’d enjoyed my afternoon with him, and last night… no, it was too late to turn back now, and I didn’t want to.
I deserved a little fun, didn’t I? Pammy certainly thought so.
“This one,” I said and walked him to the first door on the right. I opened it and stepped into my “home” space. Every night, coming back here, felt good. Safe from judgment from the parents at the school or Principal Henrietta herself.
I clicked the switch on the wall and light flooded the room, highlighted the single bed with floral sheets pushed against the wall, right beside the window and its rose-colored curtains. I had a dresser with a mirror, too—an antique since Pammy was a collector, and a desk in one corner upon which sat my laptop.
That was about it, apart from the closet door, and the pictures I’d hung up on the walls.
“Is this your family?” Houston asked and halted in front of my desk, his hands tucked behind his back.
He was even bigger in here. He filled the room with his special brand of Houston, dominated the space with broad shoulders, muscles, and those stunning gray eyes.
“That’s them,” I said and walked up to join him. “Mom.” I pointed—she was the older version of me, down to the eye color, except with a sharper nose. “Dad.” He was happy in this photo, his bald pate glinting.
“And you,” he said and pressed a finger to the glass, just below my teenaged face. “Cute. Real cute. You’ve definitely blossomed.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked and folded my arms.
Houston dropped the picnic basket with a dull thunk and turned to me. “It means I find you irresistible. I’ve been thinking about taking you all afternoon.”
Just like that. Just out there.
I lost my breath.
“You smell amazing,” he said and closed in. A step closer and he’d be on top of me.
Heat flooded every bit of my body. My nerve-endings friggin’ tingled.
“Thank you?”
“Are you asking me or thanking me?”
“Thanking you?”
He laughed in that deep rumble that only spread his influence in here further. His fingers caught a lock of my hair and curled it around his fingers. “One week. Just one week. You’re OK with that.”
“Yes,” I said, because what the hell else was I supposed to say when he stared at me like that? When he consumed me.
There was a fire in Houston’s eyes. An endless soulful fire that burned bright and would surely consume me if I let it. I wanted to let him in.
He released the lock of hair, and it bounced and settled. “Who knew?” he muttered.
“What?”
“Nothing,” he replied and walked toward the exit.
My heart skipped about twenty beats in a row—was he leaving? I didn’t call out, though it took every bit of my willpower not to.
Houston shut the door and frowned at it. “No lock?” He looked back at me, over his shoulder.
“No. I’ve never needed one.” Until now.
“That should be interesting.” Houston walked toward me, and I could do nothing but watch his approach, the rippling of muscles beneath his jeans, the bulge at his crotch. He didn’t stop walking. Didn’t slow.
He collided with me, wrapped his arms around my waist, and walked me backward. We hit the wall, and he pushed me up against it, stared into my eyes. The lemon-leather scent washed over me, and I melted against him.
He hadn’t even kissed me yet.
Houston pinned me with his arms and his gaze. Pressed his dick, encased, trapped still, against the front of me and moved his hips in achingly slow circle.
My breaths caught in my throat. “Houston,” I managed.
“Yeah.” He didn’t stop grinding, brought one hand down and lifted one of my legs, wrapped it around his body to give himself a better angle.
“God,” I said and swallowed.
“You had it the first time.” He leaned in on that incredible arrogant remark and nuzzled the flesh of my neck with the tip of his cold nose.
I pressed my breasts outward, grasped hold of the bottom of his shirt and tugged. “You’re driving me crazy,” I whispered, more like stammered. My bottom lip trembled.
I didn’t have a real frame of reference for this. I’d kissed dudes before, but none of that had ever made me whimper or shake. I was putty in this guy’s hands, and I couldn’t help myself.
Was it supposed to be this intense?
“I haven’t kissed you yet,” he rumbled, against my throat. “Jesus, you’re too delicious. Too much for me to handle.”
“What?”
He dragged the tip of his nose up my throat and to my earlobe, over the shell of my ear, to its peak and rested it there. His breaths became my world.
My eyes rolled back in my head.
“Too much for me to handle,” Houston repeated. “And nothing is too much for me to handle.”
Except for me.
“I want you,” I breathed, finally focusing, bleary-eyed, on a point over his shoulder. Once again, he made the room disappear. It was there, but only vaguely. Shapes and blurs of colors.
“I know.” Such certainty and power in his tone, but a warble there, too. Desire. He wanted me as much as I wanted him. That had to be why he knew.
He kissed my earlobe. J
ust a peck.
I moaned. “More, please,” I said.
Houston sucked it into his mouth, his breath rushing in my ear, blocking out all sound except for the beating of my heart. He stopped. “More of this,” he stated.
“Yes,” I whispered. “Yes, yes, yes, please.”
He laid a hand on the base of my throat, gently, and focused on my ear, kissing a hot trail from the lobe, downward to my neck. I broke out in goosebumps. My leg slipped but he caught it and fixed it around his body again.
“Keep it there,” he grunted and nipped the skin at my collar bone. His fingers found the buttons of my blouse and popped them out of their cotton-ringed holes one by one.
I lifted the hem of his shirt and slid my palms over the muscles underneath, hard, smooth planes of flesh. I ran my fingers up. Bump, bump, bump, over the ridges, toward his chest, which was clean except for a smattering of chest hair.
This was slower than the last time. More sensual, but just as desperate, and I needed every minute of it.
He pulled back and let my leg drop, his lips moist, gaze gluing me to the spot. “Not like this,” he said and pointed to the desk. “Like that.”
Chapter 10
Houston
Charlie’s chest rose and fell, the slopes of her creamy white breasts trapped beneath the cups of her bra, peeking out from either side of the open blouse. A slim waist tapered then filled out, her curvy hips still trapped beneath a knee-length skirt.
“The desk?” She pushed off from the wall and walked toward me, stumbled, caught herself.
“Take off your skirt,” I replied. Christ, I needed to get mine off, too. My dick chafed against the inside of them, too big for the small space within.
Charlie unzipped her skirt and shimmied from side to side, swaying those delectable hips and driving up the heat in the room. She let them fall and revealed a pair of white cotton panties.
I clenched my teeth, throbbed hard in my jeans. There was something about those panties that made me crazy.
They were innocent. No thong or lace underwear for this girl.
“Take it off,” I croaked and gripped my dick.