by Lucy Score
She slicked her mouth over him, taking him into her throat.
“Fuck. Eden.” He wasn’t in control and poking holes in her resistance now. He was defenseless against her.
She drove him wild with her tongue, her mouth, until he couldn’t take it. Davis fisted his hand in her hair and pulled her up his body.
His erection, wet and steely, throbbed against her stomach.
He took her down to the mattress, but Eden wasn’t going to let him set the pace there either. She rolled, coming out on top of him. She straddled his hips and once again gripped that proud hard-on. She could feel the pulse of blood beneath her hand.
He wet his lips when she reached for her purse on the nightstand. Her hands trembled when she fished out the condom, and Davis helped her unwrap it. Together, they rolled it down his thick shaft.
She didn’t give him any time to think, to anticipate. Eden rose on her knees, positioned him at her entrance, and sank down on him. She was so full, she had no room for breath in her lungs. The air left her on a strangled cry. But it was enough for Davis’s thin sheen of control to shatter.
He gripped her hips with strong fingers and thrusted with his hips, forcing the last inch into her.
She cried out in a pleasure so sharp it bordered on pain. Her muscles tightened involuntarily around him.
“So tight,” he gritted out.
But then she was moving. Slowly at first, rocking her hips and relaxing around him. Eden dropped her hands to his shoulders, and Davis raised himself up to take one of her breasts in his mouth. Sweat sheened her skin as she rode him. Here, on the very bed she’d daydreamed about her high school crush. In the room that she’d wandered, making up a dozen sweet fantasies. And now he was under her, their bodies connected, their goal unified.
He met her with enthusiastic thrusts that made the headboard slap against the wall. Words, strangled by passion, worked their way free of her throat. “Yes. More. Now.”
He abandoned one breast and took the other into his magical mouth, and when his lips closed over her tender peak, her body responded with a gut-wrenching orgasm that built and crested in a swift explosion of pleasure that took her by surprise.
She screamed his name as her body convulsed in climax.
“I’ve never seen anything more beautiful in my life,” he gritted out as she collapsed against his chest, sweat-slicked and almost sated. But Eden didn’t want that intimacy, that vulnerability. She was too raw.
She slid off of him, her body instantly demanding she return to his heat. He was rock hard for her. “Your turn, Gates,” she breathed. She turned around on all fours facing away from him. She needed the distance, needed to be able to look away from the softness she saw in his eyes.
Eden felt him rise to his knees, and her body sang an angels’ chorus when he aligned the head of his cock with her still pulsing entrance.
He eased into her inch by inch. She dropped her face to the blanket beneath her, stifling her cry. How could he feel so perfect inside her? How could this feel so damn right? His fingers flexed into her hips, and he began to move.
She felt every ridge, every vein, every inch of his thickness as it coasted in and out of her. He wasn’t talking now. No, casting a glance over her shoulder, Davis was a tableau of lust. His jaw clenched tight, nostrils flared, eyes glassy.
Davis using her body for his pleasure was the most intimate thing Eden had ever experienced.
She went pliable under him, letting him draw her hips back to bottom out on every thrust. A movement against the wall caught her eye. Eden’s old vanity mirror captured the two of them in their passion, framing them dead center. Their gazes met in the mirror, a new terrible kind of intimacy that there was no escaping. She wanted to look away, wanted to pretend that what was happening right now meant nothing. But she couldn’t.
His gaze held her prisoner, just as his body made her a captive. She saw the cords of his neck stand out as he let out a soft grunt and another. She couldn’t tear her gaze away from the building pleasure she saw in his face.
He grabbed her, more roughly than he probably meant and pulled her up so her back was to his chest. Still watching their reflection, Davis cupped one breast and dipped his free hand between her legs to stroke between her folds. He hooked his chin over her shoulder, and Eden gave herself over to him.
She felt him swell impossibly thicker inside her, knew he was close. That knowledge danced her own pleasure closer to the precipice. His fingers worked her, insistently taking her higher.
“Davis,” she whispered.
His breath came out in a growl. His thrusts came faster, shallower. His arm banded her to him, thumb brushing her swollen nipple. No escape.
“Come, Eden. Come with me.”
As if their bodies had been waiting for that command, Eden felt her release build dangerously fast. His fingers were magic between her legs as his cock worked its own kind of miracles within her. She never had a chance. She was with him. And when he buried himself inside her on one more brutal thrust, she closed around him, gripping him like a vice. Their orgasms erupted together. She felt the pulse of his pumps as her own walls closed around him again and again. Until they were both empty and spent. It was sweat in her eyes, she told herself.
Certainly not tears.
34
“I used to walk down the alley to see if your light was on.” Davis found his voice rusty, his throat raw. They were wrapped around each other in her tiny bed. Adding to the intimacy, he was still semi-hard inside her. He couldn’t bring himself to pull out and sever their connection.
“Until the fire,” she said dryly. He couldn’t see her face, but he could hear the sadness in her voice.
He shook his head. “Even after.”
She was silent for a long moment, and he wondered if she’d dozed off.
“I didn’t set the fire, Davis,” Eden said finally.
He guided his fingers over her stomach, up over a breast. “I know.”
“You do?”
“Moon Beam confessed to me about a week after it happened. She told me about the toilet paper, the cigarette. That you took the rap so she wouldn’t get sent off to the commune.”
“Some good it did. Her mom sent her away a year and a half later for getting caught in the backseat of a Volkswagen with no pants and Beckett Pierce.
Davis laughed softly against her shoulder. “But she got that extra year because of you.”
Eden moved against him restlessly. “I’ve spent all this time thinking you thought I was a crazy arsonist. I agonized over that, Davis. You could have put me out of my misery. Why didn’t you tell me you knew?”
“How was I supposed to? You wouldn’t talk to me.”
“Because you devastated me. Did you tell your parents it wasn’t my fault?”
“I tried. They weren’t in a very open-minded mood.”
“My parents didn’t believe me either. They were so proud of my commitment to the feud I didn’t even get grounded.”
“But you did have to go through a semester of Impulse Control.”
“That was horrible. Mr. Reynolds spent the first three weeks offering up alternatives to setting a fire so I could consult a list next time I had my feelings hurt.”
“Mmm,” he sighed. “What were some of your alternatives?”
“Knit a scarf, using the needle and yarn as weapons of peace.”
“Of course.”
“Oh, and there were the thirty-minute guided meditations on abundance, not scarcity.”
“I see.” He brushed his lips over her hair, inhaling the scent of her shampoo.
“Apparently you were just one fish in the sea, Mr. Reynolds told me. I didn’t have to have my heart set on you when there were so many others. Grouper, halibut, sharks, salmon—”
“Salmon are freshwater fish.”
“Yeah, well, Mr. Reynolds’ analogies were lacking in many areas.”
“Well, while you were listing fish, I was agonizing over the fa
ct that I let my parents force me into taking Taneisha to the dance.” He interlaced his fingers with hers.
“How did they do that?” she asked, wondering if there was an excuse in the world that would make her understand.
He sighed heavily. “They’d heard that we were planning to go to the dance together. My dad was so angry that I’d even consider betraying the family like that. I’d never seen him that mad. My mom was worried he was going to give himself an aneurysm… or another heart attack. They told me you asked me out as a joke. That you were going to embarrass me at the dance.”
Eden gasped and sat up. “I would never—”
“I know. Now. But back then, my parents had never lied to me. I tried to call you, but your dad wouldn’t let me speak to you. He told me you were going to the dance with Jordan Catalano.”
She covered her face with her hands. “Jordan Catalano was a character from My So Called Life. I told my parents that so they wouldn’t be suspicious.”
“My parents insisted everyone knew and you were just going to humiliate me. I pacified him by promising to take Taneisha to the dance and I thought I could straighten everything out with you when I got there. And then I saw your face. Then you were so angry, there was no way to undo it. And then you were dating Ramesh like you’d never really cared about me.”
Eden felt guilt bloom hot in her belly. She’d shut him down every time he tried to talk to her. She’d embraced the grudge and carried it proudly like war colors.
“I spite dated Ramesh. I’m not proud of it,” she said before he could interrupt. Her confession hung between them in the soft orange glow. “I was seventeen. I just wanted to protect myself, and I stupidly thought the best way to do that would be to date someone who wasn’t you. Don’t get me wrong. I ended up liking Ramesh a lot. He was smart and nice and funny. But he wasn’t you.”
“I’m here now.”
“And Ramesh is happily married to the woman he dumped me for.”
“And all is right with the world.”
“What about Taneisha?”
“She lived next door. Her date had just dumped her for a gig in Cleary with his folk band.”
“Hang on. Someone dumped Taneisha the Most Beautiful Woman in the World?” Eden demanded.
Davis chuckled softly. “No one survives high school without a few scars.”
Eden heaved a sigh. “Now what?”
Davis stilled his hands on her. “Now, what do you want?”
“Don’t you think after all this you should figure out what you want?”
“I’m starting to get an idea,” he admitted.
35
“What if we use the high school as the meeting point for the community work day teams?” Eden suggested, circling the high school on the map Davis had sketched up.
Davis pushed the basket of cheese fries out of the way. They were bellied up to the bar at Shorty’s sports bar drinking beers and eating greasy food to avoid the chaos at the inn. The entire building had been overtaken by twenty senior citizens celebrating their sixtieth high school reunion.
They partied harder than a high school class on spring break. Eden had found one woman face-down in the upstairs hallway and assumed the worst. Her surprised shriek when the woman came to and started singing “Great Balls of Fire,” roused the entire second floor of the inn.
It was Davis who had suggested they head out for the evening instead of cozying up to the fire in the library.
“You mean instead of clogging up town square with a bunch of cars and people who don’t need to be there?” Davis joked. “You’re an organizational genius.”
“Ah, but you’re the one who suggested posting all of the drop off locations and hours in the Facebook group,” she reminded him.
“Well, well. If it isn’t Blue Moon’s most popular couple.” Shorty dropped two fresh beers in front of them. At six-foot, five-inches, Ed, as his mother called him, was the runt of the Avila litter and the proprietor of the only bar in town. “It’s nice to see you two getting along.”
“Teamwork makes the dream work,” Eden quipped, offering up a no-look high-five to Davis.
“Everyone’s talking about you two today,” Shorty told them, swiping a towel over a spill and pocketing a five-dollar tip.
“We haven’t done anything newsworthy today,” Davis told him.
“Not according to this.” Shorty slapped a copy of The Monthly Moon down on the bar in front of them. The front page was a grainy picture of Eden and Davis at the town meeting staring dumbly at the stage.
From Feudal Followers to Star-Crossed Lovers: Will Falling for Moody Burn Gates Again?
“My parents are going to have a conniption,” Eden groaned.
“I heard they dismembered you,” Shorty said.
“Disowned,” Davis corrected.
Eden turned the page and swore ripely. She jumped off her barstool.
“What? What’s wrong?” Davis demanded.
“That little weasel Anthony Berkowicz.”
“What about ol’ weasel-faced Berkowicz?”
“I’m going to kick his ass!”
Davis slapped cash on the bar, grabbed the newspaper, and jogged out in Eden’s angry wake.
“Can I ask you why we’re purchasing whiskey and a ladies’ razor?” Davis ventured.
Eden slapped the newspaper he was holding. “Page two.” She added a can of shaving cream to their basket.
Davis flipped open the paper and read. “Oh.”
“Yeah. Oh.” She rounded on him, wielding a second pack of razors. “Do you know how hard I’ve worked to move past all that? To get people to see me as Eden Moody the innkeeper, not Eden Moody the front lawn arsonist? I was this close to the Blue Moon Business of the Year. And I know it’s just a stupid award,” she snapped before he could say anything. “But I wanted that stupid award. I wanted people to finally forget all about high school and see me for who I really am.”
“And Anthony Berkowicz writes a feature article on our high school relationship,” Davis said, understanding.
“Page three is just my mugshot,” she said, hysteria high in her voice. “And this! This right here!”
She shoved the paper into Davis’s face.
“I can’t read it that close.” His voice was muffled by the newspaper.
“He suggests that setting fires are part of my ‘woo-ing’ repertoire.” She ranted and raved, pacing the supermarket aisle.
“At the risk of being reminded that no one in the history of freaking out has ever calmed down by being told to calm down, let’s take a breath and think. I’m here. I’m on your side.”
Davis was right. She wasn’t doing herself any favors having a meltdown. She needed to think and plot.
“If you’ll excuse me,” she said with an abundance of calm that she didn’t feel. “I think I’m going to go freshen up.”
Head held high, she marched past him to the restroom between the gluten-free treat aisle and the selection of goat milk soaps.
The ladies restroom was a lovely lavender and silver theme with a mural of the goddess Athena on the wall above the baby changing station. The mirrors over the sinks had inspirational quotes written on them. After a quick foot check under the stall doors, Eden lined herself up with the You Look Beautiful mirror and dialed Sammy.
“I am losing my damn mind!”
Sammy yawned mightily. “Huh?”
“I’m sorry. Did I wake you?”
“I was up early for horse sonograms,” Sammy yawned again. “What’s up?”
“No. Forget I called. Go back to sleep.”
“I’m awake and eating directly out of a carton of Rocky Road. What’s up?”
“I’m hiding out in the women’s restroom at Farm and Field having a life crisis.”
“Mm-hmm,” Sammy answered. “Any particular impetus for said life crisis?”
“I take it you didn’t see The Monthly Moon yet,” Eden said dryly.
“Hang on. Let me bring it up o
nline.” Eden heard her friend’s fingers on her keyboard.
“Oh. Well, shit… oh my God. Is that a picture of you two naked?”
“What?” Eden hissed.
“Nothing. Forget I said anything. It’s kind of grainy. You’re in the front seat of a car. Wait, I thought you said it was just a fluke.”
“It was,” Eden insisted. “And so were the next seven times.”
“Seven? I really need to start dating,” Sammy sighed.
“Can we focus on my pain and suffering first? I promise we’ll get to your dismal dating life in a second.”
“Sorry. Focusing. So you’ve fluked eight times, and the town paper has just labeled you an unstable fire bug. Okay, go.”
“Sammy, I feel like everything is out of control. I’ve worked so hard to build this reputation, to not have people look at me as some irresponsible, arsonist teenager. And one time in bed with Davis, and I’m back to where I started.”
“Eight times,” Sammy corrected her.
Eden could hear Sammy’s ice cream spoon hit the sink. All of her years of work, of pushing to be seen as more than just a teenage screw-up, and now she was staring down at her teenage mugshot. The sad little Goth girl with eyeliner running down her face in the tracks of her tears. When she looked in the mirror she saw a woman now, lusting after Davis Gates—a man she could never have—and running off the rails.
“No one in town takes The Monthly Moon seriously. We’ve all been the target of ‘local vet dates Bigfoot’ headlines. And everyone knows what a smart, kind, amazing business woman and asset to the community you are. So, I’m guessing what you’re really freaking out over is the fact that you can’t stop inviting Davis into your pants.”
Eden toed the purple tile mural on the floor. “Maybe.”
“You’ve spent your entire adult life hating the guy, and now everything’s different.”
“Also, maybe.”
“Have you considered that perhaps the universe is trying to tell you something about your quests for revenge?” Sammy asked.
“Quests?”
“Didn’t you just spend fifteen years holding a grudge against Davis? And are you or are you not currently involved in a plot to foil the Beautification Committee?”