by Meghan March
Maybe everyone’s right. Maybe this is my one shot, and I’d be a fool not to take it.
I move down the bar, taking orders and making drinks until I come face-to-face with my cousin.
“I’d order a double shot of revenge, but I hear that’s best served cold.” Brandy’s tone carries a sharp edge of malice.
I wish I’d asked Boone what the hell had happened before I got out of the truck.
“You brought it on yourself.”
The corners of her mouth turn down in a scowl. “You betrayed your own family. Who does that?”
I want to scream you do for all the times Brandy has screwed me over, but there are too many people watching for me to lose my shit.
“Say your piece and kindly leave. I’m working.”
“Say my piece? Okay, I’ll get right on that, Ripley.” My name sounds like a curse on her lips. “How could you turn your back on the people who did so much for you? Me, your pop, my mom—”
Her twisted view of things makes me want to throw up. “Are you serious? Pop fired me and threw me out. You’ve been stealing from the bar. You’re the reason I installed the stupid cameras to begin with. Then you sold me out to the media after one freaking night! And I haven’t done a damn thing to your mom—”
Brandy laughs. “Wasn’t my fault you weren’t more careful with him. You’re lucky I didn’t do worse. Now I wish I’d taped all that grunting and moaning. I could’ve made a million off a sex tape. Easy.”
Oh. My. God.
“You didn’t,” I breathe in horror, thinking what an absolute disaster that would be.
“No, but I should have. Now I’ve got no job, and they’re saying if I can’t pay the fine, they’ll send me to jail for thirty days for filing a false report. This is all your fault!”
Her logic makes absolutely no sense to me, but then again, it never did. But one part surprises me.
“What do you mean, you don’t have a job?”
“Fire marshal came back and shut us down for not taking care of the fire extinguishers and shit. Said it was a public safety issue and we didn’t fix it fast enough. Mama argued with him every which way, but it didn’t do any good. The Fishbowl is closed until further notice, and that’s all your fault too.”
I squeeze my eyes shut as a pang goes through me. I shouldn’t care because it’s part of my past now, but the Fishbowl has played such a big role in my life, so tied up with all my memories of my mama, it hurts to think of it being over.
Where will Earl and Pearl and Jim go? And when did Aunt Laurelyn get back?
And . . . shit. What about the ring I hid in the bar? How am I going to get that back to Boone?
Shit.
“Hey, I need a drink, if you’re still workin’, lady.” A man waves a twenty in the air next to Brandy.
“Sorry, of course. What can I get you?”
“We’re not done here. You can’t just brush me off. You owe me. I need money. You should have to pay that fine, not us!” Brandy’s voice rises over the din, and the customer backs away from the bar.
Great. Just great.
Hope steps up beside me and crosses her arms over her chest. “She doesn’t owe you shit, Brandy, and you ain’t getting a dime from her. Now, get the hell out of my bar before I have security drag you out.”
“You’re a dried-up old cunt, Hope. You two deserve each other.”
Brandy shoves away from the bar and knocks over the drink of the person next to her—on purpose—before disappearing into the crowd.
Hope lays a hand on my shoulder. “You okay?”
My hands tremble, but there’s nothing I can do except lie and throw myself back into work. At least if I stay busy, I won’t have time to think about any of this.
“I’m totally fine. I got this. What can I get you, sir?” I ask the man who was waving the twenty when he steps back up to the bar.
“Seven and Seven.”
“On it.”
For the next hour, I lose myself in the mindlessness of serving drinks, making change, and running tabs, blocking out what Brandy said. Even if I wanted to pay the fine, the bar has already taken almost every cent I have.
When the thought enters my brain, I realize I’m going down the same exact path I’ve always gone—misguided family loyalty. I don’t owe them anymore. But habits like that can’t be broken overnight. Someone else waves a twenty at me, and I get back to work.
When the crowd finally thins around two thirty, I’m dead on my feet.
Hope calls a cab for someone whose liquor has gotten the better of him, and I cover her section of the bar. A man in a cowboy hat sits at the end, his head tilted down.
“Can I get you something, sir?”
The brim of the hat lifts to reveal Boone’s piercing blue eyes, and my mouth drops open.
“Seriously?”
He shrugs. “What? You don’t like my hat?”
“How long have you been here?”
“Long enough to see your cousin isn’t in jail.”
Out of habit, I glance down the bar to where Brandy stood earlier. “You saw that?”
“I was about five feet away, ready to intervene, when Hope chased her off. She doesn’t get to hassle you. No fucking way.”
I meet his familiar blue gaze. “She said they’re making her pay a fine, and she might go to jail if she can’t. The Fishbowl was closed by the fire marshal indefinitely due to public safety issues.”
“She’s not getting a single bit of sympathy from me.”
“I know. But still . . .”
“Look, finish doing your thing, and we’ll talk about this later.”
I turn, ready to do what he says because I can’t wait to get out of here tonight, but I pause and look back at him.
“You didn’t need to babysit me. I talked to Hope. She can give me a ride.”
“I said I’d be here, and I’m a man of my word. First thing I’m gonna make sure you understand is that when I say I’m gonna do something, I do it.” Boone pauses thoughtfully. “There’s a matter of a few orgasms outstanding that I owe you too, and I’ll deliver on those as well.”
I look both ways down the bar, hoping no one else overheard him.
“You can’t say stuff like that to me here.” I lower my voice to a whisper-yell. “I’m at work!”
Boone doesn’t bother to check the surroundings. He rises from his stool and leans over the bar so our faces are only inches apart. “I don’t give a damn who hears me say that I’m taking you home tonight. You’re my girl, and it’s about time I show you exactly what that means. I’m gonna spoil you, Ripley Fischer. It’s about damn time someone did, and I’m privileged to have the opportunity.”
My heart slams into my chest, and I have no idea how to respond.
Boone takes advantage of my momentary speechlessness to wrap a hand around the back of my neck and slide his lips along mine.
“Kiss me, sugar. I’ve missed the taste of you.”
Oh God. I’ve missed the taste of him too. I know I should pull away, but I can’t find the strength.
“Good girl,” Boone mumbles before his tongue dives inside and there’s no talking at all.
I lose myself in the kiss for a few seconds before someone wolf-whistles.
“Get ’er done!”
I jerk back, and Boone releases his hold on me.
“I’ll be waiting out back.”
There’s no question of whether I’m leaving with Boone. That’s done and settled. Now, the only question is what happens next.
Do I use this as my chance to say good-bye?
16
Boone
I open the truck’s door for Ripley, then wrap both hands around her waist and lift her into the cab. It’s not like she can’t do it herself, but I like having my hands on her, and it’s been too damn long.
When I climb into the driver’s seat and start the engine, Ripley says two words that change my plans.
“Your place.”
I l
ook over at her. “You sure?”
She gives me a nod, and I decide that I’m not about to argue with her.
“All right, then.”
We don’t talk on the drive, each of us lost in our own thoughts, but I come to some conclusions of my own. When the gate slides open, I finally speak.
“This means something to me, Ripley. You mean something to me.” I turn my head to meet her gaze as I let the truck roll up the drive and the gate closes behind us. “Give me a chance to prove to you just how good this can be before you give up on us completely.”
She thinks I don’t know how her brain works, but I’m getting a pretty good grasp on it.
“I can’t make you any promises.”
I guide the truck into the garage and put it in park before I turn in my seat. “That’s fine, but I’m gonna make you one. You will never regret giving us a real shot.” Even in the shadows, I can see the hesitation on her face.
“You can’t know that.”
“Yeah, I can.”
Before she tries to argue further with me, I open the door, hop out, and come around to get her. She’s already got her door open, but I pull her out of the truck with both arms wrapped around her waist. I carry her inside, never letting her feet touch the floor.
“You’re late,” the parrot shrieks from his cage, but I don’t pause to tell him to zip it.
I walk us down the hallway to my bedroom. If I can’t get Ripley to believe my words, then I’ll prove it to her through my actions.
If I only have one night to convince her not to walk away, I’m going to make the most of it. I’m going to work myself so deep into her soul that she can’t move without feeling me.
When I lower her ass to the bed, she reaches for my shirt, but I still her touch, holding her hands together above her head in one of mine while I draw her tank up her stomach.
“You’re so goddamned beautiful.”
I toss her shirt aside and press a hand to her chest, guiding her onto her back. I take care with her shoes and then her pants, peeling them down her legs, not wanting to jostle her ankle. I drop to my knees and press a kiss to the top of her foot where the bruising still remains.
“But you’re also strong and capable. That’s sexy as hell. You don’t need me, Ripley. I know that for a fact. So I’m gonna make you want me instead.”
Something soft passes over her features, and I hope I’m getting through to her.
I spread her legs, taking my time kissing my way up her thighs until I’m an inch away from her center, breathing her in.
“I’ve never wanted another woman the way I want you. I need you to know that’s true. This isn’t surface level. It goes deep, all the way to my bones.”
My tongue darts out, stealing a taste of her as she inhales sharply.
“You’re already wet for me, sugar. Totally soaked. Has this pussy been missing being filled up?”
Sliding both hands under her ass cheeks, I lift her higher against my face, finding her clit and dragging my teeth across it.
“Or have you been dreaming about what it’d be like to have this ass filled?” I press four fingers between her cheeks, finding her back entrance with one and giving it a nudge.
Another harsh breath from Ripley.
“If you don’t answer me, I’m going to keep guessing.”
“Yes! I missed you. Everywhere. I don’t know what you do to me, but . . .”
“But you want more.” It isn’t a question, because her body is already trembling with need.
“Yes.”
I release my hold on her and rise to toe off my boots, tear open my pearl-snap shirt, and shuck off my jeans.
“Then more is what you’re gonna get.”
17
Ripley
I’m in trouble.
Everything that comes out of Boone’s mouth is wearing down my resolve to end this between us before it gets out of hand.
He knows it.
I know it.
And yet I can’t stop myself from wanting whatever he’s going to give me. He stands before me naked, his blue eyes drilling into mine.
“Right here, right now, it’s just you and me. No bullshit. No media. No families. No past. Just us. This is what matters. If you can just give us a shot, a real one, this is all that matters. We make the rules. We decide what pieces everyone else gets. We control this, not anyone else.”
He makes it sound so easy, even though I know it’s not. For tonight, I’m willing to buy into the fantasy he paints. He says I don’t need him, but maybe right now, I do.
“Show me,” I tell him, and burning heat flares in his gaze.
“That’s exactly what I plan to do. Lose the bra.”
I push up on my elbows on the bed and reach behind me to unhook it. I’ve never been a seductress, but with Boone, I wish I were. I let the cups drop forward before slowly drawing the bra away from my skin.
His fingers tense and release with every inch of skin I uncover, like he’s fighting back the urge to touch.
Don’t fight it. I want your hands on me. I want to forget everything but how you make me feel. My head fills with all the things I can never bring myself to say out loud.
Boone’s patience dangles by a thread as I slip the bra off and toss it aside. His voice takes on that gravelly tone in his songs when he speaks.
“Do you have any idea how fucking gorgeous you are?” He drops both palms to the bed and leans forward, capturing one nipple. With a tug, it’s hard and aching, shooting darts of sensation to my clit, which is dying for the perfect friction only Boone seems to be able to deliver.
When he finally releases the peak and switches to the other, my breaths are already becoming uneven.
I bury my hands in his hair, holding his head to my chest as I arch up, wanting more. His teeth clamp down on my nipple, nipping and dragging across the sensitive flesh. Heat bursts between my legs, and as much as I love foreplay, I need him to hurry.
Releasing my grip on Boone’s hair, I shift so I can reach between our bodies and palm his cock. I can feel his groan against my skin, and my urgency kicks up another notch.
“Please. Hurry.”
Boone lifts his head. “What makes you think I’m going to hurry a damn thing? You’re meant to be savored, sugar, and all this sweetness is mine.”
The heat between my legs is only matched by the burning in my chest when he says things like that.
Don’t fall in love with him, Ripley. This is just sex.
I spread my legs and lift my hips to grind against Boone.
“Jesus, fuck. I can feel how damn wet you are.” He reaches between us, his finger sliding across my smooth skin. With the tiniest bit of pressure, his finger would slip inside me.
With each spine-arching stroke, Boone plays with me. My hips buck, trying to force his hand, but he pulls back and meets my eyes as he lifts his fingers to his lips and sucks them clean.
“So fucking sweet.”
Oh my God. I’m nearing combustion.
“You want my fingers inside you?” he asks.
“Yes, dammit.”
“You gonna come for me like that? Squeeze ’em tight and give me more of this sweetness?”
“Yes.”
“Maybe you should taste it first. You ever tasted yourself, Ripley?”
My brain stutters. What did he say?
But I don’t have time to think further because Boone’s fingers dip between my legs, thrusting inside, giving me exactly what I want for a moment before drawing back and lifting them to my mouth to paint my lips with my own wet heat.
“Taste.”
At this point, I’m not sure if there’s any order that could fall from Boone’s lips that I wouldn’t follow.
I dart out my tongue and lick, but that’s not enough for him. He pushes his fingers between my lips, and the musky, salty-sweet flavor hits.
“So fucking good.” Boone draws his fingers from my mouth and sucks them off, and I don’t know if I’ve ever
seen anything so dirty yet insanely hot in my entire life. “You like it.”
I’m on the verge of telling him I want to know how he tastes when his fingers thrust into me again, this time curving forward to hit my G-spot with each pass. I buck my hips, wanting what’s already building.
“That’s a good girl. Fuck those fingers. Take them just like you’re going to take my cock.” Boone palms my hip and squeezes, helping me lift and lower until a silent cry leaves my lips.
Holy hell. The orgasm slams through me harder than ever before, and when my brain starts firing again, I have to wonder if it’s the dirty talk that made it even more intense. I’ve never had someone speak to me like that, and it turned me on more than I ever thought possible.
Apparently, Boone has a silver tongue in more than one respect.
I hold in a giggle as he moves his hand once more, drawing out the remains of the hard-and-fast climax until I finally still. When my breathing loses its ragged edge, his eyes drill into mine.
“Do you trust me?”
That’s a hell of a question to ask, and one that threatens to pull me out of this delicious haze. I could analyze it, but I don’t want to. For once, I go with my gut, which says there’s only one possible answer to that question anyway.
“Yes.”
“Good. I’m gonna make you come harder than you ever have before.”
I’m about to tell him he’s just done that, but Boone grips me by the hips and flips me over before my lips part.
Boone’s hand slides between my legs, cupping my pussy. “I’m gonna fuck you hard, the way I’ve been dying to.” With my slickness on his fingers once again, he brings them up to circle the previously untouched territory. “And I’m gonna fill this tight little virgin asshole with my finger.”
Is it possible to spontaneously orgasm from just words? I don’t know, but I think I just did.
I fist the comforter on the bed, burying my face in it to quiet my moans.
“Let those out. I want to hear ’em. I want to hear every fucking sound you make while I stretch you out to take my cock. Your ass is mine, sugar.”