“I want you. Now.” I breathe into her mouth.
This woman makes me crazy. I carry her up the steps to my porch and back us into the front door, pressing her into it as we kiss softly, slowing down while I fish my keys out of my pocket.
“A little hard, huh?” She half-moans, half-teases.
She’s talking about how difficult it is to get my keys out of my jean pocket, but just to make her swallow her joke, I press my pelvis into hers. The movement elicits a pained groan, and I know I’ve served her that spoonful of snark right back.
Finally, after what feels like hours, I jimmy the damn door open, slamming it shut with my foot as I mount the stairs up to the top level of my house. Once I’m on the main living floor, I head straight for my bedroom, only halting when Presley’s hands begin to pull at my T-shirt, begging it off.
“You want this off, huh?” I smirk, holding her around the waist with one arm while using the other to grab the material at the back of my neck and pull it over my head.
Presley deflates into me like a lust-drunk balloon. “Dr. Nash, did you just pull a porn move?”
“Maybe. Did it turn you on?” I can already see the answer in the dim lamplight of my bedroom as I set her down on wobbling legs.
Those green eyes spark as they take in my bare chest. “More than you know.”
We’re only inches apart, but in the time I’d set her down and turned the light on … my body missed hers like we’d been separated by a continent. And while I wanted to do this fast, good God did my cock want to release into her right this second, I also wanted to take my time. This would be the first of many nights with Presley, of that I was sure. I was about to have this woman in the most intimate way possible, and now that she was giving me all of her, I was not going to let her go anywhere.
Christ, I was half in love with this woman and she’d only just come into my life. I was the epitome of that saying, “we plan and the universe laughs.”
Going to her, I take her waist in my hands, massaging the cloth there until she begins to lift her arms, signaling that I should take off her gauzy white tank top. I oblige, slipping the whisper of material up, up, up her body and over her head. I have to clench my ass cheeks together inside my jeans when my eyes rake over the woman in front of me.
I’ve seen Presley naked before … hell, she’s been in my house naked. But this is more charged … the air is thick with sex and impending orgasms. I can taste it on my tongue, and I want to take the charged tip of it and lick right up her seam.
She reaches behind her back and unclasps the tan, lacy bra holding her perky breasts. The undergarment falls away, and my fingers trace her skin, racing to see which can cup each perfect handful first. The color of her here is paler than the rest of her, outlined from the sun and free of those adorable sun freckles she gets. Her breasts are like pure cream, sweet vanilla ice cream topped with the ripest cherries.
I bend, using my teeth to pluck her right nipple, relishing her groan of pleasure and pain right before I suck it whole into my mouth.
“Keaton …” She sighs, her body sagging against me.
We’re chest to chest, our skin creating more friction than an electric current, as I move us to the bed. Before I climb on top, I help her out of her jean shorts, smoothing my hands down those long legs until Presley is writhing on the bed, reaching for me. She’s an offering, lying atop my comforter and sheets in nothing but a white lace thong. From here, I can see the wet, bare flesh of her core, and I bite my lip as my cock jerks once more in need of attention.
Only when I strip myself, Presley watching with such heat in her eyes that I nearly come when I tug myself free of the zipper, do I go to her.
Muscle over flesh, pure male molding to the delicate flower, we mesh. After a few kisses that threaten to burn up the atmosphere, I lick and taste down her body. The elegant crook where her neck meets her shoulder, the dip of her navel, the lace hem of her thong.
“I’ve been dreaming about tasting you for what feels like a lifetime.” I breathe into the fabric, inhaling her scent.
She squirms, looking down at me with half-mast lids. My cock brushes the cool material of the comforter, and I almost jerk with the need to seat it deep inside her.
My fingers trace the flesh above the lace, listening as each brush has a moan bursting from Presley’s throat. And then in one fluid motion, I pull them down, away, and bury my tongue in her dripping core.
She rears up, a guttural sound filling my bedroom as the sheets bunch in her hands. “Ahhh!”
Her taste is musky, it makes me dizzy as I fuck her with my tongue. My hand moves to my cock, just holding the wanton member on primal urge. Eating a woman always gets me to the peak of arousal … something about having their thighs hold my head like a vice as they shamelessly ride my face is the biggest fucking turn on imaginable.
My tip is leaking by the time I insert a finger into Presley, my teeth scraping her clit.
Unintelligible words and sounds mix with the heartbeat thrumming at the center of her body, and I keep my rhythm, winding her up to pop.
No more than a second later, her body arches with the grace of a jungle cat, chasing her orgasm through time and space as it wrecks her. As it makes her it’s prey. She is ethereal, all of that red hair splaying across my pillows like a heart bleeding its feelings.
I can’t wait any longer. As she’s coming down, I grab a condom out of my bedside drawer and roll it on, hissing at the contact. My body covers hers, the need to make us one so thick that I’m choking on it.
And the moment I slide into her, my tongue loosens, the words that have been stowed away deep in my heart making it to the surface.
“How did I go through life not knowing that you were meant for me?” I breathe, looking down into her eyes with wonder.
My cock twitches inside of her wet, tight, hot folds, and when I slowly pull out and push back in, Presley whimpers.
“Completely.”
She whispers the word, and at first, it doesn’t make sense. But as I stroke her, gently at first, it clicks in my hazy brain. We fill each other, completely. The others before, they only half fulfilled us. We were only living half existences.
Removing the hand that’s been roaming my abs, I pin it back, holding it to the bed. The move has Presley arching her back, thrusting her core up into me. I’m so deep that I’m hitting the back of her wall, and I know we are on the verge of explosion.
My hips shake as I pound into her, letting all logical thought fly out the window. I’m chasing the high, the release, and Presley goes off with a shout and scratch of her nails down my spine. The pain vibrates down my flesh and sparks a reaction in my aching balls.
And then I’m obliterated. I lose myself, collapsing on top of this angelic creature as I give all five senses to my climax.
In the end, all I see is red. She’s hypnotized me, and now, I am hers.
23
Keaton
“Why does this town celebrate the Fourth of July … well, after the Fourth of July?” Presley shakes her head at the stage, food and game booths, and local business tents set up on the high school athletic fields.
Fawn Hill has its traditions, and most of them hadn’t changed in decades.
“Ever since I was a kid, I’ve always celebrated the July Fourth holiday on July eighth, or somewhere around there depending on what day of the week it falls. The high school fields are the only place big enough or safe enough to hold all the townspeople and keep the fireworks at a safe distance. Since they have summer school during the weekdays, they don’t want to hold them on a school night. And the organizers especially don’t want to have to test beforehand or clean up after. A couple years running, when I was in elementary school, some teenagers would steal the displays or grab the exploded shells out of the field. So now, they wait for the weekend and have crews work overnight to pick up all the debris.”
“Who knew Fawn Hill had such a rowdy teen population?” She wags her eyebr
ows.
“When you live in the middle of nowhere, you create your own fun.”
We walk hand in hand past the different vendors, a local band playing a country song as people line dance in the dirt in front of the stage.
“Aren’t you supposed to win me a teddy bear or something? Isn’t that what boyfriends do?” Presley lays her head on my shoulder.
“Oh, I’m your boyfriend?” The thought lights me up inside like someone’s just pressed all of the elevator buttons and I’m rising to the top.
“Wouldn’t you call yourself that? I mean, you are sticking your—”
I put a hand over her mouth, trying to contain my laughter. “There are five-year-old’s right next to you!”
Her green eyes are cunning. “Finger in my pie. That’s all I was going to say.”
My lips meet hers as we walk. “I’m sure. But … if you want to call me your boyfriend, I’d be honored.”
“What are we, teenagers?” Presley giggles.
“Sometimes I feel like it when I’m with you.” I shrug, leaning down again to whisper in ear. “However, teenagers do not know how to fuck each other the way we did last night.”
I feel the shudder that moves down her spine and has her rubbing her thighs together. “Keaton Nash, you are shameless. And yet, everyone here assumes you’re some kind of saint. Imagine what they’d think if I told them what you did with your mouth last night.”
Any of the girls I’ve dated in the past would have paled the minute I talked about fucking, but this woman just eats it, spits it out and serves it right back to me.
“That’s for your body and your body alone to know.”
“Oh, Keaton! I’m so happy to see you’ve gotten a new girlfriend. Shame you wasted so many years single and sulking.”
I turn to see the three old ladies who always run the sweet corn stand during the fireworks festival and try not to bristle.
Presley’s mouth, however, is hanging open. She’s not used to Fawn Hill and its forwardness, or the nosy people who live here and assume your business is their business.
“I was just holding out for the right girl, Mrs. Jenkins. Ladies, this is Presley.”
The woman on the left, who dyed her gray hair an unnatural shade of black, waved me off. “Oh, boy, we know who she is. Hattie’s granddaughter, and she teaches that new-fangled exercise class in the park. An out of towner … not sure about her yet.”
She says this as if Presley isn’t standing right there, holding my hand.
But my girl, she just puts a hand to my chest and smiles at the gossiping old women.
“It’s nice to meet you. I know I’ve been hogging the good doctor here, but you can rest assured I like Fawn Hill more than I like him.”
Two of the women flash small smiles while the one who made a comment about her scowls.
“You’re a pretty, young thing, aren’t you? No wonder Keaton likes you. Look at those legs, Bertie!”
Mrs. Jenkins elbows Bertie, the one who hadn’t spoken yet.
Bertie unabashedly checks Presley out. “A mile long. God, to be young again. I used to be able to wrap my legs around a man’s waist—”
“Bertie!” Mrs. Jenkins swats her friend’s arm.
Presley and I look at each other, bewildered and hysterical.
“Those hips look pretty sturdy to me.” The scowling lady inspects me.
“Oh my God …” Presley cracks up, turning her head into my shoulder and biting her lip to keep from howling.
“Good to see you, ladies.” I’m about to lead Presley by the hand when Mrs. Jenkins interrupts us.
“Um, sonny, you’re not going to buy your girlfriend the best sweet corn in all of Pennsylvania?”
Presley looks up at me sternly. “Yes, Keaton, you’re not going to win me a teddy bear or buy me sweet corn? Maybe I need to find another boyfriend.”
“I’ll take him off your hands.” Bertie’s grin is all dentures, directed right at Presley.
I relent, buying us two ears of sweet corn doused in butter and parmesan, and hand one to my girl.
We bid farewell to the kinky old ladies and walk off munching on our cobs.
“This is delicious,” Presley says, butter glistening on her lips.
That does something to my insides as I lead us over to the football field where most of the town has already laid down blankets to claim their spots. Just like I did earlier, knowing all too well how territorial people were on this night. I spotted the green-and-blue plaid blanket I’d set down and stepped over lawn chairs and George Foreman’s to get there, careful to avoid the odd running child.
Presley sat on one side and I joined her, finishing my corn and wrapping the remains in the foil cone it came in.
“You’ve been every year, haven’t you?” She smiles at me.
“Even when I was too cool and in high school.”
“I keep forgetting this was where you went to high school.” She finishes her corn and mimics my actions from a minute ago.
“Right over there is where I sat in the dugout during games.”
She rolls her eyes. “Is someone trying to impress me with his glory days?”
The sun has sunk past the tree line, swathing the field in darkness, but the sky is still light enough that the fireworks display won’t start for another hour or two. Either way, I move in closer to her, closing the small space between us on the comforter. I move so that she’s sitting in between my legs; her back to my front, and wrap my arms around her waist.
Like this, I can bury my nose in her hair and nuzzle past it to the soft spot on her neck that makes her shiver when I inhale there. As if on cue, a small ripple moves down Presley’s limbs, and she swats gently at the hand secured on her stomach.
“You keep doing that and this fireworks show is going to be anything but G-rated.”
“Is that a promise?” My voice comes out husky.
“Cool it, hotshot. Tell me more about your golden boy days.” She turns her face and those green eyes flash up at me in amusement.
I laugh. “I was pretty much the same. Too concerned about grades, colored inside the lines and always did the responsible thing. I was pretty okay at baseball … Bowen was the superstar, actually.”
“Hmm, somehow, none of this surprises me. Remind me to make you play hooky from work one day, you have a lot of catching up to do. Why didn’t Bowen go pro?”
I know it’s Bowen’s story to tell, but I can’t just brush her off. “He was in a bad car accident. Broke his clavicle, couple of ribs, right arm, his left hand and leg. After that, his body didn’t function the same in the sport.”
She goes quiet in my arms and faces forward again. “The accident with Lily, right?”
Imperceptibly, I nod into her cheek, where I place my own. “It’s not my story to tell.”
Presley settles back against me again. “I’m not asking you to. You’re a good brother, Keaton.”
“So, what do we do until the fireworks start?” I change the subject.
“Are you asking for a little football field nookie?” Presley tilts her head back to look up at me.
“I have always had that fantasy. Maybe a little over the pants hand job action?” I whisper in her ear.
“Seriously? Keaton Nash, the good boy vet, is asking for an OTPHJ?”
Her acronym has me cracking up. “Yeah, I guess there are children around. And we wouldn’t want to scare the nice sweet corn stand ladies.”
“Or the Amish pretzel people.” She snickers, and I know she’s thinking about me coming in my pants while the straitlaced Pennsylvania Dutch stood selling their wares just feet away.
“You make me crazy.” I growl.
Because she does. Presley brings out the real me, the man I never knew was there.
Life before her was muted, and with her in my arms, I saw nothing but fireworks.
24
Presley
I have a boyfriend.
The concept is so foreign that some
times, I find myself just giggling at nothing.
Not to mention, I have a boyfriend who was a sex god. Like … no joke, honest to … well, God … sex god. Who the hell would have thought, Dr. Keaton Nash, the small-town vet, would be an animal in bed.
A shiver runs over my flesh, causing goose bumps to rise, just thinking about the nights we’d spent in his bed. Endless hours of touching, different positions, those dark eyes pinning my soul to the bed just like he was pinning my body with his … it all melded together to make me a mushy pool of lust.
But our time spent together was more than just fucking, more than just the physical release. The way that Keaton’s gaze bore into me … it was like he was reading my most inner thoughts. Like he saw how deeply I felt about him, but that I couldn’t say the words out loud. Not yet.
Part of me was terrified. I didn’t know how to navigate this. I’d fallen so completely … gosh, there was that word again, for him in such a short amount of time that it almost felt like it was too easy. There had to be strife, hardships … right? Love wasn’t love without having to fight for something. At least that’s what society tells us.
Maybe, though, there are love stories where a girl just meets the guy she was always supposed to fall in love with, and they do the damn thing.
I don’t know. I’m too sexed out to think straight.
Unfortunately, said sex god did have to work, damn his responsibility complex, and that meant I was on my own on a Saturday. Penelope was busy with her kids, and Lily had some official event with her father, who was a state senator. I hadn’t known that until recently, and from the looks of his website, which I’d visited, he was a total square. No wonder Lily gave off the whole daddy’s girl, sheltered vibe.
So I found myself driving out of Fawn Hill, through the Pennsylvania country roads, watching the summer sun sparkle as the breezy air flew through the open car windows. Living in the city, I forgot how much I liked to get lost in the car. In high school, I’d drive out of my hometown and just take random turns, seeing where I’d end up.
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