Beau eyes me, curiously. “What are you doing?”
Chewing on my bottom lip, I grin. He shakes his head, chuckling under his breath. He crosses the room, stopping only inches away from me.
Beau puts a hand on either side of my shoulders, trapping me in my spot. I let out a nervous laugh and brush hair from my forehead.
Beau’s head dips, his lips finding the crook of my neck, sending electric shivers down my spine. “I’ve never felt like this before,” he says between kisses.
I open my mouth but can’t speak. The words I want to find are lost somewhere inside me, replaced by moans of pleasure. Overcome by desire, the need to have him closer consumes me. I thread my fingers through Beau’s hair and pull his face into mine. My eyes close as I melt deeper and deeper into our kiss.
Beau’s hands find my waist. He lifts me off the ground and instinctively, my legs wrap around him. He carries me across the room until we fall onto his bed. My eyes open the moment his lips leave mine. My body’s tingling, hyper aware of Beau’s every movement and his swollen manhood pressing against me through the thin fabric of his shorts.
Beau groans, his forehead falling against mine. Neither of us speaks. We don’t have to; our bodies are saying enough. My hands run down Beau’s sides until my fingers find the band of his pants. I push at the fabric, wiggling it an inch or so down his hips.
Beau’s head pops up. Staring me dead in the eye he says, “Don’t tease me, Mallory.”
I bring my legs up, hooking my heels at his waist and kick Beau’s pants down to his ankles. Sliding my hands under me, I lift my hips and drag my panties down to my thighs. Beau takes the hint and finishes pulling them off me while also kicking his shorts to the floor.
“Are you sure you want to do this?”
My hands wrap around his neck, pulling his mouth against mine, kissing him until my lips tingle. Gasping for air I say, “Yes.”
Chapter 31
Mallory
We spent all of last night and most of the morning tangled up together. My body’s tingling and sore all over but I can’t get enough. Beau’s the best sex I’ve ever had and I want more but I’m not sure my body can handle more.
After a day of swimming and hanging out just the two of us Beau says, “We have two options for tonight. We can stay in and have a Netflix and chill kind of night or we can go out to Sprocket Pond. There will be a bonfire and a bunch of people just hanging out. It’s usually a good time.”
“Well,” I say, “I’ve never been to a bonfire, but I do like it being just you and me. Your call.”
He pauses, likely going over the possibilities, then says, “Considering we ditched everyone last night, we should probably go to the bonfire.”
I give him a quick kiss on the lips and say, “Okay.”
***
“What’s wrong?” Kevin hollers over the music blaring out of Rob’s speakers.
I shake my head. “Nothing. Just a little bit of culture shock.”
Culture shock doesn’t come close. We are drinking beside an oversized puddle. I sigh, I don’t think I’ll ever get used to things around here.
Beau kisses my temple. “You’ll be all right, I promise. Have a few beers and relax. It’ll be a good time.”
Beau steps away to grab some beers from his cooler while I hop onto Rob’s tailgate. I lean over and give Kevin a quick hug.
“This is Caymi,” Kevin says.
The girl beside him smiles brightly and extends her hand. I shake it but don’t commit her name to memory because Kevin changes girls more than he changes his boxers.
Jess pokes her head out of the back-glass window and waves before disappearing back into the cab. The truck begins to rock and we all pretend that them screwing right now is no big deal.
After a few hours into the night, I’m tired. I slip out from beside Beau while he’s talking to one of Landry’s friends and head for the truck. No more than five steps away, Beau takes my hand. I turn and see a puzzled face with glossy eyes staring at me.
“Where are you going, baby?”
“I’m tired, I’m going to go lie down in the truck.”
“All right, honey. I’ll be there in a few minutes. Let me say goodbye to Landry and the gang.” Beau leans in, his lips pressing against my forehead before turning to his friends again.
I’m almost to the truck when a hand touches my shoulder. I turn, expecting to see Beau, but instead I’m met with the face of a man I’ve never seen before. He reminds me of a lumberjack with his dark jeans and red and black shirt. The man has a thick, bushy, brown beard and dark eyes that send a shiver down my spine. I can’t explain it, but something about him feels off.
“Are you all right?” he asks, his voice deep and husky. The man eyes me like a rabid dog that’s found his next meal.
“If you don’t mind me saying.” He takes two steps closer, I take two steps back. “You’re awfully pretty to be walking around here by yourself.”
I fake a smile. “I won’t be by myself long. My boyfriend’s over there saying goodbye to his friends.” I push his hand off my shoulder then turn and walk to the truck.
My senses are on high alert. I can hear the shuffle of heavy steps behind me. My heart races, panic consuming me when I realize that the man’s following me. Picking up the pace, I’m able to create a few feet of distance between us. I reach Beau’s truck in a matter of seconds and lift the door handle.
Locked.
A knot forms in the pit of my stomach. I turn around and the lumberjack is mere inches away. The rank smell of his body sours my stomach.
“It’s just, if you were my girl, I wouldn’t leave you alone like this.”
He takes a step closer, pinning me against the truck. My heart’s beating a mile a minute. I’m trapped. Scanning my surroundings, I realize everyone’s too far away.
“A lot of creeps out here,” he says nonchalantly.
My stomach churns. Looking over his shoulder, I find Beau. He’s a few yards away, talking to somebody, not paying any attention to what’s happening to me. He probably thinks I’m safe, asleep in the truck. My eyes dart over to Rob’s truck, but Kevin’s nowhere to be seen.
“You got a name?” I ask.
His face curls into an ugly, toothy smile.
“I do.”
“Are you going to tell me it?”.
The man shakes his head. “No, I don’t think so.”
I try to swallow but my throat sticks.
His fingers brush against my cheek, making me shudder, before they cover my mouth. My legs shake.
He snickers, then puts his lips to my ear. “The less you fight, the quicker I’ll be done.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to fight back tears. The lumberjack places his hand on my chest pushing me back a step, pinning me against the truck. His hand slides across my chest over to my breast, squeezing me so hard I wince. I push against his chest with both hands, but he doesn’t move. Laughing at my feeble attempt to get free, he releases my mouth and slaps me across the face. My tongue brushes against my quivering lip, licking the blood away.
No! No! No! No! No! Please, no!
“Hey!” Beau’s voice bellows. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
I open my eyes, recognizing the voice. The lumberjack in front of me ignores him. His fingers fumble with the button on my jeans as he tries to get them over my hips. I push my butt against the truck, trying to fight him off as long as I can.
Beau closes the gap between us faster than I thought possible and puts his hand on the man’s shoulder. He pulls the lumberjack to face him, draws back, he punches him in the face. The man hisses. The intensity of the blow forces the man away from me a step.
Beau draws back and punches the man again, and again, and again. In the blink of an eye, they’re on the ground. Beau straddles him, his fist repeatedly connecting with the lumberjack’s face two more times before.
“What the hell?” Kevin runs up and pulls Beau off the bare
ly conscious man.
Beau steps around what’s left of the lumberjack to get to me. Cupping my cheeks with his hands, he wipes something from my nose. Blood.
Great.
Beau’s chest is heaves up and down. His brows draw together as his eyes rake over my body. Finally, he asks, “Are you okay?”
I nod, unable to find words. Beau exhales loudly. His arms wrap around me, pulling me into him. His fingers curl through my hair before leaning down and kisses my forehead.
Looking over Beau’s shoulder to where the lumberjack lays, Kevin’s kicking the man in the stomach. Beau whistles once. Kevin stops mid-kick and walks over to us. He whispers something in Beau’s ear, to which Beau nods.
Beau unlocks his truck and walks me to my door. Once I’m safely inside, he locks it behind him and joins Kevin.
I watch them through the windshield. Kevin effortlessly pulls the man to his feet. Beau points a finger at the lumberjack, tapping the man’s chest until finally the lumberjack nods and walks away.
When the man is out of sight, Beau gets in the driver’s seat. He closes his eyes and grips the steering wheel so tight the whites of his knuckles are visible. His chest heaves up and down and he’s struggling to slow his breaths.
Beau throws his arms around me, pulling me close. It feels like he needs this hug almost as much as I do. “Goddamnit, Mallory,” he mumbles.
A sob escapes me, and I start crying again. When my breaths steady and my tears stop, Beau pulls back. He looks me over, twice, checking my face and shoulders for any new marks. Convinced I’m alright, Beau puts the key in the ignition and starts the truck, and I’ve never been happier to hear the purr of his diesel engine.
“Let’s go home,” he says.
Chapter 32
Mallory
My phone buzzes when we’re almost back to Beau’s place. I ignore the first alert but then it goes off again, and again, and again. I silently curse my iPhone for the second alert reminding me I have unread texts.
“Read them,” Beau says. “Things don’t stay a secret around here long.”
I groan and take my phone off the center console.
Shannon: OMG I heard Beau went all crazy on some guy out at Sprocket Pond.
Shannon: Maybe I shouldn’t have let you go home with him last weekend. SRY about that BTW.
Jess: What the crap, Mallory? Are you okay?
Kevin: I swear to God, Mallory, I had no idea what was happening.
Kevin: I never would have let that guy touch you if I did
“Well, what’s the story? Am I a brave hero or a jealous lunatic?”
“Shannon seems to think you’re a jealous lunatic.”
Beau rolls his eyes.
Parking beside the Jetta in his driveway, Beau asks, “Can I see your phone?”
I hand it over. “Go for it.” Looking over his shoulder Beau types:
Me: You’re a peach Shannon
Shannon: Hey Beau. Good looking out tonight
Me: I’ll always look out for her…unlike you
***
Chapter 33
Mallory
Tomorrow’s Friday. I have three days left before I have to fly home and I don’t know how to tell Beau that I’m leaving.
I sigh and lean back into the couch cushion. Beau comes over and sits next to me.
He puts his hand on my knee. “Everything alright?”
“Yeah, great.” I smile, but he doesn’t look convinced.
“What is it?”
I take a deep breath and exhale through my nose. “My Aunt wants us to come for lunch today.”
“Cool,” he says nodding his head. “When?”
I look at my watch. “About three hours.”
“And it takes, what an hour to get to her house, give or take?”
Beau’s got a look, a playful mischievous look. His hand works its way up my thigh, stopping dangerously close to my crotch. I swallow a groan, feeling my pulse everywhere. Beau’s brown eyes shimmer with intensity.
I nod, unable to make coherent words.
He leans in, pressing his lips to my ear. “So, we have at least an hour.”
He grins. “Good, cause you owe me big and I’m cashing in.”
Chapter 34
Beau
The directions to Mallory’s Aunt’s house is similar to the way I went for the fundraiser, but instead of taking the highway until the exit, Mallory has me dive off onto a small road about a mile before getting into town. I like the road—no traffic, tall trees line the sides, it feels a bit like home.
About twenty miles in, iron fencing begins to enclose the land on our right. Logically, the land belongs to the same person but it irks me. Who in their right mind would enclose hundreds of acers with iron? It’s expensive, and illogical, and barb wire does the same damn job for half the price. Curiosity nips at me and I wonder if her aunt owns all of this.
“Turn here,” Mallory says as we approach a divot in the fencing.
I turn, following a long driveway up towards a guard house. My palms begin to sweat. Pulling up to the stopping arm attached to the guard house, I roll down my window.
A perky teenager with short black hair opens the door and says, “Where you headed to, mister?”
“I’m here with Miss. Mallory, ma’am.”
Mallory leans forward and waves. “Hey, Sherry!”
“We have an engagement with her aunt,” I continue.
“Welcome back, Miss,” she says to Mallory. “And your name, sir?”
“Beau Cooper.”
The girl pulls out a clipboard, running her finger down it until she finds what she’s looking for. “Yep. You’re right here. Pull on through and follow the road. I’ll let Mrs. Collins know you’re on your way.”
Collins? As in the Collins family?
The guard walks back inside, and the arm in front of me lifts. Mallory stares out the window, her leg noticeably bouncing as we venture further down the driveway. I rest my hand on her knee, palm up. She smiles and interlaces her fingers with mine. I may be more nervous than a dog in a lightning storm, but to her I’m calm, collected, and ready.
About five minutes later a three-story plantation-style home appears in front of us. A massive set of stairs leads to the front porch that’s framed with four pillars. As if the house isn’t excessive enough, there’s a large fountain in the center of the circular driveway leading up to the house.
Waiting atop the steps is a woman I’ve only seen in magazines. Her hands are clasped behind her back. Looking at her up close and in person, she reminds me of my elementary school principal—always bitchy and with a stick up her ass.
Parking beside a silver convertible Ferrari, I grab the flowers from the backseat and prepare to face the wolves.
Mallory’s aunt gives me a once over and her smug expression more than happy to let me know that my attire is are not to her liking. I flash a smile and hold out my hand.
“Beau Cooper, ma’am. Pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
She takes my hand. “Tricia Collins. Come,” she says, turning on her heels. “lunch is on the terrace.”
We follow her through the front door, down a long corridor, and out a set of double doors into the backyard.
“So,” Mrs. Collins says, as she sits down at a small table. Her eyes dart to Mallory’s hand in mine then back to my face. She holds her hand out, gesturing for us to join her. “My niece had been spending a lot of time with you, hasn’t she?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Hmm.” Mrs. Collins’ eyes flick to Mallory, a disapproving look on her face.
“Your home is beautiful,” I say, eager to change the conversation.
“You do realize why Mallory is in Georgia. Don’t you?” Mrs. Collins asks, ignoring my question.
“Aunt Tricia,” Mallory says, caution in her tone.
“You see, Beau,” Mrs. Collins sips at her tea, “Mallory was engaged to be married. June third actually, but Mallory threw a fit and ca
nceled the ceremony at last minute.”
Mallory’s face pales. Mrs. Collins’ eyes never leave my face, watching me, waiting for a reaction. But she isn’t getting one. If anyone has a poker face, it’s me.
On the inside, I’m freaking out. Marriage is a big deal. Hell, being engaged is a big deal. No wonder Shannon said Mallory was damaged. We need to talk about this, but not here. Not now.
“Do you have any thoughts on that, Beau?”
She’s trying to bait me. Evil woman.
“No, ma’am I don’t. If Mallory’s in love and wants to marry somebody who is worthy of her, then I say go for it.”
Mrs. Collins’ smile falls.
Good.
“But, apparently, he wasn’t, because she’s with me now and I damn sure am worthy.” I squeeze Mallory’s hand. She looks like she’s about to have a heart attack.
Mrs. Collins is staring at us, pale faced, wide eyed and with her jaw clenched.
“You never know, ma’am. If I’m so lucky, you may be invited to another wedding here soon.”
Mallory’s breath hitches. Mrs. Collins spills her tea. A maid hurries over to clean up the mess, but she waves her away.
Oh crap! What did I just say?
The words, they just kept coming. I mean, yeah, I can see a future with Mallory, but I’m in no way ready to get married.
Mrs. Collins dabs her lips with a napkin, then returns it to her lap. She takes a few slow breaths, eyeing us. Mallory sits frozen, silent under the scrutiny but me, I love the awkwardness.
Bring it on, bitch.
“Tristan was named the most eligible bachelor down in West Palm Beach last year,” Mrs. Collins says.
Yay for him.
I take a bite of a scone, chewing as loudly as I can and placing my elbow on the table. “Is that so?”
Mallory’s cheeks flush red. I feel bad for her. I squeeze her hand under the table, hoping Mallory realizes that I don’t mean to put her in the middle of this weird battle between her aunt and me.
“That’s right. He has a corporation all of his own, but he comes from old money. So he was raised right.” Mrs. Collins has a wicked smirk on her face.
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