Timber Creek

“Hey, that stuff stinks. Whoa”—he flinched—“and stings.”

He tried to pull away, but she held on. “It’s good for you. Now stand still.”

She finished with the cotton ball and felt his eyes on her as she put on the antibiotic ointment. “Maybe you should have your brother check it out,” she said. “It might scar.”

She was liking him too much. Liking this too much.

“I thought women went for men with scars.” The moment she sealed the last Band-Aid on his skin, he brought his hand to her face, tucking her hair behind her ear. “How about you, Laura? You always liked the bad boys.”

She ignored the comment and instead backed away from his touch. “Be sure to keep it covered.”

She hadn’t wanted this. She didn’t want a boyfriend, least of all Eddie. They’d known each other just too long for this not to end with either a ring or a breakup. In her mind, in this small town, both options were completely unpalatable.

“If it got infected, you’d have a big problem,” she said tersely.

“Laura, babe. Look at me.” He cupped her cheek.

She held her breath. Looking at him was a bad idea. It was all too easy to lose her way in those blue eyes.

“I’ve got only one problem at the moment,” he said.

“What?”

“I really need you to kiss me again.”

Twenty-four

Laura knew she desired Eddie—what hot-blooded American woman wouldn’t? But how badly did she want him? “I need to think.”

He quirked a smile. “What’s there to think about?”

“Well, for one, consider what you’re getting into.”

“What I’m getting into?” A medley of expressions crossed his face, all of them some variation of amused and dirty. “Darlin’, I can think of ten responses to that, and I don’t think you’d like one of them.”

She removed his hand from her face. “You know what I mean.”

“No, Laura, I’m afraid I don’t.”

“Think about it. Sierra Falls is tiny. We’ll see each other everywhere. At the gas station, tavern, grocery store…”

“Sounds good to me.”

“And what will people think?” Did she want everyone to see her as his girlfriend—or someday ex-girlfriend? And what about her family? Or his family? She ran into Jessups everywhere.

He stepped closer. “I don’t give a good Goddamn what people think. I think I’d like to kiss you.”

She wanted that, too, but…She tried to think of another reason. “Eddie, really…”

“Really,” he coaxed in a husky voice. He wrapped his hand around her waist, easing her closer, and God, he felt so good.

“I’ve got work to do,” she said weakly.

“Just one kiss.”

She clutched that bottle of peroxide to her like armor and pressed her other palm against his chest to hold him back. Did he have to have such a thin T-shirt and such a hard, hot body? “I’ve got to get back to the tavern.”

She couldn’t be doing this. Couldn’t be doing it with Eddie. Eddie Jessup, for goodness’ sake, the twelfth-grade screwup. The guy who’d toilet-papered the principal’s house. Who’d shown up to prom drunk.

Who used his own money to take underprivileged kids on camping trips.

“Just one kiss.” He ran a finger down her cheek. “Come on. I see you caving.”

She had to get a handle on this. “We cannot be hooking up in my childhood bedroom.”

“Why the hell not?” When she didn’t reply, his face warmed into the sweetest smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Fine, sugar. It’s your show. No hooking up.” He added innocently, “Just one kiss.”

She wasn’t strong enough to simply turn and walk out on him, but she knew a man like him would need mollifying. “One kiss. Fine.” She stood on her tippy-toes and gave him a quick, chaste peck on the cheek. “Okay?” But as she returned to her feet, her chest brushed against his and her body began to pulse.

Their eyes met. Held.

“That all you got for me?” His voice was a deep, rich rasp. His eyes were glued on her mouth, and they were hooded, dark in a way that made her shiver. He angled his pelvis to hers and, with a wicked half smile, brushed his jeans against her ever so slightly. He was a rock.

Her breath caught. “I don’t usually go this fast,” she managed.

“Fast?” He gave a husky little laugh. “Laura, we’ve known each other since we were five. Any slower and our next kiss will be in a retirement home. Come on.” He leaned close to whisper, “Just one more.”

“Aw, hell.” The peroxide bottle dropped to the ground as she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him down and kissing him hard.

He moaned, and the feel of it reverberated through her. She opened her mouth wider, grabbed his shoulders and tugged him closer. For a moment, she couldn’t get him close enough. Couldn’t touch him enough. She ran her hands through his hair, pressed her breasts against his chest, chafed her palms against the sandpaper stubble along his cheeks.

He was two people. He was Eddie Jessup, the bad boy. The one you didn’t bring home to Mama. The Eddie who’d always tickled her imagination. Who’d made her wonder how and if. The Eddie it felt so deliciously wrong to kiss.

But then he was also Eddie the man, who’d fixed their window, and called her dad sir, and phoned Fairview just for her. The one who mentored at-risk kids.

Which Eddie was her body responding to? Young Eddie might’ve been a bad boy, but Eddie the man was far more dangerous.

When they parted, his eyes bored into hers like he might peer down to her soul.

What was happening?

She didn’t want to think about it. Didn’t want to think about this feeling she had when he looked at her like that. This feeling of relief. Of security. Of protection.

So she kissed him again. Told herself she was kissing Eddie the bad boy. The one she’d sneaked peeks at in homeroom. The one she’d ogled whenever he’d played any sort of ball on all kinds of fields ever since they were twelve.

She’d made the move, and his response was instant. Now he was the one to angle his mouth and take the kiss deeper. This time it was his fingers in her hair, tipping back her head. It was his hand roving her body, kneading her, and—oh God…

She pulled away with a gasp. His fingers were cupped over her breast, where he’d been doing amazing, magical things. She cradled her hand over his and felt the thumping of her own heart.

He grazed a thumb over her peak, giving her a questioning look. “You still with me?” His gaze was quiet and intense, like he might be able to read the real her.

Yes, she realized. She was. “I’m with you.”

He gave her his crinkle-eyed smile, and a feeling of such tenderness warmed her, but then it was heat that followed, cascading from her chest all the way down to her toes. Had she always loved his smile? Was it just that she’d been afraid of what it meant? Afraid of how it’d made her think dirty things with this bad boy?

She promised herself she’d consider all of it…later. For now, she had to kiss him just one more time. She stood on her toes, running her hands up the nape of his neck. “So kiss me already.”

He did, but then this time he was the one to pull away first. “I thought you said slower.”

“Whatever,” she muttered. Feeling a bit breathless, she tugged him back.

With a low, rumbling laugh, he brought his mouth down, trailing kisses along her jaw, down her neck. He was going lower, and every atom in her body wanted and feared it both.

She swallowed hard, trying to calm her body down a notch. “I can’t believe we’re making out in my high school bedroom.”

“Another of my fantasies to check off the list.” He kissed below her throat, dipping even lower. Her shirt had a low scoop neck, and he was grazing dangerously close to the neckline.

She finally registered his words. “This was a fantasy?”

“Oh yeah.” He roamed back up to kiss her jaw. Her cheek. Dipped in to take her mouth.

She pulled back. “What else did you fantasize about?”

His eyes sparkled. “You still got that cheerleading costume lying around?”

“Pig.” She gave him a little shove, but there was laughter in her voice.

He laughed broadly, scooping her tightly to him. “You pushing me around like that…that might be somewhere on the list, too.”

She froze. “Seriously?”

“No.” His voice pitched deeper. “But this is.”

He lifted her, and instinctively she wrapped her legs around his waist. She felt so exhilaratingly small in his arms. He carried her across the room until her back touched the wall.

She curved her body, grinding into him. She’d told him slower, but now all she could think was faster, faster, more.

He braced his hand on her purple-flowered wall, kissing her in bad-boy ways that would’ve horrified the popular girl who’d done the decorating.

There was a knock. The door creaked. Then, “Oh, jeez, sorry. Oh.”

She unhooked her legs and swung her feet to the ground. “What the—?”

Eddie’s firm, protective hand didn’t budge from the small of her back, as Hope looked from her, to him, and back again.

“Sorry,” the woman sputtered. “I was…So sorry, Laura. I just couldn’t…”

“What?” Her voice sounded angry even to her own ears. She took a calming breath. “What do you need, Hope?”

“I couldn’t find the hand towels.”

“You couldn’t find the hand towels,” she repeated flatly. She stepped away, and finally Eddie let her. “They’re in the linen closet, with all the other towels.” She registered the stack of sheets balanced in Hope’s arms. “Wait, what have you got?” ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">