Evelyn Adams
Feels Like Home & Feels Like Love
Blog tour
Aug 1- Aug 10
Feels Like Home -
Tired of living under the shadow of her mother's bad choices, Autumn Maddox left home the first chance she got. But when her carefully constructed life crumbles around her, Autumn's forced to return to the small southern town that never let her forget she came from the wrong side of the tracks.
Jude Southerland, the town doctor, is used to taking care of people and with a pedigree that has the Ladies Auxiliary reaching for their fans, he’s easily the town’s most eligible bachelor – a status he has no intention of changing. That is until he almost runs down the Maddox girl he never noticed in school and suddenly finds her lush curves, dark curls and blue eyes consuming his thoughts, day and night.
Autumn would like nothing more than to live happily ever after with Jude. But with every local matron in the valley trying to marry him off to their own daughters, she knows they won’t let her forget that she's not good enough and never will be. With the chance to finally find happiness, can she overcome her family history and find the confidence she needs to believe in herself or will she let love pass her by?
REVIEW
My rating: 5 of 5 stars**** I received this arc in exchange for an honest review****This is a sweet but steamy read. Right from the start you can connect with the characters, and you will be hooked right from the start.It was an easy going read, and so well written.This was my first book from this author and I can tell you she is very talented. So if you want something that is sweet but also steamy this is for you. View all my reviews
Feels Like
Home
Clean 1
Now it was too late. Gran was
gone and Autumn had come home anyway, unemployed and almost broke. She took a
swallow of her cold coffee and grimaced. She’d been sitting in the diner booth
longer than she realized. She tucked a five dollar bill under her mug and rose,
smiling at the row of curious locals watching her from the counter.
She slipped on her sunglasses and
walked out into the bright noon sun. She needed to see the lawyer about Gran’s
estate, but first she wanted to thank the doctor who’d taken care of her until
the end. When she called home, Gran had gone on and on about that “nice
Southerland boy,” how smart he was and handsome.
Autumn had gone to school with
Travis Southerland. She thought she’d heard he was in the service now, but he’d
been a handsome jock from one of the founding families – very respectable, very
upper middle class. Nice enough if completely out of her league. She didn’t
know Jude. He must have graduated before she started high school.
She stepped off the curb and into
the blare of a car horn. The driver of the Jag glared at her from behind the
windshield. Autumn raised her hands and mouthed “Sorry, sorry.” The driver
glared on, shaking his head in disgust.
Okay, walking out into the street
without paying attention wasn’t her best move, but she’d been distracted. No
one was hurt. He didn’t need to keep staring at her like he thought she was too
stupid to live. When he didn’t move on,
she held up her hands and arched her eyebrows in the uniform gesture of “What?”
That got him moving.
Unfortunately, instead pulling the car forward, he opened the door and climbed
out. He was tall with broad shoulders and narrow hips. His sandy-brown hair was
barber shop short and his chiseled jaw clean shaven. He was an impressive
specimen of male beauty. Under other circumstances she might have found him
attractive, but right now his hazel eyes flashed with anger as he walked
towards her.
She pasted her best helpful and
trustworthy smile on her face. “Nice car.”
“Are you insane?”
She couldn’t be sure, but she was
willing to bet he looked crazier than she did. He practically vibrated as he
stared down at her. She wished for higher heels instead of the pale pink ballet
slippers she’d put on with her flower print dress. She’d like to be closer to
looking him in the eye rather than straining her neck up to meet his angry
gaze. At least she could hide behind the sunglasses.
“You walked out into traffic.”
“I know,” she said, calmly like
she was explaining something to a small child instead of a raging Viking. “It
wasn’t very smart of me. I’m sorry, I was a little distracted.”
“Distracted! You walked in front
of my car. I could have killed you.” The look on his face suggested he might
have reconsidered not running her down.
“But you didn’t. I’m fine.”
Without thinking, she laid a reassuring hand on his arm and fought the flutter
in her stomach at the feel of his muscles bunching through the thin cotton. It
had been too long since she’d touched a man even casually.
“That’s not the point,” he said,
looking down at her hand.
“It kind of is. Especially to me.”
She ramped up the wattage of her smile. “You better move your car. You’re
blocking the road.”
He looked from her face to his
car stopped in the middle of the road and then shook his head before turning to
go. “Be more careful,” he tossed back at her as he got in the car and drove
away.
“Well, alright.”It was her turn
to shake her head. “Have a nice day!” she called to the receding tail lights.
When she got to the doctor’s
office, the pretty, slightly harried nurse told her the doctor would be out for
several hours. Autumn thanked the woman both for the information and for
helping with her grandmother and told her she’d come back later to see Dr.
Southerland.
She’d started to rethink her
decision to walk to the lawyer’s office when she finally made it to the grand
old house in the center of downtown which housed Coles, Esquire. She climbed
the steps to the porch and paused to catch her breath before opening the front
door.
“May I help you?” asked the older
woman behind the desk. The reception area was in what once must have been the
parlor with its long narrow windows and beautiful molding. Whoever refurbished
the home obviously appreciated older buildings.
“I have an appointment to see Mr.
Coles.” She glanced at her watch. “I think I’m a little early. Autumn Maddox.”
“Yes, Miss Maddox. He’s expecting
you.” The older woman’s face softened. “I’m so sorry for your loss, dear. I’ve
known your grandmother for years. I was very fond of her. I’ll miss her.”
Autumn blinked at the tears
stinging her eyes. The woman’s kind words held none of the judgment she’d felt
from some of the other women who had expressed their sympathy. “Thank you, Mrs.?”
“Mayhew, dear.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Mayhew. I
appreciate hearing that. I miss her, too.” She willed away the tears, threatening
to spill. She didn’t want to cry – not here.
The older woman smiled sadly and
patted her arm. “I know you do, child. Marion was so proud of you.”
Again, there was no judgment,
none of the recrimination she’d felt from so many of the others for why she
hadn’t been able to make it home before now. “I wanted to make her proud.”
“You did.” Mrs. Mayhew reached
for a box of tissues on her desk and handed one to Autumn before taking one for
herself. “Now,” she said, dabbing at her eyes. “Go on back before I turn into a
puddle.” She shooed Autumn down the hall to a closed door at the end.
As Autumn got closer she heard
male voices coming from behind the door. Two male voices. She walked back to
the reception area.
“Mrs. Mayhew, I think he has
someone in with him already.”
“He does, dear, but it’s a friend
not business. Go ahead. Go on in. Otherwise the two of them will forget they
both have work to do.”
The words sounded harsh, but her
tone and the twinkle in her eyes let Autumn know Mrs. Mayhew liked the two men.
She wrapped softly on the closed
door and heard the conversation on the other side stop.
“Come on in,” a rich male voice
like melted caramel called from the other side.
Autumn pushed open the door in
time to see the attorney, Mr. Coles, rise from behind his desk. He was tall and
broad with none of the softness around the middle she’d seen on so many of the
men around town. He towered over her, but his smile was warm and friendly.
“You must be Miss Maddox.” He
extended his hand, capturing hers with his strong warm fingers. He held her
hand in both of his. “It’s nice to finally meet you in person. Although I wish
it was under more pleasant circumstances.”
Autumn smiled up at his handsome
face. That was two very attractive men in one morning, but unlike the surly man
in the Jag, Mr. Coles was a civilized attorney. She put a little more energy
into her smile. She wasn’t interested in starting anything with anyone – at
least not until she got the rest of her life sorted – but she’d forgotten how
feminine a Southern man could make a woman feel. The attention was a balm to
her bruised ego. “It’s nice to meet you, too, Mr. Coles. Please, call me
Autumn.” Without conscious effort on her part, the drawl her time in the city
had worn away deepened.
“And I’m Andrew. Mr. Coles is my
father. Where are my manners? Forgive me.” The charming Andrew Coles directed
her attention to a man standing beside one of the chairs in front of the desk.
“Autumn Maddox, this is Dr. Jude Southerland.”
Autumn turned her smile to the
man who her gran had been so enamored with and found herself staring up at the
Viking with the Jag.
He could have kicked himself for
not recognizing Autumn Maddox. He knew she looked familiar, but he’d been so
shaken by almost running her over. He hadn’t connected the pretty, flighty
woman with her riot of curls with the polished woman in the stylish black dress
and pulled back hair from the funeral.
Stupid. It’s not like the town was full of dark haired strangers. But
her huge sunglasses hid her piercing blue eyes. He would have known her
instantly if he could have seen her eyes.
The eyes that twinkled for Andrew
looked at him like he was an escaped mental patient. He could almost hear her
thinking to herself “Don’t startle the crazy man.”
Great. Just great.
“We’ve met already. I almost ran
Miss Maddox over with my car.” He smiled down at her, trying to project
competence and calm.
“Nice,” said Andrew. “He was just
leaving.” He turned his attention back to Autumn, ushering her to a chair.
“I was just leaving.” He waited
for Autumn to say something about it being her fault for stepping in front of
him or to acknowledge him at all, but all her attention was focused on Andrew.
“I was just leaving,” he repeated. His best friend waved him away.
When he closed the office door on
them, Autumn and Andrew were trying to out-charm each other.
It shouldn’t matter. He wasn’t
interested in her – not really. Okay, she was beautiful. That was undeniable.
She’d been polished perfection at the funeral, poised and perfectly appropriate.
He assumed she was one of those successful career types, driven and at least a
little selfish. Marion adored her, and the woman couldn’t find time to make a
trip home. Family was everything to him. Definitely not his type.
But today, she was sweet, soft
curls and lush curves in a flower print dress which nipped in at her waist and
showed off the gentle swell of her breasts. The pretty pink shoes emphasized
her height – or lack or it – and made a man want to pick her up and tuck her in
against him.
Okay, maybe not him, but it
looked like Andrew would like nothing better. Which was fine, because Jude was
not interested.
He stomped the last few blocks to
his office, stepped down to cross the street and swore as he heard the car
horn.
Mrs. Overstreet rolled down the
window of her Buick LeSabre and peered out at him. “Oh Dr. Southerland, I’m so
sorry. Are you okay?”
“Fine, Mrs. Overstreet. I’m
fine.” She’d known him all his life. He and his brothers had broken her window
when they were kids, but she still insisted on calling him doctor and there was
no way he’d use her first name. “I should have been paying better attention.”
“Nonsense. I know you have a lot
on your mind. The weather is starting to aggravate my bursitis again.”
“Call the office. Kristen will
set up an appointment and we’ll take good care of you.”
“You always do.” The cars were
starting to pile up behind Mrs. Overstreet’s car. It was only a matter of
seconds before the honking started.
“Don’t let me keep you, Mrs.
Overstreet,” he said and crossed the street before she could ask him anything
else.
“I fold.” Andrew laid his cards
on the table and picked up his scotch.
“I’m out,” said Jude, waving away
a haze of cigar smoke. “I’ve had crap all night.”
“I call, little brother. Show me
what you got.” Adam and Blake were Jude’s younger twin brothers, but Adam
insisted being born first made Blake the younger brother.
“Full house,” said Blake. “I’ll take these.”
He scooped up the pile of nickels.
“Any more wings?” Adam picked up
the empty bowl and headed into Andrew’s kitchen.
“In the oven. Y’all are grown
men, how can you still eat like seventeen year olds?” Andrew followed the twins
into the kitchen.
“High metabolism.” Blake grabbed
a bag of chips and another beer and Jude rolled his eyes.
“I have a very active job,” said
Adam.
“Chase many bad guys through the
mean streets of downtown lately?” asked Jude.
“Funny.” Adam dumped a cookie
sheet of wings into the bowl and grabbed his own beer.
“Wait until you’re on the other
side of thirty-five. That’s when it all changes,” said Andrew, taking a puff on
his cigar. “High metabolism my ass.”
“Speak for yourself.” Jude took a
swallow of scotch. His apartment above the doctor’s office was a couple of
blocks away from Andrew’s house. He usually walked to their weekly poker games
so he didn’t have to worry about driving after. They’d been meeting like this
since the twins got back from college and the police academy and settled into
their places in the community. Early on they decided Andrew had the nicest
house and the best food. And the best scotch, thought Jude, taking another
swallow of the smoky amber liquid.
“I’m gonna ask Autumn Maddox out
for dinner,” Andrew declared as he sat back down at the table.
Jude breathed in his scotch and
choked. “Easy old man.” Blake pounded on his back.
“Enough,” Jude said on a cough,
moving away from his brother’s fist. “I’m okay. Why Autumn?” He knew why. It’d
been two weeks since he almost ran her down and he hadn’t been able to forget
her. He could still see her impossibly blue eyes and remember the way she
smelled – flowers and something warmer, spicier. He did not want to think about
his best friend with the woman he couldn’t get out of his head.
“What do you mean why?” Andrew’s
brow creased.
“Maddox? Not Colin Maddox’s
sister?” asked Adam.
“Yeah, Marion Maddox’s
granddaughter,” said Andrew. “Her gran left her the house. I’m handling the
estate.”
“Colin Maddox is bad news. I’ve
brought him in a half dozen times – everything from domestic abuse to minor
drug charges. He’s never done real time, but he should have.”
“She’s Emory Smith’s sister.”
With as much time as he’d spent thinking about her the past two weeks he
couldn’t believe he hadn’t put it together sooner.
“Maybe. She has an older brother
and sister named Smith. But I don’t remember seeing an Emory on the papers,”
said Andrew. “Oh god, the guy from our senior year. The one who killed himself
and his little brother in that crash out on Route forty?”
Jude nodded, still a little
shocked. He couldn’t imagine losing any of his brothers or sisters like that.
Let alone two at one time. It must have devastated her.
“Family sounds like bad news.”
Blake set the bag of chips on the table, picked up the cards and started to
shuffle. “Colin was a prick in school.”
The angry sullen man with the
girlfriend in the miniskirt and hooker heels from the funeral didn’t seem to
have much in common with the pretty charming young woman he’d met in Andrew’s
office. She had even less in common with the reckless kid he barely remembered
from senior year.
“Maybe, but Autumn is something
special.” Andrew took a sip of scotch and leaned back in his chair. “She’s
sweet, funny and gorgeous. She has the bluest eyes and dark, sexy curls perfect
for sinking your fingers into.”
Jude hated listening to his
friend reduce Autumn to a list a characteristics, yet he couldn’t help but nod in
agreement. Those blue eyes had shown up in his dreams on more than one occasion
in the past few weeks.
“God, and that body. Lush curves
and eminently fuckable.”
Blake and Adam murmured their
appreciation at Andrew’s description and Jude wondered who he should pound
first, his brothers or his best friend. Everything inside him screamed Mine, which made no sense at all. She
probably remembered him because of the car thing, but he didn’t have any reason
to think she liked him let alone liked him like that.
“Yep.” Andrew nodded. “I’m going
to take her out for dinner and anything else she’s up for.”
“No.” He didn’t shout, but the
word held enough force to have the three other men turning to look at Jude,
eyebrows raised.
“Something I should know?” Andrew
stared at him, waiting.
Jude stammered, trying to find
something to say that would take the focus off of his reaction. “I just meant
she’s not planning on staying in town, is she? Her whole life is back in the
city.”
“I don’t know about that. She
didn’t seem in a hurry to get back to whatever she left.” Andrew looked at him,
still puzzled. “And I wasn’t talking about marriage, just having a little fun.
She looks like she’d be a lot of fun.”
Jude’s hands clenched and his jaw
tightened. There was no way Andrew was going to be “having a little fun” with
Autumn. Not if he had anything to say about it.
“Aren’t you tired of using women
for sex?”
The twins choked in tandem on
their beers.
“Why on God’s green earth would
he be tired of that?” asked Blake while Adam coughed and nodded.
Both the twins and Andrew dated
their fair share of women. Hell, he had, too. They were honest about their
intentions, and hurt feelings – if there were any – rarely went beyond minor
disappointments. But the idea of Autumn being someone’s good time was more than
he could stand. He flexed his fists and gritted his teeth.
“You like her.” Andrew looked at
him, appraising. “I didn’t think you even knew her.”
“I don’t. I just met her.”
“Doesn’t matter,” said Andrew,
shaking his head. “You like her. Fine, if you want her, I won‘t ask her out,
but you better hurry. I’m not going to wait forever.”
Jude wasn’t sure how he’d let
himself get roped into asking out Autumn Maddox, but if it kept Andrew from
sniffing around her, he’d take it.
“I gotta get out of here. Busy
day tomorrow.” Jude tossed back the last of his scotch in a hurry to get away
from his friend’s too perceptive gaze. He stood, steadying his chair when it
wobbled. He wasn’t drunk – not exactly – but that last drink went down quick.
Good thing he walked to Andrew’s. Otherwise he’d have to wait until he sobered
up, or even worse, hitch a ride with one of his brothers. “Later,” he said,
making his way to the door before anyone could say anything else about Autumn.
He didn’t mean to walk past her
house. He’d had more to drink than usual, and he thought a walk would sober him
up. It was cool, but not cold. Summer was over, and fall hadn’t really begun
yet. After the heat and smoke of Andrew’s place, the cool air helped clear his
head.
He walked block after block
replaying his reaction to his friend’s intention to date Autumn. It didn’t make
sense. He didn’t know her, but his gut didn’t seem to care. When he thought
about her with Andrew, his stomach tightened.
And now he’d openly declared his
own intention to ask her out.
He and Andrew never fought over
women. One of them gave the other a look and they knew that one was off limits.
It didn’t require them to talk or share their feelings and up until tonight, it
had worked beautifully. But he didn’t have any illusions. If he didn’t hurry up
and ask Autumn out, Andrew would do it just to fuck with him. What were best
friends for?
He didn’t realize where his path
had taken him until he looked up from his feet and into the window of Marion
Maddox’s pretty if slightly worn, Victorian. Unlike the stately homes nestled
on the tree-lined streets in the older part of town or the few plantation
houses like the one he’d grown up in that stood while the town spread around
them like live oaks, the Maddox place was a little jewelry box of a house. The
paint was peeling and the gingerbread trim had fallen off in places, but it was
impossible to see the house and not picture what it must have looked like in
its prime.
It wasn’t the trim that held his
attention. Silhouetted in the window, Autumn brushed her hair. The thin cotton
gown she wore offered no obstacle to his hungry gaze. If anything, the shadow
of the fabric, translucent in the light, accentuated her lush curves.
The soft swell of her breast. The
way her waist dipped to meet the roundness of hip and gently curving bottom.
Jude stood on the sidewalk transfixed. He should turn away. He knew he was
seeing something private. She couldn’t know how the single light from the
dresser exposed her.
He should look away. He would; in
just a minute he’d turn from the window and wind his way back to the apartment
above his office.
She turned first, shifting her
body sideways and raising her arm to brush her hair.
Sweet Jesus on the cross.
Her head tipped back as she drew
the brush through her hair and the position showed the outline of her breast,
the soft swell and pointed tip clearly visible beneath the cotton gown. His
mouth actually watered.
Okay, he’d respect her privacy
and turn away and then tomorrow he’d ask her out. Solid plan, turn and walk
away. Just turn.
The brush froze mid-stroke, and
Autumn turned to face him. Realizing how bad it would look to be caught leering
at her from the sidewalk, Jude backed up fast. Too fast given the last scotch.
He stumbled, catching himself before he fell, but it was enough time for her to
reach the window and throw open the sash.
“What the hell do you think
you’re doing out there?” She leaned out the window to stare at him. “Jude? Jude
Southerland, what are you doing peeking in my window?”
What was he supposed to say? I didn’t mean to come here. I looked and you
were there – the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. I wanted to turn away but
I was spellbound.
“You need to close your curtains.
Anyone walking past here could see everything.” Smooth, very smooth. She’d definitely have dinner with him now.
Christ, he ought to just call Andrew and tell him to go ahead; Jude was out of
the equation. The thought made his fists clench.
She looked from the light on the
dresser down to her nightgown. He could tell the moment she realized what she’d
been showing off because she wrapped her arms around her breasts, hugging
herself tight. But she didn’t back up or hide in shame.
“That doesn’t give you the right
to stand on my sidewalk like some kind of peeping Tom, Dr. Southerland.” She
punched the word doctor and he knew he was screwed. It was the same tone Mary,
his momma’s housekeeper, used to use on him or his brothers when they’d tracked
mud across her clean floors or eaten the pie that was meant for dinner.
It was no use arguing. Retreat
seemed the best choice. Out of options, he bowed his head to her and turned and
walked away without another word or backward glance.
This wasn’t so hard. She could do
this; seduce Jude into mind blowing sex with no commitment. Piece of cake.
She opened the door to the
ancient fridge and bent to look inside. If only she had some cake. Looking
harder didn’t put more food in her refrigerator. Pizza, jug of cider and thanks
to a late night snack and breakfast, a quarter of the pot pie from yesterday.
Jude brought the beer and soda, and she had some wine. Her gaze landed on the
plain white bakery box pushed to the back of the fridge by the pizza box. Apple
dumplings. How could she forget those?
“I still don’t have much in my
fridge,” she called, tugging to try to get box with the apple dumplings past
the pizza. “Do you want pizza or…” She stood, clutching her treasure, and
walked into Jude.
The box crunched between them,
and he reached out to steady her. She looked down at the dented box and then up
into his eyes, more green than brown in the kitchen light.
“Pot pie?” she said, breathless.
“Later.” He took the box and set
it on the table and looked down at her, scanning her face for a moment before
his gaze rested on her mouth. He bent his head and brushed her already parted
lips with a kiss that managed to be hungry and tender at the same time.
She melted into him, her hands
sliding around his waist and up his back. The muscles of his back bunched under
the worn cotton of his t-shirt as he hauled her up against him and kissed her
senseless. She gave as good as she got, nipping his lip, tasting and teasing
him, and smiled into his mouth when she felt him shudder under her hands.
He kissed her, moving her
backwards until they bumped into the table. Nibbling along her jaw, he buried
his face in her curls and kissed the tender skin behind her ear. Her head fell
back so – please God – he’d do it
again. He did, nipping, nibbling, and kissing his way along her neck from her
ear to her collarbone.
It felt so good; she felt her own
trembling start. Head back, eyes closed, defenseless under his mouth, she felt
the world shift and then realized he’d lifted her in his arms. She reached out
to brace herself as he sat her on the table between the bakery box and the bowl
of apples. Sliding the box to the side, he caught her mouth and kissed her hard
before pulling back to look at her.
He kept his eyes on hers and
reached for the hem of her t-shirt, watching her face as he lifted her shirt
revealing her blue lace bra. She held her breath and raised her arms so he
could peel off the shirt. His eyes darkened from green to brown and his lips
parted on a sigh. The expression on his face made the breath catch in her
throat.
“My God, you are beautiful.”
He traced a finger down her
throat to the tops of her breasts and she clutched the edge of the table. Her
breasts tightened under his teasing touch, nipples pebbling in anticipation. He
kissed his way down her neck to her shoulder, sliding her bra strap down her
arm and licking the mark it made on her skin.
She grabbed him and felt the
solid strength of his bare arms under her hands. His head moved in front of her
as he repeated the process with her other shoulder and she breathed in the
scent of him, some kind of spicy citrus and warm man.
He kissed a path down the center
of her chest until his warm breath tickled the tops of her breasts. He licked
under the edge of the lace and her nipples tightened to impossible points,
aching for the warmth of his mouth. Reaching for him, she tried to guide his
head with her hands and let out a frustrated noise when the bra straps caught
her arms.
“Got it,” he murmured against her
skin.
He reached behind her and one by
one she felt the hooks on her bra give way under his fingers. He stepped back
and she shrugged loose from the blue lace, baring her breasts to him.
“Sweet Jesus.” He whispered the
words like a prayer.
Her chest flushed with heat and
need. She clung to the edge of the table and arched her back, offering herself
to him. One hand cradled her back while the other cupped her breast and then
his mouth was on her and she lost her mind. He molded her breast with his hand
while his hot mouth suckled her, drawing the tight peak deep into his mouth.
“So good,” she groaned. “That
feels so good.”
She clutched at his arms, at his
shoulders frantic for his mouth on her tender skin. Sliding her fingers into
his hair, she held him to her and felt his hungry groan rumble through her
nipple.
Ignoring the shifting of the old
table, she scooted closer to the edge, wrapped her legs around him and pulled
him tighter into the v of her body. It had been so long since she’d been
intimate with anyone and she wanted him so much. She felt her own wetness
seeping through the yoga pants as she rocked into the long, thick length of
him. With his mouth suckling her and his hard erection pressing against her
hot, wet core, she could almost go off.
He released her nipple and she
fought a disappointed whimper. Leaning back, he put enough space between them
to slip his hand into her pants and inside her. Her disappointment turned into
heat, flaring from her core and spreading through the rest of her body. She
clenched around him, crying out as he curled two fingers inside her and
stroked. He pressed small circles on her clit with his thumb while the strong
slender fingers of his doctor’s hand found the spot just inside her opening and
set up a rhythm which threatened to have her thrashing off the table.
She clutched at him, desperate,
and tried to reach the button on his jeans. She wanted him inside her, wanted
to feel him lose control with her, but he dodged, keeping just out of her
reach.
“Please, please,” she pleaded as
his hand drove her relentlessly toward her climax.
“Let go, baby.” He bit her bottom
lip, licking and teasing her with his tongue. When the orgasm crashed over her,
he caught her cries with his mouth, kissing her and holding her tight while
waves of pleasure rolled through her and she came apart in his arms.
When she was able to open her
eyes he was staring at her, his eyes dark and glassy with desire. She felt him
draw a deep shuddering breath and saw something which looked like uncertainty
pass through his eyes.
“Will you let me in?”
“Of course.” She licked her lips
still swollen from his kisses and reached for the button on his jeans.
He stepped back and she felt cool
air replace the heat from his body. His hand cupped her face, tipping it up to
look at him.
“Not just inside your body,” he
said, his breath ragged. “Will you let me love you? Will you love me?”
What the hell kind of question
was that? What did he mean? Her lust addled brain stuttered. He could not be
asking for some kind of commitment from her. This was supposed to be just sex.
“What do you mean? You gave me
the best orgasm I’ve had in…well ever. I’d buy you a pony if you asked me right
now.” She reached for him again and this time when he pulled away she felt cold
and vulnerable. Sitting up straighter, she reached for her shirt.
“Don’t cover yourself; not yet.
God, you’re so beautiful.”
“Well then take me upstairs.” She
was so confused. Why would he want to look at her naked breasts, give her an
amazing orgasm and not want to have sex with her? He was a doctor. Maybe it was
a health thing. “I haven’t been with anyone in over a year. I’ve been tested.”
The test had been part of her company’s new insurance plan, not because she had
sex with anyone in …well too long to remember. “I’m clean.” Ugh. She hadn’t
meant it to sound like that. “I mean no diseases and I’ve got condoms.” She
held the shirt in front of her and fought the urge to hide her head along with
her breasts.
He pulled her into his arms and
lifted her off the table. She thought they’d go upstairs, although the talking
had cooled some of her passion. Instead he held her tucked tight against his
chest and kissed the top of her head. She felt his heart beat, warm and strong,
through the thin cotton of his t-shirt and breathed in the scent of laundry
soap and man. She also felt the hard length of his erection pressing into her
belly. When she reached for him, he caught her hand.
“When we make love, it’s going to
be making love. I want more than just your amazing body, Autumn. I want all of
you.” She felt him swallow against the top of her head. “I don’t know who broke
your heart, but I’m going to earn your trust. And we will make love.”
He wanted more. She’d finally
decided to try sex without commitment and Jude Southerland, the one man she
didn’t believe she could have a future with, wanted a commitment. What the hell?
She turned her puzzled face up to
him, determined to make some kind of sense out of this crazy situation, but he
silenced her with a kiss. Her arms went around his neck and the press of their
bodies kept her shirt from falling to the ground. She parted her lips, inviting
him in and met his tongue with her own. He groaned, holding her head in his
hands and crushing her mouth with his.
He took a shaky step back and her
shirt hit the floor.
“Jesus.”
His expression looked pained and
she almost pushed to get him to take her upstairs. But she didn’t think she
could take it if he rejected her again or worse gave her more earth shattering
pleasure without letting her reciprocate. She crossed her arms over her breasts
and watched him wrestle with himself.
“I’m sorry. I’ve got to get out
of here before …I’ve got to get out of here. I’ll see you tomorrow,” he
stuttered as he backed up to the door. He reached behind him for the handle but
before he let himself out, he looked at her determined. “I will earn your
trust, Autumn. And we will make love.”
He hurried out the door closing
it behind him and she stood covering her naked breasts with her hands. Well just hell. She bent to snatch up
her shirt and grabbed the mangled box of dumplings and a spoon.
He’d lost his mind. That was the
only answer that made sense. He had lost his ever loving mind. Autumn Maddox
stood in front of him with her unbelievably gorgeous fucking breasts naked – in
front of him – and he’d walked out the door. She wanted to have sex with him
and he turned her down. What the hell was
wrong with him?
She felt so good, so perfect in
his arms. He’d watched her blue eyes turn to sapphire when he peeled off her
t-shirt and bared her magnificent breasts. And the way it felt to have her in
his mouth. Jesus. He’d suckled her
and she arched, offering herself to him.
She’d pulled him to her, and he’d
felt her hot and wet for him through those stretchy black pants, and he almost
lost it, dry humping her like a horny teenager. He had to touch her. He had to
claim her somehow. When he slid his fingers into her and she came apart in his
arms, he almost followed her.
He had never wanted a woman more
and he turned her down because suddenly he wanted more than just sex.
What the hell was wrong with him?
He slammed the car door and made
the short drive to his cold, dark apartment. He didn’t want to go home. Max was
staying with Adam. He could go pick up his dog, but not without talking to his
brother and there was no way he could explain what happened tonight to anyone
in his family.
He didn’t understand it himself.
Since when did he have a problem having sex without a commitment? He didn’t
sleep around. He was careful and respectful, but usually his problem, if there
was one, was avoiding hurting a partner who wanted something more serious than
a good time. Now he was the one who wanted more.
He stomped up the stairs, feeling
his hard-on throb with each step. He wouldn’t be able to walk this one off. He
tossed his shirt on the floor and reached for the button on his paint spattered
jeans. It wasn’t until he slid his jeans and shorts to the floor that he
realized he’d forgotten his shoes. He driven the car and made it the whole way
into his house without noticing his bare feet.
It was official. He’d lost his
mind.
He went into the bathroom, his
still hard cock leading the way and turned on the shower. Not bothering to wait
for it to get warm, he stepped under the spray and gasped as the cold water hit
his back. He stood, letting the sting of the water pound against him until the
ancient water heater kicked in.
When steam finally filled the
shower, he reached for the shower gel and squirted some of the spicy citrus
soap into his hand. He made quick work of washing his body. Turning his back to
the spray, he rinsed off and let the hot water run off his scalp and down his
back.
He closed his eyes and all he
could see was Autumn, sitting on her kitchen table, breasts bare, her nipples
tight and red from his mouth and her lips swollen and parted from his kisses.
Autumn offering herself to him, pulling him into the hot v of her body. Autumn
milking his fingers with her spasms as she came in his arms. Under his hands. Under
his mouth.
He squirted more soap onto his
palm and cupped his balls. He’d been hard for so long they were tight against
his body, aching for release. Tugging and soaping, he worked the wrinkled skin
and imagined her small hands on him instead of his larger stronger ones.
His cock was so hard it throbbed
with the beat of his heart. He grabbed it in his soapy hand and worked it up
and down, stroking himself and wishing it was her hot mouth on him instead of
his hands. In moments he groaned his release, but he was nowhere near
satisfied. The only woman who could do that was alone in her own bed across
town.
The soft glow of the lamp on the
dresser lit the jade walls, turning the room into a celadon box. She pulled her
hand from his and went to the window to close the lace curtains. When she
turned to face him the naked desire in his eyes stopped her steps for a moment.
“My God, you’re beautiful.”
Taking two strides to meet her, he touched her hair and slid a finger almost
reverently across her cheek. “Like something out of time.” He traced her neck
and the edge of her dress with the back of his hand.
Everywhere his hand touched her
skin bloomed to life, tremors of pleasure following the warmth of his fingers.
When he cupped her face and drew her to him for a kiss, she melted against him.
His hands slid from her cheeks to her hair and then down her back, pulling her
even closer. She felt the hard length of him through the thin polished cotton
of her skirt and instinctively fitted herself to him.
When he felt her press against
him he groaned and the kiss took on a hungry, more desperate edge. Head tipped
back, lips parted she gave herself over the fire building between them. The
fire he stoked with his hands and lips and tongue.
He reached for her zipper again
and this time he didn’t stop himself. He tugged and she felt cool air hit her
back as the fabric peeled away. His hand reached her waist and he pulled back
so he could look into her eyes.
She gave a little shimmy and
watched his hazel eyes dilate to dark brown as the bodice of the dress fell to
her waist exposing her. The cherry red bra had been a good luck charm. Something
only she knew about which made her feel confident and sexy. From the look in
his eyes, it worked for him, too.
She reached behind her with both
hands to finish unzipping her skirt. The position pushed her breasts forward in
their lace demi-cups. Jude reached for her, catching her hands before she could
finish with the zipper.
“Like this.” He held her wrists
in his hand. “Stay just like this.”
The command in his voice sent
heat racing across her skin and then his mouth found her exposed throat and the
heat flamed higher. Holding her in place, he worked his way down her neck to
the sensitive skin of her collar bones, pausing to linger in the hollow at the
base of her throat. She let her head fall back to give him better access and
felt the delicious arch in her back and the press of her breasts against him.
Still holding her wrists in one
hand, he skimmed her side with the other, leaving a trail of pebbled flesh in
the wake of his touch. His kisses moved lower and his hand slid up until he was
cupping her breast while he kissed the creamy skin above her bra, his tongue
tracing a line along the lace.
His touch was teasing and light and
everywhere but where she needed him most.
She arched harder, pushing herself against his hand and mouth. Willing
him to move closer to the taut peak. His thumb brushed her nipple and she made
a small needy noise. When his tongue
slid beneath the lace and found the puckered flesh, she cried out for him.
His tortured groan rumbled across
her skin as he rested his forehead against her chest for a moment. She felt his
ragged breathing and knew he wanted her as much as she wanted him.
“Please,” she practically
whimpered.
“Not yet, darling,” he said on a
shaky breath.
He repeated the delicious torment
with her other breast, finally sliding the strap off her shoulder and lifting
her breast from the cup. With excruciating tenderness he pulled her aching
flesh into his mouth. She couldn’t catch her breath, taking short gasps as he
suckled her.
“So good, God. That feels so
good.”
Spurred on by her words he sucked
harder and she cried out for him, desperate to have him inside her. Her legs
had to give out. She couldn’t feel so much, be at the mercy of his hands and
mouth and stay standing.
“Bed, please,” she said on a
gasp.
He pulled away and she almost
cried at the loss of his hot mouth on her swollen nipple. His hands shook as he
unfastened the clasps on her bra and slid the zipper down on her skirt. He
watched, eyes dark with desire, as she shrugged out of her bra and let the
dress pool at her feet.
“Sweet Jesus on the cross.” He
breathed the words like a prayer.
She stood naked except for her
cherry red lace panties. The hunger in his gaze was more than enough reason to
fight the urge to cover herself. Feeling the cool air on her skin, she basked
in the heat of his gaze, forcing herself to stay still for a moment when all
she wanted in the whole world was to reach for him.
“You are so beautiful.” He
dropped to his knees in front of her like a man struck and any insecurities
she’d ever had burned away in the naked hunger of his voice. His hands clasped
her hips and he paused letting his head rest against the soft mound of her
belly.
With her wrists free she could
finally get her hands on him. Threading her fingers through his hair, she
cradled his head against her. She felt him sigh and the sweet tenderness of
simply touching him threatened to overwhelm her.
The kisses started out sweet
almost reverent, just his lips tender and chaste tracing a line across her
belly. Before long they grew hotter, wetter, more demanding. He hooked his
thumbs under the lace and tugged off her panties. She knew he’d be able to tell
how aroused she was. She didn’t think she’d ever been this excited or felt this
much. When his fingers found her, sliding through her silky folds to her core,
she thought she’d fly apart.
He groaned. “So wet, God, you’re
so wet for me.” His words sent another rush of heat through her.
He slid first one then two
fingers inside her and her hands gripped his shoulders. He blew across her
mound teasing the tight, wet curls and then he kissed her open mouthed like she
was something delicious to eat. His tongue teased and flicked across her tight
bundle of nerves and pleasure bloomed and swelled inside her.
Starting a slow, steady, stroking
rhythm with his fingers, he suckled her swollen needy flesh. Her fingers bit
into his shoulders as she struggled to stay standing. Her breaths came in
shallow gasps and wave after wave of pleasure built under the onslaught of his
mouth and hands.
He drove her on, relentless in
his demands for her pleasure and she felt the tightening that was at the same
time familiar and completely new.
“I’m close. Please. I want you
inside me.”
She felt him groan against her
sensitive flesh but the pace of his fingers inside her never slowed. She didn’t want to come again without him.
She didn’t think she could take a repeat of Sunday, but her body didn’t care.
Jude curled his fingers to stroke the rough patch of skin inside her tight channel
and nibbled and licked the tight bundle of nerves.
Before she could protest again,
pleasure uncoiled and whipped through her. Her climax stole her breath and made
her legs go weak, the trembling in her limbs threatening to knock her off
balance. Using his hands and mouth he drew out every last bit of her orgasm.
When the tremors finally started
to subside, he stood and kissed her. She tasted herself on his lips and the
heat flared again. Gently, he guided her until the back of her knees hit the
edge of the bed. He pushed her down and she climbed into the center of the bed.
Naked, her body still pulsing
with the lingering aftershocks of her climax, she looked up at him with eyes
heavy-lidded with desire. She wanted him more than she’d ever wanted anyone,
more than she thought was possible.
“Take off your clothes.” She
pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and he moved like a man inspired,
stripping off his shirt. He kicked off his shoes and slid his pants and boxers
to the floor. When his erection sprang free, long and thick and hard, she
licked her lips and reached for him. He groaned as her hand closed around him,
all velvet covered steel.
“Not this time,” he said, peeling
her fingers away. “I have got to be inside you.”
She lay back on top of the patchwork
quilt and opened herself for him. He made a strangled sound and then he was on
the bed with her, rolling protection down his length. He palmed her bottom,
raising her hips and in one smooth movement, he slid into her.
“Jesus, God,” he said and then he
started to move, long smooth strokes which touched every part of her. “I’m not
going to last.” He groaned but it didn’t matter. She was already spiraling up
to another delicious climax. When she felt the tightening start again, she
leaned up and nipped at his throat.
“Let go,” she panted. “Come with
me. Now.”
She felt his climax build, felt
him swell and then pulse deep inside her, and then she was coming too,
fracturing and shattering into a million pieces in the strength of his arms.
Chef Bailey Southerland can’t get any satisfaction – at least not in the way that really matters. She’s got family and friends she adores and a promising career, but her love life is like a soufflé that never managed to rise. When the mouthwatering writer with his clear blue eyes and easy, open manner moves into the cottage down the hill, it looks like things might finally be going her way. She doesn’t need him to be Mr. Right, but he has all the makings of a fantastic Mr. Right Now.
Badly burned by love, Trace Campbell tried to convince himself he’s content being just friends with his gorgeous neighbor, Bailey. If he can’t get his hands on her at least he can sink them in the soil and grow the produce on his farm that she needs for her restaurant, spending time with her while keeping her at a safe distance. But strawberries are a poor substitute for mind-numbing kisses and when another man shows up and it’s obvious he’s interested in more than Bailey’s cooking, Trace has to dig his head out of the dirt and put his heart on the line or risk losing the woman he loves.
REVIEW
My rating: 5 of 5 stars
**** I received this arc in exchange for an honest review****
This book was more emotional than the first, it still has steamy scenes don't worry lol.
There will be tears as you read this one as it's more grittier than the first.
Again it was well written and a please to read.
Bailey prepped vegetables for
that night’s dinner while Jen shaped the yeasty rolls.
“So tell me again,” said Jen,
smoothing the small ball of dough with her hands and setting on the tray with
the others to rise. “You went for your walk at your normal freakishly early
time and Spencer was waiting for you?”
“On the porch, sipping coffee. I
didn’t even know they rented out the Newport Cottage.”
“Not the point.” Jen started on
the second tray of rolls. It was always a guess as to how many to make. Sunday
dinner could be busy and they didn’t want to run out, but they were closed the
next three days. Any rolls they had left over wouldn’t even be good for
croutons by Thursday. “I can’t imagine voluntarily waking up early for, well
anything. And he got up just to see you. Hot damn.”
“Not a fair comparison. You
wouldn’t get up early because the kids never let you sleep.” Bailey peeled the
woody end of the asparagus spear and stood it next to the others in the bowl of
water.
“True, but still that means he
likes you. A lot.”
“Maybe. Maybe he just wanted an
early morning walk,” she said yet she couldn’t help but smile. It felt good to
have someone’s interest without having to work so hard for it.
“Hmpf,” Jen snorted. “He likes
you and he’s yummy. Really yummy. You could grab handfuls of that wavy hair and
get beard burn on your inner thighs.” She paused for a moment, holding a ball
of dough and lost in her own thoughts.
“Jennifer!”
“Well you could. Question is, are
you gonna? And what about Trace?”
“What about Trace? He’s never
going to make a move and I’ve done everything but flash my breasts at him like
a biker chick. I couldn’t have been more obvious. Trace is not going to
happen.” She heard the wistfulness in her voice and stomped it down mercilessly.
“Okay maybe, but I still think
he’ll get around to it. I know he likes you. He just moves slowly.”
Bailey knew they were alone, but
she glanced around anyway before she spoke. She’d confided in Jen years ago,
but that didn’t mean she wanted the rest of the world to know she was the
oldest living virgin outside of a convent.
She hadn’t planned it. She liked
sex – at least she was sure she would when she got around to actually having
it. She and her vibrator were good friends and she kept a backup supply of
batteries.
Back in high school she’d seen
one too many of the girls she knew have their lives derailed by an unplanned
pregnancy. That and the fact gossip spread faster than lice in the small town
she grew up in and her brothers would kill anyone she had sex with was
effective birth control.
By the time she arrived at
culinary school, she’d been so focused on her career, she hadn’t taken much
time for a social life. And the half drunken fumbles with the few guys she’d
gotten close with hadn’t given her much hope for the act itself. Then there was
the restaurant and all the work and worry to make it a success. She decided to
wait for a grown man, but no one had shown up.
Not until Trace.
She really had thought he was the
one. Someone she could explore sex with and someone she could trust. Maybe even
give her heart to.
It didn’t look like that was
going to happen, and she was done waiting.
“How much time am I supposed to
give it?” she asked, looking up from the asparagus to stare at Jen. “I’m twenty-five.
I’m so far past the time when most people do it, it’s started to turn into this
big weird thing. Enough already. I’m done waiting for someone who may never
come around. He might not even like me that way.”
“He likes you like that,” Jen
said with an eye roll.
Bailey glared at her and Jen held
her flour covered hands up in surrender.
“Okay, okay, so give up on the
farmer for now and do the hot writer. Everyone’s first time is rubbish anyway.
Practice until you get it right with Spencer and then move on. Unless you think
it could be something more.”
“God no. I mean I like him. I
think I could really like him and there is definitely a zing there.” She
thought about how just holding hands with Spencer made her body react.
Definitely a zing. “But he’s going back to the city. I live here.”
“People move,” said Jen. She
moved the second tray of rolls to the other counter and covered it with a
towel.
“Not me, and he doesn’t strike me
as someone who would be happy living on top of a mountain. Why are we talking about
this anyway?” She put the last asparagus spear into the bowl with the others
and went to place it back into the walk-in cooler. The heavy door closed behind
her and she missed Jen’s response. She set the bowl on one of the wire shelves
and picked up a box of grass fed beef she planned to break down for that
night’s special. “Besides,” she said, opening the cooler door with her hip and
hefting the heavy box in her arms. “I’m not looking for a long term
commitment.”
She glanced up in time to avoid
running into Trace as he set the plastic tub of produce, including more
strawberries than she knew what to do with, onto the metal work table. He
turned to face her, his arms full of pale pink peonies.
“What kind of commitment?” he
asked.
Behind him she saw Jen mouthing
the words “tell him.” She had obviously lost her mind.
“Nothing, nothing important,”
Bailey said. She took a step closer so she could smell the sweet, feminine
scent of the flowers. “Oh, these are so beautiful.” She stroked the soft petals
of a grapefruit sized bloom. “You must have a ton of them if you can bring me
this many and still have enough for market on Tuesday.”
“I wanted you to have them.” He
held the galvanized pot out to her and she took it in her arms, losing herself
for a moment in the overwhelming abundance of flowers.
Jen mouthed “told you” and made
kissing faces. Bailey turned so she couldn’t see her friend. “I love them.
Peonies are my favorite. Thank you.” She set the flowers on the counter to
admire. “They’re perfect in that pot, too. There’s more than enough here to do
all the tables in the restaurant.”
“I thought maybe you’d want some
for upstairs, too.”
Trace looked so pleased with her
reaction to the blooms, she reached out to catch his hand. He didn’t pull away
like he usually did. He held her hand for a moment in his much larger one, warm
and rough from working in the earth. Heat flared low in her belly and she
sucked in a breath.
“I better get out of here,” he
said. “Let you get ready for dinner.” It took another moment before he let go
of her hand a turned to go.
Jen looked over her shoulder to
make sure Trace had closed the door behind him. “I told you he liked you like
that.”
Bailey ignored her and went to
collect the vases from the dining room, more confused than she’d been when she
started.
Trace looked at his almost naked peony
bushes, just shadowy mounds in the gray dawn and grimaced. God, after what
she’d seen yesterday, he wouldn’t be surprised if Bailey had thrown away all
the flowers he’d given her. Unless she was too busy with the writer to even
notice.
Fuck.
It didn’t matter how he looked at it or tried
to spin it for himself. This was a disaster. He’d avoided what he wanted the
most, kept Bailey at arm’s length, so he wouldn’t lose her. Now, with one
stupid misunderstanding, he’d pushed her into the other man’s arms.
He met Jake coming back from the asparagus
beds, his arms loaded down with a tub of the tender green spears. Together they
walked to the barn and started wrapping the asparagus into bundles. They didn’t
talk. There wasn’t any need to, and Trace had learned long ago that even though
he liked to get up before the sun and watch the world wake up, most people
didn’t.
They stacked the bundles upright in the tub
and Jake poured some water in the bottom to keep them fresh. This early in the
season, his customers at the market were so grateful for fresh produce, the
asparagus would be gone before lunch. Trace grabbed one of the boxes of greens
the interns picked that morning and carried it out to the truck.
He met Amanda coming out of the chicken yard
loaded down with a basket of eggs. She froze when she saw him and stood,
chewing on her lip.
“I’m sorry about yesterday,” she said,
dancing from foot to foot in the cool morning air. “I guess I misunderstood
some things.”
“Yes, you did.” His voice was harsh and
unyielding and even in the dim light he saw her face fall. “It’s okay,” he
said, deliberately softening his tone. “We can pretend it never happened.”
Her grin lit the darkness and for a moment at
least, he felt like less of an asshole. Although why he should be the one
feeling like a jerk was beyond him. He hadn’t been the one doing the kissing.
“Great! Thanks so much.” She turned and
practically bounced off to the barn, swinging the basket in front of her.
“Don’t break the eggs!”
It took longer than he thought it would to
finish loading the truck, and by the time he and Amanda and another intern
named Jane were on the road to the farmer’s market the sun was almost up. It
was so early in the growing season, the start of the abundance which continued
through the summer and into early fall. It amazed him what he managed to gather
from his farm before spring was even in full swing.
Jake had stayed behind to supervise the two
remaining interns and get the restaurant orders ready. He and the young women
had to hustle to get the vegetables out and showcased before the crowd showed
up to shop before work. He’d just finished stacking big bunches of bright red
rhubarb next to the quarts of strawberries in their green paperboard cartons when
he saw her.
He knew she’d come. She always did and part
of him had been counting on having a chance to see her. To show her there
wasn’t anything going on with Amanda. He hadn’t counted on Bailey showing up
first thing in the morning with the writer guy.
Did that mean they had met early for the
drive down the mountain? Spencer hadn’t struck him as an early riser. Or had
Bailey rolled over in his arms this morning and nudged him awake? The image of
her naked and warm nestled against the writer’s chest, her hair a sexy mess and
her lips swollen from his kisses was so clear Trace clenched his hands,
crushing the carton of berries he held.
“God damn it!” Sticky red juice ran down his
fingers.
At the sound of his voice, Bailey turned and
her gaze caught his. As he watched, she reached for Spencer’s hand, raising her
chin defiantly.
Perfect.
Just fucking perfect.
He set the ruined carton of berries on the
ground at his feet. When he stood, Bailey and the writer were making their way
to his stall.
“Hey Trace,” she said, her voice artificially
bright.
“Bailey. Spence.” God, he hated that guy with
his fake work shirts and clean hands. Hands which had touched Bailey. Hands
which were touching her now.
“Spencer,” the other man said, stepping
behind Bailey and resting his hands possessively on her shoulders. “Bailey
brought me here to help me fill my kitchen. Although she’s probably going to
have to show me how to cook, too.”
His thumbs stroked Bailey’s neck, running up
and down over the soft skin peeking out from behind her hair. It was like a train wreck and Trace couldn’t
manage to look away.
“I didn’t know the rooms at the lodge had
kitchens or are you heading home?” He couldn’t keep the hopeful note out of his
voice.
“No. I found a reason to stick around for a
while.” He smiled down at Bailey and Trace clenched his fist to keep from
punching the guy. “I moved into one of the cottages so I’d have more room.”
“These
are nice,” Bailey said, deliberately ignoring both men to concentrate on the
asparagus.
“Pick out whatever you think we need,” said
Spencer. “Be sure to get some of these.” He picked up a carton of strawberries.
“I miss out on them yesterday, and I want them tonight. We can find some place
to get chocolate to go with them.”
Fucking writer was planning to seduce the
woman he loved with his own strawberries.
For the first time since they arrived at the
stall, Bailey looked uncomfortable. She stared at Trace but when he didn’t
speak, she looked over her shoulder and smiled at Spencer.
“Sounds good,” she said, trading the carton
in his hands for one with better berries. “We’ll need a dozen eggs and some
greens, too.”
“Of course,” said Trace. “I’ll get Amanda to
help you.”
Trace called Amanda over and walked away
before he put his fist through Spence’s face.
Someone had left the kitchen light on,
presumably for him, but there was no sign of anyone when Trace went into the
house. The senior Southerlands must have gone to bed already to get ready for
their early departure. He didn’t expect anyone to wait up for him, but he
wished he’d thought ahead to ask where he was supposed to sleep.
Slipping off his boots, he stretched out on
the sofa. The leather was soft and there were throw pillows and some sort of
knit blanket on the back. He’d certainly slept in worse places. He closed his
eyes with Jude’s “absolutely” echoing in his head, but the sound of women’s
laughter filtered down from upstairs.
He couldn’t hear well enough to tell what
they were laughing about, but he was glad after the stress of the day, that the
Southerlands had found something to make them laugh. That Bailey replaced her
haunted look with laughter, even if imagining her in an upstairs bedroom
giggling with her sisters was going to make it damn near impossible for him to
fall asleep.
He closed his eyes and a moment later heard
the sound of a door opening and shutting and footsteps on the stairs. He
managed to sit up just in time to see Bailey coming down the stairs, wearing a
T-shirt and soft cotton shorts, back lit by the light from the stairwell.
She wasn’t indecent. She had on more clothing
than some women wore to go out in public, but she wasn’t some woman. The thin cotton did nothing to hide the silhouette of
her ample curves and his hands practically itched to stroke the small of her
back, feel the rise of her hip, and cup the swell of her breast. Bailey saw him
watching her in the dark and stumbled.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were back,” she
said, catching herself. “Did you have a good time?”
“I did,” he said, his mouth suddenly dry. She
was coming closer and he was becoming painfully aware of how little there was
between Bailey’s sweet flesh and his hands. “I’m not sure what to do with
that.” He pointed to the bandana filled with nickels sitting on the coffee
table.
“You beat them,” she said delighted.
He grinned back at her. God, he’d give
anything to see that look on her face every day.
“If you really don’t want them, you could
leave them for Abby. She’d love them. Summer’s little girl,” she said when he
didn’t answer.
“Oh, the sweet little thing from the
engagement party who kept telling me she was going to be a flower girl,” he
said, smiling at the memory of the little girl leading the black dog as tall as
she was around the party.
“That’s the one,” said Bailey, settling next
to him on the sofa.
Sitting this close to her, he could tell she
wasn’t wearing a bra, the outline of the tight peaks of her breasts clearly
visible through the pale pink T-shirt. He had a quick flash of bending to take
her into his mouth, suckling her through the damp cotton and his mouth actually
watered. He was so lost in his day-dream,
it took him a moment to realize, she’d said something to him and was waiting
for his answer.
“I’m sorry,” he said, shaking his head
desperate to clear it and willing his body back under control. “What did you
say?”
“I’m the one who’s sorry,” she said, laying a
hand on his leg.
How could she not know the effect she had on
him? His cock strained like it had a mind of its own, trying to get closer to
Bailey.
“It’s been a long day. You must be tired and
here I am keeping you awake.” She gave his thigh a squeeze and he sucked in his
breath. “I just said I could see that Abby got them and tell her they were from
you if you want.”
“Great,” he said, his voice sounding
unsteady. “That would be great.”
“Let me take you to your bed,” she said. “The
carriage house is ready for you. Unless you’re hungry.”
His tongue felt thick and unwieldy in his
mouth and her words had all his remaining blood heading south. He couldn’t
manage even a no so he shook his head so she’d know he didn’t want to eat.
“Come on,” she said, standing and reaching
for his hand.
Saying a silent prayer of thanks for the dark
so she wouldn’t see how hard he was, Trace took her hand and followed her to
the door. His mouth finally unfroze when she turned the knob to go outside.
“You can’t go out like that,” he said.
“You’ll freeze. You don’t even have shoes on.”
She looked down at her feet and his and
grinned. “Neither do you.”
In his hurry to follow her, Trace had
forgotten to slip into his boots.
“It’s not the same.”
“Please,” she said, hand on her hip. “Feet
are feet. Don’t be a baby. It’s not far.”
She scooted away from him and was out the
door before he could say anything else. Frustration warring with desire, he
grabbed a sweatshirt from the hook beside the door and followed her outside.
The cool air hit him as soon as he stepped
outside and he could tell by the way Bailey wrapped her arms around herself
that she felt it, too. Damn infuriating woman. He stepped gingerly across the
gravel and before she could protest, he wrapped the sweatshirt around her and
scooped her up in his arms. She laughed and swatted at him as he carried her
the remaining few yards to the carriage house door.
“Put me down,” she said, gasping for breath.
“Inside,” he growled, shifting so he could
turn the knob and back through the door with her in his arms.
As soon as he bumped the door closed with his
hip, he set her down. Her body slid the length of his and he knew there was no
way she’d miss feeling how turned on he was. Maybe that was a good thing
because he sure as hell wasn’t taking her home tomorrow to go back to the
writer’s bed. Her feet touched the floor but he kept his arms around her, one
hand holding the base of her skull, the other at the small of her back,
pressing her closer.
He looked into her wide eyes and saw his
whole world reflected there in the dim light streaming in through the windows.
Bailey Southerland was everything he wanted – everything he needed – and he was
done trying to pretend he could live without her. He slid his hand up her back,
tangling his fingers in her soft curls and then he took her mouth in a kiss
which held years of pent up desire.
She tasted sweeter than he’d imagined, her
lips soft and warm under his and when he tugged at her full bottom lip with his
teeth, she opened for him with a sigh. He was lost, overwhelmed by desire and
practically shaking because he couldn’t get his hands on her fast enough.
Her tongue met his in a teasing, tangling
dance that aroused his hunger for her, but did nothing to sate it. He held her head in his hands, cupping it in
a way that showed how very precious she was to him, and his world narrowed to
the single focus of kissing Bailey. Tasting Bailey. Loving Bailey.
He tipped her head so he could work his way
along her jaw to the tender skin behind her ear. When he nipped at her earlobe,
she trembled in his arms. Desperate for her, he slid his hands under the soft
cotton hem of her T-shirt and over the warm skin of her sides to – dear God –
her naked breasts, full and heavy in his hands.
He groaned with the pure pleasure of feeling
her nipples tighten under his thumbs. Pushing her T-shirt up, he wrapped an arm
around her waist holding her in place for him while the other hand cupped her
breast. Bending, he took her in his mouth and suckled her, her nipple
impossibly tight and impossibly sweet on his tongue. Her cries had his cock
straining at the denim of his jeans and he had a flash of worry that he would
come just from the simple joy of having his mouth on her flesh.
He drew her nipple into his mouth, molding
her with his lips and tongue, pausing only to move from one breast to the
other. She arched in his arms, offering herself to him, threading her fingers
in his hair and holding him to her breast. When he slipped his hand under the
elastic waist of her shorts and found out she wasn’t wearing panties, he
groaned with sweet torment, his mouth still around her nipple. Sliding a finger
through her damp curls, he parted her lips and found her wet, slick and hot.
For him.
Using the tip of his finger he teased circles
around the tight bud of her clit. Continuing to stroke her swollen flesh, he
ran a trail of kisses up her throat and along her jaw. Claiming her lips as he
drove her on, he caught her cries of pleasure with his mouth and drank them in
with the intoxicating taste and feel of her.
Stalking links -
Hi! My name is Evelyn Adams and I write sexy contemporary
and erotic romance. My first full length collection, the Southern Heart Series,
was released this spring. It is about the Southerlands, a large southern
family, living and loving in my adopted home of Virginia.
Over twenty years ago, I moved south and like the worst of
the Yankees I stayed. I fell in love with the place and a man, got married and
had three beautiful children – my own boys of the South. I’ve lived south of
the Mason Dixon for over half of my life and almost all of my adult life, so
when I was looking for a place to set my novels, the shadow of the Blue Ridge
Mountains was a perfect fit.
I love the pace of life here, sweet peas growing alongside
the road, homemade sweet tea, biscuits and gravy, cheesy grits and the charm of
a soft southern drawl. And for a girl who grew up in Amish country surrounded
by farmland, the mountains I can see from my home take my breath away. My
husband and I regularly take our boys up the Blue Ridge Parkway to climb the
Peaks of Otter. The view is spectacular. It’s one of the reasons I set Jude and
Autumn’s first kiss there in Feels Like Home.
Book two, Feels Like Love is set at Mountain Lake, a short
drive south from where I live and the place where they filmed Dirty Dancing.
You can see the gazebo where Baby and her father had the “You disappointed me
too, Daddy” conversation and have lunch in the inn where the famous dance scene
was filmed. My sister and I visited when she was in college at Virginia Tech
and later when I was researching for the book, I took my youngest for the day
to walk around the lake bed and explore the ancient hemlocks.
It looks just like you would imagine, except that most of
the lake is gone. Without geeking out too badly – which I can easily do, find
me, we’ll have wine and talk about it – a seismic shift causes the lake drain
and refill periodically. It’s very cool and it was the perfect place for Bailey
and Trace to fall in love.
When I’m not writing, which isn’t very often, I love to cook
– I can finally make more than passable biscuits – and garden. But one of my
favorite things to do, when I get a break from chasing the minions, is to read.
I love to lose myself in a great story and fall in love all over again with a
new set of characters. I would be honored to be able to do that for you.
Thanks for having me!
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