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?
Feels Like
Home
1
“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.
Feels Like Love
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.
Feels Like Love
1
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.
2
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!
Thanks for hosting me, Samantha!
ReplyDeleteYou're very welcome!!
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