6. Paul
Paul
Ikept Georgia’s hand firmly wrapped in mine as we stepped off the porch and out into the grass.
Her hand was soft against mine, our fingers twined together. Her tears from earlier had dried, leaving behind a quiet, settled energy that made me feel some dangerous hope.
“Where are we going?” she asked, her voice hushed in the dark.
“Best seat in the county,” I told her, leading her across the grass.
From up here, the entire valley stretched out below us. The festival lights were visible from here, and it looked like half the county was there tonight.
“When I was in high school, half the junior class used to sneak up here on the Fourth of July,” I said, letting go of her hand long enough to shake the blanket out and spread it on the ground.
“To watch the fireworks?”
“Yeah. It had the perfect view. And no supervision. We thought we were pulling one over on our parents.”
“Did my grandpa mind?” she asked.
“Naw. Henry and Etta didn’t seem to mind at all.
Actually, one year, me and my buddy Cash were sitting right over there.
” I pointed to the treeline. “And Henry came walking out with a jug of apple cider and a massive bowl of fresh-picked blackberries. He just handed it to us, told us not to burn his grass down with sparklers, and walked back to the house.”
Georgia smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I was never here on the Fourth of July. I never got to see that.”
I sat down on the blanket and patted the space next to me. “Where were you?”
She sat down beside me, pulling her knees to her chest. “We always went to the town festival. My parents liked the crowd. It’s really nice seeing my grandparents’ place from someone else’s perspective, though.”
She looked back at the dark outline of the farmhouse.
“My dad and my grandpa didn’t always get along.
” Her voice softened. “And my mom didn’t like to visit them.
There were never any massive blow-ups or anything like that.
Just… tense family dinners. I remember my dad always talking about how he wanted to move away to see the rest of the world.
And how Red Oak Mountain was suffocating him.
Grandpa Henry would just sit there and eat his pie, not saying a word, but his jaw would be set so hard I thought his teeth might crack. ”
The first distant flare of a firework shot up from the festival grounds below.
I stretched my legs out in front of me, crossing my boots at the ankles.
“Not everyone is made for living in a small town, Georgia,” I said, keeping my gaze on the horizon.
“It’s a specific kind of quiet. If this place doesn’t call at your soul, it’s just going to feel like a cage.
You’ll spend your whole life trying to chew your way out.
That’s how your parents might have felt. And maybe you too.”
Georgia rested her chin on her knees. She didn’t say anything for a long time. She just watched the night sky, her brow furrowed in deep thought. I could practically hear the gears turning in her head. But what was on her mind was a mystery.
A loud boom echoed through the air, and a massive spray of red and gold lit up the sky over the festival grounds lower down the mountain.
I reached behind me and pulled a bottle from the bag I’d brought up earlier.
Georgia blinked, pulled from her thoughts. “What’s that?”
“Holt’s elderberry wine,” I said, working the cork loose with my pocketknife. “Local guy. Makes it in his barn down off County Road Nine. You haven’t lived until you’ve taken a sip of this.”
I pulled the cork free and offered her the bottle. She took it, wrapping both hands around the dark glass. She took a slow sip, her eyes widening in the darkness.
“Holy shit. That’s really good.”
“Holt knows what he’s doing,” I agreed, taking the bottle back when she offered it.
I took a swig. It burned hot and sweet down my throat.
“He makes a blackberry wine, too. Uses local fruit. Matter of fact, he’d probably pay a pretty penny for whatever blackberry stock you’ve got left over from the stand. ”
“Really?”
“Really. I can give him a call tomorrow, if you want. He’s a friend of mine.”
“I’d like that,” she said, peering up at me. “Are you friends with everyone in town?”
“Yup. Everyone except Rusty. He’s too surly for me.”
“I don’t know him.” She shifted her weight on the blanket, moving closer until her thigh pressed firmly against mine.
I lifted my arm, settling it behind her. She immediately leaned back into me. Everywhere her body touched mine, a deep, radiating heat sank straight into my muscles. I never wanted to let this woman go again.
“He’s a recent transplant. Moved up here a few years ago. He’s not that bad. I just like to razz him about it sometimes.”
We passed the bottle back and forth. Down below, the fireworks show kicked into high gear, painting the sky in streaks of blue and silver.
“I’m not a flashy guy,” I found myself saying, the wine loosening the tight grip I usually kept on my mouth.
Georgia tilted her head, looking up at me. “What makes you say that?”
“Just stating facts.” I rubbed my thumb against the side of the bottle. “I’m not the kind of man who sweeps a woman up in a whirlwind. I don’t know how to make big, dramatic promises or talk a good game. I cut wood. I fix things. I’m pretty boring.”
I hated how vulnerable the words felt. I’d always been the useful man. The steady guy women called when their pipes burst or their tires went flat, but rarely the man they lost their minds over.
Georgia reached out, her fingers wrapping around my wrist. Her grip was surprisingly strong.
“I don’t like flashy men, Paul,” she said, her voice fierce and low. “Flashy men make promises they have zero intention of keeping. Flashy men lie to your face because they want something in the moment.”
She shifted closer, her chest brushing against my arm.
“I don’t want someone who says all the right things. I want someone who’s honest,” she whispered. “Someone steady and dependable.”
A lump grew in my throat. She was looking at me like my quiet, boring life was exactly what she was starving for. She looked at me like I was irresistible.
But there was no point to it. Not with her leaving soon.
“Georgia,” I rasped, passing the wine bottle back to her. “You’re not going to be here long. You’ve already told me you’ve got a life in Texas. I know that. But I need to be straight with you. I am starting to develop serious feelings for you. It’s going to suck when you leave.”
Her pretty lips parted in surprise. The boom of another firework echoed over the ridge, but the only thing I could hear was the frantic rush of my heart thumping in my chest.
She swallowed hard. “Paul, I think I feel the same way. But I’m not sure what to do about it.”
I didn’t need to hear another word. I shifted my weight, turning toward her, and brought my hand up to cup her jaw.
“Then we need to live in the moment,” I told her, right before I kissed her.
The second my mouth found hers, we were already on fire, her hands tangling in the front of my shirt. I dragged my tongue along her bottom lip, tasting the deep, rich sweetness of Holt’s elderberry wine mixed with her own unique flavor.
She let out a soft, desperate sound, her hips shifting restlessly against the wool blanket.
I hooked my arm around her waist and pressed her backward. She went willingly, her back hitting the blanket. I followed her down, caging her body beneath mine.
The sky above us erupted. The soft, shifting glow of the fireworks washed over Georgia’s face, illuminating her flushed cheeks and her hungry eyes.
I kissed her neck, my beard scraping roughly against her collarbone as she arched into my mouth, her fingers digging hard into my shoulders. I was a steady man, but right now, I wanted to take this woman apart and brand every inch of her.
Mine.
Even if it was only for today.
I reached down, making quick work of her shorts. She helped me, kicking them away until she was bare to the cool night air. I pushed my jeans down, the friction of the heavy denim sliding across my swollen cock making me wild.
Tonight, I was going to taste my Georgia Peach.
I kissed my way down her body, hooking my hands under her knees and pulling her legs wide.
“Paul, what are you doing?” she gasped as I found her slit, my tongue sliding over her wetness, parting her lips.
Then I found her center and drank her up.
I settled in, finding a slow, smooth rhythm that she seemed to like, based on the sounds coming out of her mouth.
I used my tongue to draw a sharp, high moan from her throat, timing the pressure to the frantic arch of her hips.
I held her firmly in place, keeping her pinned exactly where I wanted her. She was falling apart under my lips.
Even though I was missing the whole fireworks show, I didn’t care at all. All I wanted was to hear her come for me.
So I doubled down, sucking on her clit, then working her pussy, alternating back and forth until Georgia was a writhing mess.
Her breathing hitched, turning ragged and shallow, and her thighs clamped tight against my head, her whole body going rigid as she peaked.
There was no mistaking the moment Georgia came for me.
She cried out my name, the sound entirely lost in the mix of loud, concussive booms coming from the fireworks.
She was still trembling when I crawled back up her body. I braced my weight on my forearms, looking down into her face.
“Do you need me, Georgia? Because I fucking need you so bad I’m about to come right now.”
She let out an unintelligible moan that I knew was a yes. Then I guided myself into her and pushed, driving home right where I belonged.
Hot damn, her pussy felt like velvet. Just like last night. I hadn’t imagined it.
Georgia wrapped her legs tightly around my hips and bucked like a wildcat.
I gritted my teeth, forcing myself to hold completely still for a second just to keep from losing my mind. The woman was about to make me come, and we’d just started.
“Don’t stop,” she begged, her nails biting into my back.
When I got a grip on myself, I started moving. I drove into her with a heavy, relentless pace, burying myself as deep as I could go. I wanted her to feel the weight of me. I wanted to anchor her to this picnic blanket, to this hill, to this mountain.
Every thrust was a physical confession.
I want you.
I want you.
I want you.
The fireworks flashed across her skin, tracking the sweat building at her temples. She stared up at me, her guard completely stripped away, revealing raw, open need.
With one big thrust, I realized something terrible.
I was falling in love with her. It hit me square in the chest, hard enough to knock the wind out of my lungs.
That’s when I lost it. And Georgia did, too.
She buried her face in my neck, biting down hard on my shoulder as a second climax ripped through her.
Her pussy clamped down hard around me, refusing to let me go. It was all it took. I let out a rough groan, driving my hips forward one last time as I came for this woman.
My arms gave out, and I collapsed against her, burying my face in the crook of her neck, my heart hammering a dangerous rhythm against her chest.
We lay there tangled together for a long time as the grand finale of the fireworks show thundered around us, vibrating the sky above.
That had been intense.
My heart cracked in half as I rolled onto my back, pulling Georgia with me, tucked securely against my side. Her bare leg was thrown over mine, her head resting on my chest. I stroked up and down her bare arm, listening to her breathing slowly return to normal.
This woman was going to ruin me.
What would I have left when she drove away and left me here?
A week ago I’d been content. A simple man living a simple life.
Now I was caught in her thrall, hungry to keep her, despite the constant reminders that this was only temporary.
Just sex. Isn’t that what she’d said?
I looked out at the dark outline of her grandparents’ house. Down below, at the bottom of the hill, the pie stand sat quiet and empty, waiting for morning to discover its fate.
I didn’t want just a few weeks with Georgia. I could almost feel the ache in my shoulders from fixing the roof on that old farmhouse. The smell of blackberry jam setting in the kitchen.
And Georgia, right in the center of all of it, looking at me like I was the only man in the world.
Yup. She was definitely going to ruin me.
I tilted her chin up and kissed her again, our lips tasting like elderberry wine and unspoken promises.
“Can I spend the night? I’m not ready to leave you yet.”
“You better spend the night,” she said sassily. “You drank half that bottle of wine.”