Chapter Thirty-Nine Damion
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
“Kissing is worth it. Every time.”
—Remington
Damion
Yes, yes, fucking yes.
I didn’t give a shit where we were, how many people were around, or that we were sitting on the tailgate of a pickup truck in the middle of a cornfield.
All that mattered was kissing Julia.
Because for that brief second, when she looked at me with a thousand questions in her eyes, I realized the absolute truth.
I was gone.
I was head over heels, lost to Julia Nebraska with the Pretty Woman hair. I’d somehow managed to fall for my enemy, even though she actually was not my enemy, and all that mattered was her.
My fingers might’ve been a little too rough, pressing a little too hard on her perfect skin as I angled her head, but I needed more. I needed all. I opened her mouth with mine and went all in, kissing deep, wanting to consume every bit of her.
And then she made the tiniest sound in the back of her throat.
Oh God.
That sound, a hum or a moan or whatever the hell it was, made me rear up in need because that sound was exactly how I felt.
Urgent.
Desperate.
Desperately hungry.
For her.
I’d waited too long for this, even though I hadn’t even known I’d been waiting. Suddenly it was like I couldn’t get enough, like I’d been Julia-starved my entire life and had just been given my very first taste.
And it wasn’t enough.
Not nearly enough.
More.
Fucking more.
I need so much more.
She nipped at my bottom lip and I heard myself growl, helpless to behave because how could she kiss like this? How could she respond this way, lick into me this way, destroy me this way with her sweet strawberry-glossed mouth?
The blood pounded in my ears as I felt the drag of her tongue against mine, as she let me go wild in her mouth like she wanted me there, like she’d been waiting for me to kiss her like this.
Like nothing else mattered.
She kissed me back with a ferocity that sent sparks of heat burning through every one of my nerve endings, torching me with the need for more, setting my skin on fire as I sought every bit of her I’d yet to try.
Holy shit, Julia Nebraska.
She kissed the way she drove a pickup, the way she loved a poem, the way she leaned her head all the way back and worshipped the sun out on Remi’s boat. She was reckless and wild, sincere and intentional, and quite possibly the most devastating thing I’d ever experienced.
I felt everything, every single fucking emotion, as she met me where I was. Her kiss was liquid sunshine against my tongue, the highest of highs, yet my heart was already breaking at the low-low realization that it would eventually have to end.
And her fingers, my God.
Her fingertips were like branding irons on my skin, ten searing touches that made me weak as she flexed on me and kissed me back like it was her idea.
God, I loved her ideas.
“MAY I HAVE YOUR ATTENTION, PLEASE, YOU LITTLE SHITS?”
I pulled back at the sound of the bullhorn and looked at Julia’s face. “What the hell is that?”
“Oh no,” Julia said, her eyes fluttering open. She looked sleepy and sexy as hell as she smiled at me and said, “The farmer.”
“The farmer?” I repeated as movement exploded around us.
I didn’t know what was happening, but I needed everything to pause.
Freeze.
Hold on a damn minute!
I needed to stay in that moment a little longer, because her glossy lips were grinning at me and her mouth was still so close to mine and my nose was still drunk on the smell of her—
“We’ve got to go,” she said, dropping her hands from my face, breaking the spell.
And everything was suddenly on fast-forward.
The fire was extinguished with someone’s drink and people started running around, grabbing shit and tossing it into truck beds.
A small crowd formed around the key bucket almost instantaneously.
“I WOULD SUGGEST YOU GET YOUR VEHICLES OUT OF MY FIELD, BECAUSE I’VE CALLED THE SHERIFF AND HE’S ON HIS WAY.”
“Where is he?” I asked, looking around in the darkness.
“Probably up on his porch,” she said, jumping off the tailgate and gesturing for me to do the same. “You can’t see it from here, but his bullhorn’s got great range.”
“I WOULD APPRECIATE, MOVING FORWARD, IF YOU WOULD HAVE YOUR LITTLE GATHERINGS ON SOMEONE ELSE’S PROPERTY. I AM AWARE THAT MY NEPHEW, COLT, IS AMONG YOU, BUT THIS HAS NOT BEEN AN APPROVED EVENT. TAKE YOUR TRASH WITH YOU AND GO HOME BEFORE YOU GET AN MIP.”
“What’s an MIP?” I asked as engines started.
“Are you serious right now?” Lauren asked, she and Teanna suddenly emerging from the darkness, pushing me toward the cab of the truck while Julia ran over to get her keys. “Minor in possession?”
“You don’t want an MIP, New York, because you have to come back for your court date,” Teanna said. “Get in the truck.”
What the hell what the hell? I had no idea if this was serious or not. But the next second we were all piled inside the truck, Julia climbing behind the wheel, starting the old pickup.
“Your boyfriend doesn’t know what an MIP is,” Teanna said as Jules slammed her door.
“That’s because there are no rules where he comes from,” Julia replied, buckling her seat belt. “The kids do everything the adults d—”
“AND DON’T BE STUPID. IF ANYONE’S NOT OKAY TO DRIVE, I’LL GIVE YOU A RIDE HOME BEFORE THE SHERIFF ARRIVES. JUST, LIKE, HONK YOUR DAMN HORN OR SOMETHING.”
Julia didn’t wait around for a horn. She jammed the truck into first gear and hightailed it out of the field, following the line of vehicles in front of her, a convoy of headlights exiting a dark field of corn.
“What the hell is this?” I asked, looking out the back window for cops or farmers with pitchforks.
“It’s fine,” Teanna said calmly. “People don’t love it when you throw impromptu parties on their property, so sometimes they call the cops.”
“This is normal?” I asked.
“Not normal,” Julia said. “But it happens.”
“Have you ever gotten an MIP?” I asked her.
“No,” she said. “And I’m not about to get one tonight.”
I watched in disbelief as Julia jerked the wheel and took off in an entirely different direction from every other car on that field.
And with a wicked smile on her lips that made me want to kiss her all over again, she hit the gas and said, “Hang on.”