Chapter 5
chapter five
Today – The Smashing Pumpkins
LAINEY
Promise shimmered beneath an inky tapestry, pierced by stardust and the golden light of a full moon. Lainey inhaled the scent of cotton candy and hot dogs, the aroma of county fairs and childhood. The planning committee had done an excellent job; the town had been transformed. Twinkling white lights wound around every tent pole and tree trunk, colorful paper lanterns swaying gently from the branches. A lone guitarist’s melody lanced the air—light, melodic, and haunting.
Or perhaps it was the past that haunted.
Lainey’s mind circled back to that morning, passion and hurt wrapped in a package she hadn’t dared to open until she returned to Promise. She couldn’t forget the stunned look on Justin’s face, like he’d moved his queen into position far too soon. She might have felt worse—more foolish, embarrassed, sexually fucking frustrated —if the moment hadn’t shaken him as much as it had shaken her.
The way he’d touched her—his thready moans blending flawlessly with hers—had taken her to a place she hadn’t visited since leaving him. Sex hadn’t been particularly good in any of her relationships, a total of three , a realization she wished she could forget.
She was starting to think slapdash lovemaking was the best a girl could get.
Lainey tossed back the rest of her wine as a hot flush swept her cheeks. She’d never craved an orgasm more than the one Justin True had nearly delivered in his sunlit kitchen. Instead, she’d made do when she got home, the thought of him bringing her a blinding release in seconds .
Pleasure was always better when you loved the guy, wasn’t it?
Of course she still loved him—even if it seemed he’d never forgive her. The foolish girl who’d once walked away from the greatest guy in the world.
Across the way, the greatest guy leaned against a picnic table, long legs crossed at the ankle, the cup he hadn’t set down all evening resting on his flat stomach. Ripped jeans rode low on his hips, a white T-shirt clinging to the broad planes of his chest and shoulders. He hadn’t shaved, and the stubble shadowing his jaw gave him a slightly dangerous edge. A snake tattoo coiled along his forearm, flexing as he moved, unexpected for someone so solid. So steady.
That new piece of him had surprised her.
She chewed on a ragged thumbnail, wondering if his jeans were button-fly and how fast she could unfasten them with her teeth. But the best part of his ensemble? The stylish, absurdly charming suede loafers. A delightfully preppy twist that didn’t match the tattoo or the threadbare jeans at all.
Lainey was, without question, a shoe girl.
Justin seemed absorbed in conversation with the group of women circling him, including the odious Samantha. He had studiously avoided Lainey all evening while managing to stay close—or close enough—to the clingy brunette. She could tell by his body language he was bored. She even suspected he knew exactly where she sat at the nearby picnic table. But every time their gazes collided, and it had happened more than once, his expression remained utterly indecipherable.
It was a great trick to strip someone bare while revealing nothing of yourself.
He was working hard to maintain…whatever it was he needed to maintain. Lainey, on the other hand, was just trying to keep her buzz.
Two glasses of wine down, maybe two more to go.
She just wanted to sleep—without the past pressing down or the future creeping in. Even if it meant a raging headache tomorrow.
Her life had changed radically in the past two years, and if getting a little drunk helped, just for tonight, she was willing to call it what it was: surrender.
No boyfriend. No lover. No family. No job.
She was absolutely, categorically alone .
Lainey hadn’t told anyone the real reason she’d come home: the young man she’d failed to protect. On the last day of the trial, she’d packed up her desk, knocked on her supervisor’s door, and handed in her resignation. Her savings would last long enough to figure out what came next. Being a psychologist had taken its toll, and she wasn’t sure she had anything left to give. Burnout was real.
Loose ends . So many loose damned ends .
“Anyone sitting here?”
Lainey glanced up to find a man standing beside her table. He smiled and gestured to the empty bench. His blond hair was swept back in a style that looked effortlessly arranged. Crisp white button-down, pressed jeans, polished black Oxfords. A lawyer, she guessed. Or maybe a doctor. She was about to explain that her friend would be back soon—which was true, since Fontana’s volunteer shift at the vinegar fry tent ended at nine—but in that moment, she couldn’t resist sneaking a glance at Justin. He looked from her to Mr. Doctor/Lawyer, a flash of fury lighting his golden eyes before he turned away.
A-ha .
Lainey amped up her smile until it felt like she was posing for a dental ad. “Actually, I was heading for another glass of wine. Can I bring you one?”
“Sure. I’d love that.” He offered his hand, his nails possibly manicured. “Terrance. I’m new in town. Insurance.”
Insurance . Lainey bit back a laugh and shook his hand. She had to try this single thing eventually, even if her heart wasn’t in it. Unfortunately, her heart was in the hands of the brooding painter-slash-architect across the way. “Lainey. Retired psychologist.”
He grinned, green eyes sparkling with practiced charm. “You’re too young to be retired.”
She took two steps backward, saluting him with her cup. “You’re right, I am.”
The line at the wine tent wasn’t as long as it had been during her first two runs. Maybe a sign she was indulging a little too much.
“You couldn’t let the guy buy the drink?” Justin asked as he moved into place behind her.
Her fingers clenched in the folds of her skirt, and with as much casualness as she could muster, she glanced over her shoulder. Justin stood with his hands shoved in his pockets, shoulders hunched, a frown tugging at that gorgeous mouth of his. “I thought you were never going to speak to me again, True.”
“Let’s just say I’ve sworn off women for the moment, Prescott.”
She dug in her purse for her drink ticket. “Since?”
His lips took on a wry twist—close to a smile but not quite. “Since this morning.”
Lainey blew a disbelieving puff through her teeth. “Does that include the brunette?”
He stared at her for a long moment, then laughed softly beneath his breath. “Yeah, it does.” His gaze traveled the length of her, slow and deliberate, and she felt it as clearly as a touch. “You look nice.”
With a smile, she stepped to the counter. “Two glasses of red.”
Okay, fine, she’d dressed with Justin in mind.
A shift dress that clung in all the right places, a simple cardigan, and beaten cowboy boots. She was going for the I-didn’t-try-too-hard-but-spent-an-hour-in-front-of-the-mirror look.
Also, the outfit could be removed quickly if necessary.
“How do you know he’s a red man, Lain?”
Cups in hand, she stepped aside to allow Justin to order. “Excuse me?”
He nodded to the wine. “The guy sitting over there hoping like hell you’ll come back. He looks a little buttoned-up for red, if you ask me. You should have gone with a beer. And nothing heavy—light all the way, that one.”
Lainey leaned a shoulder against the tent post, eyes fixed on Justin as he dug into his front pocket and pulled out a crumpled ticket. She licked her lips, letting her gaze drift over him, vivid images roaring through her mind. When his eyes met hers, they’d darkened to a tawny brown, the lines around his mouth deepening—like he was holding back every dirty thought in his head.
“You’re awfully touchy tonight, Just. Maybe you’d feel better if you’d taken care of business in the shower.” She took a sip, gazing at him over the rim of her cup. “That’s what I did.”
He paused for a full, stunned minute.
It was, without question, one of the most glorious wins of her life.
“Put the wine down, Lainey,” he growled, tossing his in the trashcan beside him.
She choked on her crappy merlot. “What?”
“Put the cups down before I knock them out of your hands.”
When she kept staring, he cursed under his breath, snatched the cups from her, and stalked over to the insurance agent she’d left behind. “Enjoy,” he said, dropping them on the table. “The extra one’s on me.”
“Actually, they were both on me,” she said as his hand closed around hers, fingers lacing as he guided her through the line of tents and across the high school parking lot.
“Justin, wait .”
“No, Lain, I’m not waiting.”
“Are you mad?” She hurried to keep up, his long legs eating the pavement.
“Yeah, mad, as in crazy .”
They passed a utility shed on the north side of the school, and Justin turned them toward it. Her back hit the metal wall, his hands tangling in her hair. His eyes burned as he sank into her, cheeks flushed, breath unsteady. Then his lips claimed hers—a kiss that was consuming and, yeah, a little angry.
It matched the mood she’d seen in him all evening.
Part yearning, part payback, part desperation.
She sighed—a breathy, dreamy sound so unlike her—and he answered with a ragged groan, slanting his head to deepen the kiss. Rising onto her tiptoes, she slid her hands from his shoulders to his jaw, cupping his face, returning everything he gave her.
The first burst in the sky had them breaking apart. Lainey caught the firework’s explosion reflected in his pupils before he moaned and dove back in. His arm dropped low, hauling her flush against him. His stomach tensed on a sharp inhale, his arms flexing as he lifted her higher. His hips moved in time with his kiss, his tongue and the hard length of his cock conspiring to drive her mad.
As in crazy.
As the bottle rockets exploded overhead, their thunder reverberating around them, she grabbed his hand and drew it to her waist. Lower, just a little…lower.
After all, he’d left her hanging this morning. “Just, come on. Please .”
Instead of soothing her, he laughed softly, his mouth stalling at the sensitive spot beneath her ear. Sucking her skin between his teeth, he whispered, “That comment about the shower, is it true?”
“If you touch my breast—what is that, second base?—I’ll tell all.”
He laughed, his hand sliding along her ribs to her breast, cupping, his thumb tormenting her nipple in deliberate, agonizing circles. Teasing her, he ground his cock against her pussy until colors that matched the ones going off in the sky pinwheeled behind her eyelids.
Incredibly, because it had never been easy for her, she felt an orgasm building.
“Is it true?” he whispered, flipping two buttons open at the neckline of her dress and pressing his lips to her collarbone. She wanted to connect the dots, guide his beautiful mouth to the axis point now pulsing beneath his thumb.
She loved having her nipples sucked.
“And if it was true,” he murmured against her skin, “did you think of me?”
“You, me. The drafting table in your house. You standing, me sitting on top. Boom. Three minutes. Maybe less.”
She felt his sigh in the scalding breath that skated across her skin—hot as the burning end of a match. “You’re killing me, sweetheart,” he murmured. “But I’ll die happy if this is what a blissful end feels like.”