Chapter 12
As Cy walked me to my car, the only light to illuminate where we were going shone dimly from his porch, so I had to peer at the uneven ground to be sure of my footing.
Zeppelin raced on ahead, and Cy walked beside me. My thoughts were in a whirl. When Cy had offered his spare room for me to stay in, I’d had a sudden, unwanted vision of the two of us in bed together. The image had seared through my mind, my body responding with a surge of heat in my lower belly that had radiated between my thighs. It had flustered me so much, I’d had to run for the door.
I’d been warned about him by more than one person. Was that why I was so attracted to him? It was a flaw in my personality. The worse a man would be for me, the stronger my attraction.
I cast a furtive glance up to Cy as he walked next to me. He seemed to feel my glance, because he looked down and met my gaze. His lips quirked up, and I had to admit, he didn’t seem bad. So far, he’d been sweet and thoughtful. And I could only admire his calm, capable manner.
But what about the mushrooms? He said he wasn’t growing the illegal kind, but I wasn’t born yesterday. In the moonlight I’d spotted the enormous padlocks that secured the barn door. Why would he need to keep regular mushrooms so secure?
Besides, weren’t mushrooms grown on enormous farms at scale then shipped all over the country? Surely Cy couldn’t make money by growing a few in his barn? Not unless they were a front to disguise something illegal.
Zeppelin raced back to us, then snuffled around the ground while I fished in my bag for my car keys. Cy leaned back against the car, his hands in the pockets of his jeans and his face lifted to the sky. The porch light picked out the jut of his cheekbones above his beard.
All the nighttime noises that had freaked me out so much when I’d arrived were loud. Chirps, croaks, and the occasional screech or other weird call. But if Cy wasn’t bothered by the noises, all the things making the sounds were probably harmless.
“Nice night,” Cy said. “Venus is bright tonight. And there’s Cassiopeia.”
Drawing out my keys, I glanced up. The number of stars was breathtaking. “Which one is Venus?”
“That one.” He pointed it out and I blinked in surprise at how big and bright it was.
“And the other star you mentioned?” I asked.
“Cassiopeia is a constellation. Turn away from the light and you’ll be able to see five stars that zigzag across the sky.” Putting his hands on my shoulders, he turned me so my back was to him, then pointed up so I could follow the line of his finger. “See them?”
“Yes,” I said, though I had no idea if I was looking at the right ones. My heart sped up at the warmth and solidity of him at my back. One of his big, capable hands still rested on my shoulder, and I could smell his outdoorsy scent, with hints of pine and flowers. It was almost as though he’d grown from the earth, like one of the trees that surrounded his house.
“If you draw a line between the stars, does the pattern look like a queen on her throne?” His voice was low and close to my ear. The vibration of his chest sent pleasant shivers down my spine.
I squinted at the sky. “Not unless she’s queen of the snakes.”
His low chuckle made me clench my thighs. I’d thought the sound of his rumbly murmur was hot, but his chuckle seemed directly wired into my pleasure center.
“She was placed in the sky by Poseidon as a punishment for being vain,” he said. “Now she’s up there forever, combing her hair.”
I clicked my tongue. “See what happens when a man gets too much power and lets it go to his head? Just goes to show how much better it would be if women ran the world. For starters, they’d let other women finish their personal grooming in peace.”
He chuckled again, and the pleasant sensation it sparked in me was so overwhelming, I had to turn to face him. Standing this close, I was acutely aware of his size. His shoulders were almost twice the width of mine, and the top of my head barely reached his chin. And his biceps were so big, I’d have to use both hands if I wanted to circle them.
What was it about big men that was so appealing? Did it come from ancient caveman days when women needed to feel protected? If so, I couldn’t be very highly evolved, because I found his size incredibly sexy.
“How do you know so much about the stars?” I asked.
His hand was on my shoulder and we stood close, our bodies almost touching, my face lifted to his. His gaze went from my eyes to my lips, and I stared at his bottom lip, imagining what it might feel like if I kissed him. His lower lip was enticing, but his upper lip was barely visible. Would it be scratchy?
He lowered his face, and my heart stopped.
Was he going to kiss me?
No, his lips weren’t dropping to my mouth. They moved closer to my ear instead.
“I have an app on my phone,” he whispered.
As he drew back to see my reaction, his lips twitched into a smirk.
“An app,” I repeated with a laugh, though my pulse was jumping. “I thought you were going to tell me that all country bumpkins can navigate by the stars.”
“I’ve never had to steer a ship, but I’m confident that I could.”
He moved his hand from my shoulder to stroke my upper arm. Even though he was stroking over my T-shirt, not touching my skin, his touch sent pleasurable shivers through me.
“You’re confident, huh?” His touch was so nice, I was losing track of what we were talking about. All I could think about was how close he was and how good he smelled.
“Very confident. Almost certain.” His tone was soft and careless, as though he was paying as little attention as I was to the conversation.
His gaze caressed my lips.
He was definitely thinking about kissing me. Only he was taking his own sweet time about doing it. And I couldn’t stand the anticipation.
“Are you going to kiss me?” I asked.
“Would you object?”
I swallowed. An aching feeling of want was spreading through my body, and I couldn’t stop imagining how his lips might feel against mine.
Should I give in to my own bad judgement? Kiss a man I shouldn’t, just because he happened to be unexpectedly sexy?
“I’ve never kissed someone with enough facial hair to have its own zip code,” I murmured.
With a quirk of his lips, he ran his hand over his beard, taming its wildness for a moment before it sprang back into full chaos. “It’s long now, I’ll admit. I’ve gotten out of the habit of shaving, and I haven’t trimmed it in a while.”
“Do you have a chin under there? Your face doesn’t end at your bottom lip?”
“Last I remember seeing it, I had a chin.” His tone was as light as mine, but his gaze was serious. “Are you saying you don’t want to kiss me because of my beard?”
“Your beard isn’t the only thing standing in our way. There’s also your ill-informed love of country and western music.”
His laugh was a slow, warm rumble I could feel down to the soles of my feet. “Give it a chance, and you might just develop a liking for it.”
“For beards or for bluegrass?”
“Oh, you’re already a fan of bluegrass,” he said, still smiling. “I converted you. And beards will be next. You know what they say. Once you go beard, you don’t go back.”
I let out a laugh that accidentally came out as a snort. “That’s not what they say.”
“It’s what they should say.” Lifting his hand to my hair, he took a few strands between his thumb and forefinger and gave them a gentle tug. His smile softened. “What’s going on in that lovely head of yours? Are you thinking up more reasons not to kiss me?”
“How would I even find your lips in all that facial hair?” I sighed, because there were plenty of excellent reasons not to kiss him, and all I could think about was how much I wanted to do it anyway.
“It’ll be fun,” he said. “A treasure hunt.”
“Your lips are treasure?”
“Of the best kind.”
“Is there a prize if I find them?”
His smile grew. “One you’ll like.”
He lowered his face slowly, and he must have been able to read my eagerness because his lips quirked up again before his mouth found mine.
The contact sent a jolt of electricity coursing through my body. His beard was softer than it looked, while his kiss was firmer than I’d expected. He tasted of the red wine he’d had with dinner, and when he nipped my lip it felt so good that I let out a soft sound of surprise.
One of his hands went behind my head, caressing the nape of my neck and gathering strands of hair. The other hand splayed against the small of my back, holding me against him.
His beard brushed against my cheeks, but at first I barely registered it. My entire being was focused on other sensations, namely the warm caress of his tongue and the delicious tug of his big hand in my hair. Then I felt the hard jut of his erection pressing against my stomach, and an answering ache throbbed between my legs.
As Cy moved his head, his beard rasped against my face. The sudden roughness only intensified the hotness of the kiss. His lips were like velvet, but they were commanding. His bossy tongue controlled the kiss. Controlled me.
And I loved it.
A moment later, I realized I’d brought both hands up to tangle them in his beard so I could drag his face down harder against mine. He felt so masculine. Every part of him was big, strong, and hard. He was as solid as an oak tree, and he kissed like he ruled the world. No wonder I was so turned on.
When he pulled away, I was panting. I wanted more.
But he opened his eyes and smiled softly down at me, as though waiting for me to say something.
“That was...” I blew out my breath. “Unexpectedly amazing.”
“Unexpectedly?”
I nodded. “You’re the last person in the world I expected to kiss.”
“The last person in the entire world.” He gave another of his rumbly laughs, one of his hands still pleasantly heavy on the back of my neck, the other resting on my hip. “Bottom of your list. Scraping the barrel, huh?”
I tightened my fingers in his shirt. “Well, did you expect to be kissing me?”
He lifted a shoulder in a half shrug that was irritatingly nonchalant. “At least if I keep your mouth busy, you can’t insult me.”
“That was your plan?” I wrinkled my nose at him. “Then I guess it’s perfect. I don’t want romance, and it sounds like you don’t either.”
His hand went to my face, cupping it, his thumb brushing softly against my cheek. “Don’t pull any punches, Brooklyn. Tell me how it’s going to be.” His tone was full of quiet humor.
“I like to be direct.”
“I’ve noticed.” He pulled me closer, the rumble of his voice going even lower. “So you don’t want to kiss me again?”
“I wouldn’t exactly say that. Not in those precise words.” For some reason, it came out sounding breathless. I stared at his top lip, barely peeking out from that terrible beard. I shouldn’t want to kiss him. But the needy thrum was throbbing relentlessly through my body and the low ache between my thighs demanded to be satisfied.
Fisting his shirt, I tugged him against me, reaching my face up to his.
This time, I sunk both hands into his beard, tangling my fingers in it. It felt wiry in my palms. Impossibly long. I used it to bring his face closer, to kiss him harder. I wanted his tongue, his mouth. His wonderfully big body. That giant, insistent erection I could feel, taunting me by pressing too high against my body instead of where I wanted it to be.
His big hands pressed into my back, tugging me into him. I tried to pull myself higher against him, wanting to climb him. I wanted him to lift me so I could wrap my legs around him. I needed friction.
When he let me go, I made an involuntary whimpering sound. The sound was embarrassingly needy. Hearing it allowed some of my good sense to come flooding back, and suddenly I wondered what the hell I was doing.
Kissing Cy hadn’t been part of my plan.
All I wanted was to resolve my Spike problem and go home. Then I planned on being single for a very long time. If I ever wanted to date again, I’d go looking for a nice, safe banker or stockbroker. The exact opposite of a bad boy. I’d find someone clean-cut and well groomed, who wore three-piece suits all the time, even to bed. His name would be something like Alexander or Charles. Maybe Benedict. And he wouldn’t be growing highly suspicious mushrooms in a padlocked barn.
Behind us, the porch light went on. Drawing back, Cy took his hand from my neck. I immediately missed its weight and the soft brush of his fingers against my sensitive skin.
He glanced at the house and frowned. Maybe Gemma was watching us from the window, and he didn’t want her to know we’d been kissing.
My phone buzzed with a notification. Tugging it out of my bag, I saw a message from Eric. No, not a message. A picture. It was a photo of the crowd watching him play. There was a sea of people. He clearly expected it to impress me.
Great timing, Eric.
Cy’s frown deepened as he stared down at the photo. “Is that from your boyfriend? Tell me you’re not still dating that musician you talked about.”
“Technically speaking, Eric and I are still together.” I winced, tucking my phone away.
“I don’t kiss women who have boyfriends.”
“That’s a good thing.” I blew out a breath as I nodded. My head was still spinning and my knees were weak. Not to mention the serious situation happening in my panties, with aching parts of me begging for relief. “This picture is the perfect reminder of why I’d planned to stay away from men for a very long time. And I should go before your niece sees you kissing someone you hardly know.” I rummaged in my bag. “Where are my car keys?”
“You pulled them out of your bag earlier, before we kissed. Then I heard you drop them.”
“I did?” He must have scrambled my brain, as I had no memory of it at all.
He bent and scooped them off the ground, then handed them to me. “How much money does the drug dealer think you owe him?”
“Um.” I sucked in another deep breath, still pulling my fractured thoughts together. “Ten thousand dollars.”
“Hmm.” If he was surprised at the amount, I couldn’t tell. He stuck his hands in his pockets, his shoulders hitching up.
“And I already gave Spike all my savings,” I admitted. “Ten thousand is just the amount Eric still owes.” I shook my head. “You would not believe the cost of illegal drugs these days. It’s criminal!” Then I gave a strained-sounding laugh. “Well, I don’t have to tell you that, right?”
His eyebrows drew together. Now his frown looked both worried and puzzled. “What do you mean?”
“Never mind. It doesn’t matter.” I ran shaky fingers over my lips. They felt well-kissed, and I could still taste him. “I’ll figure it out. If I can give Spike the money, all this goes away, and Eric can pay me back when he gets back from his tour.”
“The drug dealer won’t back off?” he asked.
“He’s given no sign of wanting to.”
“Then come back to my place tomorrow night with a suitcase. Stay with me while you’re here, and if this Spike guy turns up, I’ll have words with him.”
He said it in a low, growly tone, and I wondered if by “words” he meant “fists”. The thought he might be willing to stand up for me was strangely comforting, even if I’d never let him do it.
“Uh-uh.” I shook my head. “Thanks anyway, but I’m not going to hide out at your place. I’m going back to Carla’s.”
He gave a frustrated grunt. “At least come back for dinner tomorrow night. I don’t want to be sitting up here doing nothing, while you’re down the road eating frozen pizza and waiting for a dangerous man to find you.”
I sighed. How could I argue?
“I guess it would be rude to turn down another home-cooked meal,” I said, conflicted. “And you’re not going to kiss me again, right?”
“Not if you have a boyfriend.”
“Forget about him. The important thing is, I shouldn’t want to kiss you.”
“Then it won’t happen.” He held up both hands to highlight the fact he was no longer touching me. “I won’t press you.”
“How gentlemanly.”
“This is the South, sweetheart. You can expect me to be a gentleman.” His gaze dropped to my lips and his voice deepened. “Unless you want me to act otherwise.”
A fresh rush of arousal coursed through me, and it was so strong I could barely stop myself from moving back into him. But that would be reckless. This couldn’t turn into anything, so there was no sense in driving us both crazy with wanting it.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I said, opening my car door so Zeppelin could jump in. “Thanks for tonight. Dinner was nice.”
“You’re welcome, Mags.”
“Hey, you finally got my name right, Cy. And it’s twice as long as yours!”
He let out a rueful chuckle, and I shot him a teasing smile as I shut the car door.
As I drove away, he stood and watched me go. I kept my eyes on his dark silhouette, my heart jumping. I could still taste him on my lips. I could smell his scent, and imagine his big hands were still caressing my body, his tongue still claiming mine.
And I knew for a fact I was going to imagine it again so hard when I got home. The way I was feeling, I might even imagine it twice.