“Nestle her on this for tonight.” Rhett went to the corner of the room and returned with a corduroy pillow. “I’ll grab a crate from my tool shed in the morning. Right now though, I’d rather hold you.”
After Kitty was tucked in for the night and the dogs padded off to their cots, Pepper crawled into his bed and his big, strong arms. He lazily unbuttoned her top button and then another, and then one more. Enough space to ease a hand in, caress the soft swell encased in flimsy lace. She’d worn a good bra tonight, one that set the girls off to perky perfection. Every other guy she’d been with always did a cursory rush job, groped as if tuning in Tokyo or kneading bread.
But Rhett.Oh, God, Rhett.He took his time gliding his thumb around her outer nipple, not content to simply let it harden, no, he kept up the maddening circles until her flesh ached into a sharp peak, her cheeks flamed, and sweat sheened her chest.
Then, only then, did he lower his head and suck.
Her head rocked back, her eyes sank closed. Her first bona fide fling was going to ruin her for all others.
Rhett understood, without being told, the complex mashup of nerve endings. The way the build needed to come slow, through delicate touches and ever increasing pressure. He built momentum until by the time he swirled his tongue over the nub, her body arched on reflex, ready for more, but he skirted away.
“You’re a tease,” she gasped.
“And you love it.”
“I do, but I want…”
“Tell me.” His lips were against her ear. He traced up the shell with the tip of his tongue, nibbling on the sides.
God, even that. How much he did with just an ear.
She rolled to face him, her mouth dry. It was so darn hard to ask for what she wanted. What she needed. To take up space. If she made herself a bother, no one would want to stick around.
But Rhett wasn’t staring at her like she was a bother. In fact, he was the one who looked hot and bothered. The sight gave her courage. She licked her lips. Here goes nothing. “I want you. Again. And again. And again.”
“Four times in a row?” He smirked, nuzzling her neck, tracing her clavicle with the point of her tongue. “I’m willing to try if you are.”
Her breasts grew full and heavy from his attentions. “I like your house.”
“Tell me what you like about it.” He drew the skin at her throat into his mouth, tasting, before opening her shirt all the way and running his cheek over her swells, the rough grit of his scruff causing her skin to break into goosebumps.
“That picture,” she whispered, tangling her fingers in his hair. The image was framed in silver and hung on the opposite wall. It was a black and white image of a young woman holding a little boy.
He stopped moving and looked up. “Me and Mama.”
“I haven’t met her. Lou Ellen made it sound like she wasn’t around.” It seemed a terrible thing to wish, that he’d been left, too.
“She’s dead.” He said the words simply, but something fell over him, an invisible cloak, impermeable to outside elements.
“Oh no.” Her throat clamped shut. He walked a path she couldn’t even imagine. “I’m so sorry.”
He shrugged, but with so much effort it was obvious that it was more than a simple, casual gesture. “It happened fifteen years ago. I was twenty.” Silence stretched over a few seconds. “The strange thing is, I’m near the point where I’ve lived longer without her than with her.”
“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” she said, so softly she wasn’t sure he’d heard.
But eventually he spoke. “Her name was Virginia, but everyone called her Ginny.” A ghost of a smile played on his lips. “You know, she was a lot like Lou Ellen except minus the sarcasm. Those two were a headstrong pair, always arguing but in a way that you knew meant that they loved you. Doc adored her. Thought the sun rose and set just to bring her joy.”
“How’d she die? Cancer? Car accident?” She’d passed so young.
“A bee.” He folded his hands behind his head. His voice stripped of any emotion. “Simple fucking honeybee.”
Oh no. “An allergy?”
He nodded once. “No one knew. Guess she’d never been stung, or she developed it later in life. I’d come home from my first year at UGA. It had been rough, Doc pressuring me to do pre-med, but I wasn’t sure. Mama said to stay true to my own path, but Doc was stubborn. He wouldn’t pay another cent unless I did the degree. That it’s what Valentine men did, became doctors. He was right, too. He was, his daddy had been, and at least the one before that.
“We had a fight and I stormed out, found Beau, drank a few beers, went fishing, and cooled down. But I didn’t close the back door on my way out and one of our dogs escaped. She was a new rescue, skittish. Mama carried on fretting until Doc said he’d go help find the dog.
“They hiked through the forest. She bent to pick a Carolina lily and a bee stung her on the back of the neck. Didn’t take long for her to start wheezing. Told Dad she was out of shape. Laughed it off. But it progressed quicky.”
