1512298433 (R) (6 page)

Unbidden, a moan left her. His grip tightened, pressing her fully against him. She could feel every inch of his hard body, including a very impressive erection. The size and pressure made her completely aware of how long it had been since she’d had sex.

Finally, he pulled away from her, his blue eyes dark and heavy-lidded. “Admit it.”

“Admit what?”

With a confident grin, he began to nuzzle her throat. “That you enjoy kissing me.”

“I can’t,” she gasped as he began to nibble on her ear.

“Yes, you can.” He kissed a sensitive spot behind that same ear. A spot she didn’t even know existed. Was he always this thorough?

“I didn’t enjoy it,” she said softly. Enjoy was something she used to describe an evening with friends, or dinner out. She
hungered
for his kiss.

He leaned back a little. “Does that mean I can’t kiss you again?”

Seconds passed, turning into long minutes, it seemed, before she could trust herself to answer. “I don’t know.”

His brows furrowed, but he didn’t let go of her like she expected. “Are you afraid that it will lead to more?”

Be honest, Haven. In this, at least, be honest.
“Yes.”

“Sweetheart, I would never pressure you into something you weren’t comfortable with—married or not. I want a woman who’s willing and isn’t shy about letting me know what she wants.”

“I—Heath,” she breathed, letting her forehead rest against his. “I haven’t had very good experiences with sex. They’re limited too.”

“Did someone hurt you?” The slumberous desire on his handsome face gave way to potent fury.

Quickly, she shook her head. “No. It’s…embarrassing…”

“Tell me,” he said in a voice that was borderline hypnotic.

How else could she explain the need to spill her guts? “I’ve only hooked up with two guys and only two times.”

“Each?”

“Total.”

He remained silent, but his gaze stayed on hers—sympathetic yet encouraging her to reveal everything. Well, almost everything.

“Once in high school, and again in college to see if the first time was a fluke.”

“And what happened?”

“They both hit it and quit it.” She glanced away, her face heating at the term. “After the second guy, I swore I wouldn’t put myself in a position like that again.”

“You swore off sex entirely?”

“Celibacy isn’t such a bad thing. And I didn’t rule out orgasms. I love those,” she said, then she had to take another breath. “I’m not saying I don’t want to ever have sex again. I just want to be really sure.”

Why was she telling him this? It was none of his business, and they weren’t even married yet. He would think she was a freak and refuse to go through with the wedding.

She felt his hand on her face, gently turning it so she would face him. Biting her lip, she glanced up.

“No matter what you think of me, I won’t betray your trust. I won’t betray you at all. Even though what we’re doing is for convenience, I’ll treat our marriage like it’s real. I’ll be the most loving, the most devoted husband baseball’s ever seen.”

She hadn’t thought of that. Hadn’t thought of the ramifications of marrying someone who was in the spotlight.

What if he was caught supposedly cheating on her? How would that make him look to his fans? More importantly, how would that make him look to his family?

“Thank you,” she said softly and laid her head against his chest.

He stroked her hair, murmured something unintelligible into it, and then kissed her forehead. “I need to go.”

“What will you tell your family and friends?”

“That we’re getting married.”

“I’ll do the same.” It wouldn’t be a lie, and thank God Willow knew the truth because Haven would have probably blurt it out anyway.

He caressed the side of her face. “Who knows—maybe after we’re married, you’ll like it so much that you won’t want to get a divorce.”

She smiled instead of answering and stepped out of his warm embrace, quickly opening the door so he could leave before she said something stupid. Obviously, their make-out session was too much for her to handle because he turned her into a moaning, needy, confessing hot mess of a woman.

A light breeze washed over her, clearing her head.

Heath waved at her as he sped away, and she lifted her hand in return. Gotham rubbed against her legs. Bending over, she picked up her cat and buried her face into her fur, trying to replace Heath’s mouthwatering scent.

What was she going to do with him?

Gotham meowed.

She smiled sadly. She knew what she had to do, and she had been completely upfront with him from the beginning.

Their marriage would end as soon as Chesson House was in her name.

Chapter Seven

‡

T
hat evening, Haven texted Willow instead of calling her. Sure, it might have been the coward’s way out, but she actually didn’t want to hear her friend gloat.

HAVEN:
He said yes.

WILLOW:
OMG

HAVEN:
We’re getting married in two days.

WILLOW:
OMG

HAVEN:
He wants a real wedding so his momma won’t be upset. Guess he didn’t think about how the inevitable divorce would affect her.

WILLOW:
OMG

HAVEN:
That’s not funny.

WILLOW:
OMG

HAVEN:
I swear, if you type OMG one more time, I’ll never speak to you again.

Her phone rang.

“I wasn’t trying to be funny. My stupid phone got stuck,” Willow said in a rush as soon as Haven answered. “Holy crap, Haven. I don’t know what to say.”

“As long as it’s not OMG, we’re okay.”

Willow snort-giggled. “It was a natural reaction.”

“It made me consider first-degree murder.”

“Is that when you plan to kill someone, and then carry it out?”

“Yep,” she answered cheerfully.

“That’s sick you know that.”

“It was the answer to a Jeopardy question last night.”

“Fun.” Willow was silent for a moment. “Do I get to plan your wedding?”

“Do you have time to plan my wedding?”

“Um…
wellllll
… actually, I—”

“You’ve already planned my wedding, haven’t you?”

She could practically hear the wince in Willow’s voice as she spoke, “I’m sorry. It’s just something I do. But if you hate it, then I can totally change it, or we can pretend this conversation never happened.”

“What did you have in mind?”

“I was thinking simple but classy. A nod to the past but with modern touches. Pinks and whites with sparkly accents. Lavender and lilac centerpieces to match your bouquet. All your favorite
hors d’oeuvres
.”

Warmth suffused Haven. Tears actually gathered in her throat. Yes, she hadn’t planned to ever marry, but the fact that her best friend had taken the time to think about what she could possibly want made her feel wholly inferior as a friend.

“I don’t deserve you.”

“Darn right you don’t”

Haven mocked gasped in outrage. “Willow Vaughn, did something mean just leave your mouth?”

“What can I say—you’re a very good influence on me,” she chirped.

Haven shook her head. “Okay, I’ve upheld my end of the bargain, so this means you have to uphold yours.”

“But I’m not brave like you,” Willow replied in a small voice. “Besides, he’s still with Corinne and until he’s not, then Logan is off-limits.”

The sadness in her friend’s voice made her regret the reminder she’d given her. “I was only teasing you, Willow. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, especially something so outside your comfort zone.”

“I know…but maybe one day, I’ll get the chance to do something really unexpected and shock even you.”

Haven smiled. “I hope you do.” Then she changed the subject, and they began to plan.

*

Heath sat at the dinner table with his parents and his brother Luke while they finished up dessert. So far, the only one giving him narrowed-eyed looks was his brother, but that was because he’d taken the last piece of angel food cake.

“That was a very short date,” his mother said, breaking the silence.

His dad kept right on eating, taking sips of coffee every so often.

“What date?” Luke asked.

“He had one with Haven Crawford,” his mother said before he could answer.

Luke blinked at him. “Really? I though the two of you couldn’t—”

“We’ve worked out our differences,” he interjected before his brother could reveal too much. While his mother thought the world of Haven for what she had done for her grandparents, she didn’t take so kindly to anyone giving her children a hard time.

Least of all a woman who constantly shot down his intelligence every chance she got. But she sure as hell hadn’t shot him down when he kissed her. And she’d had several opportunities to do so.

His phone buzzed and he sneaked a peek. A text from Haven popped up on the screen with details on the date, place, and time of the wedding. Guess it was time to share the rest.

Heart kicking against his chest, he continued, “I know this might come as a shock, but we—Haven and I have…well, you see, we have this history, and when I came home, it came back to life.”

His brother gave him an odd look, while their mother stared at him in rapt attention. Meanwhile, he thought he sounded like an idiot. A transparent idiot. Haven was going to kill him.

“What are you trying to say?” his mother asked.

“Haven and I are getting married in three days.” He smiled at all their shocked faces. “We’d love for you to come. It’ll be at Chesson House. At one-thirty in the afternoon.”

With that, he rose from the chair and grabbed his plate before heading to the kitchen and placing it in the dishwasher. No one followed him. He didn’t know if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

Kind of like his upcoming marriage to Haven.

*

Later that evening, after a seven-mile run and a shower, Heath stretched out in his old bed. A yawn cracked his mouth open.

Instead of going to sleep right away, he got his laptop out and watched videos of old games.

After he just noticed that Smithson couldn’t hit a basic slider, his phone buzzed.

HAVEN:
What’s your favorite song?

Brow furrowing, he set his laptop to the side and answered her.

HEATH:
Anything by Jaxon Hunter.

HAVEN:
Ugh. You would.

He laughed.

HEATH:
I saw your foot tapping to his latest at Bobby and Darla Rae’s wedding.

HAVEN:
My foot is not responsible for its reactions to musical stimuli.

HEATH:
What’s your favorite song?

HAVEN:
Girl Crush.

That was an odd choice. Which guy did she want back? A surge of unexpected jealousy hit him.

HEATH:
That might not be the best song to dance to at our wedding.

HAVEN:
We can dance to whatever we want.

Shit.
Now she was all defensive.

HEATH:
But we can’t leave our friends behind, even if they don’t dance.

HAVEN:
Stop making me laugh. You’re not supposed to be this funny.

He pressed call on his screen.

She picked up after the second ring.

“I’d rather make you laugh than you be pissed off at me,” he said.

“As long as you don’t say something to piss me off, then you should be okay.”

“I don’t think I can be quiet for the next sixty years, Haven.”

A cross between a snort and a giggle left her. “We’ve already known each other for what…fifteen years now? I guess I can put up with the things that come out of your mouth.”

“You’re in a good mood,” he observed.

“I’m drinking margaritas!”

And that explained so much. “With Willow?”

“Yep! We’re at her place. I’m going to spend the night.”

“Very smart thinking, but if you want to go anywhere, call me and I’ll come get you.”

“Like on a date?” She hiccupped.

“Sure. Like on a date.”

“What if I told you that Gotham needs you… to let her go potty?” She dissolved into a fit of laughter.

“I’d put on my cape and rescue the poor cat.”

“You have a cape.”

“I wasn’t being literal.”

“You
literally
have a cape? Can I wear it?”

He bit back a laugh at her enthusiasm. “Put Willow on the phone, honey.”

“Don’t call me honey, sweetheart. Or is that darlin’? Willow, what’s the song to the words?”

He heard some rustling, and then an ouch followed by a, “Sit down
now
.”

“Sorry. It’s kind of hit her all at once,” Willow said. “She’s been doing shots with her margaritas, but don’t worry, I’m not drinking.”