Burn For You (Boys of the South)

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Authors: Marquita Valentine

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BOOK: Burn For You (Boys of the South)
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Burn For You

Copyright © 2014 by Marquita Valentine

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, transmitted downloaded, distributed, stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, without express permission of the author, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes.

This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to any person, living or dead, or any events or occurrences, is purely coincidental. The characters and story lines are created from the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

Professionally Copy Edited by Cynthia Shepp

Cover Design by Okay Creations

Image by K. Keeton Designs

www.marquitavalentine.com

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Table of Contents

Copyright Page

Burn For You (Boys of the South, #5)

Chapter One | Beau

Chapter Two | Landry

Chapter Three | Beau

Chapter Four | Landry

Chapter Five | Beau

Chapter Six | Beau

Chapter Seven | Landry

Chapter Eight | Landry

Chapter Nine | Landry

Chapter Ten | Landry

Chapter Eleven | Beau

Chapter Twelve | Beau

Chapter Thirteen | Beau

Chapter Fourteen | Beau

Chapter Fifteen | Landry

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen | Beau

Chapter Eighteen | Landry

Chapter Nineteen | Beau

Chapter Twenty | Beau

Chapter Twenty-One | Landry

Chapter Twenty-Two | Beau

Chapter Twenty-Three | Beau

Chapter Twenty-Four | Landry

Chapter Twenty-Five | Beau

Chapter Twenty-Six | Beau

Chapter Twenty-Seven | Landry

Chapter Twenty-Eight | Landry

Chapter Twenty-Nine | Beau

Chapter Thirty | Beau

Chapter Thirty-One | Landry

Chapter Thirty-Two | Beau

Chapter Thirty-Three | Beau

Chapter Thirty-Four | Landry

Epilogue | Beau

Holland Springs Series

Boys of the South Series

Acknowledgments

This Wicked Rush

To the men who take responsibility, and the women who love them for it.

Chapter One
Beau

I
remember
the very first time I fell in love. It was the summer before my senior year of high school. I’d moved from Holland Springs back to Forrestville, to live with Remington Montgomery, the man who’d lied to my mother about his marriage and gotten her pregnant.

So, there I was, the product of an illicit affair, living with my
dad
, his wife, and their two kids, like some kind of warped-version of
Annie
or something.

All of seventeen, my hair had been bright green and my mood black while I’d gone with my oldest
brother
to Lake Norman. I’d never seen so many popped-collars and khaki shorts in my life. Then
she
entered my line of sight, a sun-kissed vision in her short dress and bouncy hair. 

I hadn’t been able to stop myself, so I’d gone to her, and asked her name.

“Paisley Sawyer.”

I grinned, my heart beating louder than the roar of the crowd at Talladega on a Sunday afternoon. “Beau Montgomery.”

“You look a little nervous,” she said with a gorgeous smile. “Need a little help with that?”

I ran my fingers through my hair and nibbled on my lip ring. “Am I that obvious?”

She held out her hand, two fingers almost touching. “Maybe just a little bit.”

“I don’t think I’m the lake type.” I inclined my head toward the crowd of guys and girls on the pier. Quite a few of them gave me dirty looks or rolled their eyes as they talked about me.

Paisley’s fingers brushed against my hand. “I think you could be any type you want.”

I cocked my head to one side. “What about your type?”

“Most definitely my type.”

Our hands laced together, and we went for a walk.

“Are you just here for the summer?” she asked.

“No.” I really didn’t want to tell this girl I was a bastard.

“Remington told everyone all about you.”

So much for keeping that quiet. I scanned the horizon, not really paying attention to the boats on the lake.  “Did he?”

“Yep, that he’d made a mistake and rectified it by taking you in and giving you everything you always wanted.”

Was that scorn I heard in her voice? “I’m here for the money, nothing else. He owes me.”

Paisley came around to stand in front of me. “That’s an honest answer.”

“It doesn’t make me evil?”

Her blue eyes searched my face. “What do you think?”

I think I’m in love.
“Remington feels guilty, is all.”

We started walking again, her hand tight in mine once more. “About what?”

“About killing my mother. She slit her wrists while I was away at my uncle’s for the summer. When I came home, I found her...body in the tub.” Or what was left of it. She’d been pregnant again, by Remington. She and the baby had died. “I was fifteen.”

Paisley froze, looking up at me. “I’m so sorry, Beau.” Then she said something I never expected. “My mom killed herself too, when I was twelve. I found her in my parents’ bedroom. She’d overdosed.”

“I-I... I’m sorry, Paisley.”

“I hate her.” Her eyes were shadowed. “I hate her for leaving us. “

“For a while, I felt the same way.”

“Am I wrong to still feel this way? To still hate her?”

I shook my head. “No.” I meant it. There was no right or wrong way of dealing with a parent’s death.  “We all have to find out way in the world. Whatever path we choose can change whenever we want, because we’re not stuck. We’re just travelling for a while.”

“I’ve never met another person who had to deal with suicide. Most of the time, I feel like a weirdo.” She gave me a crooked smile, and my heart tumbled to my toes. “But not you. You make me feel... normal.”

“Normal is good.” Pulling her into the shadows, I wrapped my arms around her, holding her close as we talked about our lives, our parents, and then nothing at all. We just stood there, holding on to one another, not letting go.

“Beau,” she whispered my name, and I glanced down at her. “I want you.”

Gently, I pressed my mouth against her and she sucked on my lip ring. I groaned, pulling her closer and fitting her against me. I was hard and she was soft. I didn’t want this to end. Kissing this girl feels so right, so perfect. Her tongue slid against mine, and I moaned.

Suddenly, she stepped back and gave me a seductive smile. Under the shade of an old oak tree, Paisley took off her dress and my mouth went dry. She wore a bright pink two-piece that left little to the imagination. Then, her tiny bikini dropped to the ground, and my knees went weak.

She twisted her hands together and gave me a ghost of a smile.  “I’m not in the habit of doing things like this.”

I put my hands on her warm hips, our bodies almost touching. I really needed to get out of my clothes. “But you have done this before.”

A teasing gleam entered her blue eyes. “Once or twice.”

Relief filled me. I had only been with one girl and that had been five months ago, but I wasn’t about to admit that. Talk about my mother’s suicide, sure, but admitting I was practically a seventeen-year-old virgin to this really hot girl? Not. Happening.

“We can do it standing up, if you want,” she whispered against my mouth. “Or from behind.”

Something inside of me rebelled at the thought of our first time being so impersonal. I wanted contact. I wanted intimacy.

Obviously, I was a pussy.

Her teasing gleam turned into a glare of annoyance.  “Or we can do it missionary style. Whatever.”

Desperate to please her, I shook my head. “Don’t be so impatient. I’m trying to figure which branch is best for you to hold onto, is all.”

Annoyance gave way to lust. She turned around, and I followed her. I pulled out a condom and before I knew it, we were done. We’d barely kissed, and I said something to her about it.

“Kissing is too sentimental,” she said while dressing.

“Oh. Yeah.” Apparently, my tone or the hurt look on my face must have done something, because the next thing I knew, Paisley’s mouth was on mine, tender and loving. 

“You are too sweet, Beau,” she said and my chest puffed up at the compliment. “Though the lip ring is bad ass.”

From that day forward, Paisley held my heart and sometimes my balls in her dainty little hands. She helped me fit in with the kids in The Oaks’ neighborhood and Forrestville High School.  She took pride introducing me as her boyfriend, though she never failed to mention my position as the love child of an affair. The way she said it made it sound romantic, but the way I lived it was anything but.

Stupidly, I stayed with her.

I fell deeper and deeper. On Valentine’s Day, I told her I loved her and we’d made love. I thought I was going to marry her.  But the week before senior prom, I caught Paisley with the captain of the football team. And by caught, I meant screwing him in his pickup truck behind school.

There’d been tears from her, threats of ass-whoopings from Captain America an me, and then, once prom was over, Paisley wormed her way right back into my heart. She texted me and like an eager puppy, I drove right to her.

“I’m sorry, Beau. That day... when you found Paul and me... it’s the day my mother left me,” she said softly, once I arrived at her house. “I don’t expect you to forgive me or take me back, but I wanted you to know. I get a little crazy on that day.”

“You could have gotten a little crazy with me,” I shouted, rubbing my hand over the back of my neck.

She licked her lips. “You’re all bark and no bite, Beau. We choose to deal with death differently.”

“I can be whatever you want,” I insisted, the rational part of me dying a swift death. “Whenever you want.”

“I don’t know... You might not—”

“I do,” I swore. “I can take whatever you dish out—just don’t leave me.”

She agreed, and over the next few years, I did almost everything and anything she wanted. Though I pissed her off more often than not when I drew the line at threesomes, or swapping partners. Still, I drank, I partied, I smoked up, and I got fucked up. A lot.

At any time, I could have walked and she pushed me away often enough, but I was determined to be there for her. To fill in a void that her mother’s death had left.

I allowed her to push and pull, to run away and come back, because I loved her. She was everything I wanted out of life, everything I thought was good. I rationalized all of her behavior. No one was perfect. We all slipped up. Only Paisley...

I shake my head, adjusting the sweet weight in my arms, and take a deep breath as I come back to the present.

Paisley still slips a lot. We’re worse than two junkies needing a hit and can only get it from each other.  But each time she comes back to me, it’s like my entire world is right again. It’s Paisley and me versus everyone else. With her, I win races, I take on my bastard of a father... I conquer the world. I’m ten-feet tall and bulletproof.

Nothing can get past me,
until now
.

The baby in my arms opens her eyes and gazes at me, all kitten-like as she moves. My defenses fall, useless.

I’m in love, completely, hopelessly, nobody-better-ever-lay-a-hand-on-her in love. It’s nothing like I’ve ever felt before, not even with Paisley. This...this is all encompassing; it’s heart breaking and heart mending at the same time. This tiny bundle owns me, in the best possible way.

“Did you decide on a name yet?” I ask, not taking my eyes off my daughter as I count her toes and fingers. Ten of each. I kiss her hand, drawing her baby scent inside of me. I want to memorize it, and her features, just in case the nurse tries to bring us back the wrong one.

“Mia Sawyer.”

I frown and glance at Paisley. She’s lying in the hospital bed, her face pale and her dark hair pulled into a loose bun on top of her head. She looks exhausted, as she should, but I’m too confused by her response to not question her decision.

“Not Montgomery?”

Her blue eyes grow hard, her lips thinning.  “We’ve been through this—”

“I gave up everything for you,” I say softly, but I make sure Paisley knows I’m not backing down. “For the three of us.”

“Didn’t ask you to,” she snaps.

“Of course you didn’t.” I walk to the window, careful to balance Mia in the crook on my arm. “I wanted to give it up. I don’t regret it, not for one minute. It was worth it to have you and Mia in my life. We’re a family now.”

Paisley laughs and instead of warming my heart, it chills it. “Beau, you are so stupid. So gullible and—”

Turning, I pin Paisley with a glare. “Why are you saying that?”

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