Forever in Love (10 page)

He grinned. “Guess we’ll just have to improvise.”

And just like that she could breathe easily again. Relief and gratitude that he wasn’t making a big deal about it coursed through her.

He touched her again, kissing her even more deeply, like he was trying to draw out her every secret, every bit of her soul. His lips and callused hands explored her, touching every nook and cranny. He paid some special attention to her breasts, and she felt herself grow wetter as he suckled her nipples one by one with care.

She gasped with shock and pleasure as he found a particularly sensitive spot where her lower belly creased into her thighs. He put his mouth there and sucked on it.

“Blaine,” she groaned his name and lifted her pelvis.

He spread her thighs wider and kissed and nibbled every inch of her delicate skin, avoiding her pulsing sex. Moisture pooled then dripped. She should’ve been ashamed—he could see everything in the morning light, but she wasn’t. She wanted him to see what he was doing to her.

Slowly, very slowly, he tongued her clit. All the nerve endings in her body blazed with sensation, and her hips jerked off the bed.

“Shh, easy…easy.” He touched the nub gently, then harder as her moans grew louder and the sheet twisted in her fists.

He seemed somehow to be completely in tune with her body. When she was close, he sucked her clit and licked it hard until a tight ball of pleasure spiraled out of her, and her back arched as she sobbed out her climax.

“That was beautiful.” Blaine kissed her between her legs. “You’re beautiful.” Before she could catch her breath, he pushed a finger inside her, and she gasped at the way it stretched her inner muscles. “God, you’re tight.”

As he pulled it out, she clenched, not wanting it to go.

“I’m going to make you come screaming my name,” he murmured, his glittering eyes intent on hers.

He moved the finger in and out of her; soon another joined it, and then a third. She moaned at how full she felt, but she also mourned it wasn’t his thick cock inside her. Her mind splintered as another orgasm hit her, robbing her of air, thoughts and sanity.

He rested his forehead against hers, his eyes brilliant this close. She could feel his hard length pressing against her belly. He hadn’t done anything but focus on her pleasure. “Your turn,” she whispered and reached lower and wrapped her hand around him.

“Yes. Just like that,” he hissed as he rocked his pelvis. His mouth closed around her nipple, while he filled her with his fingers and used his thumb against her clit.

Her back arched as another tight ball of pleasure coiled in her belly. She tightened her hand around him and thumbed the tip of his cock every time he thrust.

From the way his breathing grew faster and rougher, she knew he was getting close. But he didn’t let go. He scraped her nipple with his teeth, the sharp pain and pleasure pushing her over the edge.

She shattered again with a scream, and only then he cursed and bowed his back. The muscles in his neck stood out starkly as hot white seed shot out in silken ropes.

Catherine watched their bodies through half-lidded eyes. What they had done seemed more intimate than the full-blown intercourse she’d had with her exes. The slick folds between her legs still throbbed and contracted involuntarily, and it had everything to do with the fact that it was Blaine in her bed.

He went to the bathroom and returned with a warm moist cloth. His gentle touch lingered over her, like he wanted to make sure she was one hundred percent okay. Catherine couldn’t stop herself from smiling wryly. It was she who’d seduced him, not the other way around.

Had she ever thought him too rough around the edges for her taste? She brushed a few strands of hair out of his face. Bedroom games showed a man’s true nature, how he felt about the woman he was with, and she’d have to say there was nothing rough about him. He was by far the most attentive and caring lover she’d ever had.

She felt something crack inside her and swallowed as fear slithered its way into her heart. Just because he’d been so sweet and tender didn’t mean she could let her guard down. If he knew what she truly was, he’d turn away in disgust. She lay on her side in silence and felt him move behind her, spooning her with his warm body. Closing her eyes, she enjoyed the moment. There was no reason to complicate good sex.

Seconds ticked then minutes flowed. Finally he said, “I have to go.”

“Oh?”

“I got some things to do before the evening.”

The tone of his voice said there was nothing more to discuss about it. He was leaving. She shouldn’t have asked for an explanation in the first place. He didn’t owe her anything just because they had sex, anymore than she did him. “Okay.” Ignoring the awkwardness, she got up and pulled her robe over her, while Blaine got dressed and left.

The house felt as empty as before.
No
,
emptier
, she thought, then hated herself for missing Blaine.

Willie Rae’s house on the outskirts of the town was in better shape than it used to be. A fresh coat of paint, thanks to a local volunteer group—and a nice garden with new shrubs and rose bushes, thanks to the fine ladies at the gardening club. The townsfolk never forgot what she’d lost. Nobody could even if they wanted to. Whenever they passed by her house, they saw Old Glory flying at half-mast.

Blaine made sure her maroon Ford Taurus was in the driveway and got out of his truck. His boots crunched on the cracked gray sidewalk. Willie Rae should probably take care of that, but he doubted anybody would say anything. Everyone knew she didn’t have the money to fix it.

A small sigh escaped him. He’d rather be back at the Blue House with Catherine, but this was something he needed to take care of ASAP. He’d told himself he’d talk to Willie Rae about Catherine’s purse at the end of the previous weekend, but what with Rick out with the flu and all he hadn’t done it.

He knocked and waited.

The door opened a minute later, and Willie Rae’s familiar pale face looked up at him. She was short, but unlike Catherine she wore sensible tennis shoes. Her bleached yellow hair was teased to hide the fact that it was thinning, and she smelled like baby powder as usual. “Hello, Blaine,” she said with her typical wide smile. “Would you like to come in for some tea and cookies? I was just pulling them out of the oven.”

Cookies sounded good, but this was no social call. Enjoying her hospitality when he had some stern words for her seemed wrong. “No, thank you, Willie Rae. I don’t have time to hang around.”

“I see.” She waited.

“Look, I know you have Catherine’s purse. I want you to give it back and apologize to her. I also want you to stop stealing from my customers.”

Her mouth opened, then closed. Her wrinkled throat worked, layers of loose skin resettling into years-old folds. “What?”

“You heard me.”

“First of all, I don’t have her purse. Second, I never stole a thing in my life. I won’t stand for the insult.”

“If that’s the way you want to play it. I guess I’ll have to ban you from The Line.”

“You can’t do that!”

“It’s my place. I don’t have to serve you if I don’t want to.”

Tears welled in her eyes. “I’ve given up my only son for this country. And now you’re treating me like this?”

Blaine steeled himself. He wouldn’t let her manipulate him with tears, which he knew worked on almost everyone in town. The woman could cry every day of the week and twice on Sundays if she needed to. “Everybody in town is sorry for your loss, but you can’t keep on taking people’s stuff. Especially people who aren’t from around here.”

“Why are you taking her side, Blaine? Heard she’s been helping you out at the bar. Is that why?”

“No.” He wished it was as simple as that. Learning about Catherine’s horrible life had shamed him and made him feel small for judging her, like she was another Ceinlys. Championing her now seemed like the most natural thing in the world. The need to make things right, even if it was something as small as her stolen purse, had driven him all the way to Willie Rae’s doorstep. “Different issue.”

“You always were a fool for a fine rich woman, Blaine. She won’t thank you or see you any different because of this, but I see you different. You ain’t no smart boy. Your mama must be rolling in her grave now.”

He almost said, “Think your son’s proud of you stealing?” but managed to swallow the words in time. There was no reason to hit so low.

He ignored Willie Rae’s rant and walked away. The old bat knew nothing. His mother would have been proud of him for doing the right thing.

* * *

Catherine stepped out of her car and stared at the cheerful sign outside The Line. She probably should’ve stayed home and had a salad. But she hated prepping meals just for herself, and she didn’t feel like staying home alone and brooding about what had happened between her and Blaine.

Once the moment was over, she regretted having talked so much. The more she thought about it, the more she was convinced she’d been stupid. Her sob story made her sound like a pathetic little thing who was too dumb to figure out there was always something wrong with men who promised too much. When something sounded too good to be true, it generally was.

In addition, having sex—well, sort of—with Blaine complicated things. He wasn’t just some guy from Cooter’s Bluff. He was Salazar’s son, and she would most likely run into him again. It wouldn’t be long before he took the money and his rightful place among the Pryces. He might be holding out at the moment, but he had fifty million reasons to cave in.

She took a deep breath.
Too late for regrets now
. Hiding would be counterproductive since she really needed that favor from Salazar. She went inside and immediately saw Janey. “Hey, Catherine. Want a table?” she asked.

“Sure. And my usual, if you wouldn’t mind.”

Janey took Catherine to a small table in the far corner. “I’ll bring out your dinner soon.”

Catherine got herself situated and within a few minutes Janey placed the salad—grilled chicken with no cheese or croutons, house vinaigrette on the side—and a glass of water on the table. When Catherine arched an eyebrow, she winked and sauntered off. Catherine smiled to herself and started eating.

A sudden hush fell in the bar and restaurant. She raised her head and saw a tall boy walk past Mimi. The kid was probably nineteen or twenty, but he was built like a truck with the face of an angel. His golden hair curled around his collarbones, and it was artfully messy, like he’d spent hours fooling with it. Still, something about the way he stared out at the world through rebellious brown eyes said he was too busy to spend time so frivolously. His gray long sleeve shirt and faded jeans were clean but old. His Nikes had a tired, beaten up look to them.

He swaggered to an empty table not too far from Catherine, and the crowd parted like the Red Sea before Moses.

Blaine came out, a scowl darkening his face. He half-blocked Catherine’s view, and she leaned over to see better.

“Sean,” Blaine bit out.

“’Sup?”

“What are you doing here? Why aren’t you in school?”

The kid shrugged. “I don’t feel like it.”

“Did something happen?”

“No, nothing happened. College kids do get some time off here and there, you know.” He flopped into a chair at an empty table.

Janey set a plate of bacon cheeseburger and fries in front of the kid. “Eat.”

“You’re the best.” Sean dug in.

Blaine shot her a dirty look, but she merely said, “The boy’s gotta eat. And you gotta tend the bar. Rick can’t handle it all by himself.”

“Fine.” Blaine went back behind the bar.

Catherine chewed on her chicken, while keeping an eye on Sean. Who was he to Blaine? The way Blaine had treated the boy showed more than just neighborly concern.

Salazar hadn’t said a thing about Blaine except that his mother was Georgia Love and that he owned a bar and restaurant. There might be something about Sean in the tome Salazar had sent, but she wasn’t reading through that, not even to satisfy her curiosity. Somebody from the town would tell her. Cooter’s Bluff had more than its share of wagging tongues.

Sean polished off his food, then met Catherine’s gaze. His eyes widened, then a little smile flirted with his lips. He rose and sauntered over. “Hey. Never seen you around here before,” he said.

“Probably because I’m new.”

“Sean.”

“Catherine.”

He gestured at an empty seat. “Is this taken?”

“Feel free.” She leaned back in her chair.

Dusty, seated at the next table, twisted around and said, “That’s Blaine’s brother.”

“Huh.” Why hadn’t Salazar mentioned that? She turned to the kid, taking apart his features. “He doesn’t look like Blaine.”

“They got no shared blood between ’em. But it’s almost like a real bro, ya know?”

“I love it when people talk about me like I’m not here,” Sean said. “What he means is I’m Blaine’s step-brother.”

“Relax,” Dusty said. “We ain’t doin’ no deformation of character on you.”

Catherine merely studied the boy. She knew almost nothing about Blaine except what Salazar had told her—he’d never talked about himself—but he knew so much about her already. It was about time she rectified that, and she wondered how willing Sean would be to talk about his brother.

* * *

Blaine chewed the inside of his cheek and regarded his brother. He didn’t buy that shit about getting some time off. Of course college kids got time off, but Sean never came to Cooter’s Bluff except for longer breaks. He had a part-time job on campus, which, combined with his course work in petroleum engineering, kept him busy.

He scowled as Sean moved to Catherine’s table. When had she come in? He hadn’t noticed her. No, that wasn’t quite true. He’d felt a frisson of electricity when he’d confronted Sean, but he hadn’t turned around. Showing his back to his brother during their argument would’ve weakened his position.

Dusty said something to her, and she looked at Sean speculatively. He didn’t like the look. Not that he thought she’d try anything with him, but something about it bothered him.