Serenity Falls (12 page)

He
smiles at me when I start to laugh at the lyrics.
This song is so him.
“Good
choice.”

With
a shrug of my shoulders and smile of my own, I reply, “I thought it fit you
perfectly.”

Eventually,
we come to a stop next to the boulders where he first took me a few nights ago.
I sit up and remove myself from his side. Wes turns the truck around to where
the tailgate is facing the creek’s edge. With the windows still rolled down, he
turns the key back only enough to where the truck is no longer running but the
radio still plays. He reaches for the knob, turning it down. “Come on,” he says
as he hops out of the truck.

I
follow his lead and shut the door. “What are we doing?”

 Already
behind the truck, he pulls the tailgate down. He jumps in the back before
answering me. “Here, hold this for me please.” Wes hands me a black duffle bag.

My
eyebrows shoot up in curiosity. “You didn’t bring me out here to kill me did
you?” I ask jokingly.

“No,
smart-ass. I didn’t. Open it and hand me the stuff inside would ya?”

The
bag isn’t heavy. Slowly, I unzip the duffle bag, the teeth of the zipper
parting easily enough. A yellow sheet is the first thing I see. I hand it over
to him and he lays it out in the bed of the truck. Next, I hand him a light
green quilt, stitched to perfection. Wes lays it down on top of the yellow
sheet. The next things I pull out of the bag of curiosity are two small, brown,
fluffy pillows. As I hand them over to him, he places them at the top of the
bed of the truck. “It was a little presumptuous of you, don’t you think?” I
indicate the makeshift pallet he’s laid out for us.

“I
thought we could watch the sunset.” He shrugs.

Great.
Now I feel like a jackass. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be so ru—”

“Rude?”
His stare is questioning.

“Yes.
Rude. I’m sorry.”

“It’s
all right. But just so you know, I’m not doing all of this with some ulterior
motive in mind.”

“This
was very thoughtful,” I reply diffident.

“Don’t
thank me just yet. Wait until you taste the dessert I brought.” Wes reaches
behind him and picks up a picnic basket that I didn’t know was back here.

How
the hell did I miss that? Probably because I was handing him the blankets and
pillows out of his black bag of tricks. I watch keenly as he pulls out napkins,
forks, a Tupperware container filled with something red, and paper plates. I
look over the edge into the back of the truck. “What is it?”

“Come
on up and see for yourself.”

I
walk around the back of the truck and jump up to hoist myself up onto the
tailgate. My flip-flops drop on the grass below as I kick them off. When I turn
around, my mouth drops open in surprise. On the paper plates sits a picture of
perfection. Strawberry shortcakes. Whipped cream and strawberries lie perfectly
in between homemade biscuits. The biscuits are dyed a light pink from the
juices of the strawberries that have soaked into the fluffy bread. “How did you
kn… When did you ha…?” I stammer. I can’t even form a coherent sentence I’m so
shocked. “How did you know?” There is no way he could have known.

“Know
what?” The bewildered look on his face confirms my theory.

“That
strawberry shortcake is my favorite dessert.”

“I
didn’t. I asked Mom to whip these up for us earlier while you were out feeding
the horses,”

On
my hands and knees, I crawl up toward the pillows, turn around, and lean back
on one. “Here you go.” I sit up as Wes offers me my plate.

I
cut a piece and scoop the tasty concoction onto my fork. Before I take a bite,
I decide to give him a glimpse into my past. “When I was a kid, every year my
mom would ask me what kind of birthday cake I wanted. One year, I chose
strawberry shortcake. She thought it was hilarious that out of all the cakes I
could have, that was what I chose. I didn’t choose chocolate, vanilla, or
strawberry. I just wanted something simple and sweet.”

My
mouth waters with anticipation as I prepare to take my first bite of strawberry
shortcake in seven years. The light, airy, sweet taste of the whipped cream
clashes with the juicy explosion of the strawberries and the melt-in-your-mouth
homemade biscuits. I groan with pleasure. “Oh… my… gosh… This is so good,” I
groan around a mouthful of food.

“When’s
the last time you had one of these?” He smiles from ear to ear with
satisfaction.

“Seven
years,” I answer honestly.

“Well,
welcome back to the wonderful world of strawberry shortcakes.” Wes bows his
head in a mocking grand gesture, and I applaud, laughing at him.

“Thank
you. And what a way to be welcomed back.” I take another bite and my eyes roll
in the back of my head.

“Seven
years? Really?” he asks incredulously.

I
nod my head before I look at him as I savor all the flavors in my mouth. “Yeah.
I know. I can’t believe it either.” After the death of my parents, I pretty
much stopped doing things that we used to do together. Making and eating
strawberry shortcakes were one of them. Now after this bite, I’m beginning to
realize that I may have been missing out on the best parts of life.

As
I finish my dessert, I turn my body toward Wes. “I know I might say this a lot,
but thank you. I have never had anyone do the things you’ve done for me. Ever.”

“That’s
good to know.”

“What?
That I’ve never been treated like this before?”

“No.
That I’m the first one who’s getting to show you how a woman is
really
supposed to be treated.”

Wes
puts his plate down and scoots closer to me as my eyebrows arch. When I can
feel his body heat close to mine, I lean in closer to him and whisper, “And
how’s that exactly?”

My
eyes stay locked on his. In my peripheral vision, I see his arm rise. When his
calloused fingers skim across my shoulder and behind my neck only to sneak into
the back of my hair at the nape of my neck, he has complete control of me. My
head slowly inclines in his direction as he answers in that low husky tone that
I love. “Like this.”

In
the next instant, his soft, firm lips connect with mine. He grips my hair
tighter and holds me to him as his tongue sweeps against my lower lip, begging
for entrance. My lips part, happily obliging him. When his tongue clashes with
mine, a spark of lust fires on all cylinders. My hands move up his strong arms,
and my fingers commit to memory the contours of his lean muscles as I explore
his body. Finally, I reach his neck. I pull him to me as I lay back on the
pillows. My legs part, allowing Wes room to fall in between them. Our
fast-paced breaths mix with the soft melodies of Brantley Gilbert’s
Fall
Into Me
. I bind my arms around his neck; we continue our unhurried, sweet,
passionate kisses.

My
chest heaves up and down with labored breaths. Wes’ lips break from mine, and a
guttural moan escapes me when I feel his tongue draw patterns down my neck to
the swell of my breasts. As lust and desire engulf me, my hips lift and meet
his as his hand cups my heavy breast. “Wes,” I breathe out.

“Damn,
Kenleigh,” he groans against the exposed skin of my chest. “I want you so bad.”
Wes pulls back, and immediately I feel the loss of his tantalizing mouth.

My
eyes slowly flutter open and meet Wes’ half-lidded gaze. “Is this okay?” There
is a nervousness in his tone that I’ve never heard before.

His
proximity has invaded all of my senses. I’m sure there are plenty of reasons
why we shouldn’t be doing this, but for some reason, this feels right. Him. Me.
Us. We get along, have crazy uninhibited fun, and most of all, he makes me
laugh. I like his witty sense of humor. I like that we seem the same, but, in
our own ways, different. I did not expect to meet someone like him when I came
down for the summer, but I’m glad that I did.

“Yes.”
I thread my fingers through his hair and give it a slight tug, showing him how
okay this is.

Wes’
eyes hold mine captive as he pulls back, rests on his knees, and unlocks my
arms from around his neck. He doesn’t let my hands go. Instead, he helps me sit
up. His thumbs caress the backs of my knuckles while he keeps his gaze focused
on me. “If at any time you want to stop, you say so. I don’t want you to feel
pressured into anything. We’ll take this as slow as you want to take this.” The
sincerity that rings through in those words makes me realize even more just how
right this is.

“I
appreciate it, but I’m okay with this,” I whisper.

“All
right. How about we lose this then?” It’s not meant to be a question. Wes
releases my hands and begins to gather the hem of my dress in his hands. I lift
onto my knees and tuck them under me. Slowly, he pulls it up and over my head
as I lift my arms to help him. I’m left in only my panties. There is no bra to
remove since I wore a strapless dress. Self-consciousness strikes me with a
vengeance. Quickly, my hands lift to cover my naked breasts, but stop midair
when Wes speaks. “Please, don’t hide from me.” He repeats my words from earlier
as he reaches out and pushes my arm down to my side. Wes’ gaze leaves mine to
trail down my body. Goose bumps prickle my skin as he admires my half-naked
body. “Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?” he asks, his voice laced
with desire and sincerity.

“No,”
I whisper as I look away from his penetrating stare. He grasps my chin with his
thumb and forefinger, and turns my face back to his. When our gazes meet, he
leans in and mumbles against my lips, “Well, then, I’m a damn fool for not
telling you. Because you are so fucking beautiful, and for as long as you’ll
let me, I’ll tell you and show you every day so you never forget.”

My
breath catches, and I’m left speechless with the intensity behind his words.
With his lips firmly pressed to mine, I melt under his touch as he guides me
onto my back. My head makes contact with the soft pillows behind me. I reach
down, grasp the hem of his of brown T-shirt, and with his help, guide it over
his head. Tattoos that I didn’t know he had, stare back at me. Tribal art runs
along his ribs and up onto his broad muscular chest. “I didn’t know you had
tattoos.”

“That’s
because I don’t really show them off. My family hates tattoos, but as long as I
keep them hidden, they don’t say anything.”

“Well,
I think they make you look fucking sexy as hell.”

A
deep growl rumbles up from the back of his throat when I graze the tips of my
fingers across his ink.

“Kenleigh,
Baby, I don’t know how much more I can take if you keep doing that,” he replies
through clenched teeth.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t
ever be sorry for telling me you think I’m sexy. I like knowing that you find
me attractive.”

With
nothing left to say, I pull Wes on top of me. He falls into the gap between my
legs where he fits comfortably. I’m the first one to initiate the kiss as I
guide his mouth to mine. Just as my lips cover his, his tongue sweeps in and
fills my mouth. Our tongues lap and twist against each other in synchronized
motions. Soft moans fill the air as we work ourselves into a frenzied pace. My
hands sweep down his body, feeling the movement of every flex and curve of his
finely shaped physique. My fingers tremble with anticipation as I reach for the
button of his jeans. After two failed attempts, I finally manage to pop the
button. When I release the zipper, he helps me push his pants over his nicely
toned ass and legs. Not wanting to waste any more time, I try to push down his
boxer briefs, but he stops me. “Why are you stopping me?” I ask, frustration
evident in my tone.

“Not
yet. This is a moment I definitely want to remember,” he says. “Let me make
this about you. I want to take care of you.
It’s time for me to show you how
beautiful I think you are
,” he whispers as he lays a gentle kiss against my
ear. Wes kisses, nips, and sucks his way down my neck, across my collarbone,
and down my chest. I watch with barely open eyes as he takes one of my nipples
in his mouth.

My
back arches off the bed of the truck, my head drops back, and my eyes screw
tightly shut. I writhe beneath him like a wanton woman. Groans escape me from
the intense pleasure of his mouth taking equal turns sucking on my puckered
nipples. The tips of his fingers glide against my body, leaving a trail of fire
as they skim across my skin. Every breath leaves my lungs when I feel him pull
my panties to the side, and his finger makes contact with my wet, aching core.
My hands fly to his shoulders; my fingers dig into the hard muscles as he
slowly inserts one finger in me. He pumps his finger, not once, but twice. A
slow tingle begins to form from the intense pleasure wreaking havoc on my body.
I feel it shoot up from my toes, up from the tips of my fingers as it reaches
my center. Warmth rushes through me like a raging river as he inserts a second
finger. Deep-rooted need bursts through me like a flood when his fingers brush
against my G-spot. My head shakes from side to side, my toes start to curl, and
my now numb fingertips dig deeper into his broad, muscular shoulders as I
murmur incoherent words. “Oh… Wes… I’m gonna… Fuck!” I moan as my climax surges
through my body at impeccable speeds.