Jimmy Buffet’s ‘Cheeseburger in Paradise’ blared through the house, and I followed the music to the kitchen. I wasn’t sure what I would find, but as long as it wasn’t my neighbor making out with her neighbor I was good.
Turning the corner, I stopped dead in my tracks at the sight in front of me.
It wasn’t Beverly. Or Ernie.
And I most definitely wasn’t good.
A guy wearing nothing but camo-print underwear and a peach-colored apron stood in front of the stove. He was facing away from me, and I caught sight of a large tattoo—angel wings—across the expanse of his muscular back.
Surprised, I let out a high-pitched squeak. The sound got the stranger’s attention and he started to pivot in my direction.
My eyes fell to his sculpted ass, the muscles flexing as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He wore briefs. Not boxers or boxer-briefs—actual tighties. No guy should look good in those, but damn, he did.
His black hair was shorter on the sides and longer on top. Some of the inky strands fell over his forehead, falling to just above his bright green eyes.
His lips were parted in surprise, and something flipped in my stomach at the sight of his mouth. The bottom lip was twice the size of the top. Plump. Pouty.
Dark tattoos painted his chest and he had colorful flowers down the length of his left arm. And…
Is that a nipple piercing?
Because of the apron, I couldn’t see his abs, but my guess was that he had a solid six-pack under there.
I opened my mouth to say something—anything.
I wanted to ask him what he was doing in Beverly’s house. Or apologize for walking in on him while he was naked.
Instead, my social awkwardness presented itself full-force with the words that tumbled out of my mouth next.
“If you tried to hide in the woods, at least no one would be able to see your ass.”
His emerald eyes widened. “What?”
Figuring he probably didn’t hear me the first time because of the loud music, I raised my voice. “Camouflage underwear. Your butt would totally blend in with the bushes.”
Looking like he was caught between laughing and being outraged, he opened his mouth to respond.
Then all hell broke loose.

I should tell Quinn and Clay that he’s here. But one look at him and it’s like the last ten years have never passed and I’m back at the bonfire, the awkward high schooler uncomfortable in her own skin. Marching away from him in the woods. It was the last time I saw him. How is it possible that he can affect me this much after all this time?

He hasn’t noticed me, not with his head bowed, so I quickly turn around and focus on Pastor John as he finishes up his prayer. Him being here means nothing. I should be happy that I remember the pain from that night so well, it will make keeping my walls up around him so much easier.

“On behalf of the Davis family, I want to thank everyone for coming today. At this time, the family has asked for some time alone as they say their good-byes. They wanted me to remind everyone that the PieHole will be opening up for a few hours tonight starting at five for anyone that wishes to join them.”

I keep my arm around Quinn, not looking back to where I saw Maverick. I can hear the church slowly emptying and I feel a frown pull at my lips. I had hoped that when everyone started to leave that he would have come up front to be with his family, but so far, the pew we’re in is still empty save for the three of us. We sit and wait for everyone to leave, something that Clay had asked Pastor John to make arrangements for in place of the customary recessional, knowing that no one in this town would really mean a word of it anyway. Plus, I know Quinn is having a hard time. Regardless of the fact that she wasn’t the closest with her father, she was really counting on this—Maverick home. She’s still shaking in my arms, but when I look over at Clay I realize his silence isn’t because of the heaviness of Buford’s death, but instead anger over his brother’s absence that has started to build to a boil. I fear that he’s seconds away from tipping over the edge.

I stand when Clay and Quinn do, but hang back at the edge of the row we had been sitting in as they meet Pastor John and gather their father’s ashes. I can’t wait to get out of these heels. If it would have been acceptable to wear my boots, I would have, but Quinn would have killed me. As it is, I feel like I can’t take a deep breath with how tight my dress is against my chest. I never wear tight shirts. I haven’t since my boobs became beasts of their own right. I’m too busy fiddling with the straps of my dress, trying desperately to get some of the pressure against my chest to ease up so I could take a deep breath, when I heard Quinn gasp.

“Mav!” Next thing I know she’s running past where I’m standing, her black hair streaming in the air behind her as she speeds forward right into her brother’s arms. Clay moves to stand next to me and I look up to meet his green eyes, the questions he isn’t vocalizing dancing in their emerald depths. He’s not stupid and I’m doing a crappy job at hiding the memories haunting me right now. He gives me a small smile, shifting his hold on the urn to wrap his free arm around me and pulls me into a strong hold.

“You’re shakin’,” he says against my temple and I just nod.

“I’m good, Clay. Go see your brother.”

“I’m fine right where I am, sugar.”

I keep my eyes to the ground, focusing on his worn boots instead of looking up, hating myself for making this moment about me when I should be focused on them. Like it or not, I can’t fight the feelings that being near him bring me. I’m that stupid, naive sixteen-year-old all over again. “Let’s get out of here,” he says after a few silent seconds. I look up and give him a smile, hoping that it looks a hell of a lot braver than I feel. Inside I feel like I might puke.

“You think I could have a second with my family?”

My head shoots up at the coldness I hadn’t anticipated in Maverick’s voice. He’s not focused on me, though, instead looking at his brother with a hard expression and one brow raised upward.

“Mav!” Quinn gasps and he moves his attention from his brother to her.

“Sorry, Quinn, but I’m thinkin’ that Clay’s lady friend would understand that this should be a moment for our family and give us time alone.”

“I’ll just—”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence, sugar,” Clay all but spits through clenched teeth and drops his arm to take a step forward. “You’ve got something to say, Mav, then say it.”

“Nothing to say, Clayton, I just think it would be nice for your girlfriend to give us some space.”

“My girlfriend,” he parrots sarcastically, his deep voice vibrating in anger.

“Mav.” Quinn attempts to butt in, but stops when Maverick leaves her side and turns to stalk out of the church. I should find it comical that he obviously didn’t recognize me, or hell, maybe he did and he’s just picking up where he left off ten years ago in the middle of the dark woods. I take a deep breath. “It’s okay. He’s right. Y’all need some time as a family. I’ll head over to the PieHole and start settin’ up for tonight.”

Quinn brushes a tear from her cheek and just shakes her head. I look at Clay to see him staring in the direction that his brother just left.

“You’re family,” he finally says, not looking in my direction.

“Clay, really, it’s okay. It’s been a long time since y’all were back together and I don’t need to be there for that reunion. It sucks that it takes all of this to finally bring him home, but he’s here and y’all need to make up for a lot of time lost.”

“Shut up, Leighton.”

“Don’t, Clay.”

“Don’t what? You’ve got every right to be here. You’re just as much a part of our family as he is. Hell, maybe even more so than he is at this point. So just shut up, come with us, and ignore him.”

I shake my head, the fight instantly leaving my sails, knowing I would be arguing until the end of time if I

pressed this issue.

“I can’t believe he doesn’t even recognize you,” Quinn whispers.

My dick is forged steel. Sure, it’s been fucking hard ever since I laid my eyes on her, but nothing like this.
This kind of hard-on exists only for her. Well, in three months they’ve all been for her, but right now even my dick knows the universe is speaking and it’s saying that’s all mine.

My mom used to tell me stories about the men in her family. Back then, I didn’t believe that shit. She told me the Rhodes men knew when they found their mate that it’s like a sixth sense and that’s it — there can never be anyone else.  Since my father was missing in action, I took my mom’s name.  And now the Rhodes legend which I’d formerly dismissed, I now know to be gospel.

This acute awareness of her consumes me—that there is one woman for me, only one, and she’s right here. Right now. And there is no question left. I’m taking what’s mine.

I’m ready to gnaw her clothes off and fill her with so much cum she’ll be giving birth to a litter nine months from today.

My tongue pushes between her lips, and the taste of her has me seeing red, planning our fucking wedding. I swear to Christ.

Visions of her wearing white and saying “I do” fill my head like a long-lost dream.

Her tongue meets mine, and my hands fly to the back of her head. My fingers tighten in her hair, gripping and holding on for dear life. She tastes like sweet tea and fresh honey. The lust of summer mixed with the freshness of spring.

My erection nearly tears through the top of my pants trying to get at her. I wonder if she’s wet. The thought of it has me ready to nut in my pants.

The little moaning, gasping sounds she’s making as our tongues do a few laps with each other, back and forth, are music. My gut is tight. I’m already desperate to keep her here. To be sure she can never leave.

I pull back from our kiss, needing to see her face. To know she wants me like I want her.

Her cheeks have turned a deep, rose red, more than a blush, and her shimmering blue eyes are half lidded as I devour the beauty of her face. I loosen my grip in her hair even as my mind is filled with the image of me pressing her to her knees, her plump lips opening to take in every inch of my thick cock.

Fuck, I need this girl.

This is beyond wanting. Need. No doubt in my mind I need her in order to draw my next breath.

The tension in my muscles feels as though I’m holding a pose for the judges at Mr. Universe.

I can’t relax. I won’t relax. Not until I’m inside her, showing her just what it’s going to mean to belong to me.

Because she does.

She belongs to me.

“Wow.” She brings the back of her hand to her lips.

For a moment, I’m pissed because I think she’s going to swipe it across her mouth and wipe away the wetness of our kiss.

Instead, she presses her knuckles there, her eyes close for a moment, and she breathes long and slow. Her hand flips over, and she sets her fingertips to her lips, as though she’s holding our kiss in place.

Savoring us. I nearly come undone at the beauty of the moment.

“I have a single question for you,” I rumble, standing as close as I can to her without touching. Staring down as she gives me a wary look upward, waiting for what I’m going to say next. “Since that first day we met…”

I trail off, suddenly terrified I won’t get the answer I need. My chest constricts. I swallow hard and throw it out there because I have to know.

“Have you ever touched yourself thinking about me? Imagined me inside you?” I’m fixed on her face, watching for the truth there.

My bold question has her mouth dropping open, her lips quivering in an uneasy smile, but her eyes answer me with a twinkle, staying pinned on mine. The relief floods my body, even as blood fills every remaining micro vessel of my cock. It’s bent at a painful angle inside my pants. The length I know will fill her. The thickness will hurt her, but she needs to be mine in every way. I will be as gentle as I can, but even now I know it may not be possible to make it easy.

I want her like an animal. I want to keep her tied to my bed and fuck her until her belly swells and the only word she knows is my name.

“Yes,” she whispers, tugging her lips to the side.

So fucking cute. Damn, she’s perfect.

Her single-word answer confirms what I already know, and her hand leaves her lips, reaching out to touch the side of my face.