A Fallow Heart (Tommy Creek #2)(8)

As if hearing her inner cry for assistance, he responded, skimming his hands over her, dispelling some of the ache and yet only inflaming it hotter in the process. She needed more.

He cupped her breasts and ground his erection against her through their clothes. She jolted and cried out from the intense pleasure, unable to stop her response. It felt so good. Lifting her knee, she wrapped one leg around his hips, and pressed back. Again, he seemed to know what she needed because he worked his pelvis, rubbing mercilessly.

Kissing him harder, she moved with him, grinding and panting; the building friction felt marvelous. It was the most amazing…delicious…

He groaned. She gasped. And then it happened.

Something exploded.

Inside her, the mounting heat between her legs reached its peak, and she flew over the edge, crying out and shuddering against him.

“Holy shit,” she heard him gasp. But his voice sounded far away as her pleasure lifted her into a higher plane where she floated on the fringes of euphoria until the explosion settled, and she once again drifted back to reality.

Blinking until her eyes could focus, she found him trembling and hot as he held on to her. Sweat soaked him, making his face glow in the moonlight and his snug shirt cling to a rippled chest. Usually, Jo Ellen hated being hot and sweaty and sticky. But she loved sticking to him. It was intimate, bonding, as if they were one person, and she adored being a part of their united whole. She’d never felt so close to anyone else in her life.

“What jus’ happened?” she slurred, still dazed by the eruption and the sludge clouding her brain.

Obviously as shaken as she was, all he could seem to say was, “Holy shit. Did you just…holy shit.”

Jo Ellen laughed. She wasn’t sure why. She simply felt wonderful…ecstatic…alive. “Do it again,” she urged, sliding her hands up his chest, over hard, warm muscles and—

Groaning, he tore himself away, panting. “Holy shit.” Shock carved wide eyes and a gaping mouth into his surprised features. He looked almost scared of her and flighty as if he might run.

“Don’t go,” she cried. Oh, God. He couldn’t leave her. Not now. Not like this. She’d die if he deserted her.

He shook his head. “Jo Ellen.” His voice rasped raw, scared. “I can’t believe...We shouldn’t have…Holy shit.”

She opened her arms.

Immediately, he moved toward her but just as quickly jerked to a stop, resisting. “No,” he insisted, adamant. “I can’t…we can’t…” Gripping his head, he let out an agonized groan. A second later, he dropped his fingers only to step toward her and grasp her face. “Promise me.” His voice was urgent, pleading, while his thumbs gently stroked her temples. “Once you’re awake and sober tomorrow, promise me you won’t forget this. Promise me you’ll dump Travis and be mine instead. We belong together, Jo Ellen.” Pressing his forehead to hers, he laid a single sweet kiss on her lips.

“Okay,” she whispered, ready to promise him anything, wanting that unity with him he seemed to want too.

He let out a relieved breath, gave one last encouraging squeeze to her fingers, and let go. His grin reassured her she’d made the correct decision. “Let’s get you into bed then,” he said, his voice hushed as he nudged her inside. “The sooner you go to sleep, the sooner you’ll wake up and remember.”

She smiled back, though she didn’t think it was possible not to when he beamed at her like she was his sunshine. He had the most amazing smile…the most amazing face. She loved his shaggy, blond locks and wanted to touch them again. But he took her hand before she could lift her fingers, and he led her into the darkness.

It occurred to her in a fleeting thought, which passed almost as soon as it came, she still couldn’t remember his name. She knew she knew him, was sure she’d even recognize his name if he said it. But for the life of her, the word completely escaped her. Not that it mattered. She’d remember in the morning.

Right?

Right.

Jo Ellen frowned. Wait. What was she supposed to remember?





Chapter Three


Cooper’s body quivered with desire. He throbbed so hard it hurt. He wanted Jo Ellen Rawlings as he’d never wanted any girl before. Yeah, he’d always wanted her, secretly admiring her since before puberty had hit. But all those vague feelings of appreciation felt stale and lifeless compared to this vivid awareness surging through him now. He felt connected to her. Mated.

Clinging to her hand with a death grip, he hauled her through her dark house, determined to tuck her into bed so she could get to sleep as fast as possible. If he had any less decency than he did, even just a shred, he’d say screw his morals and he’d take Jo Ellen. Right there. Right then. He wanted to make them one in the most physical way possible.

He twitched, on the edge of doing just that. But taking advantage would be wrong. So very, very wrong. And Cooper Gerhardt never did the wrong thing.

He had to repeat that sentiment to himself every half a second or so, on cue with each time she came up behind him and brushed her breasts against his arm.

Holy shit.

“Where’s your room?” he croaked.

She giggled. “Don’t you know?”

“Shh. You’re going to wake up the whole house. And, no, I don’t know where your room is.” Why would he know where her room was? Like he’d ever stepped foot inside the sacred Rawlings mansion before. He’d stopped by numerous times to hang out with Em and try to catch a glimpse of Jo Ellen, but he’d never been invited past the front porch, much less inside.