Gin Fling (Bootleg Springs, #5)(96)

“Wider, baby,” he grunted when my knees buckled, closing on his hips.

What a tableau we made. Fully clothed and rutting into each other. Gasping for breath. Begging for the undefined more. My breasts bounced as his thrusts grew more aggressive. I could name and describe the dozens of physiological reactions that were happening in our bodies right this second. But I couldn’t for the life of me ascribe what I felt for this man to mere science.

It was elemental and magic. It was exotic and home.

My neck stung where his grip tightened. And I felt the first shimmers of what we were both chasing.

“Shelby,” he bit out. That impatience, that need to satisfy me even though his own biological drive was leading the charge. It did me in. Jonah loved me. He would always want to take care of me.

And I did the same for him.

With his free hand, he found my exposed flesh, dancing pads of eager fingers over that tight bundle of nerves.

“Yes,” I hissed. Again and again and again. Even after I broke. Even after he broke.

I felt him come. Felt the warm rush of his orgasm as it painted me from the inside.

He grunted softly and flexed into me again and again. I rode it with him, my hungry muscles opening and closing around him.

“I love you,” he said, his voice ragged, his breath uneven. “I love you, Shelby. Say you’ll be mine. I want a wedding like this. I want kids with you. I want the rest of my life to be spent at your side.”

Of course. Of course. It drummed like my heart inside me, vibrating like a song.

“Yes, Jonah. Yes to all of it.”





54





Jonah





“That was the most Bodine thing I’ve ever done in my life,” I confessed to Shelby as we tried to right our clothes. Shelby’s hair was a “just had sex” disaster, and I fucking loved it. But her parents were outside, and so was my mother. And it was just bad form to strut on out of here looking like we’d just had the best pair of orgasms available to humans.

“What? Have sex in the town sheriff’s garden shed during his daughter’s wedding?” she asked smugly. “I feel a bit Bodiney myself tonight.”

“Maybe it’s the moon or the wedding or the gin. But Shelby, honey, I’m pretty excited about fall and winter and every other season I’m going to be spending with you.”

She laid a hand over her heart. “You sure know how to make a girl feel special.”

“How about you go get us a couple of gin and tonics, and I’ll figure out a plan to get us out of here so we can go home and celebrate some more?” I suggested.

She answered by pressing a kiss to my cheek. “I’d be delighted, sugar.”

Wearing a shit-eating grin, I went in search of the groom and found all hell breaking loose instead.

Gibson was holding Misty Lynn at arm’s length, a look of abject horror on his face.

“Just give me another chance, Gibs,” she wailed, eyeliner smeared under her eyes.

“Someone needs to tell that girl that desperation ain’t attractive.” Mayor Hornsbladt sighed into his sweet tea.

“How dare you try to ruin my brother and my best friend’s wedding?” Scarlett snarled. “I knew invitin’ your stupid ass was a mistake. But noooo, we had to be nice.”

“Where are Bowie and Cassidy?” I asked Mayor Hornsbladt.

“The newlyweds had a distinct sparkle in their eyes and called it a night about five minutes ago. I think y’all’s parents are waving them off out front.”

At least the bride and groom weren’t here to witness Misty Lynn’s meltdown.

“C’mon, Gibs. It was always so good between us,” Misty Lynn mewled. She was a drunken mess. Her dress was grass-stained, and her hair was exploding out of the prom updo she’d fashioned.

“Never gonna happen, Misty Lynn,” Gibson growled. He let her go, but she latched herself to him like a needy barnacle on the indifferent hull of a ship.

“Jameson, Jonah? Wanna help a guy out?” Gibson asked through gritted teeth as he tried to dislodge her.

“Oh, I’ll help you out,” Scarlett said, striding over and grabbing a fistful of Misty Lynn’s hair. “Now you listen, and you listen good, Misty Lynn. You ain’t never gonna be good enough for my brother. And now that your daddy and Jonah’s mama are gettin’ serious, you can’t try to lure him into your soggy sheets. You’ll be kin if they get married. Brother and sister.”

“It’s not true!” Misty Lynn howled. Even drunk, she at least had an idea of how genetics worked.

“Stop making a fool of yourself in front of the entire town and grow some goddamn self-respect!” Scarlett said, keeping hold of the other woman’s hair.

Misty Lynn took a swing at Scarlett but missed. Scarlett released her grip on the hair and watched her opponent sway.

“Y’all think you’re so high and mighty. But you’re not!” Misty Lynn slurred. “Your daddy was a murderer, and your mama was nothing but a loser. People feel sorry for you. They pity you,” she spat out. “And you know what? They’re all secretly scared that one day, someone is gonna push your buttons and you’re gonna snap. Just like your daddy.”

She did a slow turn around our circle until she faced me. “And you. Your daddy didn’t even want you. Yet here you are beggin’ for scraps.”