Oh my God.
Georgie floated into the backyard, calling Coco’s name in a croak. Her knees had the consistency of vapor; her heart rapped loudly in her rib cage. If her mother hadn’t sent her outside, she would have burst into flames. Need concentrated itself between her legs, pulsing and tugging and relentless. How was she going to handle the rest of this dinner, Travis sitting so close by, acting like a hero?
“Coco?” she called, tugging her neckline away from her skin and blowing cold air down into her cleavage. Oh, cool. Look at that—her nipples were rocks. “Come here, girl.”
Nothing. No jingling of the dog’s collar.
She walked farther into the backyard, hooking a left and heading down the small slope toward the pool. Walking past the tall oak tree she used to climb in her youth brought back so many memories. The only ones she could conjure at that moment involved Travis. How she’d had the beginnings of a sexual awakening perched in that tree as a preteen, wistfully wishing she had boobs.
The culmination of her feverish daydreams had veered into more adult territory one afternoon when Georgie had been tapped to clean out her parents’ attic. She’d found a box of old VHS tapes, among them a tape labeled FEAR. Since her parents were gone for the day, she’d fired up the ancient VCR in the den, which Morty and Vivian never used anymore but still hadn’t thrown away. Stephen wasn’t the only member of the family who hated change. She’d been pleasantly surprised to find out the movie starred Mark Wahlberg and Reese Witherspoon and decided the tape probably belonged to Bethany—but around the one-hour mark, the scene happened.
The one on the roller coaster when Mark uses his finger on Reese.
Until that moment in her parents’ den, Georgie hadn’t even known the meaning of the word “horny.” And, oh Lord, the guilt. Wahlberg played the worst kind of abusive sociopath in the movie, but Georgie got turned on so badly, she’d replayed the scene nine times. She’d finally closed her eyes, flopped over on her back, and imagined Travis reenacting the scene with her. In his Hurricanes uniform. Hands down her jeans, she’d had the first orgasm of her life on the floor of her parents’ den to a VHS tape, while an internet full of free porn sat mere feet away.
Why couldn’t she ever do things the easy way?
Instead of running far and fast from an unavailable man, she’d decided to show him that being available wasn’t so bad. Between inviting him out for coffee and bringing him to dinner tonight, she’d intended to prove to Travis he didn’t have to spend his life being passed around. But she’d been hoping to hold at least a small part of herself back in the process. To lessen the blow when he eventually walked. Or found someone else. Or realized definitively relationships weren’t his jam, insecurities or not. But hold herself back from the guy who’d almost broken the good china standing up for her?
Not going to be so easy.
Every time she was with Travis, he revealed something else. A piece of the past, a hope for the future, a tender side. Tonight he’d proved he cared. He’d shown up for her. She’d thought herself in love with the swaggering baseball phenom, but she was dangerously close to falling for this newer, more complicated man. Deeper than she ever could have gotten with her youthful ideal of Travis.
Behind her, Georgie heard the sliding glass door open and close. She stopped and turned, her pulse rocketing into another stratosphere when Travis strode down the slope after her. The hunger on his face made Georgie take a step backward. Oh. Apparently she had this seduction thing in the bag. It had already stuck. Go, team.
As soon as Travis was even with Georgie, he stooped down and threw her over his shoulder. “Where?”
She tried and failed to ignore the new view of his butt. “Wh-where is the dog?”
“The dog is closed in the back bedroom,” he responded in a patient but concise tone. “She’s not in the backyard.”
“Then why did my mom send me out here?”
Travis didn’t say anything.
“Oh.” Georgie drew out the word. “Ladies and gentlemen, my mother the wingman.”
“Pool house or garage, Georgie?”
There was no question as to why Travis was seeking a private location, and it made her blood burn hotter. Although, since she was upside down, a lot of that hot blood raced to her head and made her dizzy. So be it. She’d just voiced her opinion at a family gathering and now Travis wanted to kiss her. If that wasn’t cause for a head rush, she didn’t know what was. “I, um—pool house, I guess?”
They crossed the threshold of the tiny changing hut a few seconds later. The door smacked shut behind them and they were enclosed in darkness. And move over, Mark and Reese, because she’d never been so poised to combust in her life. Travis was breathing heavy as he dragged Georgie off his shoulder, her legs cinching around his waist on the way down. Soft flesh settled on hard to the soundtrack of a groan, a whimper. A slow grind of those ready parts, followed by all-out panting. Growling. He lunged and rammed her backward into the wall, and their mouths locked in a feverish battle.
Georgie’s mind could barely function around the passion of it. The intensity. Her senses turned to blank slates that knew nothing of touch and taste. They waited eagerly for Travis to teach them new ways—and he did. His mouth moved with sensual intention, giving her quality, not quantity. He dragged out and relished every dance of their tongues, every re-angling glide of their lips. Every breath they broke apart to take. Savoring, pushing their foreheads together, sipping at her mouth, his breath stuttering, throat working. Making her feel like the first and last woman to ever be kissed in all of history. And all the while, his rough hands climbed her thighs, eagerly rounding her hips to clutch her bottom. Molding it to the shape of his fingers and palms.
“Open your eyes and look at me, Georgette Castle.” Travis’s voice rasped at her in the near darkness, leaving no room for nonsense. She’d never seen him like that, focused and determined. Serious. Maybe a touch nervous. “Look at me.”
“I’m looking,” she whispered, wondering if he was aware that his erection was pressing hard into the silk of her panties—and if he also realized it wasn’t really an opportune time for a conversation. “I’m here. I’m looking,” she breathed anyway.
“Good.” He kissed her once—hard—then went back to having a serious face. “I can’t do it. I can’t stop myself from taking you.” He groaned against her mouth, using his grip on her bottom to drag her higher on his lap. “I need to be inside this so fucking bad.”
Sparks shot around in her brain, like someone had thrown coffee on the control panel that kept her rooted in reality. “You do?”
Travis pushed up hard between her thighs, locking her against the wall with his hips. “Don’t ask me that again when I clearly want to fuck you into next Christmas.”
“Do it,” she gasped. “Oh my God.”
“I will. When I can take my time.” He lifted an eyebrow and gave her a meaningful look. “Virgin.”
“Right. I forgot.”
“I didn’t.” He rolled his hips in a slow circle, grinding their lower bodies together. “Been thinking about it almost exclusively.”
Georgie’s thighs started to tremble, along with her insides. “That’s . . . hmm. Good?”
“Good.” His mouth lifted in a cocky grin. “Sure, baby girl.”
In other words, as soon as Travis had the opportunity, he was going to turn her into a babbling puddle of limbs and organs. Noted. “What am I supposed to do until then?”
Travis eased his hips back, allowing her legs to drop, but kept her back flush to the wall. “You need a little something?” His fingertips traveled up the inside of her thigh. “I’ll rub my fingers in the right spot while we figure some stuff out.”
“Like—” She sucked in a breath as his fingers invaded her panties, the middle one sliding right down the wet split of her sex. “L-like what?”
He hummed against her ear. “You. Tempting me to give in and fuck you.”
Georgie’s inner thighs threw a spasm party. “Yes.”
“Consider it done. I’m going to give in like a motherfucker. I have to.” He panted for a few beats. “But our original deal . . . it still has to stand.” A line formed between his brows. “Georgie, I want you to understand, even if this is only going to last until the network dinner, it’ll be the longest I’ve ever been like this with someone.”
“Like what?”
“It’ll be more than a fling.” She heard him swallow. “Our futures look different, Georgie. I don’t have the family gene, and you . . . that tradition runs in your blood. I can’t be that for you, but I’ll be damned before you regret this. Us. Letting me into your bed. While this lasts, tell me what you need to feel . . . important.”
You. Just you. Every single part. “Being on my side during a family discussion,” she whispered. “That was a really good start.”
A dismissive sound left his throat. “Don’t give me any credit for that, Georgie. It needed to be done. What else?”
The pad of his middle finger prodded her entrance, slicking moisture up to her clit and polishing it in easy circles. “Uhhhh.” A bolt twisted deep in Georgie’s belly and her neck started to lose power. “Uh. I don’t know. Romantic gestures? Is that a thing?”
“Yeah.” He didn’t sound 100 percent certain. “Flowers and whatnot, right?”
Georgie giggled. “The blind leading the blind.”
Travis’s mouth cut off her laughter. He moved her lips wide, leaving them there for several breaths, before flicking their tongues together. Just once. A rebuke. A promise. Without his body wedging her against the wall, she would have dropped from the pure, uncut sexuality of it. “I’ve got two more questions. And one selfish demand. You ready?”
“Yes.” His middle finger picked up the pace on her clit, giving deep, thorough love to all sides, the middle, occasionally giving it a gentle pinch. Honest to God, Travis seemed so focused on what came out of her mouth, she couldn’t figure out how he multitasked so effectively. Sex God. Her fake boyfriend really was a Sex God. “Really yes.”
“Question one. You wax this pussy for me?”
She looked up at him through her lashes. “Uh-huh.”
He let out a shaky exhale. “Correct answer.” His index finger inched inside her in a slow, long glide, a growl kindling in his throat. “I’m going to worship this thing next time we’re together.”
“See? Romantic gestures,” she breathed. “You’re already a pro.”
Travis’s laugh was winded. “I’m a rookie at virgins and fuck, while we’re on the subject, you’re closed up around my finger so tight, I’m probably never going to look your father in the eye again.” He exhaled hard. “How have you been . . . imagining your first time?”
The eagerness in Travis’s tone caused a pang in Georgie’s chest. How could anyone write this man off? Whether or not they were in a real, committed relationship, he wanted to make her first time count. She couldn’t exactly tell him the truth, however. That she’d been envisioning her first time with him since she’d hit puberty. Although the moment called for a certain measure of truth, so she did her best. “Don’t laugh, but I’ve always pictured it happening on the couch. Like, two people who can’t control themselves and touching gets out of control . . .”
“You want to Netflix and chill your virginity away.”
“Don’t judge me.”
“I’m not.” His mouth lifted at one end as he leaned in slowly to kiss her, working their lips together in a thorough, mind-spinning dance. “I just want to give the millennial what she wants. Until she’s a naked little mess underneath me.”
“Oh.” Georgie’s flesh clenched around his finger, the low, insistent throb growing heavier, heavier, until it became necessary to shift her thighs closer together. She knew the warning signs of an orgasm well, but she’d never been required to speak through one. Or had another human being keep her perched on the edge, as if the objective was enjoyment instead of getting there as fast as possible. “A-and your selfish demand?”
His tongue traveled along the curve of her lower lip. “I’m asking you very nicely to let me refinish your fireplace, Georgie,” he said. “Cancel the single dad.”
Travis’s heart rapped violently in his chest, sending vibrations into her body. This was so important to him? Really? “Yes. I will,” she whispered, her curiosity deepening when he took a relieved exhale. “Um. Okay, my turn,” she murmured. “I don’t, um . . . I mean, just while this is going on. If you could . . . and I’m not being, like, jealous—”
“What?” Intense blue eyes bored into hers. “Just say it.”
Gather some bravery, girl. “Can it be just me—for you—for right now?”
Travis narrowed his gaze at Georgie, that rap-rap-rap echoing louder, carrying from his body to hers. “No one puts their fucking hands on either one of us until we decide different.” He slipped a second finger inside her and pumped firmly—holding—ripping a gasp from her mouth. “That work for you?”
“It does,” Georgie managed, her hips beginning to move up and back, seeking friction. “F-feels so good. Travis.”
He laid his mouth on top of hers, his thick thumb beginning to brush back and forth across her sensitive clitoris. “Make my hand wet.”
“Oh . . . yes.” Her stomach hollowed, loins twisting. “Yes, okay.”
“You’re so goddamn tight, baby girl,” Travis groaned, angling his fingertips to brush a glorious spot inside her. One that turned every cell in her body into an unlocked fire hydrant in the summertime, opening the floodgates to new sensations. “You better pick a boring movie, because you’re not going to see a minute of it. Soon as we get on that couch tomorrow, I’m going to ride you straight through the credits.”
“Right.” She grasped for an ounce of concentration and missed. “Cold Mountain is free on Netflix. That should work.”
Her last word emerged choked. A shivering glaze moved up and over her head, exhilarating and scary at the same time. Travis seemed to sense Georgie reaching her peak, because he nipped at her jaw, then let his open mouth travel down her neck, all while his fingers continued a slow thrust into her heat, his thumb tormenting her clit. “Let it happen, baby girl.” He scraped his teeth along the base of her neck—right on top of her pulse. “When we go back inside, I’ll know you’re sitting at your parents’ dinner table, still dripping a little in your silk panties.”
Travis gently sank his teeth into her.
Georgie’s flesh contracted with so much intensity, tears sprang to her eyes, the power to stand evaporating. Travis held her up with a strong arm around her waist, while the wave of ecstasy rolled over her like a force of nature. As with last time, there was an innate instinct in her to please Travis, so she groped blindly for his erection, frowning when he snagged her wrist, tugging it away. “No, no,” he taunted beside her ear. “You’re not getting away with jerking me off. I want it all next time. Want you flat on your back and taking me deep.”
If she’d been coherent, she might have even been embarrassed by how soaked she left Travis’s massaging hand and pumping fingers, but he seemed to crave it. The proof was in every lick of his tongue inside her mouth, every rushed exhale into her hair. “Oh my God. I—y-you . . . Did that so . . . Wow.”
He snapped his teeth down on her earlobe. “Cancel the single dad.”
“Done,” she whimpered. “No single dads allowed.”
“Good girl.”
Long, dizzy moments later, Travis straightened out her panties, using a towel from a nearby shelf to dry the insides of her thighs. He even ran his thumbs over Georgie’s face to fix her makeup. Finger-combed her hair. And he walked her back to the house, with a hand settled possessively on her butt. His smile was so self-assured and comforting, she must have imagined the slight tremor in his fingertips.
