A Forever Kind of Love, page 11
“You’re the one who started this,” she said. He still held her naked breasts in his palms, and she wasn’t inclined to move his hands away. Having his rough skin upon her felt like heaven.
Corey lowered his forehead to hers and gently squeezed her breasts. “If I don’t have you soon, I think I might die.”
A wry grin eased up the corners of her lips. How many times had she heard that line from him?
“That may have worked back in high school,” Mya said, “but I’m not as naïve as I used to be.” She clamped on to his forearms and pulled his hands away, then straightened her bra back into place and smoothed the wrinkles from her shirt.
“I’m not playing around, Mya. This is killing me.”
As she watched him struggle with his unfulfilled lust, all Mya could think about was her own valiant attempt to resist the hunger that had been building within her. It was a losing battle. Her body had been teetering along the edge of desire for the past two weeks, and the ache became harder to fight with every second she was around him.
She was tired of fighting.
She was no longer a lovestruck teenager. She knew exactly what she would be getting herself into if she embarked upon a sexual relationship with Corey. It would be in direct opposition to the claim she’d made a long time ago that she was over him. She was setting herself up for frustration, possibly even heartache.
But there was one thing she was certain to get: pleasure. Much, much pleasure.
Streaks of filtering sunlight sliced across his chest, highlighting the way his damp shirt clung to his well-defined six-pack. The impulse to strip the shirt from his body and lick her way up and down his torso was so strong that Mya knew she had to break free right now. If they stayed in here much longer, they would both end up naked, sweaty, and panting.
But satisfied. So incredibly, remarkably satisfied.
Corey stepped up to her again and captured her mouth in a swift kiss. She bit back a moan and pulled away.
“We need to get back out there,” she said, putting her hands on his chest and gently pushing him.
He let out a low curse as he backed up. His eyes zeroed in on her nipples that puckered against her cotton shirt, and he licked those lips that Mya wished were still exploring her neck.
Corey’s head fell back as he let out another groan. He cupped his straining erection and squeezed himself through the fabric. The picture of sexual frustration.
“Just like high school,” she said, unable to keep the laughter from her voice.
“This isn’t funny,” he gritted out through clenched teeth. “Do you know how hard it will be to work like this for the rest of the day?”
Mya empathized with him, but not enough to help ease his…situation. She scooted off the shelf, brushing against Corey in the tight confines of the storage shed. Her blood heated at the contact, and she knew she needed to get out fast.
She pointed a finger at his chest. “Remember, we’re supposed to be working. Don’t try luring me away again.”
He slid a knowing gaze her way and smiled with deliberate slyness. “You could have said no.”
Yeah, right. When had she ever been able to say no to him?
“I mean it, Corey Anderson. You’re not going to tempt me again today.”
A hint of challenge entered his eyes, and Mya knew she’d just landed herself into a heap of trouble.
“You willing to bet on that?” Corey asked.
She refused to take the bait. It would only give him incentive to try harder, and she didn’t need Corey laying on the heavy charm. The day was hot enough.
Her hand on the rusty door handle, Mya pointed at him again and said, “Stay away.” Then she cut out of the storage shed before he lured her back in.
Corey hitched a heel on the rim of the shovel and drove it deep into the packed earth, turning up the dirt at the base of the oak tree. Sweat poured off him, and his muscles were so tired they quivered, but he continued to ram the shovel. He had enough pent-up energy to till this entire damn park.
Why had he dragged Mya into that storage shed?
He’d known what would happen—he’d get worked up. And he’d also known what wouldn’t happen—sex.
Of any kind. They were in the middle of cleaning up Main Street, for God’s sake. The kids from his baseball team were swarming around this place. He knew better than to try having sex in a storage shed.
Seeing that tiny building again and having Mya so close by had caused something in his brain to snap. He’d lived out too many fantasies in that cluttered shed to pass up the opportunity to revisit a few of them.
What he hadn’t counted on was Mya’s reaction. If only she hadn’t responded to his touch the way she had, maybe then he could get his body under control.
“Dammit,” Corey grunted with another vicious thump of the shovel.
Every time he came close to cooling off from the fire she’d lit within him, he’d feel her nipples pebble against his palms, a phantom imprint that wouldn’t go away. She’d been ready for him. If she had been wearing a skirt today instead of those shorts, he would have been inside of her, condom or no condom.
Although a skirt wouldn’t cup her perfectly rounded ass the way those shorts did, and he wouldn’t have the view he had right now.
Balancing a begonia bulb in one hand, Mya bent over and settled it in the dirt he’d turned over around the base of another oak tree about twenty feet away. She tapped the dirt around it and motioned for one of the cheerleaders carrying an old-fashioned tin watering can to come over and moisten the soil. When the girl was done, Mya planted her gloved fists on her hips and looked around the park. Her eyes caught his and she smiled.
God, he’d missed her smile. Even on his worst day, when Coach had drilled his ass in practice or he’d gotten caught up with his idiot brothers in some kind of troublemaking scheme, one smile from Mya would change his entire outlook. So much time had passed, yet the feelings he’d had for her still ran as strong as ever. He’d never gotten over her.
And Corey realized he never wanted to.
Mya Dubois had stolen his heart a long time ago, and he was all too willing to let her keep it, provided she allowed the rest of him to come along for the ride.
She walked up to him, those hands still on her hips, the top half of her face shaded by that ratty black-and-gold sun visor.
“I thought you were avoiding me for the rest of the day,” he said.
“I think you’ve had enough time to cool down,” she said.
“Think again,” Corey muttered. “I’m as bad as these horny baseball players running behind the cheerleaders.”
“We’ve had our turn at that.”
“There’s nothing saying we can’t have it again.” Corey saw the desire in her eyes. She wanted to, but damn if she wasn’t fighting it.
“Are you almost done here?” she asked. “We need to get those flower bulbs in the ground, then we need to clean out the fishpond. I ordered twenty Japanese koi for the pond, my contribution to the town of Gauthier.”
“Koi? That had to set you back a few hundred dollars,” he said.
Mya shrugged. “I may not be rolling in dough, but I do okay. I want this place to impress the media at the end of the month. And with the progress we’ve made today, it’s going to do just that.”
“It does look good,” Corey said, trailing his eyes over the park.
Most of the shrubbery had been pruned, and new flowers had been planted around the base of most of the oak trees that lined the pathway leading to the waterwheel and wooden gazebo. The park benches were in the process of getting a fresh coat of paint, and piles of raked leaves and pine needles were being loaded into huge wheelbarrows. They would be turned into mulch and brought back to help fertilize the soil around the newly planted flowers.
“Lunch!” someone called. “We’ve got lunch!”
“Lunch?” Corey looked over at Mya, but she only shrugged her shoulders with a confused frown crinkling her forehead. They walked out of the park entrance and found dozens of people gathered around Jamal’s top-of-the-line pickup truck. His friend stood in the truck bed, handing out sandwiches.
“He bought lunch for everyone?” Mya asked, awe in her voice.
“That’s Jamal,” Corey said.
“Hey,” Jamal called out to him. “I’ve got cases of potato chips in the front. Come and give me a hand.”
Corey took his gloves off and handed them to Mya. He gestured back toward the park. “Meet me in the gazebo in fifteen minutes. I’ll bring lunch.” He winked at her and headed to the chaos surrounding Jamal’s truck.
Chapter 9
Mya sat on the freshly sanded porch steps in front of Emile’s Restaurant, unabashedly watching Corey as he helped to serve the lunch his friend had so generously provided. The way the damp T-shirt molded to Corey’s back made her mouth instantly water.
She blew out a defeated sigh. Her body’s demands had waged an all-out war against her common sense, and her common sense was ready to concede. The fight was futile and, at this point, exhausting.
Why should she deny herself any longer? It wasn’t as if she were in danger of falling for Corey’s charm again. It wasn’t as if sleeping with him would tether her to this town. In two weeks, after they held the 175th anniversary celebration and convinced the historical society and state tourism board that Gauthier was worthy of their attention, she would be on a plane to New York. Why not head back to the Big Apple a sexually satisfied woman?
“I see some things haven’t changed.” Phil plopped down on the step next to her.
“Why do you say that?” Mya asked, though the answer was obvious. She was blatantly staring at the man, and if anyone knew the intimacies of her previous relationship with Corey, it was Phylicia. The only thing Mya hadn’t shared with her best friend was news of the baby she’d miscarried.
“He does still look good,” Phil mused. “He was cutting your grandmother’s lawn the other day, and pulled his shirt off just as I drove by. I damn near wrecked my truck.”
Mya belted out a laugh so loud it drew stares.
“That friend of his is pretty hot, too,” Phil commented.
“Jamal?” Mya dragged her eyes away from Corey long enough to glance at the other man. Yep, gorgeous just about summed him up.
“I did some work at that house he’s fixing up. I almost had a heart attack when I walked in there and saw Sheetrock on the walls,” Phil said with a derisive grunt.
“I got the grand tour earlier this week. I know it probably kills you to see him get rid of some of the original structure, but that house is going to be spectacular when he’s done.”
“If he’s ever done,” Phil said, snorting. “He’s been working on it for months. Hey, do you want a sandwich?”
Mya couldn’t keep the coyness from seeping through her voice. “I’ve already got a lunch date.”
Phil gasped and twisted toward her. “Girl, are you thinking of giving Corey the booty again?”
“My goodness, Phylicia, would you shut up! Or at least keep your voice down,” Mya said with a terse whisper.
“Mya Eloise Dubois!” Mya had never heard her name draped in such righteous indignation. “I am appalled.”
“What’s the big deal?” She shrugged. “It’s not as if I haven’t slept with him before.”
“That’s not what’s appalling,” Phil said. “It’s the fact that you’ve been back in Gauthier for two weeks and you’re already getting some. I’ve been in this damn town my entire life and the only action I get these days is from my friend Bob.”
Mya searched her memory, but couldn’t come up with anyone. “Who’s Bob?” she had to ask.
“My battery-operated boyfriend,” Phil drawled.
Mya looked at her friend and burst out laughing. As beautiful as she was, Phil had always had a hard time when it came to guys. Mya was convinced that Phil’s problems stemmed from her job. She confused men. It was hard to reconcile the varnish-stained overalls with the amazingly gorgeous woman who wore them.
“You should know better than to wait for the guy to make the first move. If it’s been that long, why don’t you ask someone out?” Mya suggested, picking up her bottled water.
“It’s not worth the bother.” Phil stood and dusted her backside. “Bob has an attachment that connects to the power drill. There’s not a man in Gauthier who can compete with that.”
Mya started choking on the water she’d just swallowed.
Phil didn’t even blink. “I’m going to see a man about a sandwich. I’ll catch up with you later.”
And she headed toward the pickup truck.
Ten minutes later, Mya was still trying to get thoughts of power tools and friends named Bob out of her mind, when Corey sidled up to her carrying two wrapped sandwiches and two bags of chips.
“I thought you were meeting me in the gazebo?” he asked.
Mya shook her head and patted the sanded step next to her. “Too secluded. I thought this was safer.”
“In my experience, safer is never as much fun.” He settled onto the porch step and handed her the promised turkey sandwich.
“It was sweet of Jamal to buy lunch for everyone. That must have set him back a pretty penny.”
“He can afford it,” Corey said, biting into his sandwich. He swallowed and continued, “Jamal is a trust fund kid. His family owns one of the largest construction firms in Phoenix.”
“Yet he’s working as an assistant coach at a small-town high school?”
“He’s not on the staff. He’s just helping me out with the team while he works on the business plan for an architectural firm he wants to open. We were teammates back at Arizona State,” Corey added.
Mya’s eyes drifted over to the man who was leaning against his truck surrounded by a group of teens. She recognized the hero worship in the eyes of the young girls. Jamal Johnson was prime teenage crush material.
“He is gorgeous,” she commented.
“Hey, I’m sitting right here. You want to squash the lusting after my best friend?”
She glanced at Corey and laughed. “I’m just admiring him from afar. It looks as if he’s got his hands full.” She bit into her sandwich and followed it with a couple of chips. “So,” Mya said after she’d swallowed, “how much more do you think we can get done before the rain rolls in?”
Corey looked up at the sky, where thick clouds were stalking in from the south. “With the way that sky looks, we’ll be lucky if we have another hour.”
“I hope the lampposts Aunt Mo and her crew painted this morning will be okay.”
“If not, I’ll keep practice short this coming Tuesday and Wednesday and bring the team out here to retouch whatever paint the rain messes up.” His gaze roamed their surroundings. “With all the volunteers that showed up today, we were able to get more done than I’d anticipated.”
“It’s been amazing,” Mya agreed.
Corey nudged her leg with his knee. “You know what would make it even more amazing?”
Mya brought her hand up. “Don’t finish that sentence. You are worse than you were back in high school.”
“I used to get more action back in high school,” he said. “If I knew back then that I would eventually go this long without sex, I probably would have killed myself.” He finished off his sandwich and balled up the plastic wrap and empty potato chip bag.
Mya told herself to let his statement pass, but she couldn’t help herself. “How long has it been?”
Corey reached over and grabbed the remnants of her lunch. With a wicked grin, he said, “Long enough that you should take this as a warning. Once we get started, I may not be able to stop.”
Okay. So that was promising.
Mya squeezed her legs tight and pleaded with her heart to slow the heck down. She still had plenty of time to make sure Corey came through on his promise.
The rain held off for another two hours, but when it started it was as if someone had cracked a glass jar filled with water over their heads. People scrambled for cover under the awnings that shaded some of the entrances to businesses on Main Street. Others huddled in the wooden gazebo in Heritage Park or inside some of the stores that were open.
After a few minutes, the torrential downpour slowed to a slight but steady shower. The volunteers began venturing out into the rain, covering their heads with plastic garbage bags as they swiftly made their way to their cars. Mya didn’t bother shielding herself from the rain. She was already soaked.
She went over to the tent where her grandmother had spent most of the day handing out water and sports drinks.
“Looks like God decided we’d done enough work,” Grandma said.
“He kept it nice and dry for most of the day,” Mya replied. “Why don’t you pack up your things? I’ll find Aunt Mo.”
“She already left,” her grandmother informed her. “She banged her knee against one of those steel posts in front of the barbershop and howled like a fool.”
“Is she okay?” Mya asked.
Her grandmother waved off her concern. “I think it was just an excuse to leave. Anyway, I’m going over to Clementine’s. Some of the girls are getting together to play cards. She’ll drive me home. Do you need a ride?”
“No, I’m good,” Mya said. She pointed a warning finger at her grandmother. “Remember, no sweets or sugary sodas for you. Make sure she doesn’t eat the wrong foods, Mrs. Washington.”
Her grandmother rolled her eyes, but didn’t argue. Mya kissed her cheek and dashed back out into the rain.
She headed for Phil’s truck, which was parked in the alley between the pharmacy and the bank, but Corey intercepted her. He stepped out from where he’d been helping Jamal load shovels and rakes into the bed of his truck and grabbed her by the waist. He pulled her up against him, her back crushed to his front.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he growled into her ear.
“I was…uh, going to see if Phil could give me a ride home,” she said.
She felt Corey’s jaw move against her neck as he shook his head. “You don’t need Phil to give you a ride.”
