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God, she tasted bright and amazing and altogether irresistible.
My hand found her bare thigh at my hip, and I squeezed. I ran my hand up the back, feeling the smooth skin of her curves as I poured myself into that kiss. I reached down, grabbed the back of both thighs, and pulled her into me as she wound her legs around my hips. My hands found her ass, grinding her against my cock as the denim of her jean shorts stretched. I stepped forward, pressing her against the countertop as my mouth moved over hers.
When her hand went back to steady herself, a glass toppled over, spreading water across the counter and soaking her shorts before rolling to a crash on the floor.
It broke apart, and I took a step back. “Fuck. I’m sorry.”
Lark swiped a hand across her swollen lips before she hopped down. “No, it’s fine.” She pulled a kitchen towel from where it hung near the sink and dropped it on the water.
She looked around, a little shell-shocked. Then she swiped her hands at the back of her jeans while I bent down to scoop up the broken glass with the towel and soak up some of the water.
I shook out the glass into the garbage can as she quickly picked up the rest of the mess.
“I’m sorry,” I said again.
She shook her head with a slightly dazed smile. “No, it’s all right. Just a broken glass and a wet ass.”
My chest rose and fell, and I couldn’t seem to catch my breath. I needed to leave. If I didn’t, I would be dangerously near to closing the space between us and putting my mouth on her again.
All over her.
“Good night, Lark.” I quickly retreated from the shrinking apartment and barreled down the stairs.
I didn’t have the balls to look back up at her before I stormed across the driveway and into the house. I only lifted a hand in greeting at the three boys playing a video game in the living room and closed myself behind my bedroom door.
What the hell was that? What was I thinking? As if I don’t have enough on my plate.
I had no business acting like a jealous idiot at the Grudge and then making the situation a million times more awkward by mauling Lark in her own kitchen. To me, it had been clear that she wasn’t interested in sex when I’d invited her inside my house and she turned me down.
I was pissed at myself for the total lapse in judgment. What if I’d taken it too far? Was my plan just to rail her against the countertop with three college kids within shouting distance?
I ran my hand over my face. I needed to pull my shit together. I needed to focus. Get my head in the game.
Lark was only passing through, and I was doing everything in my power to plant some roots for Penny. That all hinged on a winning season for MMU, which meant the three kids currently vying for the FIFA World Cup in my living room were also my responsibility.
The cold shower did nothing to cool the blood coursing through my veins. So what if I convinced myself that jerking off to the way her trim little body fit against mine was better than the alternative. Lark Butler meant chaos and complications.
Trouble was, even after I came to the image of her body pressed beneath mine, I still couldn’t shake her.
Something had to be done.
13
LARK
“That’s Pammie and Buck.”Annie sat across from me at the diner, discreetly pointing out patrons around the room. “And over there is Lefty, but we call her Aunt Sissy.”
I smiled wide and shook my head. “And everyone just... calls them by their nicknames? Like it’s their government name?”
Annie shrugged. “Of course. Honestly, I don’t know the birth-given names of half the people in here.” She laughed as if she only then realized how ridiculous that sounded.
“Unreal.” I popped a french fry into my mouth and continued looking around the small café. “What about them?”
Annie followed my line of sight after I gestured toward a small booth in the back. “PawPaw Rabbit and Soapy.” Annie’s eyes lit up. “Ithinkhe sold soap at one time? Maybe? Oh! And on the left is Brother, but his real name is Terry.”
“And once you get a nickname... ?”
Annie’s face went serious. “Stuck with it. For better or worse.” She smiled again and leaned in. “Do you know Aunt Tootie was once married to a man named Bumper? Bumper. I found out a month ago his name is Jim. The whole time I’d run around as a kid asking, ‘Where’s Uncle Bumper?’ No one even questioned it.” She was on a roll now, and her eyes danced with amusement. “Oh! During county elections? We had to put people’s nicknames on campaign signs”—she leaned forward to emphasize—“but also on the ballotsbecause no one knows Itchy’s real name.”
