Page 37 of Texas
My heart hitches, then settles into something steady. “Good,” I say, as I slide my hand between her thighs, parting her gently, finding her already wet and open for me. I stroke her slowly and carefully, savoring the way she sighs, the way her hips arch into my hand. I press two fingers inside, curling them to find the spot that makes her gasp, her hands flying to my shoulders, clutching me. I hold her gaze, watching every flicker of pleasure cross her face, every shudder of need building.
Clinging to me, her breath comes faster, her body rocking to meet my hand. “Don’t stop,” she whispers, voice breaking. “Please, don’t stop.” I don’t. I keep the rhythm steady, my thumb circling her clit, my mouth pressing soft kisses to her jaw, her throat, the hollow at the base of her neck. She’s trembling now, her whole body tight, her voice dissolving into little moans that go straight to my core. I murmur her name, letting her know I’m not going anywhere. Not now.
When she comes, it’s quiet and intense, her body throbbing around my hand, her forehead pressed to my shoulder, and her breath hot against my neck. I hold her through it, gentling my touch, waiting for her to come back down. I kiss her hair, her temple, her cheek, and every inch I can reach. I want her to feel safe. Free.
Pulling me closer, her lips find mine, and there’s a gratitude in her kiss that undoes me. “Lie down,” she says, voice husky, and I don’t argue. I let her guide me to the leather couch against the wall. She straddles me, her hands gentle as she undresses me, her fingers tracing the scar low on my belly, her mouth following with soft, open-mouthed kisses. She looks up at me, and in her eyes I see everything. Desire, tenderness, even a kind of awe that makes my chest ache. Leaning in, she whispers in my ear. “I want to make you feel good too.”
There is no need to answer as she slides off me, and lowers her mouth to my center, tongue slow and thorough, her hands steady on my thighs. There’s nothing rushed in the way she tastes me, nothing selfish in the way she brings me to the edge, then holds me there, drawing out every shiver, and every gasp. I thread my fingers into her hair, not to control her, but to anchor myself. When I come, it’s with her name on my lips, and her mouth on my skin. I ride the wave, letting go of everything but what I feel in the moment.
After my body settles, I pull her up into my lap, her arms around my neck, her face buried in my shoulder. I hold her close, my hand stroking her back. For a long time, we simply breathe together and let the world outside the office fade to nothing. We may have won the battle, but the war isn’t over, not by a long shot. But tonight, in this office, with her body warm and tangled in mine, I know in my heart we can win.
Twenty-Two
Kristin leaves in a swirl of perfume and silk, her dress clinging to her curves, hair pinned up so her neck is bare and vulnerable. It’s the night of the Dogwood Bluff Library Fundraiser. A part of me wants to tell her not to go, that it’s too close to the press conference. Too close to when she confronted Will, but instead, I tell her she looks perfect. She says she’ll call me if there’s trouble. I don’t believe her, not really, but I watch from the porch as her taillights disappear down the drive. Waiting a long time after she’s gone, I pace the porch, staring out at the lake. I know Will. I know men like him. They don’t just fade into the night, especially not when the whole town is gathered to watch his world collapse. My skin crawls with it, the sense that something ugly is waiting to crawl out of the dark. I grab my jacket, and head for the Harley.
I make the ride into town quick. The library’s parking lot is full of cars and trucks, with Texas plates and bumper stickers that say things like “Proud Bulldog Parent.” I park the bike in the shadows behind the building, kill the engine, and move around to the side. There’s a service door propped with a brick, and I slip inside, boots silent on the linoleum.
Moving through the stacks, I stay low, every sense on edge. There’s laughter from the main room, and the sound of clinking glasses. I find a window in an interior door and lean in, watching. The library is transformed. Tables draped in white, centerpieces of wildflowers, and books stacked artfully. Donna is at the front holding a microphone, smiling as she gestures to the auction table and starts the bidding. Kristin sits at her side, posture straight, lips painted a deep red, and she looks radiant.
My chest loosens a little. I watch as Donna introduces the next item. It’s a signed edition of something classic. The bidding is lively, and Kristin laughs at something her mother says. For a moment, I think maybe I’m wrong. Maybe tonight will pass clean. Then the doors at the front open, and Will storms in. His face is flushed, and he looks like hell. His suit is rumpled, and the shirt is open at the throat. The room goes quiet. He stalks up the center aisle, ignoring the looks, and the whispers. Donna tries to intercept him, but he grabs the microphone from her hand pushes her hard, and moves past her. She stumbles, barely steadies herself, eyes wide with shock.
“I have something to say,” Will slurs, and I realize he’s drunk. “Something everyone in this room needs to hear.” A man in the front row who I don’t recognize tries to intervene, but Will waves him off. “Sit down. You all need to know the truth about the woman you’re all so proud of in this town. About Kristin Lennox.” He points at her, finger shaking with rage. “My wife. Or she was. I’m divorcing the bitch because she decided to fuck up everything decent in this town.”
Kristin stands, her face white, eyes blazing. “Will, stop this. Go home.”
He laughs, ugly and sharp. “Go home? You think you can throw me out of my own family’s library? You think you can parade around like you’re better than us?” he growls. “You’re not. You’re a liar. An adulterous, twisted bitch who’s beenspreading filth in this town for years. You think you’re a hero? You’re a disgrace.”
I’m moving now. I slam open the door, and every head turns. Will’s eyes find me and narrow.
He points in my direction. “And here she is,” he hisses. “The dyke who started all this. The woman who ruined my marriage. Who ruined my reputation. You want to see what corruption looks like? Look at her.”
My hands curl into fists, and I want to hit him, but I pause. The room is dead silent, every eye on the three of us. Kristin moves to put herself between us, but I shake my head. I don’t need saving. Suddenly, the sheriff steps through the door, hat in hand, face set, but he’s not alone. Behind him, a man steps in. Older, taller than Will, but otherwise looks exactly like him. He’s dressed in a dark suit that fits perfectly. His hair is white, his eyes clear and cold. If I have to guess, it’s Charles Cleveland, Will’s father, and the real power in this town.
The older man doesn’t hesitate. He strides to the front and stops in front of his son. For a second, the two men stare at each other, and the room holds its breath. Charles takes the microphone from Will’s hand. His voice is calm, measured, but it carries to every corner of the room. “That’s enough, William.” Will starts to protest, but Charles lifts a hand and Will falls silent. “You’ve embarrassed yourself, your family, and this community. I didn’t raise you to behave this way.”
Will looks around clearly searching for allies but finds none. His bravado crumbles. “Dad—”
Charles doesn’t look at him and turns to the sheriff. “I want my son escorted out of this building,” he says. “I want him held until we can sort out the mess he’s made. For the good of Dogwood Bluff.”
The sheriff looks stunned, then nods. “Yes, sir.” He steps forward, takes Will by the arm. Will tries to pull away, but hisfather’s gaze pins him in place. The sheriff leads him out with the room watching in silence.
Charles turns to the crowd. He takes a breath and then speaks into the mic. “I apologize to all of you. To every woman in this room. To the board. To Donna Lennox, whose service to this library cannot be overstated. And to Kristin.” He pauses as his eyes fall on her. “I saw the live feed of your speech. You’ve shown more courage in the last few days than most men do in a lifetime.” His eyes roam the room to make eye contact with as many people as possible. “And I am moving back to Dogwood Bluff to see that things are set right. My son will answer for his actions. This town deserves better. You all do.”
Setting the mic down, he steps away. He doesn’t look at me, not directly, but as he passes, he gives me a nod. It’s not approval, necessarily, but acknowledgment. I nod back. It’s enough. The room is still and then Donna starts to clap. Kristin follows and soon the applause grows, rolling through the room, not wild but grateful. I slip through the door, down the hallway, out into the night. My heart pounds but not with anger. With relief because justice, or something close to it, has been served.
I stand outside, breathing in the cool air, listening to the sounds of the fundraiser picking up again. Laughter, music, and the return of normalcy. I lean against the brick, feeling the weight slide off my shoulders. Kristin is safe. Will is done. My work here is almost finished, but I don’t leave. Not yet. I wait in the shadows, letting the night wash over me. I need to know for sure she doesn’t need me anymore. I pull out my phone, bring up Matt’s name, and tap out a quick message. “It’s done. Will’s out. Sheriff hauled him off in front of half the town. His old man’s back and went full king-of-the-castle. Kristin’s safe.” I hit send, my breath coming easier than it has in days.
Matt’s reply is almost instant. “Saw the livestream from yesterday. Glad things ended well.”
The library doors open behind me, and I hear heels on concrete. Kristin’s silhouette steps into the glow of the streetlamp. She scans the parking lot, eyes searching. When her gaze lands on me, she comes over, wrapping her arms tightly around my waist, and her head presses into my shoulder. I hold her, letting her breathe, letting her shake out the last of the adrenaline. Her voice is soft, muffled by my jacket.
“You saw everything?”
“Every second,” I say, my hand smoothing up her back. She pulls away a little, looking at me with eyes that are clearer than I’ve ever seen. There’s relief there, and gratitude, and something deep and quiet that makes my throat ache. But behind it, there’s a question, and we both know what it is. She’s free now. Truly free. She can continue to build something here, finish her dreams, but I’m not that. I’ve never been that. I kiss her forehead. “You going to be all right?”
She nods. “I think so. For the first time, I really think so.” She brushes her fingers down my arm, holding my gaze. “You’ll be at the house when I’m done here?”
“Yeah,” I murmur. “I will.”
