Southbound Surrender (20 page)

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Authors: Raen Smith

BOOK: Southbound Surrender
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She lets out a soft moan before she pulls away.

“No, no, no,” I say as I sneak in another kiss before she pulls away again. I can’t let this moment end.

“I’m freezing, Cash,” she whispers.

“Don’t stop. I’ll warm you up,” I say, holding her legs tighter against my body.

“I don’t want to stop, but I’m so cold I think I’m going to get hypothermia.” She lets out a small laugh. “Some idiot decided it was a good idea to jump in freezing water.”

“Well, some idiot followed you,” I say as I feel her legs unwrap from my waist.

“Thank you for being an idiot with me.”

“Always,” I reply before I rob her of another kiss. “Now let’s get you out of here.”

We swim to the nearest shore, and heave ourselves out of the water. I can’t help but steal a look at her glistening body as she emerges from the water. She gives me a playful push before I climb up the rocky bank. My bare feet slip on the muddy surface before I finally reach the top, and then I extend my hand to pull her up. We scoop up our soaked clothes, and I hold her one last time on top of the rocks. Her body is shaking in my arms.

“You know you make me crazy, right?” I say between kisses.

“I thought you were a master of your own fate?” she asks, her teeth chattering.

“Well, in that case, I’m choosing you. I chose you the first moment I laid eyes on you,” I reply, tilting her chin toward me for one last kiss. “Let’s get out of here.”

We climb the hill holding hands, slipping and laughing the whole way with our clothes tucked in our arms. I open the door for her, and she climbs into the cab. I watch her hips swing and the curve of her ass disappear into the truck just like any sane heterosexual man would do.

I sprint around the truck and scramble in the driver’s side, slamming the door shut with a quick thud. I turn the heat on full blast, letting the truck idle on the shoulder of the road. We throw our wet clothes in between the seats, and our eyes meet, holding the gaze for a split second. We don’t have to say anything; it’s a silent understanding. She knows. I know.

She climbs into the back and shakes out her hair, letting the strands fall around the sides of her face.

“You’re so beautiful,” I admire as she lays her head on the pillow, her chest heaving with each breath.

“You like it?” she asks as she runs her fingers playfully along the lace of her bra. “I wore it just for you. You seem like a lace kind of guy.”

“I love it,” I say as I climb onto the bed and lie next to her. It’s taking all of my self-control not to rip the matching set off her. I want to devour her, but I’ve dreamed about this moment for five years – FIVE FREAKING YEARS. I have to savor this moment. I have to explore every inch of her delectable body. “Remember that last question that I’ve been saving? I want to ask my fifth and final question right now.”

She raises her eyebrows.

“Will you make love to me?”

“Oh, I will. I will so good. Come here,” she murmurs. “Keep me warm.”

I obey. God, do I obey.

I pull the blanket over us and wrap my arms around her. She huddles into me for a moment, burying her face into my chest before I lift up her chin. We kiss then, and I start slow, tasting her with every flick of my tongue and press of my lips. She pushes faster, more frantic against my lips as her hands explore my chest and move down onto my waistband.

I let out a groan of pleasure and move my own hands to the straps of her bra. I slide my fingers beneath the thin fabric, pulling them down until they’re hanging by her arms. My fingertips play across the edge of her bra before she breaks from me to whisper.

“Take it off.”

Again, I obey with full enthusiasm.

The wet bra unhooks, and I pull it away from her, throwing it aside. She lets out a soft whimper as I explore her breasts, trailing kisses across her skin. Her body is starting to warm beneath my kisses, and all I want to do is keep tasting her. I run my tongue along her hard nipples as she slips her fingers beneath my boxer briefs, and a wave of arousal floods through my body.

I didn’t know I could want someone this bad.

My fingers trace down her belly until they find the lace of her underwear, and I’m in them now, feeling every part of her.

“Cash,” she whispers with her eyes closed as her hips push into me. She begs, “Please. I want you. I’ve wanted this for so long.”

“Me, too. You have no idea,” I whisper as she climbs on top of me. She reaches down to the floor of the truck and pops back up with the cowboy hat from Wildhorse Saloon. She sets it on top of her head.

She is so incredibly hot, and it’s taking all of my self-control to keep my composure.

“Yee-haw,” she whispers as she pulls my underwear down to my mid-thighs. I slide her underwear to the side and let her guide me in. She rocks against me, moving her hips in a slow, rhythmic motion that sends shivers through my body. She throws her head back, letting her hair fall to the middle of her back. I run my fingers through it, feeling the strands before I tug at her underwear and pull her closer to me. She moans.

God, does she moan.

I never want this to end. I never want her to stop sliding on me, sending me into an ecstasy I can’t describe. It’s so much better than I could have possibly imagined. And I want to tell her I love her, but I don’t want to tell her like this in the dizzying haze of sex. She won’t believe me; she’ll think I’m saying it just to say it. She’ll think that my hormones kicked in and celebrated the victory and accidentally let a momentary lapse of judgment occur. But she would be wrong, completely wrong. I love her with every piece of my body. And she needs to know it.

She’s perfect. We’re perfect in this moment of fifty square feet.

By the time she’s done rocking and playing and ultimately, torturing me into a level of frenzy that seems borderline unjust, the windows of Cash Money are so fogged up that we can’t see out of them. Which means, thankfully, no one can see in.

She is laying on me in just her underwear, her head against my chest, and I hold her, stroking her hair. The cowboy hat has somehow managed to get on my head, but I don’t exactly remember the moment the transfer occurred. My body is exhausted and hers is still hot and sweaty against mine. The blanket is scrunched in a ball at our feet. She lets out a huge exhale and her breath is hot against my skin. I know I would be in another fit of arousal if I wasn’t so exhausted.

“Thank you,” she finally says, her lips moving against my chest.

“You’re welcome,” I reply. “I guess.”

“That was…” Her voice is sleepy and dazed and it makes me feel like a prizefighter.

“Amazing,” I finish for her.

“I was looking for a word bigger than that. Better, stronger. But I guess amazing will do,” she says.

“Mind-blowing, stunning, remarkable, once-in-a-lifetime, miraculous. Any of those work for you?”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, Cash Rowland,” she laughs as she presses her fingers against my chest and pushes herself up. She props one of her elbows on my chest, and I notice that one of her gorgeous and lovely breasts is exposed.

If I wasn’t so exhausted…

She runs a finger along my chest. “When I met you when we were seventeen, I wouldn’t have ever imagined that you would be able to make me feel this way.”

“Well, I’m glad that I had a shot to prove you wrong. I think I can prove you wrong with a whole lot of other things if you let me,” I say.

“You started on the right foot and maybe I’ll give you another chance. We have three more days,” she says.

Hell, yes. We have three more days. If this is any indication of the days ahead, I am never going to leave this truck.

“I want to show you something,” I say. “As much as I don’t want to move, I need to get up.”

“Ugh,” she says as she rolls off me. “This better be good.”

I cock my eyebrows and flash a smile. “Don’t worry. It is.”

As much as I’ve been waiting for the moment to “make love” - or in other words, to have crazy, hot sex – with Piper Sullivan, I think I’ve been waiting just as long to do what I am about to do. I pull up my underwear and bend down to dig through my bag. I unzip the plastic bag and pull out the cigar and tattered, folded note. I hold each of them in my hand for her to see.

“No way,” she says in awe. “You did not keep those things for the last five years.”

“I did,” I say, handing the cigar to her. I dig back in the bag to retrieve a lighter and then point to the cigar, “That, Piper Sullivan, is how you stole my heart.”

“And this…” I hold up the note. “Is how you shattered it.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispers. “But I –”

“I don’t care,” I interrupt and put her hand against my chest. “Because all that matters is that you’re here with me now. I loved you the first day I saw you. I know that sounds crazy, but I just knew that you were the one. I could feel it, and I knew you would one day shatter my heart. But I wanted to get a chance to love you, and I wanted to get a chance of you loving me back. I knew I couldn’t live my life without you in it. I wanted to know what I was going to miss. And all these years, I still had hope that I would find you again. Miserable, desperate hope that drove Big Dave and Hudson wild, but I never let up. I believed we would find each other one day like you said in the note.”

“Cash,” she whispers. “I don’t want to know what it feels like to miss you anymore.”

“You have no idea how happy I am to hear you say that.”

Her hand presses against me, and I swear my heart is going to burst through my chest. And I realize then, that as hard as it was to miss her, I would pick missing her over never meeting her any day of the week.

“I love you, Cash Rowland,” she whispers.

“I love you, Piper Sullivan.”

And it’s another fireworks display like it was the first time we kissed in the closet of Xavier High School, except this time, the colors are brighter and the sparks are hotter. I swear I can see and hear them exploding somewhere nearby.

“And now I would like to finish smoking this two-hundred dollar cigar. Would you like to do the honors?” I ask, holding the lighter up to her.

“I can’t believe you managed to get this. How did you do it?”

“Big Dave took it,” I reply with a smile. “Then he gave it to me. I
almost
smoked it during the spring semester when I was at Princeton. I was this close.” I pinch my fingers together. “That was probably the hardest year.”

“I still can’t believe you went to Princeton,” she says.

“I still can’t believe I failed half the classes. Love makes you act like such an idiot.”

She laughs and holds up the cigar, “You don’t think Viv is going to freak out that you smoked in the truck?”

“Screw Viv.” I lean over and light the cigar. The neon ring glows in the shadows of the cab, and she lets out a stifled cough and puff of smoke.

“I see you’re still an experienced smoker,” I tease. “Does it still taste like crap?”

“Yes, it still tastes like two-hundred dollar crap,” she says as she hands it to me.

I climb back on the bed and pull her into me. She rests her head lightly on my chest. We smoke the rest of the cigar and laugh about the note just like we are, mostly naked and hot and exhausted.

And in love.

Chapter 13

Did I mention how much I love the Peach State? We’re crossing the border into Florida now, which leaves me a little sad as I think about leaving Georgia behind. I can’t complain, though. That fine state was good to me.

Viv called while we were finishing the cigar, mostly naked and still in the haze of sex. I thought about telling Viv about it just to drive her wild, but the rasp in her voice was harsh. The conversation went something like this:

Viv: Dammit Cash, where are you?

Me: Southern part of the Peach State. (I winked at Piper, and she shook her head.)

Viv: Rumors are flying that you got shot at somewhere in Tennessee. Is that true? God dammit, is my load still safe? You know I can’t afford something happening to that load…

Me: Yes, I got shot at and yes, the load is still safe and sound.

Viv: Good. They want the delivery by noon tomorrow.

Me: That’s going to be tight…

Viv: I don’t care how tight your asshole is Cash. I need the delivery to Miami by noon. If we can land this delivery, we got a whole lot of business coming our way. I’m talking big bucks. I’ve got dollar signs in my eyes, so don’t mess this up. I picked you for a reason and not the other guys who have dick for brains.

Me: Got it. Dick for brains, that’s a new one.

Viv: Call me when you get there.

Click.

We’re back on the road because I like Viv, and I know this is important to her. Plus, I like my job and wouldn’t mind keeping it, although Piper’s still trying to convince me otherwise. Believe me, getting back on the road was hard. It pained me to watch Piper get dressed.

It is 10:07 p.m. now and the headlights of Cash Money are bringing us closer to our destination for the night: Gainesville, Florida. I’ve got another two hours of good driving in me tonight. If we want to make it to Miami by noon, we have to get back on the road just before six in the morning. These details may seem insignificant to you, but these details are what keep a truck driver on the road and in business. On-time deliveries equal happy customers, which equals gainful employment.

I’m not much for night-time driving. Although the roads are pretty clear of traffic, I don’t get to see the sights that America has to offer, like a McDonalds on every exit and Subway on every other exit and Super 8 on every third exit. There’s a comfort factor in seeing the same establishments pass by along the vast flatness of the Midwest, the mountainous hills of Appalachia, and the Everglades of Florida. In the dark, you miss all that. It’s nothing but a drone of black with the occasional interruption of headlights. It’s usually just me and the beams of bright white and squares of neon reds.

Tonight, things are different. Piper’s humming in the seat next to me with her head against the window and her legs curled up to her chest. Her voice is soft and low and I’d love to tell you that she has the voice of an angel, but she doesn’t. She’s off-key, and I can barely recognize the Johnny Cash song, but somehow she manages to make
Burning Ring of Fire
endearing. Her body bounces along with the truck, and I know that if I were able to see her,
really
see her, in the light, I wouldn’t be sitting in this seat. I can see the shadow of her braless nipple poking at the cotton of her t-shirt.

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