A ONE-NIGHT STAND hadn’t been on Florence “Flo” Dennison’s bingo card, but who was she to argue when Fate wanted something for her?
And by something Flo meant big, bearded and sexy as get-on-your-knees-in-your-prayer-closet sin.
To think, she mused, lifting her Sam Adams to her mouth for a sip, she’d almost gone directly home on her return to Rose Bend, Massachusetts, after being away for two weeks instead of stopping by Road’s End, the local—okay, the only—dive bar. Spending the past fifteen days in Thailand should’ve left her exhilarated. Tired from the travel but exhilarated. Instead, she was exhausted both physically and emotionally. And angry. So fucking angry.
She hadn’t wanted to return to Kinsale Inn, the bed-and-breakfast her family owned as well as where they all lived, with this thick, dark tangle of...rage stuck to her ribs like glue. Her parents and whatever siblings were hanging around would take one look at her and deduce something was up. And then poke and prod until she either confessed or screamed. Or confessed and screamed. They were great and annoying like that.
But she didn’t want either at the moment.
She just wanted to...wallow.
Wallow in her anger. Her hurt. At twenty-four, maybe that wasn’t very adult of her, but there it was.
But now, looking at Big, Bearded and Sinful, she wanted something else.
To work it off.
And yes, if desperation threaded through that admission, well, again, there it was.
“Flo.” Maddox Holt, owner of the bar, stopped in front of her, nodding at her with a smile. “You good? Need another beer?”
She shook her head, lowering the half-empty bottle to the bar top.
“No, I’m still working on this one. But—” she tipped the bottle toward the stranger at the other end of the bar “—you can refill whatever he’s having. On me.”
Maddox’s dark auburn eyebrow arched high. Shaking his head, he rapped his knuckles on the wooden top, his smile widening into a grin. “I swear, you Dennison women never fail to make my evenings entertaining.”
Since her sister Leo and sisters-in-law, Sydney and Nessa, regularly held their girls’ nights here with their friends, Flo didn’t doubt Maddox’s words. They were all a handful when they got together. A hilarious, no-filter, show-tunes-when-drunk handful.
She smirked. “Well, I promise not to debut my rendition of ‘I’ll Always Love You’ for all and sundry, if that makes you feel any better.”
Leo couldn’t say the same as she’d jumped up on the empty stage and belted out the Whitney Houston version of the hit during their last visit. And though Flo’s older sister had been named after the famed opera singer Leontyne Price, her voice sounded more like cats battling it out in an alley. Yeah, not pretty at all.
Maddox winced before smiling again, wider this time. “It does. It definitely does.”
She raised her bottle to her mouth again and studied the man at the end of the bar.
Even though Rose Bend was a small, postcard-pretty town dropped right in the middle of the Southern Berkshires, strangers weren’t foreign to its borders. Not when nearly every season or holiday brought visitors far and wide for town-hosted festivals or carnivals or motorcycle rallies. Strangers weren’t odd around here.
But the impact this one had on her was unusual.
Or rather, the heat this one stirred inside her, like a sauna switched on high, was unusual.
She studied the man, trying not to be too obvious. But hell, it was a Tuesday night and besides them, only about fifteen other people gathered at the tables, played pool or bellied up to the bar. She couldn’t exactly hide her fascination.
And oh yes, she was indeed fascinated.
His high fade had her fingers tingling with the need to comb through that thick, textured hair. A neat, full mustache and beard framed a wide mouth, the sensual lips appearing almost too lush. Her belly pulled tight below her navel, the ache sweet and painful. The longer she stared at that mouth, the sharper the ache.
From this distance, she couldn’t catch the color of his eyes, but the patrician slope of his nose with its round, flared nostrils, and the bold, clean lines of his face declared his stark beauty from across the bar.
Or maybe it was just her.
Maybe she was the only one captivated by broad shoulders that stretched the soft-looking black sweater to its limits. Mesmerized by the big, long-fingered hands wrapped around a short tumbler of amber alcohol. Enraptured by the seemingly endless denim-encased legs that stretched out on either side of the bar stool. Absurdly fascinated by the large feet planted on the dark tile floor.
He was so...huge.
A low, heated thrum buzzed under her skin at the thought of just how he would completely surround a person. Fill a person.
Okay, her. Surround her. Fill her.
She should really show some dignity and stop ogling him. It was rude at best, a little unnerving at worst. Any moment, she would stop staring. Honestly. Aaaany moment...
Maddox approached the man with another glass and set it on the bar in front of him. Leaning forward, the bar owner said something to Big, Bearded and Sinful, most likely passing along that she’d paid for that drink. And she braced herself as those wide shoulders tensed. Braced for the moment when he...
Damn.
Still couldn’t see his eyes at this distance, with the bar’s dim lighting, but the impact of his gaze slammed into her like a velvet sledgehammer. And no, she wasn’t too proud to admit she might’ve gasped. Just a small one, though.
Because... Damn.
Yes, she’d said that already, but it bore repeating.
He cocked his head to the side and, whew. That little move was all kinds of sexy. Did he know it? Did he practice it in a mirror to achieve the perfect angle that said, “Have you gotten a good enough look at what you see?” but didn’t veer into “I’m a conceited asshole” territory. It was a careful balance and he nailed it.
Turning back to Maddox, he replied to the bar owner then slid off the stool and walked toward her in what could only be described as a sensual display of power and beauty in motion. She tried to keep her gaze off the flex and stretch of all that muscle in his thick thighs. But good God. She was only human and those thighs, thooo...
Swallowing a sigh along with another gulp of beer, she resisted, pressing the cool bottle to her cheek. Not that it would do anything for the heat pooling between her legs. Seriously, he had to know what that body and sensual, confident stride did to a woman who hadn’t had sex in, oh eight months, three weeks and four days.
But who’s counting?
“I believe the bartender said this was courtesy of you?”
She should’ve expected it. Everything about him was big, almost an exaggeration of beautiful. From the thick, tight coils of his hair to his smooth, dark brown skin, to the broad, powerful frame... So yes, she should’ve expected his voice to be this deep, resonant timbre. It somehow agitated the ache he’d stirred while soothing...something inside her she couldn’t identify.
Should’ve expected it? Still wasn’t ready.
And even when he set the thick glass tumbler down on the bar top and settled on the stool next to her, she couldn’t find her voice. It lodged in her throat, snared by surprise and lust.
So she nodded.
He glanced down at the drink then turned, fully facing her, and—she didn’t sigh. Her whole fucking being did.
Hazel.
His eyes were hazel.
Although that name seemed so inadequate to describe the stunning blend of dark green and golden brown. God, she’d go back in time and return the past two weeks of travel and amazing shots just to have her camera in her hands so she could photograph him. Her fingers and palms itched to capture him in different light, with different expressions.
He made an utterly fascinating canvas.
“I appreciate the gesture but this—” he tipped the other glass he’d already been nursing toward her “—is my second drink and also my limit since I’m driving home. So I’m afraid I’ll have to decline your offer. But it’s appreciated.”
Driving home?
As in Rose Bend?
Twenty-three of her twenty-four years had been spent in this town, except for the years she’d grudgingly spent in college. Newcomers traveled through the gossip vines faster than a sugar rush through a toddler. No way she would’ve missed it. And no way she would’ve missed him.
Maybe he’d stopped by while on his way to one of the neighboring towns or cities.
Which made her intentions for tonight even better.
Lifting a shoulder in a shrug, she picked up the glass and slung it back. Scotch. She didn’t really like hard liquor, but she wasn’t about to let it go to waste either. And besides, what was that about liquid courage? She could definitely use some right now. The alcohol burned its way over her tongue, hit her chest and mushroomed in a burst of heat toward her stomach.
Burned away the last vestiges of her reticence, too.
“You’re welcome,” she said, voice hoarse from the liquor and the sensual punch of him. “Thank you for coming over and softening the blow. You let me save face and the drink.” Smiling, she held up the empty tumbler, dipping her chin toward him. “Which was pretty awful, by the way.” She gave a shudder. It really did taste bad. “I think I’ll stick to beer and the occasional Sex on the Beach.”
Something flared in his eyes—something she didn’t feel comfortable naming. No, no. Not true. And since she’d decided to be all big and bold tonight, she at least owed it to herself to be honest. Something she was afraid to name in case she was wrong.
In case she was disappointed.
“Occasional, huh?” He arched a dark, thick eyebrow, swirling the small amount of amber whiskey left in his glass. His green-and-gold gaze didn’t move from her face and for the briefest of moments, she felt like a drowning victim, sinking for a final time. In over her head. “This place doesn’t strike me as the kind to have Sex on the Beach, even the occasional one.”
“Which place? The bar or Rose Bend?”
The corner of his mouth hitched in an almost smile. And against her will, curiosity tugged at her. She didn’t need curiosity for her plans tonight. And yet, she couldn’t stop her mind from wondering, Why almost? Do you smile often? If not, why?
Yeah, she had to stop this dicey spiral of thoughts before it got her in trouble.
And talked her right out of orgasms.
“Take your pick,” he murmured. Or challenged.
It was low, couched in what could still be considered polite, harmless conversation, but oh yes, it was still a challenge. To see how far she was willing to push it.
Oh Mr. Big, Bearded and Sinful, I’ve had a shitty two weeks fending off a mentor-turned-octopus. I am angry, have whiskey lighting me up like a UFO sighting and left my last fuck back over the Massachusetts state line. I’m ready to, in the immortal words of Salt-N-Pepa, push it real good.
Not quite tipsy enough to say all that aloud, she finished off the rest of her beer and signaled Maddox for another one. In moments, he replaced her empty with a fresh bottle, his blue gaze running over her face, probably gauging her sobriety. Flo flashed him a smile, letting him know she was fine. Shaking his head, he gave her a small smirk in return then walked off.
“Well, Road’s End is a dive bar, so you’re pretty much going to get beer, local IPAs and some top-shelf liquor.” She nodded toward his glass. “But if you know people—” she leaned toward him, lowering her voice “—and I know people, you can sometimes get away with fancier drinks.” Another of those almost smiles, and it glimmered in his eyes. God, the sight of that wide, sensual mouth pulled into a full, genuine grin might be more than her poor heart could take.
For a brief moment she’d wanted to see the full Monty of that smile.
She’d changed her mind.
“Rose Bend seems like a small, innocent town, but don’t let the church steeple fool you. There’s Rose Bend After Dark if you know where to look. Or if you want to look.”
A long, silent moment practically pulsed with heat between them. Now she waited to see how far he would push.
“So you’re from here?” he asked.
Tilting her head, she lobbed back, “Are you?”
“No.”
Relief streamed through her, and she lifted her beer for a sip to hide her smile. She must’ve done a terrible job of it, though, because he huffed out a soft chuckle.
“That seems to please you. Now my curiosity won’t let me not ask why. Is being a resident of Rose Bend such a crime?”
“Of course not,” she said, adding a shake of her head for emphasis. “This is a great town. Wonderful place to grow up. But small pool for what I want.”
“And that is?”
Nerves tangled in her belly, and that steady, jeweled gaze didn’t help. Quite the opposite. It further entangled the liquor-infused bravado. But it also ignited the need already simmering inside her. Stifling the urge to shift on the bar stool, to somehow alleviate the ache setting up a slow, insistent throb between her legs, she met that stare.
“One night. With you.”
There. She put it out there. No taking it back. And though she’d murmured the words, they seemed to echo. She fought to maintain their visual connection when a part of her desired to duck her head or rescind that bold statement.
No, that was a lie.
Embarrassment over his potential rejection might stain her neck and chest, but she didn’t want to take back the offer. She’d been honest. And hell, in the spirit of that honesty, she was a little desperate, too.
Being alone tonight... Yeah, avoiding the empty ache was worth the risk of some embarrassment.
“Why?”
She blinked. Slowly straightened and set her bottle on the bar top.
Okay. Hadn’t been expecting that response. “I’m sorry. What do you mean, why?”
He set his glass on the bar, too, and his scrutiny seemed to narrow, intensify as it scanned her face, searching for...what? Confusion crowded out the mortification.
“I mean,” he said, “why? Why me? Why do you want one night?”
The abrupt burst of laughter she released reflected the surprise swirling inside her. She tipped her head back, her locs tickling her lower back as she blankly studied the wood-beamed ceiling.
Leave it to her to approach the one man who wanted to discuss her feelings about a one-night stand. Dammit. Where was a fuck boy when you needed one?
“Look, if you’re not interested—”
“Did I say that?” he interrupted. “Don’t put words in my mouth.”
“I’m trying to put other things in your mouth, but you don’t seem in a rush for that,” she muttered.
“Clever.” That quirk at the corner of his mouth. Resentment filled her that she still wanted to kiss that lush curve. Bite it. “Are you going to answer?”
She swallowed a sigh and eyed her beer. She might need it for this conversation. Out of all the Dennisons, she was the one he wanted to go deeper with. It would be laughable if it wasn’t so frustrating. She avoided deep like vampires dodged direct sunlight.
“Why you?” She addressed the easiest question first, hoping he’d leave the second one alone. She scoffed, waving a hand up and down, encompassing his big self. “Have you seen yourself? I don’t think you need me to tell you how attractive women find your big, tall body. How it makes them want to climb it like a tree just to get to that beautiful mouth. Or grab ahold of that beard so they can run their fingers through it, see if it’s soft and springy or coarse and thick. Imagine how it would feel over their bare skin. And then there’s those eyes.” Her breath hitched as they brightened. “I called you Big, Bearded and Sinful in my head before you even walked over here. But one glimpse of those stunning eyes and it confirmed that impression. That’s what you are. So does that clear up the why? The why you?”
Her heart pounded after that little speech, and it left her mouth dry.
He didn’t immediately answer. Or maybe he did. That something flashed in his eyes again and he lifted his tumbler to his mouth, tossed back the rest of the whiskey, then slowly set the glass back on the bar. All while never releasing her from his stare.
Damn.
The flames in her veins evaporated all the air from her lungs. Until this moment, she hadn’t believed in insta-lust. That was a vehicle rolled out to sell romance novels and movies, not real life. Had she been attracted to men and women before? Sure. But this demanding, clawing, hungry thing defied mere attraction.
But something this hot, this needy, couldn’t last. It burned too hot. Still, she wanted to go up in its flames before it died.
“No,” he finally said, sending a frisson of shock shivering through her. “You haven’t finished answering. Why the one night?”
Her lips twisted. “Are we really discussing this?” She shrugged, throwing up her hands, palms up. “Why does anyone have a one-night stand? To get off? Because they’re not looking for a relationship but a strings-free time?”
“Okay.” He cocked his head. “Now that we’ve discussed anyone’s reasons, let’s talk about yours.”
Embers of anger sizzled beneath the desire, and she lifted her beer to her mouth again, gulping down a mouthful, but the cold brew did nothing to douse her annoyance.
Discomfort.
“This is the funniest way of saying you’d rather not—”
“Still trying to put words in my mouth,” he murmured. “Or are you trying to avoid the question?”
“Yes,” she nearly snapped. “Either you want to fuck or opt out, but I don’t want to have a therapy session about it.”
Even in the noisy hum of the bar, silence beat between them.
It pounded with its own rhythm, holding her chained to her chair. And when he put an elbow on the edge of the bar and leaned closer to her, invading her personal space, she didn’t move. Couldn’t move. She inhaled his rich, woodsy scent that carried notes of a heady, earthen musk, sweet and light like milk chocolate and fruit and caramel from the whiskey. He was a veritable buffet of fragrance. And her mouth watered for a taste.
“Let’s just get this out the way, queen. I might question why you want this, but not if I want you. Fucking you isn’t the issue. If that was my only concern, we would already be outside in my truck and headed to the nearest flat surface. And even flat surface is negotiable. But I want to make sure you don’t wake up tomorrow and I’m a regret you wish you’d given five more minutes to consider. I would hate to be that for you.”
“Queen?” she whispered, surprise winging through her for the second time that night. Surprise and a flood of warmth she had no name for, but it made her...feel.
That alone should’ve had her backing away from him, from this. Should’ve had her changing her mind.
“I have to call you something since I don’t know your name. And call it intuition, but I’m guessing if I asked, you’re not going to give it to me.” He paused, his gaze roaming her face as if on a treasure hunt. “Will you?”
“No.”
He laughed, and the low, deep, knowing sound stroked over her skin. But then he sobered, and though he leaned back, the intensity didn’t lessen.
“Are you ready to tell me why, then? Why the one night?”
She studied him, a stinging retort hot on her tongue. But the unwavering, almost gentle look in his eyes stifled her reply.
Part of her melted.
Part of her battled the urge to run.
And yet, she stayed.
“I just returned home from a trip abroad,” she murmured, then hiked her shoulders up before letting them fall. “I have no idea why I’m telling you this,” she admitted more to herself than to him.
“For the same reason you sent me that drink. You want to. Where did you go?”
He sounded so damn reasonable. But it was his calm that had her smoothing a hand over her locs, her fingers bumping the bun on the top of her head before trailing down to the strands falling over her shoulders.
“Thailand. Two weeks. I went for work, but they still should’ve been two wonderful weeks doing something I love in a gorgeous country I’ve always wanted to visit. Instead...” Anger, bitterness and a marrow-deep grief roiled inside her. “Instead, my visit turned into a nightmare where I not only lost my joy in a dream assignment, but I also lost a mentor and friend—well, someone I believed was a friend. I thought he respected me, valued my talent, and in the end, all I was to him was easy ass.”
The words were almost flippant, but the emotions were...anything but. She still raged. She still fumed.
She still hurt.
Paul Coolidge, her college professor-turned-mentor, had betrayed her friendship, her trust. Had abused his position of authority to make her feel small. Powerless.
And she hated that most of all.
She’d been there before. Understood more intimately than most what it was to be rendered invisible and helpless by someone she trusted—someone she loved. It made her sick that she found herself there again. And she wanted, needed, to purge the stench of it.
“I’m sorry, queen,” he murmured. “You didn’t deserve that.”
“You know what was the worst part? Well, besides having to find ways not to bend over, kneel, lean forward or hell, fucking breathe, around this man? Because apparently everything I did sent him signals to touch me, groan as if I were a steak dinner being served up just for his pleasure, or proposition me.” She snorted, her grip tightening around her beer bottle. The cold chilled her fingers, but she barely felt it, mired in the recent past. “The other people there with us saw what he was doing. Saw how uncomfortable he made me. A couple of them even overheard a few of his comments. But they did nothing. Said nothing. They acted like everything was normal. I felt invisible. Voiceless. Like I was screaming into this void for help, and no one heard me.”
Betrayal, hurt and a powerless fury beat within her chest.
“What did you do?” he asked after a moment.
She released a caustic chuckle. “I started setting my phone up to secretly record anytime I had to interact with him. I caught him saying offensive shit to me and touching my ass ‘by mistake.’ I played it back for him and threatened that if he didn’t stop, the videos would be on social media by that night. And I would be tagging his university. That got his notice, and he cut it out, but that last week in Bangkok was...horrible. And now I’m not sure if he will blackball me or start some kind of smear campaign against me.”
She shook her head, loosing another sharp-edged laugh.
“I know for sure I lost a friend and that I can kiss any work opportunities from his recommendation goodbye. At the end of the day, I’m still paying a high price and he gets off with a warning—literally.”
Silence fell between them, and heat suffused her chest, neck and face. She hated appearing weak. Hated waving her vulnerability like a dirty rag. Most people didn’t respect it, only viewed it as something to either scorn or abuse.
And here she was just handing over that emotional ammo to him.
This called for more beer.
She tipped the bottle up for a longer, deeper sip.
“I won’t give you some trite cliché saying ‘I know how you feel.’ I can’t. I’ve never been in a position where I’ve been sexually objectified or had my livelihood threatened because I wouldn’t play ‘the game.’ Yes, I’m a Black man in America, and that’s a whole different discussion, but not this one. And I won’t insult you by co-opting your experience as a woman. A Black woman. So I’m just going to say I’m sorry. And you’re right. In this situation, you’ll pay the cost more than he will. If he does at all. But that doesn’t make him innocent. He had a responsibility toward you, as your employer, mentor and friend. As a person. He violated those boundaries, not you. I hope you recognize that.”
“Here.” She tapped a fingertip to her temple. “I do recognize it. But here?” She lowered her arm, splaying her fingers wide over her chest. “Is a different story. I’m working on it, though.”
“And working on it—or working through it—entails fucking me for the night?” he asked, almost nonchalantly.
The blunt, casual tone of fucking me set the lust that had been simmering inside her to flash fire level.
“Yes,” she admitted, just as blunt but softer.
“Will it work?” He toyed with the tumbler, but that magnetic green-and-gold gaze fixed on her.
“I don’t know... But it’ll prevent me from obsessively thinking about it for the next few hours. It’ll help me forget for a little while.” It’d help her feel something other than anger, confusion and disillusionment. “For that, I’m willing to take a chance. Are you going to be my chance?”
He stared at her, and if her breath stilled in her lungs...if her whole body stilled in anticipation of his answer, well, she chalked it up to her sexual fast and the whole gluttonous meal of a man sitting next to her. Simple lust. Nothing more.
Although, while she didn’t make a habit of one-night stands—how could she in her Your Business is My Business small town—she’d indulged occasionally before. And never, never had she felt the need to confess her inner thoughts as foreplay.
“Depends.” He cocked his head. “What’re you going to be for me?”
Whatever you need me to be, danced on her tongue, and she nearly uttered the flippant, and corny, response. But a closer look into his golden eyes stopped her. That shuttered expression compelled her to give more of the honesty she’d delivered tonight.
“I’ll be the opposite of whatever drove you here to drink alone,” she finally said, unsure if that was the correct answer.
But the flare of heat in his gaze assured her it was.
And yet, he didn’t say anything. Pride kept her from asking him again.
Yet, even pride had its limits. Just one glance down—at his broad, solid chest, at those powerful thighs—and begging didn’t seem all that bad. Not when she could have all of him pressed against her. Covering her.
She shivered.
God, she wanted him covering her. Filling her.
There had to be another time when she’d been this turned on. But for the life of her, she couldn’t remember it in this moment.
“No regrets,” he murmured.
“No regrets.”
He nodded, and turning to face the bar, held up a hand, signaling for Maddox. Seconds later the bar owner approached them.
“What can I do for you?” Maddox asked.
“I need to pay my tab. And hers.”
Flo shook her head. “That’s not nece—”
“I know it’s not. But I am,” he quietly interrupted her, and her lips snapped shut around the rest of her protest.
That low, bourbon-and-bad-decisions voice brooked no argument. And though part of her balked at the dominance humming in his tone, a larger part damn near purred.
Purred.
Who did that?
Her, apparently.
Flo dipped her chin and finished off the rest of her beer while he handed Maddox several bills. From the look of it, more than enough to cover their drinks and a healthy tip.
So he wasn’t stingy.
Hopefully, that translated to...other things.
Sex.
Other things were sex and the universe owed her a selfless, generous lover after her hellish past two weeks.
“Ready?” he asked, rising from the stool and holding out his hand to her.
For a moment, she stared at the wide palm and long, elegant fingers. And the urge to tell him this wasn’t a hand-holding situation crowded into the back of her throat. But instead of letting it fly off her tongue, she swallowed it back down. Something told her this man didn’t care about typical one-night stands or what was customary for everyone else—including her. A niggling intuition warned her nothing about this night would be usual. Starting with the man she’d chosen.
“You want my arm to fall off?” Humor laced the question, but she barely heard it.
A jolt of icy shock blasted through her, and she froze midclimb down from the bar stool. She blinked at him, a disorienting sense of...familiarity rippling through her. There was no way this man could know that Billy Dee Williams’s quote from the classic movie Lady Sings the Blues was one of her favorites. Just as he couldn’t know that the movie starring Billy Dee and Diana Ross had been her mother’s favorite.
Not Lucille “Moe” Dennison, her adoptive mother who was probably just locking Kinsale Inn’s doors and heading up to bed.
No, her biological mother. The one Flo barely remembered. The one she’d known only from old pictures, diaries and her parents’ memories.
No, he couldn’t possibly know that the only way she felt close to the mother whose memory was like a smudged fingerprint—tangible but with blurred details—was to become familiar with and love the things she’d loved.
But it didn’t stop her from feeling like he in some way did know...
She shook her head, as if the abrupt motion could rid her of the fanciful thought. This was a one-night stand. A fuck-and-flee. There was nothing sentimental about this other than the tender feelings she would have toward her orgasms.
Another reason not to hold his hand—
She slid her palm across his.
Dammit. She must’ve left her sense of self-preservation at the Grand Palace and the Temple of the Emerald Buddha.
She smothered a sigh.
“Ready.”