Chapter 18

April pulled up to Joanna’s house and sat outside with her heart pounding.

Until recently, she’d never really done anything bad, so she’d had very little to atone for. But this felt as though she’d set fire to a flag or a Bible or a little girl’s teddy bear. In a world full of sin, she was the worst of all sinners—she was the next Cleo, a caseworker who got herself talked about, whose story of tragic disobedience kept everyone else in line.

Joanna’s house looked like boys lived there. A Big Wheel sat in the driveway next to scattered Matchbox cars. There were scorch marks on the pavement from where they’d lit firecrackers and bottle caps. A baby doll with one eye missing stared forlornly out of an empty fish tank.

But April couldn’t move. She wanted to do anything but this. She wasn’t even sure she could do it.

Going in there and confessing the truth meant she herself had to accept the truth. She’d gambled on being able to lead two separate lives. On being able to lie. Only in the end, when it was already too late, did she discover who she really was. Not the sensible conscientious April who studied weeks before an exam instead of cramming at the last minute, who ironed her dorm room sheets and her blue jeans, and who cultivated quiet, manageable little crushes on suitable men.

No, she was someone else entirely. The real April craved. Lusted. Wanted.

The real April was determined to slip her collar and go howling at the moon.

But now she would have to lay the whole ugly truth in front of Joanna, and the thought of doing that made her stomach hurt.

When she got out of the car, it already felt as though unseen eyes were judging her from behind shuttered windows. She almost lost her nerve, turned around and drove home. Her muscles shook as she went up the walkway and then knocked on the door. This time of day all of Joanna’s boys would be home, but not her husband. At least April would be spared the indignity of explaining her actions to him, too.

Joanna answered the door with her toddler on her hip. “April, honey, what are you doing here?”

April opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came out.

She burst into tears.

“Oh, no,” Joanna said. “Something awful must have happened. Come inside to the kitchen and I’ll make some tea.”

In Joanna’s world, tea solved everything. April longed to tell her not to bother, but all she could do was follow her, sobbing. The kitchen was homey and comforting—lots of checkered seat cushions and crayon drawings pinned under refrigerator magnets—but to April it just seemed like one more thing to be afraid of, one more place she didn’t belong.

With the toddler still perched on her hip, Joanna set a box of Kleenex in front of April and then hollered for Teagan, her oldest boy, who was twelve. “Take Otis out back with you,” Joanna said when Teagan appeared, “and play ball with him for a while, okay?”

Teagan’s eyes slid in April’s direction and she felt her face burn with embarrassment. “Yeah, sure, Mom.”

As little Otis teetered after his older brother, Joanna filled a tea kettle, set it on the stove and then turned to April. “What on earth is going on?”

Oh, God, I can’t. I just can’t. April snatched a few tissues and wiped her cheeks. She didn’t have the courage. Her stomach hitched. For a minute, she thought she might need to run to the toilet.

“Whatever it is, honey, just tell me,” Joanna said kindly. “Was somebody mean to you? A client?”

“I wish it were that simple,” April said between sobs. “I don’t deserve your sympathy. I deserve to be fired. I’m sure I will be.”

Joanna’s round face looked alarmed, but thoughtful. She took two ceramic mugs out of the cupboard and set them on the counter. “Well, let’s talk about it.”

“I can’t bring myself to say the words,” April admitted. Her head pounded. Tears clogged her throat. “This…this thing. I didn’t want it to happen, but it did.”

In an obvious attempt to conceal her surprise, Joanna opened the cardboard lid on a box of tea. “Why don’t you just tell me what happened?”

April crushed the tissues in her hand. “I violated my oath of service,” she said quietly. “I allowed myself to become involved with Matthew Barrett’s guardian, Brandon McBride.”

It felt as though she’d placed a murder weapon on the table, still warm from her hand. When Joanna didn’t meet her gaze, April felt her heart sink.

“Well, that one’s a real doozy,” Joanna murmured. She took her time opening the paper tea packets and then draping a tea bag inside each cup. “I don’t need to tell you how seriously this kind of thing is taken in our department.”

April wiped her eyes again. “Believe me, I know.”

“Are you in love with him?”

“Yes.”

Joanna nodded, but April knew it was an automatic reflex, not because Joanna approved. In a state of dull misery, April watched her pour water out of the tea kettle and into the mugs.

“Is he in love with you?” Joanna asked.

April didn’t want to answer that question, mostly because she didn’t know herself. Love didn’t seem to care whether your feelings were reciprocated. It directed the course of your heart whether it was willing, unwilling, kicking, screaming, at risk of losing your mind or your job.

“I don’t know,” she replied truthfully. “It seems like he is, but I’m so stupid about these things, I couldn’t say for sure.”

“Oh, honey.” Joanna’s tone was so sad, April teared up again. She wished with all her might that she could take it back, but that wasn’t possible. The sound of Brandon’s deep, lazy drawl had worked its way under her skin. The light in his green eyes when he looked at her. The way his long hair grazed the smooth bronze swell of his shoulders. How did any woman walk away from so much male beauty?

Joanna carried the mugs to the table, added spoons and then sat down to stir her tea. April wanted so badly to erase that look of disappointment she saw on Joanna’s face. She would have done anything to make things right again.

“You know this is out of my hands,” Joanna told her. For the first time since April broke the news, Joanna held her gaze without flinching. “I have to report it. And the review board will not be kind. You’ll be suspended with pay, effective immediately. And word gets out, no matter how much you discourage gossip. I wish I had better news.”

“It’s no more than I deserve,” April said. “To tell you the truth, the thing I regret the most is disappointing you.”

Joanna gave her a wan smile. “And I won’t try to whitewash my feelings here. I am disappointed. I had hopes of taking early retirement in about five years and letting you run the department. But I like that you came to me, April, rather than waiting until you two were discovered. That counts for something, at least with me. It says what a fine, honorable person you are.”

That meant nothing to April. How did you take pride in violating your oath of service, even if you confessed to it first? Especially when you knew better than to do it in the first place. But she reached across the table, squeezed Joanna’s hand and said, “I’m so sorry.”

“If it’s true love, my dear, what we are doing to you is nothing short of cruel. If it’s just a youthful infatuation, what you’re doing to yourself is cruel. There are no winners here.”

“No, there really aren’t.” She thought about her poor parents, how she would have to call them and explain. It was going to be the humiliation of Cassidy’s teen pregnancy all over again, combined with Maggie’s loud, theatrical divorce. April’s heart went leaden when she thought about it. At least her sisters had been able to redeem themselves with spectacular marriages. The most April could say was that she’d been fired for falling in love with the hottest man in the universe...who also happened to be a felon. But she believed in him. She saw the good. And she knew her instincts weren’t wrong.

Now that she’d cried her tears, April felt hollowed out. She heard wailing on the baby monitor and knew it was time to go.

“I wish things were different,” Joanna said sadly. “Poor Ryan. Won’t he be disappointed.”

* * * *

When Brandon saw April’s headlights up the road, he could finally breathe again. They looked like eyes glowing in the night, swinging drunkenly over potholes, making their way toward him. He was just so relieved she’d come.

But now he’d have to tell her things that he didn’t particularly look forward to telling her. Once she found out Long Jon was wanted for questioning in a felony, what was going to stop her from turning around and marching right out that door? Plus Brandon would have a hard time making a case for being on the straight and narrow if she thought he was guilty by association. But friends were friends—even if they were criminals.

Ducking back into the house, he yelled to Matthew, who was watching TV in the next room, “She’s here.”

There was grumbling and then the TV powering off. “Don’t know why it’s always me who has to leave.”

“When you’re a big motocross star, you can buy a dozen TVs and put them all in your bedroom,” Brandon said. “Until then, my house, my rules.”

“Okay, Dad.” Matthew shuffled off to his bedroom and closed the door.

Dad, my ass. Brandon went back outside and waited while April parked the car. Always with her there was this sense of racing excitement, this need, like if he didn’t touch her right away he might explode.

But he wanted more, goddammit. He wanted her, out in the open, no more sneaking around.

April got out of her car and then walked over to him, the wind gusting strands of hair across her face. But he could see from her expression that something was terribly wrong.

He went to her and gathered her up against him. Desire roared like a brushfire, but Brandon ignored that and focused on her, all softness and warmth in a world that was none of those things. “What happened?”

For a second, she didn’t say anything but leaned her cheek against his chest. “The worst day of my life…or possibly the best day of my life. I can’t decide.”

Brandon wondered what he was supposed to do here. Sometimes women had problems that you could fix with tools. Or your tool, depending on the problem. Other times, shit went wrong that you couldn’t fix at all, but that was when they expected you to listen. The rules were very confusing.

He steered her toward the backyard. “I have something to show you.”

A live oak spread its leafy silhouette across a yellow half-moon. Crickets grated away in the darkness. Brandon hoped there was enough light to see what he’d made for her, which was a papasan chair, complete with cushion, that he’d suspended from the branch of his tree. Matthew had snorted when he’d seen it, of course—”You are so pussy-whipped”—but Brandon wanted April to feel comfortable there.

Her eyes widened in surprise. “Oh, it’s wonderful!”

He held it still for her while she climbed inside.

“I feel like I’m flying,” she said.

Fortunately, there was room enough for two. He leaned back, put his arm around her and rested her head against his shoulder.

“You did this for me?” she asked.

“Do you like it?”

“Like it? I love it.” She snuggled into him and despite all the crap life had thrown at him lately, he felt like he’d invented the moon, the tree, the night, all of it.

If this was pussy-whipped? Fucking bring it.

“Okay, so what happened?” he asked.

“I went to my boss and told her everything,” she said.

There was a moment of silence while his heart did a sideways lurch.

“You told her about us?” he asked.

“Yes.”

He waited, still trying to wrap his head around it. “Did somebody find out and then you felt you had to explain or…”

“No, I just told her. Lying is the pits. I had no idea how awful it was until I was forced to do it. But you know what?” She gazed up at him in the moonlight and Brandon traced his fingers down the side of her beautiful face. His pulse leaped. He had a hard time remembering words when she was this close. It made him feel like he was Matthew’s age again.

“What?” he asked her softly.

“I’m just glad to have it out there, you know? No matter what happens, I’m going to be okay. It didn’t really sink in until I was driving home. But the most important thing in life is living an honest one. No secrets. No shame.”

She was crazy, of course. That might have been what he loved the most about her. Principles were expensive things to have. Most of the people he knew couldn’t afford them.

“You know what this means?” she said excitedly. “It means I get to go riding through Cuervo on the back of your Harley.”

“You go all in, don’t you?”

Her eyes blazed when she looked up at him and it felt as though every inch of his body had been bathed in their soft blue heat. “You taught me that. All in is the only way to go.”

Fuck telling her about Long Jon. It could wait.

Leaning over, he claimed her soft lips, tasting them, savoring, deepening. Her fingers went to his hair, tugging off the leather strap, and then his hair fell free.

The tip of her tongue lightly traced his. There was so much hunger in her kiss. It made him think she might be ready for more than just kisses this time. God, he hoped so. He’d been waiting to introduce her to the other side of the equation, the one that made it clear what life was all about. But he needed to know she was ready. Truly ready. Her first time had to be perfect—and he was prepared to do it right or at least die trying.

But he was kissing the woman he loved. A woman whose innocence had nothing to do with her body and everything to do with her heart. He’d never met anyone like her in the whole wide world and never would again. That was what made her irresistible. That was why he found himself melting into the hottest kiss of his life.

His gaze slid down the front of her blouse. The first few buttons were undone, revealing skin so pale, so unlike his, it glowed like magnolia petals in the moonlight. Everything that made her April, that made her different, was a turn-on.

Where he was dark, she was light. Where she was soft, he was hard.

Rock hard.

He knew that beneath her silken skin beat the heart of a wannabe bad girl in good girl clothing. And as he measured the ferocity of her kiss, and brushed the tips of his fingers across the stiff peaks of her breasts, he felt them straining for his attention.

All these years, he’d thought he was free. Master of the open road. Beholden to no one. Being with April taught him the limitations of that belief. Real freedom came from giving your heart to someone, not from keeping it on ice.

Loving April had stripped him of his chains.

He couldn’t say why exactly, not in words. But the deeper he let himself fall in love with her, the freer he became. Maybe it wouldn’t always be easy. Maybe the responsibility of having a relationship would chafe.

But there was no doubt in his mind that April was the one.

He lifted his hands back to her breasts, pinching those hard tips between his thumb and forefinger, teasing and rolling them, right through her blouse. Her breathing came in shallow gasps and with dark satisfaction he drank her moans. He knew she was sensitive there, more than most women even, and their time together always included lots of attention to her breasts. The flimsy satiny material of her bra made the sensation even more exquisite, he knew.

Hell, he intended to drive her crazy.

Unfastening a few more buttons, he parted her blouse and revealed her bra. A growl of male approval sounded in his throat. He wasted no time closing his mouth around the peaks, licking and tugging until she shuddered so violently, he thought she might come from that alone. Her hands were in his hair, pulling hard enough to make him wince. But he loved that, too.

That’s right, baby. Show me how bad you want it.

He never wanted her to play a role for him, although some women acted the way they thought he wanted them to act, but that wasn’t what he was looking for. What got him high was this. Just this. Real passion.

Brandon didn’t want April to pretend to be submissive or fiery or plain slutty like Roxanne. He wanted to feel the echoes of his touch in the way she responded to him.

There was a connection that happened when a woman gave up the controls and let a man drive for a while. Maybe April’s very innocence was the thing that made her so open and genuine. He knew she trusted him, and he never wanted to betray that trust.

Brandon closed his eyes and dove in again, circling her sensitive tips with his tongue and then drawing his lips slowly away from them until they released. Her responsiveness was killing him.

“Please,” she whispered. “Take me to your room. I don’t care anymore. I just want to be naked with you.”

Inside his jeans, his cock reared. These weeks had been tough. Brandon just figured at some point they would wind up at her house, where she felt more comfortable. But now, with everything that had happened, if he and April were going to go this distance, it would have to be here. Jesus Christ, he didn’t think he could wait any longer.

“Are you sure?” he said. “I want you to be ready, really ready. Emotionally, I mean.”

The wistfulness of her smile pierced his heart. “I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life.”

He didn’t know how he made it to the bedroom. He was glad he’d changed everything around in there and cleaned the room. Fresh sheets on the brass four-poster, which he’d shoved under the window. Soft lighting from a bedside lamp. Boots in the closet instead of tossed under the bed. He wanted things to be nice for April.

And now he was finally going to be rewarded for his efforts. April naked in his bedroom would be a whole different kind of visual treat from April naked in the backseat of her car. He could hardly breathe he was so excited.

Once the door was locked, an entire world of possibilities opened up.

Gently, he clasped her face in his hands and gave her the slow, drugging kisses she liked so well. The problem was, he should have spent more time in a cold shower. His excitement level was off the charts. Brandon knew he had done a lot of fucking in his life, but he’d never made love. Not like this. And nothing prepared him for the sheer intensity of being with her.

She even tasted different in his bedroom. Sweeter. Hotter.

“You have to show me,” she said. “I don’t know how this works. I mean, I know what goes where, but…I’m a little nervous.”

“We can stop at any time,” he said, even though it would kill him.

She bit her lip. Shyly, she said, “Can I look at you?”

Brandon shed his clothes like a snakeskin, first the T-shirt, then his boots and then his jeans. Her eyes flickered in a soft wondering awe that went straight to his cock. But he had to go slow with her, had to, even though instinct told him to throw her on the bed and rut her senseless.

April ran her hands reverently down his arms and chest, lingering where she pleased, exploring him as though he were something rare and precious, but also dangerous. He let her play, even though the softness of her fingertips made the hair stand up on his arms. And there was his cock, which throbbed and twitched and loudly made its presence known. When she touched that, too, timidly, he gave a convulsive shudder.

Holy crap.

“I can’t wrap my hand around you,” she said breathlessly. “Is that…normal?”

Normal. “I can’t say,” he muttered. The sensation of her hand had the blood draining from one head to another, and hell, there was plenty of that there already. How did you tell a woman who’d never held an erect penis that your sheer size might be a problem for someone who’d never had sex?

Slowly, slowly, he told himself. Don’t be greedy. Except that he was feeling very fucking greedy.

Forcing himself not to rush, Brandon unbuttoned the rest of her blouse. He pushed the material away, baring her shoulder, and then he pressed his lips to her damp flesh. Like a cat leaning in to be petted, she arched her throat, and he kissed that, too, riding patience with a hard bit. Her first experience had to be as painless as possible. It was up to him to make sure of that.

By the time he removed her blouse and then undid the zipper on her skirt, which floated to her feet, it was his turn to marvel. She took his breath away. April shyly unfastened her bra and let it drop to the floor, but she had no reason to be ashamed. Brandon’s heart was pounding so hard, he was surprised it didn’t jump out of his chest.

April was all curves and creamy skin. Brandon was so hard, he hurt. She was so much more than he’d even imagined—and he’d imagined a lot. April was a mixture of innocence and carnality. For a second, his mouth went dry and he couldn’t speak. All he could do was stare at her and hope he didn’t do something he’d hate himself for later.

He watched her shiver with pent-up desire. It was the last stake in his coffin when she slid that scrap of pink lace panties down her legs and kicked it aside. Now she was fully naked, the hair below only a few shades darker than the hair on her head.

“Jesus Christ,” he whispered. He didn’t trust himself to say more than that because his voice might crack. He actually saw how swollen and slippery she was, which made the dark heat inside him rise that much faster.

He had to get what was left of his mind together. There were things he needed to do, necessary things, requiring skill and attention.

“Get on the bed,” he growled, intending to soften it with a smile, but the violence of his need made smiling impossible. Not when the only thing he could think about was burying himself inside of her, that moment of bliss when the slick walls of her sex would grip him tight enough to make his breath catch.

If he waited much longer, he wouldn’t be as gentle as he needed to be. He would take—ruthlessly, selfishly take—instead of give. Then her first time would be about pain and not discovery.

She lay back on the bed, her eyes heavy-lidded and full of unspoken need, her light blond hair spread out on the coverlet. Brandon knew he would always remember her like that, reaching out to him, crazy with desire. She was the answer to a prayer he’d never dared to have, a beautiful woman who held nothing back.

If April wanted to see paradise, he would show it to her.

He knelt on the edge of the bed, between her legs. It was all lust and control now. The arousal of a woman was the hottest aphrodisiac to him. He inhaled sharply, wanting to bathe in her scent, to bathe in her.

Forcing himself not to rush, he ran his hands down her smooth thighs, loving the way she moaned when he touched her. Every sigh made him ache that much harder. April was so hungry for this, so ready. Then he stretched out over her, letting his tongue do a different kind of talking, first on her breasts, then her stomach, and then wending its way slowly between her thighs.

Her back arched when he found her.

“What are you doing?” she gasped.

“What I should have done a long time ago,” he said. “You’re gonna like it a lot.”

* * * *

April’s hands dug into the bedspread. It felt as though his tongue had found her light source and kept flicking the switch on, knowingly, effortlessly, again and again.

Oh, God, the hotness.

He spread a raging wildfire that started between her legs and radiated to every point in her body, higher and hotter, in white-hot licks of flame. Helplessly, her legs fell open and he made a sound she recognized as deep male triumph.

No man should have this much power, she thought hazily. No man should know how to do these things. Every circle of his tongue was an electric shock to her nervous system, a live wire dipped in water, only instead of killing her all at once, it killed her by overloading her circuits with raw dizzying pleasure.

When she looked down and saw Brandon’s powerful shoulders and long dark hair, she thought she might explode. April had never dreamed of anything so sexy in her life. She sensed how it turned him on to use his tongue on her, the care and attention he took to get it right. His patience was astonishing. What did it matter where he’d acquired these skills? Her heart blazed with more love and gratitude than she’d ever imagined possible.

Every nerve ending in her body roared with sweet, aching need for this and something more. She wanted him inside her, no matter how afraid she was. But when she struggled up to try to tell him that, she couldn’t find the words and fell deliriously back on the bed.

This was crazy.

He continued his slow, gentle assault, sending jolts throughout her belly. The jolts were getting closer together, like pressure building. And still Brandon dipped his head to taste her, sliding his tongue across her sweet spot and then flicking it, again and again, with surgical precision.

Soft cries filled the room. To her embarrassment, April realized she was the one making them. He eased her thighs farther apart, spreading her with his fingers and making her feel even more naked and exposed. But as long as he maintained his connection with that wicked, talented tongue, Brandon owned her and he knew it.

Now the breath was sawing in and out of her chest. Something terrifying was coming for her, something with teeth. She was past the point of being able to stop the sounds she made or the movements of her body, which was why her thighs trembled and she whimpered uncontrollably.

All at once, her back arched off the bed and she was gripped by intense, blinding pleasure, wave after wave of it exploding inside her. April couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. All she could do was hang suspended, shuddering in this tight, piercing bliss. She had a hazy sense that he wasn’t even moving anymore, just letting her spin out in a comet of fiery glory. When the scream ripped from her throat, she tried to silence it but couldn’t.

It was like dying, this ecstasy. Yet even as she spiraled up, she wanted it to go on forever. Her pulse throbbed wildly.

Slowly the waves of pleasure subsided but she was still far from earth and nothing looked familiar anymore.

“What was that?” she gasped.

“Beautiful,” Brandon whispered, studying her. “Look how wet you are. So sweet, baby.”

April still couldn’t catch her breath. She lay spent while he rummaged in the nightstand. There was the sound of cellophane ripping and then Brandon in his deep, sexy voice saying, “You’re ready, baby. So am I.”

His words made her sex clench in erotic anticipation, but there was fear there, too. It seemed to her that once a man penetrated you, you weren’t strictly you anymore. She’d heard stories about the first time hurting. But then she turned her head to look at him and that flicker of resistance melted. Those wide muscular shoulders, etched abs, powerful thighs. Her gaze dropped lower and she blinked. How on earth could she ever fit that inside her?

It didn’t stop lust from pooling inside her belly, even though she had no idea how to do this.

Brandon stretched out over her, his smooth tanned skin such a startling contrast to her paleness. When he looked down at her, there was dangerous heat in his green eyes.

“I think you’re about to find that love hurts,” he said. “But I promise to be gentle. Try not to fight it, okay?”

She nodded, but it was hard not to tense, especially when she felt him pressing against her, gently but insistently. He made a low noise of arousal and then used one hand to position himself. “Pull your knees up, beautiful,” he said.

April obeyed, but fear was starting to make inroads again until he cupped her, using his thumb to circle her sweet spot. Only then did that drugging pleasure override her terror of the unknown.

“No, no,” he said. “Look at me.”

April forced her eyes open. She found herself hypnotized by what she saw, which was a gorgeous beast of a man gazing down at her while his knowing fingers worked their magic. Her eyes grew heavy again as he brought her up, faster this time, but Brandon growled, “Don’t close your eyes. Look at me.”

And she found that despite the terrifying intimacy of gazing into his eyes, she couldn’t fight him anymore, she couldn’t look away.

“These condoms are lubricated, but you’re plenty wet enough without them,” he said, easing into her a little bit more. “Oh, yes, baby, that’s good.”

His cheeks were already hollowed out with taut arousal. She could see the effort it took for him to stay in control. Why that turned her on, she didn’t know, but she pulled her knees in closer toward her chest and let him fill her entrance with his luscious thickness. It hurt, but not too badly yet, and his thumb was still slickly working.

“Is that okay?” he asked her. When she nodded, he eased in a little deeper. He groaned and said, “Christ, I may be dying, but I love watching you take me.”

And she loved looking into his eyes when he did. He was completely dedicated to her pleasure, completely hers. She felt him stretching her, inch by inch, but never too fast, always thoughtful and patient, using her reaction to navigate. Only now, she wanted him inside her. She wasn’t afraid anymore.

Slowly, Brandon slid himself in and out a few times, just the head, clearly testing her pain threshold. A dark hunger began at the base of her spine and traveled up, a craving she had never felt before, like pain and pleasure intertwined. And she knew it was a woman’s pleasure. This was what it was to be breached, to have a man inside you. Knowing it was Brandon made it so much hotter.

Now she had nothing to fear but the temporary pain of letting him penetrate her fully. “Do it,” she whispered, locking eyes with him. “I’m ready.”

With a groan, he thrust halfway way in and lay throbbing inside her. A sharp burst of fiery pain radiated. She bit her lip hard to keep from crying out, but the pain faded faster than she’d thought it would, and now she felt more of that darker, hotter hunger take its place.

Oh, God.

Brandon moved inside her shallowly at first and then with increasing depth and urgency. She said his name—it sounded like she did. He might have said hers. And it seemed as though her sole purpose in life was to feel him plunging wildly inside of her. Stroke after stroke of sleek, hip-driven power.

As though from a great distance, she heard him. I love you, April, I love you.

And then she shattered into a million fiery stars and he followed her over, shouting out his own pulsing, jerking release.

He had awakened her.