I roll my eyes. "I don't know why you're pushing me at someone who obviously has lots of girls chasing after him."

Opal sighs like she's exasperated with me, but I know she's exaggerating. The two of us might bicker back and forth, but she's the closest thing to a friend I have in this town. "Because you need to get back on the horse."

She gives me a pointed look and waggles her eyebrows.

I choke back a laugh. "Subtle, Opal."

"I was hoping I was obvious."

I shake my head. "What is wrong with you?"

"Honey, I'm seventy-three years old."

"What does that have to do with all of your innuendos?"

Opal laughs. "It means I don't give a shit how I'm supposed to act at seventy-three."

"I hope I'm like you when I'm seventy-three, Opal."

"You need to turn off your give-a-shit meter and stop caring what people think."

"Who says I care what people think?"

Opal doesn't answer my question. "I wasn't always like this, you know. The older you get, the less you care what people think. Which means that if I want to have a booty call at seventy-three years old, that's what I do."

I laugh. "Booty call?" The last time we talked about Opal's love life which is apparently far more interesting than my own she said she was seeing one of the widowers in town, Bert, a deacon at the church. Now she's talking about booty calls?

"I believe that's what they call it these days. Booty call. Or fuck buddy."

"I can't believe you're talking to me about booty calls," I say, laughter bubbling up in my chest so quickly that I snort, my hand flying up to my nose.

"You need to get on the internet more. There's a whole world out there. Terms for everything. One of the college kids said I was 'on fleek' the other day because I'm with it. I'm hip."

I snort again, somehow unable to control myself. "So Bert is your booty call?"

"He certainly is. I'm not looking for a new husband. Carl, God rest his soul, was my great love in life."

"You don't think you can have another?"

"There's not another one out there for me. He was it. But I'm not going to my grave some shriveled up old prune who hasn't had any fun, either. And I don't give a shit what people think about it."

"What does all of this have to do with Killian?" I ask the question, even though I know exactly what this has to do with Killian. She's trying to tell me, in her not-so-subtle way, that I should disregard all sense of reason and propriety and jump into something with him, even if it's a booty call.

Opal shrugs. "I don't know. You figure it out. I'm just an old woman who rambles sometimes."

"Did Killian say something to you?"

"It was written all over him. That boy has it bad for you."

"That boy does not have it bad for me. And if he did, so what? Even if I wanted to date him, I have Chloe."

"I should make you pay me a dollar for every time you use your child as an excuse for not making a life for yourself."

My mouth falls open, and I shut it again. "I do not use my child as an excuse."

Opal just gives me a look. "Today is slow out front, and you have a few hours before Chloe gets out of school. I could pick her up for you, and you could take a ride up the mountain and tell that boy you're sorry for whatever it is you said to him."

"I'm the only one who's authorized to pick up Chloe," I argue.

"Oh, please. Call Amanda down at the school office and tell her I'm picking Chloe up for you. I've known Amanda since she was knee-high to a grasshopper. She knows I'm not stealing a child."

"I'm not dumping Chloe on you so I can run around and. . . do whatever, Opal."

"I think you mean do whoever."

I change the subject. "How do you know it's me who needs to apologize?"

Opal laughs. "It's written all over your face, honey." She reaches into her pocket and withdraws a napkin. "Now, just in case you decide you want to take a little drive and get some fresh air, his address is written right there. It's twenty minutes or so, though, so I wouldn't wait around too long thinking about it."

It takes me ten minutes to think about it. "Fine. I'm going to apologize. But I'll be back in time to pick up Chloe, Opal."

"Uh-huh. You have my number if you want help."

You have a problem accepting help. Killian's voice echoes in my brain.

"Another time, Opal."

"I love that little angel, so you leave her with me whenever you like. You know, if you come to your senses regarding that boy and you need some alone time."

I flip Opal the bird behind my head as I leave.

I wind up the mountain, half-afraid my car isn't going to make it up these twisty roads. I thought West Bend was a rural little town, but this is on a whole different level. I haven't gone out driving much around here, not with all I've had going on with the store, but now all I can think about is how much Chloe would love to hike through these woods. She drags me on expeditions through the woods behind our house, and we pretend to be explorers as we discover "precious gems" in the stream that winds back behind the property.

This is a whole different ballgame. This is the kind of place you go because you don't want any company. It's the kind of place you go because you don't like being around people.

When I pull up in the driveway, Killian's truck is there but he's not outside. I sit there for a moment behind the steering wheel, gathering my nerves. Then I reach underneath my skirt and slide my panties down my legs, shoving them into the glove compartment.

I close my car door and pause for a minute, taking it in. It's a cabin a real-life log cabin, like something out of a magazine, with a front porch that wraps around the entire side and a rocking chair perched in the corner.

I walk toward the cabin, my heart pounding in my chest. Part of me expects him to come barreling out the door brandishing a shotgun.

But he doesn't. He pulls open the door, a white towel wrapped around his waist, water dripping down the surface of his skin. I stand there, totally frozen, my eyes on his wide chest. And that towel.

Heaven help me, I'm so distracted by the fact that he's standing in front of me, naked under that towel and dripping wet from the shower, that my mind goes blank.

When my eyes finally meet his again, I can't tell if his expression is smug or irritated. Probably both. "What's wrong? Did you come up here to slum it with a filthy mountain man?"

If I didn't think I actually hurt his feelings before, I know it now. "Killian, the way I reacted the other day "

He doesn't let me finish. He grabs a handful of hair at the nape of my neck and plants his mouth on mine. He kisses me angrily, and I can't help it, I moan into his mouth. His hardness is already evident through the towel, pressing against my leg, and heat surges through me, right to my core.

I don't know why my body reacts the way it does when he touches me, but I don't want him to stop. I want him to keep kissing me like this, hard and angry.

But he pulls back from me. "Is that what you wanted?" he growls. "That's what you came up here for, right?"

"Stop being an asshole."

"I'm the asshole?"

"If the butt fits. I came up here to apologize, not to slum it. Not because I wanted to fuck you out here in the middle of nowhere." I pause, exhaling hard as I try to focus on anything but his half-naked body. "I mean, I do want to fuck you out here in the middle of nowhere," I admit.

When he just looks at me silently, I plow ahead. "You caught me off-guard with the whole go somewhere else thing," I explain. When he opens his mouth, I hold my hand up again. "Wait. Let me say what I have to say because I want to get it out and the way you're standing here wet, in a towel, and the way you kissed me just now. . . I'm having a hard enough time just thinking."

I think I see a faint smile.

"I haven't dated in ever, actually. I married my high school boyfriend when I was eighteen years old. We didn't ever go out on a date. Mostly we fooled around in the backseat of his car and then he asked me to marry him and I said yes because I was young and dumb and " I swallow hard. "Anyway, I've never been on a date and I've never been asked out on a date and I definitely didn't expect you to ask me out on a date."

Killian narrows his eyes. "Why the hell not?"

"Because you're... you," I say, exasperated as I gesture toward him.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"You're grumpy and disgruntled and...come on, you're not really a flowers-and-dinner kind of guy."

Killian crosses his arms over his chest and all I can think about is flicking open that towel and letting it fall to the ground. I inhale deeply, practicing restraint. When did I get so dick-obsessed?

"Maybe I am a flowers-and-dinner kind of guy," he grumbles. "Hell, maybe I need romanced a little bit. Ever think of that?"

I can't help but grin. "Good to know. Next time I'll bring flowers. Maybe I'll wine and dine you a little bit. Then we can talk about your feelings. I'll bring tissues in case you cry."

Killian doesn't crack a smile, but I can see it in his eyes now. "Even when you apologize, you're mouthy as hell."

"Want to see how mouthy I can be?" My eyes drop lower to the towel that's tented by his cock.

23.

Killian All of the blood in my brain goes straight to my dick as this woman standing in front of me steps forward and flicks the edge of my towel open, catching it before it falls to the ground. Her eyes remain trained on mine as she slowly folds the fabric in half.

"I can apologize better," she tells me as she lays the towel gently on the front deck before falling to her knees. We're not even inside the house. We're standing in front of the door and I'm naked as a jaybird with this woman at my feet this woman who makes me crazy, who seems to have a way of getting under my skin and grating on my nerves and pissing me off. Except that she also turns me on so hard I can't see straight.

"I'm still pretty irritated." That's a lie. I might be irritated later, but right now all I can think about is her mouth. That is the only thing in this entire world that matters.

"I'm sorry," she whispers, wrapping her hand around the base of my cock. I shudder at the sensation of her touch. How many times have I jerked off to the thought of her hand sliding down the length of my cock? Or her lips wrapped around me?

Her thumb brushes over the tip, catching the pre-cum that beads there. As she opens her mouth, she looks up at me with those large blue-grey eyes. When she pauses, my cock so close to her that I can feel her warm breath, I want to freeze-frame this image in my head forever. I've never seen anything as sexy as she looks right now.

Then she wraps her lush lips around me. Her mouth is the warmest, wettest thing I've ever felt, and I want to feel it there forever. As she bobs up and down my length, taking more of me with each pass, I grip a handful of her hair, telling myself to stay in control. I try desperately not to do what every part of me is screaming to do: yank her further onto my cock and hold her tightly while I fuck her sassy little mouth.

I tell myself to be civilized.

This girl is civilized, I remind myself. She's classy. And smart.

And she's on her knees, her mouth tight around me, making these little moaning sounds in her throat that send vibrations roaring through me, making it virtually impossible to not lose control.

She takes away her lips, substituting her hand as she looks up at me. "Still irritated?"

I can't stifle my groan as her hand works me. How am I supposed to keep from coming when she's on her knees, looking at me the way she's doing right now? "Yes," I groan. "Apologize harder."

Lily laughs, her other hand finding my heavy balls, cradling them in her hand as she jerks me off. God, this woman's touch is making me insane. "You're a hard man to please."

Even if she hadn't wrapped her lips back around my cock, I'd have groaned at the way she just talked about pleasing me. "That's it," I encourage her, my fingers laced through her hair.

She moans when I grip her hair tighter, holding her head as I thrust my cock into her mouth. She fucking moans. "Do you like that?"

Oh, hell. She nods, groaning her approval.

Heat washes over me in waves as I struggle to maintain control. "Is that what you want? Do you want me to fuck your mouth?"

She whimpers, her hands on my thighs, her only response being to pull me closer. Gripping her hair tighter, I thrust into her mouth, this time deeper. I don't stop talking to her, murmuring her name and asking her if she likes it, but I'm not sure what the hell I'm saying because she has me losing my damn mind. It's not long before I'm close to the edge, and I pull out of her mouth, my cock in my hand.

"Why did you stop?" she asks, her brow furrowed. She licks her lips, her face upturned, and I can barely keep myself from coming on her.

I want to mark her. I want to make her mine. It's not logical, and it makes no sense, but it's some kind of primal thing, this urge I can't control. I want to know she's mine. "Because I'm so damn close to coming in your mouth, cupcake."

She doesn't take her eyes off of me. She puts her hand over mine, stopping me, and grips the base of my shaft. "Do it."

I groan as she envelopes my cock with her mouth again. There's no holding back now. The minute she resumes sucking me the way she did before, I let go into her perfect mouth. She takes everything I have, draining me dry until I have nothing left.

When she's finished, she looks at me with a self-satisfied expression. "Was that a decent apology?"

"I can't remember what I was mad about." I pull her to her feet, my hands circling her tiny waist. Picking her up and pressing her against the side of the house, I don't bother with words before I dive underneath her skirt.

I need to taste her. I want to devour her.

So I do. She's soaking wet. If I'd had any question about whether she was turned on by having my cock in her mouth, that question would be answered.

She tastes like heaven. Sweet and womanly and like everything good in the world. I can't get enough of her.

My tongue works circles over her clit, then down lower, entering her as my hands grip her ass and hold her firmly in place. I fuck her with my tongue as she moans and whimpers her approval, and when I enter her with my fingers, my mouth enveloping her clit, she comes immediately. Her hips thrusting against my fingers, she cries out my name so much louder than she did at the bakery. She comes with abandon.

When she finishes, she looks at me, her lips parted and her chest still heaving.