Feisty Red (Three Chicks Brewery 2)

Everything around Clara vanished. The firepit gone. The trees gone. Only a deep-rooted, forgotten love remained.

At whatever crossed her expression, emotion touched Sullivan’s gaze as he reached for her hand and said softly, “Clara—”

The backdoor slamming closed snapped Clara’s hand away before Sullivan could take it. Immediately, she was hit by the smoky aroma of the fire. Unexpected heat flooded her, and she couldn’t decide if she was happy for the interruption or not.

“Who’s ready for S’mores?” Maisie asked on her way toward the firepit with Hayes by her side carrying the metal marshmallow sticks.

“Me,” Clara said, jumping out of her chair to sit next to Maisie. But, no matter the distance between them, she felt Sullivan’s heated stare, right down into her soul, begging her to come back.

7

Hours after Sullivan left, Clara tucked herself away in bed, but she couldn’t sleep, tossing and turning, feeling like she needed to hear what Sullivan had wanted to say before Maisie interrupted them. She considered calling. But that didn’t seem like enough. Instead, with Amelia keeping an eye on a sleeping Mason, Clara hopped in her car and hit the road. When she pulled into the long driveway leading to Sullivan’s apartment, the gravel crunched beneath her tires. She rolled to a stop off to the side of the weathered red building. The house to the right was bathed in darkness. Old man Bart, sound asleep.

Raw emotions led her feet as she exited the car and then headed up the steps of the barn. When she reached the worn old door, she froze, a million thoughts crossing her mind. The night lay still around her. I need to say more. I don’t hate you. I hate your father for what he did to us. I hate that you’re still carrying around all this pain after all these years. I hate that after all the love we had, we ended like we did. I want to forgive you. I want to move on. What did you want to tell me? She drew in a long, deep breath, hoping to hell she got this right, and then she knocked.

No response.

She knocked again, and when the door opened, Clara only just managed to stop her mouth from dropping open.

Sullivan’s brows went up. “Clara? What’s wrong?”

He opened the door wider, and a slow-building heat rolled over her. Sullivan had always been a good-looking guy, but now, he was pure man, with a body that looked cut from a fitness magazine. His hair was wet from an obvious shower, telling her he couldn’t sleep either, and a towel was wrapped around his wide bare shoulders. Her fingers tingled to reach out and touch him, and her breath became ragged

as she let her gaze follow a path down his squared chest to his six-pack to that sexy V at his hips to his gray sweatpants that left absolutely nothing to the imagination as to what he had beneath them. And she really, really liked what he had. Scratch that, she suddenly really, really wanted what he had.

She swallowed deeply, and by the time she glanced back up, Sullivan’s eyes were hot and hungry.

A beat passed.

She could nearly taste the energy pinging between them. The heat burning. The want to make all that had gone so wrong better. “Sullivan—”

That’s all she managed before he had her in his arms, kicking the door shut behind them. She went willingly, forgetting what she’d wanted to hear. Because this was both an apology and an acknowledgment of them taking back all they had lost. His woodsy-scented shampoo infused the air when his mouth met hers, and she tumbled into everything the kiss promised. His kiss was familiar, and yet different, older, wiser, more patient and knowledgeable. Every slide of his tongue and deep, passionate press of his lips had her reaching for more.

When he finally broke the kiss, long minutes later, they were both breathless. He cupped her face, heady emotion dancing in his eyes. “I love kissing you, Clara. In fact, I want to kiss you until we forget why we shouldn’t be kissing, but I don’t want to hurt you again.”

“I won’t let you hurt me again,” she told him, dead serious. “I’m not that young girl who blindly loved you.” She slid her hands up his huge arms, feeling each muscle flex under her touch. “Your dad stole something from us. I want it back.”

Sullivan pressed his forehead against hers. “I’m not staying in River Rock. When my suspension is over, I’m going home. This can’t last.”

She cupped his face now, bringing his tormented gaze back to her. For all the confusion and the worry of wondering what to say to him, now it became all too clear. “We were never meant to last, but we can choose how we end it this time. To take back what was stolen from us, and give ourselves what we should have had—a proper goodbye. To finally heal all that went wrong. Then we can finally put all this behind us and go on with our lives.”

He watched her closely, then all the hesitation faded from his eyes. Their lips met again as his agreement, and there was nothing soft about it. The kiss was rough and spoke of years of heartbreak. Years of pain they could never recover from. And this, this was their time to heal.

When he broke the kiss again, he spun her around, his strong chest to her back. She shivered, sliding her hands down his thighs as his kiss traveled over her neck. A soft moan spilled free when his hands working their way under her top. “You’re so beautiful, Clara.” His voice a low rumble in her ear, sliding his strong hand across her stomach. “Somehow even more beautiful now.”

She felt those words ripple across her. Felt his touch right down into her soul. Here, between them, there was unthinkable pain. Hard truths. But there had once been love, so much love. She twisted around and her mouth met his, and she kissed him, slow and easy. His woodsy aroma swirled around her as she became overwhelmed by him. His warm full lips were just as she remembered, like no time had passed. She kept wanting to pull back, to see reason, but the more she kissed him, the harder it became to pull away. Until all that lingered was need. It lived in the deepest parts of her heart that longed for his touch again.

Soon, he had her shirt off and unhooked her bra, revealing her breasts to him. He cupped her, kissed her, teased her nipples, sucking them up to the roof of his mouth, until all she knew was hot pleasure. She moaned against his touch imprinted on her skin. He was more confident now, more experienced, and she relished in his powerful embrace.

This time, when he leaned away, something on her stomach caught his eye. She followed his gaze then watched as he traced the three stretch marks on the side of her belly.

“From Mason?” he asked.

She nodded and couldn’t speak when she saw the sheer emotion in his eyes.

Not wanting to talk, only wanting to feel, her lips met his again, and his pants were soon gone. And then hers did too. Until they were bared to each other, except for the condom between them. He gathered her in his arms, laid her out on the bed, and slid her beneath him. She cupped his face, like she’d done the night he took her virginity. They’d both been nervous, unsure, and yet once together, everything made sense.

Hovering over her, resting his weight on one arm, he brushed his thumb against her cheek, the side of his mouth curving oh-so deliciously. “I used to dream of seeing you like this again.”