Meadowlarks 3 : Endless (15 page)

“I can’t!”

Stroking his fingers inside of me, Weston slowly sucks on my now swollen and extremely sensitive skin. I give him one more. Just like a good girl. Great listener, right?

“Fuck!” I scream, laughing. Defeated.

“Told you that you could take another.” Weston presses a soft kiss down on my belly while he slowly gets up from his stomach. “Are you gonna let me go?”

Looking down at his hand, his fingers are still inside of me.

“You’re squeezing the hell out of me, baby. I can’t wait to get in there…”

Slowly pulling his fingers out, I wince, aching from the vacancy.

“I’m not going to fuck you, Leah.”

I bulge my eyes, furrowing my forehead. “Come again?”

“Yes,” he chuckled, running his hand through his hair. “You will. Roll on your side. I’m going to make love to you. I want to be as close to you as I can get. It was fucking hell without you, baby.”

My heart leaps at his endearment. I think I even giggle. Turning on my side, I run my palms on my breast, holding the weight from hanging. “I’m on the pill, Weston. Have been since I was sixteen…”

“Oh, thank God. I’ve been wanting to be bare inside of you. Thank you, baby…” Once his body is behind mine, flush with me, head to toe, I’m feeling whole. Slightly lifting my leg, Weston eases the tip of his erection into me. Stretching and making room. “Shit, Leah…I couldn’t take it without you. You don’t know how badly I missed you.”

“I do,” I breathed. “I…”
Almost
said I loved him. Almost. Just as he drives into me, making me lose my breath, and all the words that
almost
escaped.

Turning my face to kiss him, I take his lip in my teeth this time. Clamping down on that perfect lip, tasting myself on his mouth. My hand finds his, gripping my hip, steadying himself with each and every thrust.

I whimper into his mouth, and he lets go of my hip, pulling me closer to him, deepening his penetration and widening my body with the base of his length. Feeling his mixture of hard and soft chest and stomach against my back, the faint smattering of hair across his chest tickles my skin. It’s soft and silken. I want to turn around and nuzzle into it. I want to traipse my fingers down between his pectorals, over each delicious abdominal muscle and run my tongue down the trail of hair from his belly button to his…

“There!” I scream. “I’m…” Ready to rocket through the sky.

“Me too, baby…me too.” Weston pumps and grunts his way through the beginning ripples of my orgasm, the squeeze of my muscles around his erection, pulling his own climax out of his body. “Fuck me…You’re so fucking sweet, Leah.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Weston

“Where’d you get this one?” I ask, gently tracing my fingertip over the small scar on Leah’s right shoulder blade.

“Seventh grade. Playing catch the flag at school. I was running from Katherine Valentine. She was on my tail the entire game. I kept spinning at the last minute, just as her fingers grazed the flags on my hips. She fumed, swearing she was gonna get me good. Last game. She did. She shoved me so hard I flipped right over and landed against a chain-link fence, slicing my back.”

“Little bitch.”

“Oh, she was no little anything. She could pin any guy on the wrestling team within five seconds.”

“A delight, I’m sure…” I smile, kissing the faint two inch line on her back. “Did you get her back?”

“Me? No.” Leah smiles. “Riley knocked her out for me.” She laughs. “She waited until Mrs. Wyttle turned her back, and BAM! Sent Katherine on her ass.”

I could definitely picture Riley doing something like that. She may be a tease, and sweet as sugar…she’s also a tough chick. The thought makes me happy, and I smile, wrapping my arms around Leah. Happy that she had Riley to stick up for her. My smile fades. I should have been there to protect her too.

“Can we talk about it?”

“About Katherine and Riley?”

“No. You know what.”

“Weston…”

“The cops haven’t said shit. I want to know. I need to know, Leah. I’ve been going fucking crazy.”

Letting out a sigh, she starts to turn over to face me. “I don’t know what happened.”

“Liar.”

“I don’t know.”

Rolling her eyes slightly, I tip her chin so she’s forced to look right into my eyes. “If you say you don’t know again, I’m going to turn you back over and smack your ass.”

“I don’t know.” She smirks.

“Leah!” I try to stifle a smile before grabbing her and kissing her again. “Tell me, please.” My words are a whisper.

“I don’t know who she was.”

“
She?
”

Leah nods. “She put a fucking bag over my head. After she knocked me out with fucking chloroform. Then she made me tell her over and over that I wouldn’t ever talk to or touch you again…”

My breath hitches. I didn’t expect that.

“Or she would kill me, Weston.
Dead. Like no fucking more...Capiche?
Quote unquote.” Tears burst from her eyes, blinking them back, Leah begins to sob.

Blinking my glistening eyes, my mouth hangs open for a second, then closes tightly in a line, pressing together. “What. The. Fuck.”

“Who was she, Weston?”

My brain can’t fathom her words. Foreign dialect.
No entiendo.
Wait.
What?
“Leah…I don’t have a fucking clue. I…I’m sorry, baby. I don’t know who…” Oh, fuck me. “Listen, beautiful…I’m going to find out who did this to you.” Wrapping my arms around her tightly, I feel her body soften just as mine tightens. Sara better have some fucking answers for me.

My chest dampens from Leah’s tears. I try to wipe them, but she won’t lift her head. It’s nuzzled so hard against me, I’m just going to let her do her thing. I’ll hold her, squeeze her, and keep her safe in this moment. As much as I love this—having her in my arms. I really would rather be face-to-face with a certain blonde, searching her eyes for the truth. If Sara did this to Leah, she’s going to need a fucking mortician.

“Shh…baby, I’m here.” I move her hair from her face. “I got you.”

Leah sniffles. “I was so scared. I thought I was going to die. Then I thought…how can I not see you again? Why would she tell me I couldn’t?” She swallows and sniffles. “I…lo—” Burying her face into me once more, she doesn’t finish her sentence.

Oh, shit. Was she just going to say she loves me? I know I’m feeling all kinds of weird and warm sappy shit, but love? Oh, damn…I don’t even think I loved Elsa. This is so freaking far off my radar, I don’t know if I can land this plane without flying it right into the ground.

“Leah…” I tip her chin again, my fingers wet from the tears on her throat. Searching her eyes, trying to see past the twinkling and red streaks from crying, I look into her soul. “Shit,” I whisper. I do love her. “Sleep, baby. I’m right here.”

***

Leah has her arms wrapped around my pillow, a sweet little smile curled in the corner of her mouth, and she’s faintly snoring, it’s almost not audible. I think I stood for a good twenty minutes, just watching her sleep. I doubt anyone has every one that…just watched her like this. In all her innocence and vulnerability. She’s perfect. And she’s mine.

Closing the door to the bathroom quietly, I close the lid of the toilet and sit down. It’s almost three in the morning in New York, so it’s almost midnight in Wyoming. Oh, shit, what do I care? She better answer the damn phone.

“Sara…” I speak out, as soon as the line opens, not giving her the chance to greet me.

“Weston? Are you okay? Is everything okay? You’re calling me so late. How are you?”

“Where are you right now, Sara?”

“I’m…” she pauses, and I clench my jaw. “I’m in Sheridan, of course. Why?”

“Where did you stay while you were in New York? Where did you keep her, Sara?” I bit out, clenching my fist, white-knuckling.

A small sigh comes over the phone. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I didn’t go to New York. I didn’t
keep
anyone anywhere. What the heck’s going on, baby?”

I ignore that she just called me that. “Take this as a warning, Sara. Stay away from Leah. Or you’ll regret the day you walked into Pine Ridge with a fucking application.”

“Who is Leah? What are you
talking
about, Weston? Are you sure you’re okay? You’re acting
so
weird…” Sara’s voices whines and sasses me all in one sentence. “Anyway, listen…I wanted to talk about the other day at Lake’s—”

I hang up before she can spit another word. Gripping the phone, tempted to whip it against the wall, I exhale and breathe in through my nose. Feeling overwhelmed, I toss the phone on the floor, get off the seat and drop to my knees. Vomiting into the toilet.
I
did this to Leah. Someone I know
took
her, put a bag over her beautiful head and threatened her life…all because of me.

“Weston?” Leah’s soft voice flows from the bedroom. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” I grumble. My words like gravel in my raw throat. “Be right out.” I don’t want her to see me like this. In all my guilt. I don’t deserve her. I shouldn’t have come to New York yet, and I damn sure shouldn’t have come to her hotel room. What if this fucking crazy was right outside? Ready to pounce again once Leah’s alone.

“Are you sure you’re okay? You’re stark white…”

I dry my face with a hand towel once I leave the bathroom, I’m cool and clammy now. Sickened from my revelation. And of course, she looks so sweet and pure on that bed, pulling back the sheets for me to climb in beside her. I smile and nod. “I’m better now.”

***

Leah

“Lucas! Don’t tease me! Are you serious right now?” I squeal, bouncing on the bed. “You are the best…I’m just…damn, freaking out right now!”

“Leah, easy girl, save that voice. I thought calling you first would be the lesser of ear damage. I bet Jamie a hundred bucks that Neil would scream my ear off. He loves Florida Georgia Line.” Lucas chuckled into the phone. “Enjoy your day off and I’ll see you first thing tomorrow.”

“Thanks, Lucas! Oh, man! I’m just…spinning…”

Weston stirs, sleepily opening his pretty eyes and smiling at me. He looks so amazingly sexy in his sleepy state, all dopey-eyed and remarkable. I lean down and nuzzle the tip of my nose on his cheek. “Good morning, handsome.”

“Good morning…what was with all the screaming?”

“Lucas called…” I grin, ear-to-ear. “We’re opening for Florida Georgia Line two months!”

“Wow!” Weston blinks and smiles.

“You don’t know who they are, do you?” I grin, pushing his shoulder with my palm. “They’re huge! Remember that big one last year?
Baby, you a song
…” I start to sing. “
You make me wanna roll my window down, and cruuuuuuiseee
…No? Well, you have poor taste in music.”

“Actually, I’ve recently added some hot band’s music to my iPod…”

“Did I mention that you have amazing taste in music? And here’s the best part…It’s at Madison Square Garden!” I stick out my tongue and Weston pulls me on top of his body. I giggle and hold his face in my hands. “You’re beautiful.”

“Men aren’t beautiful. We’re rugged, and manly, and maybe handsome. Not beautiful.”

“You, sir, are quite beautiful. Say whatever you like, I’m requesting your photo be placed beside the word in all dictionaries.”

Weston grins. “Too late. Yours is already there.”

“Okay, that was cheesy.”

Laughing, he pulls me into a kiss. “I don’t do cheesy. What exactly have you done to me, Leah?”

“You’d like to know, wouldn’t you?” Between Lucas’ news and Weston’s warm smiles, my morning really couldn’t get any better. I nip his lips with my teeth, licking gently across his lower one, wanting to take it between mine and tug on it.

Just as I’m about to, Weston grabs my ass and pulls me up, positioning himself beneath me, he lowers my body and I slide down around his erection. The widening pulls at me again. Is it going to be like this every time? God, I hope so. I hope my body reacts this way each time—like it’s the first time.

“I think I lost count.”

“Me too.” I giggle. “Have you always been like this?”

“Like what?”

I pant. “Able to have sex for so long? I mean, I’m not complaining, but damn…”

Weston laughs, his deep voice rumbling. “Yes.”

I don’t say anything. I don’t know
what
to say to that. I guess there’s nothing to do but smile. “Are you hungry?”

“I’m always hungry…” Weston grins and slips his hand beneath the sheet to cup me between my thighs.

“For food.” I raise an eyebrow.

“This,” he inserts a finger. “Is a
delicacy
.”

I sigh, and give in. I mean, how can I not?

After another crippling orgasm, I order room service while Weston showers. Turning on the iPod in the in-suite docking station, I dance around the hotel room in nothing but my underwear and Weston’s V-neck. Blasting Florida Georgia Line’s latest album, getting pumped…I still can’t believe this is happening. Two years ago I was a nobody from Maine. With a dream, and a nice voice.

A rap on the door comes just as one song fades into another. I skip over to the door, unlocking it, without checking the peephole. A lone cart stands in the hallway, no delivery person. Odd. I shrug. Two silver domed trays sit on either side of a single red rose in a vase. How sweet. I’m going to remember to thank the concierge when we check out.

“Hope you like Canadian bacon!” I sing melodically as Weston opens the bathroom door. Lifting both silver domes, I stand smiling, unsure of why Weston is white as a ghost.

“Leah…” His voice is low as he points to the cart.

Smiling still, I look down. And scream. And drop the lids, and freeze on the fucking spot. There aren’t any eggs, or bacon, or toast or even fucking home fries. Instead, each of my red shoes sit on a plate—almost burned to a fucking crisp. I can only tell they’re those shoes, because the
Louboutin
mark is still somewhat readable on the inside.

“Leah, who brought those up?” Weston asks, his eyes wide and glazed.