Bolt Read online

  “So you’re here for a wedding? To attend one?” he inquires with genuine interest. Like it’s the most important question he’s ever asked.

  “Yeah, an outdoors affair, vintage boho we’re calling it. There’s a canopy of fairy lights strung between the trees and...”

  This guy looks like he’s taking notes, he’s so attentive. Perhaps he’s a reporter for a wedding blog. The thought makes me smile. He’s way too masculine and wild. Alpha male mountain man.

  I set the cartons on the belt and the cashier looks at me in semi outrage.

  “You can’t consume the merchandise before you’ve paid for it,” she snips, her eyes snapping to the tall gorgeous hunk at my shoulder, then flipping her hair over hers.

  “I didn’t consume it,” I say, trying not to laugh. Does she think I’m some dairy addict ducking into a store to throw back a couple of pints on the sly? “I spilled it back there, sorry there’s a bit of a mess.” She lets out a long sigh.

  “I’ll pay for it of course.”

  “No, I’ll pay for it,” the hunk insists.

  The bored girl’s eyes have hardly left his face and aren’t about to any time soon, I can tell.

  “No need,” I cut in. “It was my fault.”

  “The sign clearly says ‘Puh-lease take a basket’,” the flirtatious little tramp drawls.

  “Exactly,” I admit, wishing she’d just ring me up so I can get out of here.

  “No basket,” the guy shrugs with a grin that would melt wrought iron, never mind a lonely woman’s big panties.

  Shit, I am wearing big panties – driving in a thong is so damn uncomfortable.

  Shit, why am I worried about what panties I’m wearing? He’s not likely to be seeing them tonight.

  Or ever.

  5

  Bella

  Oh, double,triple shit. The heat threatens my cheeks again and I turn away, tossing my items into a bag because clearly the clerk has forgotten her job description.

  I hand her my visa and she lifts an eyebrow at me like I’m the most stupid person in existence.

  “The sign says; ‘Cash only’. Can’t you read?”

  She smirks and her eyes dart over to the guy for collusion in the joke at my expense. A flare of irritation rises in me and I look at him, ready to fire him a glare if he joins in with the bullying. But he’s not paying her any attention. In fact, if I’m not convinced I’m dreaming this, I’d swear his gaze was fixed on me with a kind of softness I haven’t seen in a very long time.

  “I don’t have any -” I murmur.

  He immediately reaches into his back pocket of those low slung loose jeans that are tight around his thick thighs and retrieves his billfold.

  “Now you have no choice,” he tells me.

  His eyes catch mine again, triumphant and not letting me shift back to the outraged girl, staring at both of us now.

  I can feel her resentment boring into me from the side. That I’m holding the most gorgeous man on the planet eye-captive in the cashier aisle. Staring at each other like there’s no one else and we’re ready to start the re-population process.

  “No, you can’t pay for everything,” I say, more of a squeal if I’m honest.

  Just another distraction my body’s inflicting, to cover over my awkward embarrassment. “I’ll just put it back and come back tomorrow.”

  “Don’t be so stubborn,” the hunk says with a grin. “That cream is an essential necessity for a fantasy summer apparently, you were in such a rush with it.”

  “Honest, I’m no dairy addict. Well maybe for Rocky Road.”

  “Good choice.”

  “It really is my sister’s cream and I was dashing because I’m already late for dinner.”

  “Your sister’s the one with a thing for whipped cream?” he asks his eyes sparking and setting off an array of electric shocks through me. “Not you?”

  “Yes, I mean no. It’s for the after party, I mean the wedding breakfast. And it had to be the real stuff that some poor dogsbody, likely me, is going to have to whip by hand. Then we’re going to make huge piles in old glass bowls for guests to dip their strawberries into.”

  “Strawberries are one good thing to use whip on,” he nods, very seriously.

  Too serious. Trying to stifle that filthy grin and naughty twinkle.

  This guy could combust an iceberg.

  “Ahem,” an insistent cough from the woman behind him in the line that’s formed while we gaze on each other.

  We’re still facing each other oblivious to the entire world. The slack-mouth cashier is staring at us in disbelief like she’s watching a shocker scene on a soap opera.

  “Sorry,” I murmur to the line around him as he hands the girl a couple of notes.

  “Do you want my number?” she asks him.

  Her finger hovers over the phone glued to her palm after she gives him his change and clasps his fingertips. I want to slap her.

  “No, I’m good thanks,” he shrugs and extricates his hand. I could kiss him.

  “Whatevs,” she says with a tone of smacking-gum even though she isn’t chewing any.

  We exit the store and my companion, still at my shoulder, takes the brown bag from my arm then abruptly stops as soon as the door closes. I notice how my cheeks and jaw are aching from how much I’m smiling. I also can’t fail to notice the fierce pulsating in my pussy.

  “Damn, I forgot to pick up my beer,” he says. “I was so distracted by CreamGate.”

  “Oh no,” I blurt out, Shoving my free hands in my pockets to prevent myself from reaching out to grab him and prevent him heading back inside.

  I’d have no excuse to follow him or even wait around for him to return. A wash of pleasure surges through my tummy knowing he was engrossed by our collision enough to forget something as vital as a brew. Now, what is there to say to restrain him from leaving? He obviously doesn’t like an upfront woman judging by the way he dismissed the cashier. It’s not like me to curb my independent spirit but I’m not ready to have him walk away.

  Who knows when fate will put him in my path again?

  “I ought to offer to buy you a beer,” I pipe up, “but I’m not sure anyone trusts my credit in this town.”

  He grins again.

  “I thought you had a dinner date.”

  Damn.

  “Not a date. Dinner plans. Had. Past tense,” I smile, relieved he didn't dismiss me like the store clerk.

  This guy makes me all kinds of nervous.

  “But I’ve good and missed it now. My mother will freak if I show up in the middle of the meal. I’ll have to hide out in my car until they finish.”

  “That decides it,” he says. “We’ll hide together. Come on – the whipped cream can wait until after dessert.”

  The way he says that puts all kinds of filthy ideas in my head and it crosses my mind to decline even though I don't want to. Because I’m not sure I can keep myself together around this guy. If we go to a bar, I have no idea what might happen. Anything is what. I can’t stop the thoughts flying across my mind. Where he forces me up against a wall in an alley and yanks my skirt up my thighs.

  Would I slam down on those wide shoulders, or claw them to me as he ripped down my panties? I can almost feel his solid big cock sliding into my wetness and plunging into my pussy filling me up to the core. He’s a man I’d fuck without thinking twice. I wish now I’d done it the first time we met. Except I’m too much of a good girl. With this guy I’ll lose all sense of propriety, all sense of...

  “Sure, let’s do it,” I say which is kind of redundant as he’s already taken my hand to lead me across the street.

  He’s gripping that same spot, right below my wrist bone and every cell in my body yearns to flip into actually holding his hand like a real couple.

  His face is alight with a huge grin that indicates he was concerned I was going to refuse. Although that’s surely just another of my fantasy dreams taking root.

  I must be unconsciously tuggin
g in resistance, because he says, “Don’t worry you’re quite safe. It’s not like you’re being kidnapped by a stranger.”

  There. Does he recognize me after all?

  And what the hell is he doing here because, now I think of it, I remember him saying he was just passing through. Heading out that very night in fact. Was that a lie to get rid of me? Perhaps he’s married.

  Once we’re in the bar, he sets the bag on the stool beside me and waits until I hitch up onto mine. In case I need assistance for my clumsy ways, then slides smoothly onto his own seat.

  “Man, I could eat an entire rack,” he moans.

  “Did I ruin your dinner plans as well?” I ask.

  “Yeah me and my solitary take out.”

  “I don’t have ribs but I can offer you potato chips,” I say, with what I hope is a flirtatious small smile.

  I guess it works because his eyes automatically go to my ribs and are distracted by my breasts that fill with intense pressure just from his gaze.

  Discombobulated, I reach in the grocery sack, pull out the snacks and offer the open bag to him. He holds my gaze pinioned in his as he reaches in. Every cell in my body shivers as the sensation of that hand reaching inside my panties with those hard fingers runs through my thoughts.

  I doubt there’s a move this guy could make without inspiring all sorts of filthy.

  6

  Bolt

  Questions crowd my mind. Along with the most intense desire I’ve ever known. So ridiculously intense I feel like I could burst, like I need to pummel the wall to rid myself of the agony of need.

  Why do I run into the woman I’ve driven all night to find right when I’m filthy, covered with grit from the road? All sweaty and now the grease-stained clothes, thanks to the cream she rubbed into me. I must look an absolute sight. Like a mountain man emerging from a life off-grid, living in a shack. Fuck knows I’m coming close to that as it is. Might be there already if it weren’t for the need to stay within range of this internet shit.

  It’s all an addiction. Watching this woman is an addiction.

  The relief washing through me when she admitted it was her sister’s wedding coming up and not her own was stronger than the throb in my dick. For a moment at least. Until the violent desire to possess her overcame me again. There are so many things I want to do to her body. But first I wish I could backtrack and tell her how good it is to run into her again after all these months. Just a normal frank conversation, while at the same time thinking about ripping every item of clothing off her delicious curves and inhaling the fragrance of her skin.

  But I was momentarily stunned by how she dropped to her knees in front of me like an Angel fallen from God’s palm?

  And now what am I supposed to say to her by way of re-introduction; ‘Hey doll, I came to stop you from getting married this weekend. Yeah, I have been following your Instagram posts. The one and only person on my account – you’.

  I don’t think so.

  That won’t go over well at all. She’ll think I’m some fucking stalker asshole and run to her car. She’ll hightail it away from me instead of running away with me to hide from these legendary aunties.

  So what, I’m just gonna pretend this is our first meeting? She doesn't seem to recall that night so perhaps it’s the way to go. Although it’s a bitch having to lose the chemistry that was undeniably there between us. Same thing that’s been burning and snagging at my gut ever since. Clearly it’s not the same situation in her mind, so I’ll just fake it for now and see where it takes us.

  “So you’re just in town for the weekend?” I ask, grabbing a handful of the chips to ease the bear growl in my stomach. I haven't eaten all day.

  “Yes, I’ll be heading back to LA on Sunday night I guess.”

  “City girl, huh?”

  “Is that a bad thing in your book?” she asks, like she’s disappointed.

  “I don’t think there could be anything bad about you in my book.”

  “Oh,” she says, with a small startle.

  She may be a big city girl but she’s obviously not a full-of-herself one. Her humble nature only makes her more beautiful in my eyes.

  “And what about you,” she returns the question. “You’re not from around here, right?”

  How does she know that? The query in her voice sounds more like a confirmation as though she already knows the response.

  “I mean, are you?” she adds hastily.

  My state of disarray bordering on filth must have clued her in to the fact that I’ve been traveling.

  “I’ve been on the road the last few days, as you can probably tell.”

  “If you mean by the way you’re wolfing down those chips, yeah I can. Perhaps they serve food here.”

  “Would you actually want anything on a menu in a joint like this?” I want our first meal to be somewhere better than a dive. “I passed a diner on the outskirts. I’d happily hide out with you there while we grab a bite.”

  “I never even got your name.” She smiles. Then adds, “Back in the store I mean.”

  “People call me Steele,” I tell her, remembering to add “Yours?” Even though I know it perfectly.

  Bella Granger, twenty seven, perfect beauty, funny, smoking hot, still single, thank fuck.

  “Let’s go, I’m ready for ribs too,” she says.

  So even though she’s a city girl, which I admit is a bit intimidating, she doesn't need to hang out in all those fancy joints. Drinking over-priced cocktails, spending four hundred bucks on sunglasses. She can also get down and dirty.

  I get up and she immediately stands as well We’re both more than ready. So eager, our bodies glance off one another and an electric bolt flies through me. My cock twitches to life, unfurling and rock hard in an instant.

  Fuck, it’s been too long.

  Way too long. I’ve never gone this long in my life without being inside a woman. I’m that close to grabbing Bella and ravaging her right now. Pushing her up onto the bartop and parting her legs. She’s wearing a wraparound dress that hugs her body just enough to make me ache up and down. I’ve thought about her for so long that I feel like I know her.

  And that it would be perfectly acceptable to drag her into my arms and claim her delicious mouth. Watching her lips curl around a potato chip was about the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen, which proves how starved I am.

  I have to force myself to remember that we only met barely an hour ago as far as she’s concerned. And that no, I haven't been scrolling through her life, eager for one of her intermittent posts so I could scrape up some clue and insight into more of her.

  Honestly she’s been strangely quiet in there. I thought girls were posting their life stories all day long but aside from funny photos mentioning her job as a toy promoter, there’s been not much to go on until the wedding announcement. So no, I don’t have the right to touch her or wrap her into my arms and cover her mouth with mine.

  She’s not mine. Not yet.

  But she will be.

  I place my hand on the small of her back and she jolts as though we sparked, as you do when walking on cheap broadloom. Except the floor is cheap wood. She looks up at me with a question surging from her beautiful eyes. Did I feel it too?

  Fuck yeah.

  She looks away, and I do too. Awkward again. I don’t know where to put all the fierce feelings cramming at my skin, threatening to burst through. And this is completely insane. It has to be all in my mind.

  I take her hand to lead her to the door.

  “We’ll take my bike,” I tell her.

  I may be exhausted but I’m not letting her drive.

  “I need to use the washroom first then,” she stops halfway to the door and looks around.

  I locate the sign and lead her toward it, at the side of the now crowded bar.

  We reach the small passage with a door on either side, his and hers. I may as well take a leak while we’re here. I squeeze her hand before letting it go.

  Before her
fingertips leave mine, she blurts out a question I hadn't expected, “Hey, do you remember a night about six months ago, in a bar like this on the other side of town?”

  Before I know what I’m doing, I’m in a kind of crazed frenzy. I half shove, half lift her, pushing her back through the door to the women’s washroom. I kick it closed behind me. Her eyes stretch wide in surprise but hold mine firm, unafraid, not letting me go.

  It’s like that exact same homecoming I dreamed of. Like she’s been desperately waiting for me to come back all this time. Like she needs me as damn fucking hard as I need her. Her little hands grab at my shoulders as I move her backward at speed toward the counter-top, intending to use it like I pictured using the bar. With her sitting up there, her legs spread and me between them rocking in and out of her tight pussy. As hard and as fast as she likes.

  Butt there’s no counter in a dump like this, only a basin with a single running tap. It all happens in a flash. She threads her fingers into my hair, drawing me hungrily to her as we travel urgently. All four hands are grasping and clinging. All I need is one spot to land her on, a support to lean into as I thrust into her body.

  Before I find it, my mouth slams down on hers. Whether she tugs me down or I can’t hold back any longer, who knows? She’s tearing at my clothes same as I’m squeezing the gorgeous flesh cupped in my palms. I need it bared, her clothes off, her skin naked in my grasp. I need that more than I need food or drink or even fucking air.

  7

  Bella

  My back goes slamming into the wall. The force of the impact is broken by his palm coming up to halt me before I’m completely crushed. But that means I stop short and his torso crushes me against the wall and the hunger in his body plunges into every single cell.

  His solid heat lines my chest, molding into my round breasts and still he’s not close enough. The man devours my mouth expertly. So it’s not a kiss so much as a mouth fuck.