Truly Mine Page 2

  “Babe, wait,” I whispered against her lips.

  She didn’t stop at all. Instead, she unbuttoned her pants and began to wriggle out of them.

  “Truly…” I panted. I could barely form words. “Come home with me tonight. I want you in my bed where I can touch all of your body, where I can kiss you in all the places you want me to. Please…” I pleaded with her. I wanted her to have the same reaction she had with me years ago. I needed to be inside of her before the night was over.

  She dropped her foot to the floor before lifting herself, and she maneuvered one leg out of her jeans. As my hand glided over her silky skin, moving from her calf up to her hip and across her toned flat stomach, I quickly realized that I had zero control around this woman, which was a far cry from the way it used to be. I used to take control. I used to drag it out for hours by simply telling her to stop or wait. Tonight, she was calling the shots. I slid my fingers into her panties, but I didn’t dare touch her where she wanted it most, causing her to squirm impatiently.

  “Please, Tyler.” With her hands on my shoulders, she ground herself against my hand, begging for more.

  “Truly, look at me. Now.”

  She looked down at me and stopped moving. Her hair fell against my shoulders. She immediately followed my directions. I couldn’t help but smile as I took that minute to appreciate the familiar view—her beautiful face looking down at me with her rosy cheeks and her needy eyes, her chest heaving breathlessly. It was all for me.

  I slowly moved my fingers to where she wanted them. Looking into the most beautiful brown eyes, I said softly, “Don’t move.”

  When she began to rock her hips against my hand, I challenged her again. “Don’t move,” I repeated in a deeper voice.

  She stilled while I continued to rub through her slick folds.

  That’s my girl.

  “If you agree to come home with me, I’ll give you something to tide you over while we wait to get out of here.”

  She was panting, and when I applied a little pressure to her sensitive swollen clit, she gasped. It was the most beautiful sound.

  “I want to have you in my bed. I need to taste you.”

  Pulling her panties down with my free hand, I slid two fingers from her clit to her dripping pussy. Never taking my eyes off of hers, I sank them deep inside. She licked and then bit her bottom lip as she bucked against my hand, begging for friction. Her breathing was fast and shallow.

  I loved seeing her in that state again—flawless and greedy. I worked my fingers in and out of her until she was near her release. While she watched me, I pulled my wet fingers out of her and placed them in my mouth, sucking her sweet juices off like it was my last meal.

  “Fuck, you taste so good. I want more, Truly.” Returning my fingers to her begging pussy, I used my thumb to rub small circles against her swollen clit, keeping her tightly wound up. “You’re coming home with me, Truly. I need to have you all night.”

  Truly placed her hands on either side of my face. I knew she wanted to, but I also knew that she wasn’t the same girl who had once done exactly as I told her.

  That was the last time I saw Truly. It was twelve years ago, and I can still remember every fucking detail.

  pronunciation trep-i-dey-shuhn

  (n.) a feeling of fear about something that could happen

  Truly

  Getting older is such a mindfuck.

  I’m forty today, but mentally and emotionally, I feel just the same as I did the day I turned thirty. Shit, for that matter, I honestly don’t feel much different than I did when I was twenty. Smarter and stronger, for sure. But I still feel young. I certainly don’t look as old as I envisioned a forty-year-old to look. I dare say that I look damn good for my age.

  I might finally buy into that theory that age is just a number.

  To celebrate my birthday, I planned a night out on the town with my friends Lissa and Marie. Not a big production. Just a night out with the only two people that I give a flying fuck about. We were supposed to dress up in short skirts and high heels, go to dinner, and then head to a club full of beautiful people to make a few memories.

  My attire for the evening is now sitting in my closet, waiting to be worn. Marie had designed the form-fitting pale-pink tunic top with a strap over one shoulder. The fabric would have shimmered and shone beautifully as the lights in the club danced around me. I would have paired it with a black leather mini and black stockings. I’d requested the most gorgeous pair of Christian Louboutin leather pumps to be sent over last week. A few diamonds would have finished it off, and I would have made forty my bitch.

  But that’s not at all what I’ll be doing tonight. I’ve had to rearrange my schedule to deal with a ghost from my past, so to speak. And that leaves me spending my birthday in the town where I grew up. Only my mother could time this so well.

  Passing the Welcome to Fallport sign, my stomach lurches into somersaults. In an attempt to settle my nerves, I grip the steering wheel tight and take a deep breath.

  After all these years, how can I still be so affected?

  Get a grip, Tru. You’ve got this. Handle this shit, and get out of here as fast as you can.

  Not five minutes in this town, and I’m already talking to myself.

  Perfect.

  Everything looks exactly the same. Fallport is the same sleepy little town it was when I left. The bar where my mother would get drunk every night now has a new name, Perdue’s Grill, and sits in an otherwise empty field. The buildings are familiar but in an odd way. They are worn-down and sad. The old lumberyard appears to be full of the same old wood planks that lined the fences all those years ago. Across the street is the big church that’s really not so big after all.

  I make a right, entering the business district of town. It’s the size of a mini strip mall. On one side of the road is a small produce market, several abandoned shops, a bar, and the tiniest of libraries.

  For shame. Every town should have a beautiful grandiose library.

  On the opposite side are a pharmacy, grocery store, and a savings and loan financial institution. The grocery store is the only new building I’ve seen so far.

  I welcome the foreign feeling of a town that should be so familiar. Once upon a time, I thought I would never make it out of here. At best, I thought I would be the waitress at the local diner, knowing everyone’s orders by heart. Or if I were really lucky, the receptionist at Dr. Bord’s office.

  If you had asked my classmates where I would be at forty, they would have surely predicted that I would be a divorcée with four or five kids, few with the same father, and living in a trailer park with a sloppy, fat unemployed loser. Sadly, gossip travels fast in a small town, and even sadder is that everyone believes what they hear.

  But here I am, driving my Lexus LFA, while wearing a white sleeveless Gucci pantsuit. My earrings cost more than some of the houses in this town, and my shoes cost more than the cars I’m sharing the road with. But more important than any of the expensive things I own is that I love my life. I love what I do for a living even if the people in this small town would not approve.

  Just off Main Street is my destination. The Burke Law Firm is as old as Fallport. The brick building looks the same, aside from the new sign hanging in the front window—Burke and Burke Law Firm.

  The Burkes ran this town when I was a kid. Mr. and Mrs. Burke were both lawyers. The whole family knew their status in town and made sure that everyone else knew it as well.

  The only people who had a higher rank around here were Dr. Bord’s family. The two Bord daughters, Christina and Jennifer, were the prettiest girls I’d ever seen. They wore expensive clothes and jewelry, and they carried themselves with poise and confidence. I was in awe of them…and maybe a little jealous.

  They had a queen for a mother, and I had a dirty whore for a mother.

  Mrs. Bord had been crowned Miss Fallport long before each one of her daughters won their titles. And, no matter how much money they had o
r how perfect their lives appeared, they were kind. Even to me.

  I pull into the parking space in front of Burke and Burke and just sit in my car. In my warped mind, I fear I will be tainted again the minute I step out and expose myself to this town. I’ve worked my ass off to get to where I am today, and I toe a fine line to ensure I’ll never end up as the girl I once was.

  After several cleansing deep breaths, I exit the car and make my way down the sidewalk to the law office. The warmth of the sun beats down on my bare shoulders, and the smell of chlorine coming from the swimming pool a few blocks away permeates the air.

  As if I’ve been smacked upside the head with a brick, childhood memories flood my mind. I stop dead in my tracks and lay my arm across my stomach as a miserable punch of insecurity hits me. As clear as day, I see flashbacks of myself as a child walking on this exact sidewalk. The crumbling concrete curb I would inevitably trip over at least once a day has been fixed, and there are no more cracks to step over so that I won’t break my mother’s back.

  A skinny little girl with long dark hair and an attitude for miles, I was always up to no good. The smile I wore hid my deep pain.

  Much the same as today actually. I guess some things never change.

  I remember, even that young, I could be in a crowd of people that I called my friends, yet I’d feel so alone. I think about who or what could have stopped me from myself. Surely, someone knew what was coming, long before it became my reality. I will forever wonder why not one single person wanted to save that good little girl before all the bad consumed her.

  “Are you okay, ma’am?”

  I snap out of my haze to find a familiar face. Golden boy Tyler Burke is staring at me.

  My heart pounds in my chest. I was praying I could get in and out of this town without opening old wounds—specifically ones caused by Tyler.

  In high school, Tyler was gorgeous and smart and funny. He had the attention of every girl with a pulse.

  I swear, he’s not aged one bit. His dirty-blond hair is messier than I’ve ever seen it, and his shoulders are broader than they were the last time I saw him. The tight black T-shirt clings to his chest. His muscles bulge under that tee like artwork. He still takes my breath away.

  It’s not that I don’t see stupidly hot men every day in New York. The difference is, those men are stuffy and proper. Tyler is rough and rugged, unrefined at best. They wear suits, and Tyler wears…whatever the fuck he wants.

  In high school, he looked good in workout wear, sports uniforms, and skater clothes. My world stopped spinning on its axis the first time I saw him in a formal tux. And the last time I saw him, I enjoyed the view while he wore jeans and a hoodie—until he offered it to me. I still have that hoodie.

  Today, he makes my mouth water in jeans and a tee. It’s that small-town country look that still does something for me.

  Not to mention, Tyler was my first everything. Every single first worth remembering was his. During my high school years, all I ever wanted was for him to love me the way I did him, for him to treat me the same way in public as he did when we were in private.

  To this day, I’ve never had a man worship me the way Tyler did. What had started out as uncontrollable hormones turned into a trust that turned into a connection like none I’ve had. Even if he kept our relationship under the radar, I knew he felt that connection.

  But I also knew that I was never a candidate to become the popular rich kid’s girlfriend. My mother’s actions made sure of that. So, I took him the way I could have him. There’s not a whole lot to do in a small Midwestern-farming town, so we got creative. As the years went on and we became comfortable with each other in every way, we started to experiment with new things, pushing each other’s limits.

  I feel warm from just thinking of the things we did in the good name of sexual experimentation. I’m pretty sure we left nothing to the imagination. I pushed Tyler to hold back as long as he could before letting go and to help me experience pain in its most raw and pleasurable form. We experienced sex on a more mature level than most adults ever would.

  Then, my senior year, I became sick of being his secret lover. I was sick of wondering if he was having as much fun with the girls that he was dating, the girls he didn’t hide. I wondered why I was good enough to fuck but not good enough to date. So I asked him. He barely acknowledged me. So, I fucked him one last time. Yes, I fucked him like he had been doing to me all those years. The next morning I packed my things and left for New York without telling him.

  I guess I showed him. Yeah.

  I gasp, forgetting how to breathe for a moment.

  “Are you okay?” he asks again as he takes his sunglasses off.

  His icy-blue eyes take my breath away—just like they used to. I’m quite possibly going to pass out if I don’t separate myself from this grown-up version of a person who really did play a huge role in where I am today. He has no idea the impact he’s had on my life.

  “Uh…yes. Yes, I’m fine.” Catching my breath, I take a step back.

  I purposely don’t take off my oversized sunglasses, but I offer him a kind enough smile and then quickly walk around him. I enter the office and grab hold of the wall inside the door. My knees are actually weak from that brief encounter with Tyler.

  Turning to get one last look at the man who somehow occupies my mind no matter how far away from him I am, I’m blessed with the sight of him mounting a shiny black motorcycle. He’s still so perfect to admire. He pulls out of the parking space and speeds off down the road.

  I imagine he has a gorgeous wife and beautiful children waiting for him at home. He’s probably a lawyer just like his dad. From the looks of the sign, they must be partners.

  I walk to the empty receptionist desk and wait for someone to appear. Looking around, I see photos on the wall of Mr. Burke and his wife. There is a photo of Tyler’s sisters as well. I don’t see a single photo of Tyler though.

  That’s odd. Maybe he didn’t follow in his father’s footsteps.

  Or, by the looks of it, his entire family’s footsteps. He certainly did not look like the partner in a law firm a few moments ago.

  My aggravation spikes as the moments pass. I pull my phone out of my purse. I have a missed call from Scott—again. I haven’t answered a call from him since last week when I had to educate him on the definition of verbal abuse. That hasn’t stopped him from calling me daily and showing up at my apartment. He’s wasting his time and energy. Abuse in any form is a deal-breaker for me. I also have a text from Lissa, asking if I made it okay. I delete the missed call alert but answer Lissa’s text.

  Me: Yes, I made it to the hellhole. Hope to leave in a few hours.

  I stuff my phone back into my purse just as the receptionist appears.

  Finally.

  “Can I help you?” the young lady asks in a sweet voice.

  “Yes. Truly Rowan. I’m here to see Mr. Burke.”

  “Okay. Have a seat, and someone will be right with you.”

  I turn toward the small seating area just as three long-legged beautiful women wearing business dress suits file in. They are Tyler’s sisters. They look exactly the same as they did in high school. They laugh as they pass through the office and disappear. Thankfully, they didn’t even notice me. I am in no mood to socialize.

  Just as I sit down, Tyler’s oldest sister, Dara, reappears in the doorway and calls my name. She looks straight past me and around the room at the other chairs, which are all empty. When I step toward her, she is obviously taken aback, not expecting me to have the appearance that I do.

  “Truly, hi!” Her tone of voice is that of a mother speaking to her child.

  She pretends to be genuinely excited to see me, which is bullshit, and I see straight through the show. We didn’t exactly hang out in the same circle, and Dara would have been one to predict that I’d be living in a trailer with a loser at right about this point in my life. She inspects me from head to toe. As much as I would like to tell her all about
myself and what I’m doing these days, I don’t bother.

  “Hi, Dara. How are you?” While I won’t brag, I also won’t encourage her to treat me like the person she clearly thinks I am…or should be.

  Sadness laces her voice as she continues, “I’m good. How are you?”

  “I’m great.” I look her dead in the eyes and smile, clearly letting her know I am not sad, not in the least bit.

  Dara smiles that sweet smile she has always had. “I’m so sorry about your loss, Truly.”

  She opens a door and motions for me to enter. As I sit down in the large leather chair on the opposite side of her desk, I contemplate telling her that I am elated that the bitch is dead. But I think better of it.

  “Thank you. I appreciate that.” And now, it’s me pretending.

  Dara gently lowers herself into the chair behind her desk and begins shuffling through a stack of papers. She pulls out a file folder and places it on top. “My father was called out of town last night. I hope you don’t mind meeting with me.”

  “Not at all.” I don’t care if I meet with the devil himself as long as I make it out of here unscathed, and sooner rather than later would be my preference.

  “I have a few papers for you to sign, and I need to collect the documents that my father requested.”

  I glance from the folder to Dara, puzzled. “I’m sorry. I don’t recall Mr. Burke requesting that I bring any documents.”

  “Didn’t my father fax you a list of paperwork needed to close out the estate?” she asks with worry in her tone.

  “No, I’m afraid not,” I answer.

  “I apologize, Truly.” Dara looks down at the file folder and begins rifling through it. She pulls out a paper and twirls it around so that I can read it. “This is what we will need to satisfy the legal requirements and button up all the loose ends.” With her expensive pen, she points to each bulleted item on the letter as she reads aloud, “Tax return for this year, deed for the house, checking and savings account information, and any stock or bond certificates she might have had. We already have a copy of her will, so don’t worry about that.”