Fast Lane - Kristen Ashley Page 0,51

sides to nab used beach towels left behind, on my way to the pool house.

With the towels flung over my arm, I juggled the pad and pen and knocked.

“It’s Lyla!” I called. “Not to disturb, but I’m going to the grocery store. Do you need anything?”

“English muffins and orange marmalade!” Shawn shouted.

I heard the murmur of a woman’s voice.

“And cantaloupe!” he finished.

I grinned, shouted back, “Gotcha,” wrote that down and retraced my steps.

I hit the mudroom, started a load of beach towels in the washer and then went out the side door and up the steps to Dave’s place.

I repeated the rigmarole and got, “Do we have beer?”

“Yes.”

“Do we have more beer after we finish that beer?”

I was laughing when I yelled, “On the list!”

“Love ya, China!”

“Back at cha, Davey!”

On the way back to the main house, I nearly collided with Tommy who was in running clothes.

“Doing a grocery store run,” I told him.

“Somethin’ to grill tonight, babe. Doesn’t matter what. And grab a coupla cartons of Marlboro. Think everyone’s about out. Yeah?”

I nodded. “Have a good run.”

He kissed my cheek and took off.

I went back into the house.

Tim was off surfing, no doubt. He’d taken a lesson a week ago, and from that day on, every morning before dawn, so un-rock-‘n’-roll, he was on his way to the beach.

Jesse had been shacked up with a girl the last few days and the door to his room was open, so I knew he was probably still with her.

Even so, Shawn and his woman would emerge, Dave too, Tim and Tommy would get back.

So, I tossed the dregs of the pot of coffee I made for myself and started more brewing before I wandered down the hall to the master.

I opened the door, and since there were no real curtains, just white sheers, and it was nearly ten o’clock in the morning, the sun was streaming in the four sets of French windows that dotted the space.

And Preacher’s long, tan limbs were tangled in white sheets, with most of them exposed, plus all of his back.

I was rethinking my plans of going to the grocery store as he pushed up to an elbow and trained his eyes on me.

“You need anything from the store, honey?” I asked.

“Come ’ere,” he rumbled.

Okay.

The store could totally wait.

I went there, rounding the platform to his side, and since he was facing the middle of the bed, he rolled.

He then lunged, caught my wrist and pulled me into bed with him, rolling again, on me.

“Dave needs beer,” I said as his mouth landed on my neck.

“Don’t care.”

“DuShawn needs muffins.”

His mouth moved to my throat. “Don’t care about that either.”

“His girl wants cantaloupe.”

His lips hit mine. “Really don’t care about that.”

“Prea—”

He kissed me.

I stopped teasing.

He started, but a different, much, much better way.

And he ended the tease from the back, taking me on our knees, me genuflected before him, stretched like a cat, pushing back to get as much of him as I could.

“Get there, Lyla,” he ordered roughly.

I met his slams.

“Fuck, get there, baby,” he groaned.

I pressed both hands to the wall, reaching for him as I gasped my stunning orgasm.

His thrusts came hard as he grunted his.

He glided gently for a while before he pulled out, muttered, “Fuck, love my woman’s ass,” and slapped it lightly before he bent and sunk his teeth into a cheek.

My eyes drifted closed.

He kissed the small of my back, shoved me down to my side and left the bed.

He came back and made us both tangled in sheets, and each other, within about ten seconds.

“You get to explain to Shawn why he doesn’t have his preferred breakfast,” I mumbled, cuddling closer.

Preacher chuckled.

I loved that sound, so I pressed even closer.

“You know, it sucks when you have to leave me after, so maybe we should get me an appointment so I can get on the Pill.”

He didn’t reply.

I pulled my face out of his throat and tipped my head back. “Preacher?”

“I should get tested,” he muttered.

Hmm.

“Yes, and after we’ll both be…careful.”

“Sorry?”

“We’ll both be careful.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

It was then I felt what I felt when Jesse had called out that first day at the house, alluding that maybe Preacher had a girl other than me with him.

A weird cold that was also hot.

“You said you’d get tested,” I pointed out.

“Yeah, ’cause I fucked around before you. Not after you came back, so it’s been a while. A long fuckin’ while of no one but you. And I’m not a