lean through the passenger’s side, swiping the half-empty bottle of whiskey off the floorboard and heading for the sparse forest.
Thin pine trees rise around me, and we’re close enough to the shore that sand is under my boots. I don’t know where I’m going. I need to get away from everything so I can breathe.
I don’t know where I am or even how far I’ve walked. I’m in the middle of nowhere, and the trees are thicker, their branches coming together to form a dim alcove. I stop and put one hand on the trunk of a tree before sliding down to sit on the ground.
Pine needles cover sand here. I bend a knee and pull the cork-lined top off the whiskey. Putting the bottle to my lips, I tilt it up and take a long pull.
It burns like fire going down my throat. My eyes squint shut, and I exhale a growl. Damn, them.
I do it again, taking a longer pull, and this time when my eyes open, I see her standing there. Like a beam of sunlight or an iridescent angel, Hope steps quietly through the trees in those white cowboy boots I bought for her.
She comes to where I’m sitting and lowers to a squat, taking the bottle from my hand and replacing the cap. She puts it on the ground beside me and reaches out to slide her fingers through my hair, moving it off my forehead with her thumb.
“Are you okay?” Her voice is gentle.
I don’t answer her right away. I gaze at her blue eyes so warm, so full of concern. Her light hair falls in gentle waves around her cheeks. She’s so pretty.
My voice is dry when I speak. “No.”
“You have every right to be upset.”
I think about it. I do have the right to be upset. My father stole my life. He kept me away from my son…
“Are you still in love with her?” Hope’s voice is quiet, tentative, and my eyes lock on hers.
“No.” I say it with conviction.
Any love I had left for Becky died when those divorce papers showed up. Learning she’s with my dad just makes my reasons for coming back more specific and more focused.
I couldn’t give a shit about them. I only want my son.
Her hand moves from my hair to my shoulder. “What are you feeling?”
Lifting my eyes, I feel hot blood in my veins, and I feel tired of fighting.
“Come here.” Reaching out, I catch her by the waist, pulling her onto my lap in a straddle.
She doesn’t fight me, resting her slim arms on my shoulders. I pull her closer, resting my face against her neck like I’ve wanted to do so many times, and just breathe. God, it feels so good.
Soft lips touch my brow, and I’m surrounded by coconut and flowers and hope eternal.
With my eyes closed, I slide my hands around her waist, pulling her closer against me, her soft body flush against my hard chest. Her knees rock forward onto the soft sand, and I lift my chin, searching for her mouth.
She cups my cheeks, and our lips seal together. It’s a match striking. Pushing hers apart, I’m hungry for her kiss. Our tongues meet and curl. She tastes good like fresh coffee mixed with the sharp sting of whiskey.
My hands drop to her thighs, and I slide them higher, under her dress to the line of her panties. I grasp her soft ass and squeeze, dragging her slowly up my lap, over my hardened dick in my pants.
“John…” She gasps, kissing my cheek, my temple.
It’s all the encouragement I need. Moving my hands to her hips, I rip her panties away then push my fingers between her thighs, circling her clit as she rises higher, panting in my ear.
“Oh, God, oh…” She moans, riding my hand.
I’ve got to get these jeans off.
I reach down to unfasten my pants. She quickly unbuttons my shirt, grasping and pushing the fabric away. Her palms slide over my chest, followed by her lips.
We’re driven by lust and need and hunger. My jeans slip down and her fingers wrap around my cock, not quite touching.
Blue eyes rise to mine, and her nose wrinkles. “So big…”
Her head lowers to my lap, and I groan loudly as her hot little mouth closes over my tip, sucking and pulling.
“Oh, fuck.” I twist and writhe, doing my best not to thrust it down her throat.
Her head bobs fast, and her tongue slides up and down, teasing the