Boys South of the Mason Dixon (South of the Mason Dixon #1)

She didn’t have to explain that to me. After this morning with Steel, I imagined she needed to be alone, much like I did now.

“You did the right thing,” I told her.

“I know,” she replied, not needing my approval. “But it was the hardest thing to do.”

“I wasn’t being condescending. If you’re out here worried about the shape you found him in earlier, drunk in the middle of town . . . he’ll be okay.”

She gazed back to the water, her eyes no longer on mine. “He hates me now, maybe he always will, but he said today he might thank me in the future. I don’t think he meant it, but I’ll hope and pray that’s the case. Have to hold on to that.”

Steel told me I was a selfish bastard and that he wished I would’ve stayed gone. He didn’t want my opinion or any other moral horseshit. He said that Dixie was free now, and that I might as well go take her since that’s what I’d wanted all along. I’d called Brent and let him take over. Steel was drunk, and sober or drunk, he didn’t want me there.

“I’m leaving,” she said, her eyes back on me, a determined gleam in them. “In August, I’m going to Clemson.”

She was starting over. Getting away. That would be good for her. She’d make new friends and there would be other guys. She might even fall in love again. My heart felt like someone was squeezing it by hand at the mere idea of her loving someone else. But I had to let her go. “You’ll like it there. Beautiful campus. It was one of the colleges I visited.”

“I can start a new life,” she said, nodding firmly, with determination in her voice. A life where I was no longer in it, unable to hurt her anymore.

We make certain choices in life because we have to. Others are made on a whim. And the rest, if we’re fortunate enough, we think those through, taking our time to decide. I’m not sure which one of these scenarios made me close the distance between us, bring our bodies a breath away from one another, and cup her face in my hands. That face I’d never forget. The one I saw every night when I closed my eyes and stayed with me throughout the day. I thought of nothing else as I lowered my mouth to hers, capturing it with a kiss. I’d longed for this moment for what seemed like forever. I wanted her in my arms again, her body pressed against mine like this, and with a desperate moan, our kiss quickly escalated to a burning frenzy.

Her hands slid under my shirt, soft palms caressing my skin. I could hear my own voice in my head telling myself this had to stop, but no part of my body was listening. I couldn’t force myself to do it even if I wanted to. She was leaving, moving on and I’d soon become a memory for her. That was all I knew. Maybe this was desperation, a futile echo of two people who’d loved each other deeply and were forced to let it all go. Nothing mattered to me in this moment—the past, present or future—because right now, with the moonlight playing on her face, a heavenly host surrounding this place where we’d spent so many carefree nights in the arms of the other, there was nothing but Dixie and me. If I had to choose a long life or this one last embrace with her, I’d choose this moment time and time again.





Dixie Monroe

THE ACHE I felt for Asher to touch more of me battled with the trembling from being in his arms again. I couldn’t get close enough. His hands moved down my arms and squeezed my waist, Asher’s tongue sliding over mine as every nerve in my body came alive. My hands gripped his back, desperate to get closer and make sure there wasn’t any space between us, not an inch.

Asher grabbed my bottom and jerked me up against him. His hardness pressed into my stomach. I could feel the throb of his erection, my panties dampening even more. He lifted me gently, up and down, his pelvis rubbing against me. Asher’s fingers bit into the flesh where my shorts had ridden up. I made noises I didn’t know I was making, moving a hand to the front of his jeans to feel his bulge in my hand, the thickness of him in my palm causing him to lower me and my feet to touch the ground again. Terrified that this was over, that whatever control he had lost had come back, I began to open my mouth. But before I could say anything, Asher grabbed my shirt and ripped it over my head, his dark, hungry gaze locked on every inch of my body. “Take off your shorts,” he demanded, discarding his own shirt, and already working the buttons of his jeans.

He watched me as I lowered my shorts. They fell on the grass beneath our feet, his eyes following their descent. “Panties, too,” he ordered and I quickly tugged them to the ground. We stood there naked, Asher’s eyes devouring my flesh.

I wanted his hands on me, his mouth, his body inside mine. “Asher,” I began to plead.

“I want to kiss and lick every inch of your body. I want to take all night with you. But I need to be inside you, Dixie, right now,” he said before I could add anything else.

I stepped closer to him and placed a hand on his chest. Tilting back my head, I stared into his eyes. I was no longer the same girl he once held and loved in this very place. I was older, stronger. I wanted everything from him, and I was not afraid to ask. “Fuck me, Asher,” I said.

His eyes blazed, his hand firmly grabbing my hair, but with enough gentleness not to hurt me. “You want me to fuck you?” he asked, the heat in his eyes turning into molten fire.

“I want to still feel you in me tomorrow. I want each step I take to remind me that you were inside me.”

“Jesus,” he hoarsely whispered. He then spun me around by a handful of my hair, his other palm landing firmly on my butt, the sudden smack ringing through the air. I squealed from the shock and pleasure. “You like that?” he asked, doing it again.

“Yes,” I replied breathlessly.

His hand kept smacking my butt, each slap stinging more than the one before it, my thighs beginning to feel the wetness between them. When he stopped, he put a knee between my legs and aggressively pushed them apart. His fingers searched for my wetness, a single digit climbing to the pulse of my clit. I cried out, my body bucking. He twisted, then pinched the quivering bundle of nerves, growling in my ear, “You’re soaking wet from your spanking. You like it when I play rough.”

“Yes,” I panted, “I like it all.”

Trapped in his arms, we moved us to his truck. He jerked open the passenger door and all but threw me on the worn seat, before covering me and opening my legs, both his hands prying them apart. I was desperate to have him inside me. I wanted anything he could give me. I’d let him do whatever he wanted.

“Tell me to fuck you again,” he said, his eyes lifting to mine, their color even darker now.

“Fuck me,” I replied without hesitation.

With one hard move, he pushed his length deep inside me. We both cried out as I clawed at his back, needing him to stay there. “God, that’s tight,” he breathed.

“I want to be sore tomorrow,” I said again.