Easy Nights (Boudreaux #6)

“Because it’s going to bug me, and I’ll eventually blurt it out anyway.”

We turn a corner and there it is, my favorite tree. It’s at least four hundred years old, with branches so big and heavy that they rest on the ground.

And under it is a portable swing with a red blanket spread in front of it.

“Oh, my.”

He smiles down at me and leads me to the swing. I sit and kick my flip flops off, and Ben sets the basket in the middle of the blanket and joins me on the swing.

“This is lovely.”

“It’s a good day for it,” he says and rests his arm on the back of the swing, behind my shoulders. His fingertips brush the bare skin on my shoulder. I scoot closer to him and rest my head on his shoulder.

“We spent countless summers out here,” he says quietly, as if speaking too loud will disrupt the perfect spring day.

“We did.”

“And as a teenager, I would see you sitting out here, under this tree, with a book. Your knees pulled up to your chest, and your bare feet dirty as can be. You took my breath away even then.”

I glance up at him in surprise.

“I can’t tell you how often I’d watch you—not in a creepy way, I might add—I’d watch you reading and enjoying this tree, and I wanted so badly to sit with you and kiss you senseless.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“Of course you didn’t,” he says with a gentle smile. “But now you do.”

He nudges my chin up with his fingers and lowers his lips to mine, covering them softly. I cup his face in my hand and let myself simply soak in this moment, in my favorite place, with this man.

He slowly takes the kiss from sweet to hot, and to my delight, drags his hand from my hip to my breast, his thumb dancing over my already tight nipple.

Good God, he’s like a drug that I’ll never get tired of.

After what seems like an hour, he pulls back and rests his forehead against mine.

“I have been waiting for that for a very long time,” he whispers.

“I think this was probably way better than anything you might have done as a teenager.”

He chuckles. “True. So, it’s a win-win.”

I let my fingertips glide down his cheeks to his neck.

“Savannah.”

“Yes?”

“I want you,” he says and closes his eyes tightly. “I don’t say that to rush you into anything, and this isn’t the time or place anyway, but I need you to know that I want you.”

I cover his lips with mine, watching his eyes. “I want you too, Ben.”

He inhales and kisses me again, moving straight into hot as fuck.

Finally, he pulls back, clears his throat, and smiles at me.

“Are you hungry?”

I laugh and push my hair off my face. “So hungry.”

“I think Gabby made fried chicken.”

“That sounds good too.”

He glances at me in surprise and then begins to laugh in earnest. You could cut the sexual chemistry with a knife.

But, he’s a perfect gentleman as he opens the basket and we dig in.

The food, and the company, are delicious.





Chapter Eight


Van

“So, quite a bit has happened since I last saw you.”

My therapist, Violet, is sitting across from me in her office. When I first started coming here, I thought she’d make me lie down and spill my guts about my whole life, starting with my childhood, but according to her, that’s just for movies and TV shows.

I’m sitting in a deep, soft loveseat, and she’s across from me on a matching oversized chair. Violet is also a friend of the family. I don’t think I could have told a complete stranger about all of the horrible things that happened when I was married.

“Awesome. Spill it.” She grins. Violet is about fifty, with stark-grey hair that she always keeps in a braid. She never wears makeup, and she’s thin as a rail. She’s also kind and soft spoken, but she can get tough when she needs to.

“I’m officially dating Ben.”

Her eyes widen and she makes a note on her legal pad.

“I’m surprised you hadn’t heard already.”

“I’ve been on vacation with Lucy in the Bahamas, and we turned our phones off.”

“Did you two finally take a honeymoon?”

She smiles like a young girl, her face radiating happiness.

“We did.”

“That’s awesome. Congratulations again, Violet.”

“Thank you.” She clears her throat and shifts in the chair. “But let’s get back to you. Tell me more about Ben. How did this come about?”

I explain about the day at the hospital, and how he finally shared how he feels, and gave me the choice. I tell her everything, leading up to our amazing day under my favorite tree yesterday.

“Oh, Van, this is wonderful. I’m just ecstatic for you.”

“Thank you.”

“Have you been intimate?”

I bite my lip and shake my head no. “We’ve done some fun making out, but no. He hasn’t pushed me, and I haven’t initiated it, mostly because I don’t know how.”

“When you think about having sex with Ben, how do you feel?”

“Scared,” I whisper and look at Violet with tears in my eyes. “Why am I so afraid of this?”

“Why do you think you’re afraid?”

“Oh, that’s right, I’m talking to my shrink. She doesn’t answer questions; she asks them.”

Violet smirks and waits patiently for me to answer.

“Well, let’s be honest. Lance didn’t make sex nice or even comfortable for me. He used sex to terrorize me.”

The smile falls from her face and she scribbles on her pad.

“What about men before Lance?”

“I’d only been with two guys before him,” I reply and trace the pattern in the couch with my fingertip. “And they were nice, but I was young.”

“But those were good experiences?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” She shifts in the chair again and sets her pad on the table before her. I can see that she wrote terrorized and circled it twice. “I don’t know if you’ve ever gone into detail with me about what sex was like with Lance.”

I shake my head and look her in the eyes. “No.”

“Would you please share that with me now?”

I swallow hard, then take the cap off the water she set out for me and take a long drink. I’m just procrastinating, but I don’t care.

Maybe the hour will run out before I have to answer.

I glance at my watch. No such luck.

“In the very beginning, like right after we met and began dating, the sex was good. I’d say normal for lack of a better word.”

“I understand,” she says with a nod, urging me to continue.

“As time progressed, especially after we married, it got rougher. And not in a oh, this is fun and new kind of way. I realized that he liked to hit me during sex.”

“Hard?”

“Sometimes. He never hit me in the face hard enough to give me bruises. But he would slap my face, or my boobs, or my ass. The funny thing is, Ben slapped my butt yesterday, playfully, and I liked it.”

She smiles now.

“That’s good. It means you trust him, and you know he won’t hurt you.”

“Ben wouldn’t hurt me.”

“No, ma’am. Never.”