by Taryn Quinn
“Maybe not, but you didn’t seem to have too much trouble inviting said guy to be a part of your sex life, now did you?”
Shame scalded her cheeks, though she wasn’t sure what she was embarrassed about. That she’d just trivialized their relationship, how willingly she’d gone to bed with Justin, or what she’d lived with for years. Years she would never get back. “So does that make me a slut? I just told you I’m game for anything.” She sat up on the opposite side of the bed from Justin. “I bet nothing in that drawer of yours would make me bat an eyelash. I’ve probably tried things you haven’t.”
“Pleasure isn’t wrong, Kylie.”
“No, it isn’t.”
“The problem is when it’s not about pleasure.” He came around the bed and sat down next to her, as comfortably naked with her as she was with him. It was as if they’d been lovers for years, not hours. “Just because you enjoyed some of what you did doesn’t make him any less culpable. Guilting someone into sex is a damn short leap from forcing someone.”
She started to argue, to explain, then fell silent. From his clenched jaw, he wouldn’t hear anything she said right now anyway. And she wasn’t even sure what the truth was anymore. Somewhere along the way, attraction had turned into compliance and eventually indifference. When it had really bothered her, she’d said no. The rest of the time she’d just gone along. Rob had said he loved her, and she’d always wanted someone to pay attention to her the way he had. By the time she’d grown beyond needing his acceptance, giving in had become a habit.
Which made her culpable too.
“Don’t sit there and blame yourself. Just don’t.” Justin gripped her chin and stared hard into her eyes. “It’s different with us. No matter what you saw in that drawer, no matter how many ways I’ve dreamed of taking you, I wouldn’t demand anything you weren’t eager to give.” He allowed her a moment to process that, then rose and took her hand. “Feel like a shower and breakfast? You must be hungry. You barely picked at your dinner last night.”
That was it? His anger had gone as quickly as it had come. All that was left behind was the Justin she knew, the one who cared about people as easily as he breathed.
She stood, smiling faintly as her stomach growled. “Yeah, I could eat.”
“You like sausage?” he asked, grabbing something for her to wear from his dresser before leading the way into the master bath.
“Yours, yes.” She laughed as he turned and pulled her against him for a hard, hot kiss.
“To eat,” he said when they finally broke apart.
“Oh, I definitely intend to sample this, don’t you worry.” Grinning, she wrapped her hand around his cock and gave it a nice long squeeze.
He laughed and set aside the clothes. Then he tugged open the shower door. “Get in there and get nice and clean for me so I can dirty you up again.” With another kiss and a lascivious eyebrow wiggle, he left her alone.
She watched him walk away. God, what an ass. Licking her lips at the familiar pulse between her thighs, she smiled and got into the shower.
For once she wasn’t dreading getting through Thanksgiving Day. If that meant she was in over her head, then she’d just damn well have to learn how to swim.
“You might need this.” He popped his head back in the doorway, holding a plastic grocery bag. As she stared at him blankly, he nodded at her left ankle. Which, of course, started to hurt just enough to be annoying. “I’ll help you tie it around your leg. Unless you’d rather do another sponge bath…” He waggled his brows.
“No, thanks.” At his disappointed expression, she laughed and extended her left leg so he could slip the bag over it. “Maybe later.”
“Uh-huh. Pathetic save.” He managed to tie it off around her calf and closed the shower door. “I’ll go start breakfast. Think you can handle it from here?” he called.
She reached for the soap. If she was careful and quick, she might be able to manage it. “Yep, I got this. Thanks.”
And she did. Sort of. She soaped and lathered and shampooed under the hot water for a few heavenly minutes. Being surrounded by steamy water redolent with Justin’s delicious soap made her feel warm and safe, and she dawdled under the spray despite her worry of a soggy bandage. His shampoo smelled woodsy, so she used it sparingly. Still, she sniffed the wet ropes of her hair more than once, remembering the nights she’d leaned across the bar to adjust his tie—he always loosened it the minute he left work—and smelled that very scent.
“Little crush, huh?” she muttered, finally making herself leave her warm haven. She pulled off the bag and then dried the bandage, pleased to discover it was only slightly damp at the edges.
She found him in the kitchen, wearing nothing but unbuttoned, faded jeans as he manned the sizzling sausage on the stove. Even his feet were bare. “Look at you, Mr. Domestic.”
He grinned. “Sit. Breakfast will be ready in a few minutes.”
Instead of sitting, she examined her surroundings. The room wasn’t big, but it was cozy. A circular table for two stood in one corner, and the butcher-block countertop in the center of the room held a cherry knife block and the ingredients for a king’s feast. Red-and-white gingham curtains framed the storybook windows, revealing the white wonderland beyond.
She rushed to the window to take in his backyard. Or what she assumed was his backyard, because snow obscured everything. “Holy fuck! There must be three feet out there.”
“Only two.”
“Did you get out your ruler?”
“Nah. We have this nifty thing now called the news.” The smirk in his voice would’ve made her jab her knuckles in his ribs if she hadn’t been so focused on the trees beyond his yard. The woods were right behind his house, bisected by the trail that even now a few diehard snowmobilers were trying to traverse. She and Rob lived—had lived—less than a mile away on the other side of the trail.
“Sausage link for your thoughts.”
She glanced up to see a gleaming brown piece of meat dangling from a fork just above her lips. She took the bite gratefully, swallowing and groaning simultaneously. “Damn, Norton, you cook like a chef too? Why don’t I just have your babies and live in sin with you for the rest of my life?”
“Why don’t you?” He replaced the fork with his mouth, and his free hand slid under his baggy T-shirt to cup her breast. “I’d happily keep you barefoot and pregnant.”
Kylie bit his tongue playfully and pulled away. It was just a joke, just as her comment had been. “I’m only barefoot because you don’t have any socks.”
“I have socks. They’re in the laundry room with your clothes from last night.” He slid his feet under hers, and she laughed as he curled his toes under her arches. “Part of my diabolical plan to remove all clothes from the house so you have no choice but to wander around naked.”
“Oh, is that it? Should’ve clued me in. I don’t mind being naked all that much.”
He nuzzled her neck, running that damn ball stud on his tongue up and down the column of her throat. “Tease.” The hand on her breast pinched her nipple. “So about those thoughts…”
A bit distracted by his dual assault, she tipped her head to give him more access. “We live on the other side of the trail. So we’re neighbors. Sort of.”
He didn’t answer for a long moment, and his fingers stilled. “You mean used to live. You’re not going back there.”
His tone smacked a little too much of possession for her taste. “I hadn’t planned on it, no,” she said, trying not to sound as annoyed as she felt. Jeez, let a guy put his hands on your body, and next thing you know, he acts like he owns you. “I have to get my stuff, but—”
“I’ll get it for you.”
“Oh, no, you won’t.” Kylie shifted out of his embrace and stalked over to the back door. She gazed out the pane of glass, surprised to see a ball of gold fluff sitting on the top step, lapping from a blue bowl of milk.
Justin joined her and shoved his hands in his pockets. “That’s
Cody. I feed him outside because he won’t come in the house. He enjoys his freedom.”
“Even in this much snow?”
“Some things won’t be caged.” He shrugged and met her gaze when she risked a sideways glance at him. “I’m okay with giving space.”
Because she wasn’t sure if he was talking about the cat or her, she bit her lip and stayed silent.
After a minute he went back to the stove. She heard him chopping and dicing and the sizzle of oil. The scents of ham and green pepper filled the air. But she didn’t look back at him, and she didn’t make conversation. She gnawed on her ragged thumbnail and watched Cody, at least until a ding from the countertop took her attention.
“Get that, would you?”
“Uh, sure.” She walked over to the stainless steel box with the glowing red light on top. Seeing no Off button, she unplugged it from the wall and tried to figure out how to lift the lid. Once she’d slipped a nail under the front latch, she raised the top and sucked in a hot, yeasty breath. “Bread.” Her eyes actually watered as she glimpsed the thick, dark loaf. “Oh, God, you made bread.”
“Pumpernickel. Goes well with the sausage and omelets. Which are ready, by the way. Plates are in the cupboard above the counter.” He gestured with his shoulder, and she went to grab two bright blue stoneware plates and matching mugs for the coffee he’d set to brew.
By the time the table was set and the food put in front of her, she was beginning to think she hadn’t even scratched the surface of Justin Norton.
She ate as wolfishly as the cat had for the first few minutes, in between long sips of the most decadent coffee she’d ever tasted. “I’ll throw away my birth control pills,” she declared after she’d devoured half the omelet. “We’ll fuck like bunnies.”
“Half that statement’s true at least.” Grinning, Justin ripped off a hunk of bread and dragged it through the cheese from the omelet before feeding it to her across the table. “I’m guessing you like my cooking.”
She nipped his fingertips to make him laugh. “I like everything about you pretty much. Especially since you’re like a big bag of secrets. I thought I knew you, but nope, apparently not. Compared to you, I’m an open book with nearly blank pages.”
“Oh, I don’t think so. I never would’ve guessed innocent Kylie Fisher knew all about sex toys.”
“There’s probably quite a few I don’t know about.” She bit into a sausage link with relish. “And there’s definitely things I never got into. Serious BDSM, for one. Don’t come near me with a cane or I’ll claw your eyes out.”
“Duly noted.” Lips twitching, he picked up a forkful of eggs. “No latent submissive tendencies?”
“Judging from my life? Hard to tell.” She shook her head before he could comment. “I want an equal who’ll be submissive to me as often as I’m submissive to him. And there’s something else I want.”
“What’s that?”
“For you to tell me how you got that tongue ring.”
“Story’s not nearly as sexy as you’re thinking it will be.” He shrugged and sipped his coffee. “The kids razz me about stuff. I’m used to it, and it’s sort of a bonding ritual. They say since I’m past thirty there’s no way I could relate to what they’re going through. So one day Jorge’s in my office, and he’s showing off his new tongue piercing, bragging about how all the chicks love it.”
“I bet,” she said under her breath.
“He asked me if I have a girlfriend, and the conversation sort of devolved from there. Next thing I know he’s daring me to pierce my tongue.” He shrugged again. “So I did. And what do you know?” He grinned. “Chicks do like it.”
“So how many chicks have…liked it?”
“Thousands, naturally. Didn’t you see all the notches on the bedpost?”
To keep from smiling at his easy tone and twinkling blue eyes, she distracted herself by wrapping her feet around the rungs of her chair. He kept the place so warm she wasn’t the slightest bit cold, even with the frosty day outside. “I don’t normally sleep with men without knowing their sexual history.”
“Want names and dates?” He scraped egg off his plate and cupped a hand beneath his fork as he offered her the bite. “How about rankings?”
She gripped his wrist and took the forkful into her mouth while her mind whirled. Rankings made her think too much about Rob, who’d never been satisfied with just her. At least not lately. Yet he’d called her cell all night, claiming he wanted to make sure she was all right. She’d finally given in and left him a quick voicemail after her shower, though she’d slipped and told him she was at Justin’s. She’d always been careful to tell Rob that Justin was just a friend—and he had been—but she regretted her slip. She so didn’t want to get Justin involved in her messes.
After chewing and swallowing, she pasted on a smile. What was done was done, and she’d be damned if she spent any more time thinking about her ex. “So where do I rate?”
“You even have to ask?”
She licked her lips. “Yeah, I do.”
His gaze went from warm to hot in a finger snap. “Think I need more evidence before I can say definitively. A scientific study requires plenty of statistics.”
She pushed back from the table and rose, already peeling off the T-shirt. It fell to the floor. With one hunger sated, she was more than ready to sate another. This one, she had a feeling, would take a lot longer to satisfy.
Justin put down his fork and sat back in his chair. “Keep going,” he said when she hesitated.
Her fingers traced the profusion of bruises along her ribs. “Not exactly sexy.”
“All of you’s sexy from where I’m sitting. Keep going,” he said again.
She tugged down his boxers and tossed them aside, feeling more than a little foolish standing naked in the middle of his kitchen. His gaze roamed over her body, his approval evident in the faint quirking of his lips. “Turn around.”
She did, wondering when she’d started to shiver. His voice sounded deeper somehow, richer. If the purely sexual intent she’d glimpsed in his eyes hadn’t gotten her going, his voice surely would have.
“Bend over.”
“You’re lucky I’m feeling charitable,” she muttered, grasping her knees as she gave him the view he clearly wanted. With her ass on full display, she should have felt embarrassed. Or at least a little nervous. But all she felt was the heat growing between her legs.
When the silence stretched, she glanced over her shoulder at him. He was still staring at her, his brows low over his dark blue eyes. “Did Rob spank you?”
Her clit pulsed at the question. “A few times,” she said breathlessly.
“Did you like it?”
She wet her lips and took a shuddery breath. God, just imagining his hand striking her ass had her core clenching. “Yeah.”
“You have a gorgeous ass. Perfect size for my hands. I’d love to see my handprint there, to hear you scream while I reddened your flesh.” He tossed aside the cloth napkin on his lap and got to his feet. “But not today. You have more than enough marks on you already.”
Acute disappointment surged through her as she rose to a standing position. He’d been right when he’d said pleasure was never wrong. So the slightest hint of pain gave her enjoyment. But truthfully, she liked the idea of spanking a guy too. Her nipples tingled. She especially liked the idea of spanking Justin.
“Go in the living room. Start the fire.” He set another pan on the stove. She’d been so wrapped up in her thoughts she hadn’t even seen him cross the room. “I’ll be right in.”
She bent to grab her clothes, but he shook his head. “Leave them here.”
Nodding, she turned toward the living room, but his roughly sensual voice stopped her. “You take orders pretty damn well.” Grinning, he dumped cocoa into the pan.
Her lips curved even though she suddenly didn’t feel the least bit like smiling. “As long as I get what I want, I’ll play along.”
His grin f
led. “This isn’t a game. Not to me. If it is to you, maybe you’re right that staying here today isn’t the best idea.”
“What happened to not wanting more than I could give?”
“That’s still what I want. But what I want most of all is your honesty. If you’re using me to forget, I’m okay with that. Just don’t lie to me.” He picked up the jug of milk on the counter and poured some into the pan, splashing the stove. “And don’t lie to yourself.”
She stared at him for a long moment before going back to pick up the pile of clothes. Then she walked out of the room.
Four
Justin didn’t know if she’d be waiting for him in front of the fire. For all he knew, she’d taken off. The cocoa took longer than he’d expected, because he hadn’t been paying attention and had scalded the hell out of the first pan of milk. But when he walked into the living room with two steaming mugs of hot chocolate and marshmallows, she was kneeling in front of the fire.
And she was still blessedly nude.
He offered her a mug, and she thanked him, but she didn’t smile. All at once, he realized just how important making Kylie smile had become in his life.
Every night he came into the bar whether he’d had a good day or bad, whether he wanted to be alone or not. He’d grown addicted to seeing her cheerful grins and fielding her teasing questions, but it wasn’t only that. She’d given something he’d never understood he’d been missing. A place to go at night, where someone was happy to see him.
Where someone gave a shit if he lived or died.
His feelings for her weren’t easy or uncomplicated, and they sure as hell weren’t only about sex. If he wanted her to be honest, maybe it was time he returned the favor. He’d never told her about his mother or why the mere possibility of a woman being mistreated—especially Kylie—sent all rational thought out the window.
He also hadn’t been able to verbalize why, as much as he’d wanted to spank her, as much as he suspected she’d be into it, he’d been unable to see striking her, even in pleasure, as anything but causing her more pain.