But he couldn’t walk away from the mind-blowing ecstasy only she could bring.
He lifted his chin to meet her gaze. “When I leave this time, I won’t be back.”
There was the slightest flaring of her big brown eyes and a pull of her lips. Alarm. Surprise. He couldn’t allow it to affect him.
She was his drug, and he was her slave.
But once he left here, he was going cold turkey. He’d cut himself off from the pain and suffering. One day, he’d recover.
Until then, though, he was going to indulge.
“I’m going to take my fill,” he murmured.
“Promises, promises,” she said raggedly. Her hand was sliding between their bodies. His erection jumped, but her hand was diving into his pocket, looking for protection.
His jaw clenched.
“Ask me for it,” he growled.
Her breasts heaved temptingly. “Fuck me,” she breathed.
“No,” he snapped. He was not going to be an easy lay that she needed protection for. “Ask me for what you really want.”
Their gazes locked, his determined. Anger still simmered along his nerve endings. Her stare was stubborn. Hot and exotic, but with that impenetrable wall, guarding all emotions except her arousal.
His eyes narrowed, and he kissed her again. Hot and hard, but slow… and seductive…
She might know his trigger points, but he knew hers, too.
It wasn’t tenderness or flaming hot desire that would get to her. It was a connection. A deep-down, abiding connection with someone. Anyone.
A growl rose from his throat. But especially him.
The hot pink of her bra was suddenly the hot pink of the flowers she’d worn in her hair on their wedding day. He breathed in her lavender scent. Kissing her luxuriously, he trailed his fingers down her stomach. He knew she was wavering when he felt her belly tremble.
Unzipping her jeans, he squeezed his hand inside. It was a close fit. The leather cuff on his wrist snagged against her zipper, and he had to work it free. Once he did, he shoved his hand deeper.
And sighed.
She hadn’t been lying. She wasn’t wearing panties.
His fingers glided over her hot, smooth flesh. Parting her lips, he found her most delicate flesh. She writhed when he rubbed her clit. Back and forth, never hurried, but never settling.
“Ask me,” he demanded again, swirling his fingertip around her opening.
She clutched at his shoulders and her hips rolled.
“Roxie.”
A soft cry left her lips.
“Damn it, Billy,” she moaned. “Make love to me.”
It was all he’d wanted.
The control he’d been clinging to slipped and then was free. Need pounded in his head, and he yanked down her jeans. He crouched before her to deal with her boots, and her fingers wove through his hair.
His breaths were hitting her thighs and bare mound. When he pressed a hot kiss against her, she moaned. She was still quivering when he stood and pushed his own jeans down. His erection was thick and straining.
And that was why it pissed him off when he saw her ripping open the condom she’d found in his pocket.
“You’ve got half a second,” he rasped, his hands already settling on her hips.
He was lifting her even as she positioned the hood over the head of his cock. She barely got it unrolled over him before he started to penetrate. He pushed in hard and ground against her at the end of the stroke.
He froze when she squeezed her inner muscles, milking him as he lodged himself deeply. “Shit,” he swore, sweat breaking out on his brow.
His hold on her faltered, and he slammed his open palm against the door to brace himself. He looked at her quickly and her eyes sparked.
Not breaking the gaze, she did it again. Slowly, she let one eyebrow lift.
“Minx,” he growled.
Roxie gasped when he spun around, switching positions with her. Suddenly, he was standing with his shoulders pressed against the door and she…
She dropped her head back, arching her neck.
“Oh, God,” she moaned.
She felt like she was suspended midair. Free falling.
And she loved it.
She loved it even more when he began thrusting into her, bracing his back against the door. With all her weight riding on him, the pumps were hard and driving. Holding tight, she clutched his shoulder with one hand and stroked her other hand down his chest. His heart pounded under her touch and his muscles trembled from the effort it was taking to hold her weight.
Or maybe, just maybe, she was having as much of an effect on him as he was on her.
Roxie arched sensually. He felt huge as he moved inside her. Her thighs burned as she lifted herself, working in time with him.
Today had built up to this. All the anger, frustration, and nerves broke down to their most basic elements, joining forces with her arousal. It sharpened her senses and focused her need.
On him. Only him.
The outside world was shut away as they loved each other. Aromas from the kitchen tried to slip under the door, and snippets of discussions slithered through the air vents. All she smelled was the familiar scent of his skin. All she heard was the panting of their breaths and the soft cries neither of them could hold back.
He was pounding into her fast now, his jeans sagging around his muscled thighs.
She clutched at his biceps as she felt the orgasm swelling inside her. The skin under his tattoo turned white as her grip bit tight.
But then his hips swung in a high arc, slamming home and the orgasm broke free. Her head fell back, and she arched over his arm as she came. Her thighs locked tight around him, and her toes curled.
“Roxie,” he called loudly, before cutting off the sound. His arms tightened around her like a vice, and his body went rigid as he came.
Roxie sagged forward to stop the blood from rushing to her head. When she did, she caught Billy looking so utterly sexual, an aftershock ran through her. His muscles shown in stark relief as the orgasm held him in its grip. His teeth were clenched, and his eyes were closed. His hair was still mussed, and it made him look young and hungry as he braced himself against the door.
It was a wonder the thing had held.
For a moment, Roxie cuddled against him, watching the pleasure on his face. It was sexy and powerful. Male.
And beautiful.
It made her stay for a moment longer than she should. Two, maybe…
But then she was carefully lifting herself. He was still coming down from the high. She didn’t want to disturb him, and she didn’t want to fight. More than anything, she wanted to curl up in his arms… maybe tumble down into the chair together, but that wasn’t the way things worked for them.
She gently disconnected their bodies and reached for the floor with her toes. Her breath caught when he took her weight and lowered her down. His strength made her weak.
She let out a shaky breath, not sure what to say.
He didn’t say anything either, just leaned back against the door and watched her.
His gaze was unfiltered, and she suddenly found she couldn’t meet it.
Instead, she swept her tank off the floor. She pulled it over her head, but was surprised to find the straps of her bra still looped over her shoulders. Feeling clumsy, she quickly did up the closure, but the bra wasn’t on quite right. The underwire dug into tender flesh, but she pulled the tank down quickly. She was willing to deal with the discomfort.
Silently, they both got dressed.
Inside her chest, Roxie’s heart was pounding like it wanted to get out. What was happening between them? All sorts of emotions and reactions were being stirred up during this visit of his.
She didn’t like it. Nerve endings long covered with scar tissue were being grated upon.
The silence was just becoming overwhelming when a heavy knock came at her office door.
The same door against which she and Billy had jus
t screwed each other’s brains out…
Billy sprang away like a funny car coming off the starting line, and she fumbled with her zipper.
“Roxie?”
Billy shot her a quick look, and she rolled her eyes. Skeeter.
“Come in,” she called.
The bouncer opened the door. “Ah, hell,” he said when he surmised what had happened. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s all right,” she said, stuffing her foot into the old boot she was quickly coming to hate.
“I just wanted to see if you were okay.”
Billy scowled darkly.
Skeeter held up his hands. “After the cops and Mr. GQ.”
“There were cops here, too?” Billy said.
Roxie stomped on the ground and the boot popped into place. “The billboard,” she explained succinctly.
“Are they going to give you problems?”
She planted her hands on her hips. “Puh-lease.”
He just shook his head. “Should’ve known I wasn’t the only one you’ve got wrapped around your pinkie.”
Leaning over the chair, he picked up his jacket.
If her gaze was distracted by the way he filled out his jeans when he moved like that, it couldn’t be helped.
Shrugging into the leather, Billy nodded at Skeeter as he passed through the doorway.
“Thanks for working on my truck, man.”
“No, thank you,” Billy muttered.
It was the last thing Roxie heard him say before he left. Without another word or glance towards her.
Wrapped around her pinkie? She didn’t think so.
For once, she didn’t know what was winding him up.
* * * * *
“I’m sorry,” Skeeter said again as Roxie tried to tame her hair.
“It’s fine,” she said as she walked past him. “It was probably for the best.”
She nearly reached for the dishwasher’s scrub brush when she realized the words that had just come off her tongue.
“I don’t get it,” Skeeter said, hurrying his lackadaisical stride to match hers. “Why are you so unhappy these days, Rox? You’ve got everything you want now… the bar, your sisters, and Billy.”
The observation was enough to make her stop and stare at him. Everything she wanted? Was he serious? She didn’t even know where to start.
“Billy and I aren’t together.”
The bouncer tilted his head.
She felt uncharacteristic heat in her cheeks and made a jerky motion with her hand. “Not together, together.”
How long had he been listening at the door?
She rubbed her throbbing temple. “You know we’re not good for each other.”
“Who says?”
Frustration built up inside Roxie, but she just didn’t have the energy to let it out. “We need to get back to work.”
Rounding on her heel, she pushed open the swinging doors to the bar. The cacophony of sound nearly pushed her right back into the kitchen. Shit. She so did not want to deal with this now.
But she was the boss. This was her place, and it was practically bursting at the seams.
She couldn’t leave her staff short-handed. As wiped-out and brainless as she felt, she needed to help manage the crowd. After all, she was the one who’d gotten them here. All of them. The crowd, the cops, the news crew, and Landers Underhill…
Damn that billboard.
She adjusted her bra to make it stop pinching as she made her way to the bar. People were not staring at her because they knew about the cataclysmic sex she’d just had on the other side of that wall. They were staring because of the ruckus her actions had caused. Purposefully, she let her hips fall into a rhythm, even though it set off all kinds of disturbing twinges and sensitiveness. Too many newbies were here for her to show weakness.
She made her way to the bar to help out, but she scowled when she saw the young pup who’d drawn up a stool. That was all she needed, to have underage drinkers on site if the cops came back.
She slapped the bar top as she took her place behind it. “You legal, hoss?”
The kid jerked back at her sudden appearance, but then froze and stared.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m the girl on the billboard.” She snapped her fingers. “ID.”
“I already checked it,” Skeeter said as he passed by. “He’s good.”
Oh, really. She stared at the guy, waiting for him to flinch. She sized him up quickly. Handsome, dark, and brooding. She had one of those already, and it was all she could handle.
“I… I’m twenty-one,” he vowed. He still hadn’t blinked.
“All right then.” Pushing back the handle on the tap, she shut off the flow of beer. She pushed the mug in front of her new patron, along with a fresh coaster. “On the house.”
Turning her back on him, she drew another beer for Old Martha and then Whitey. As tired as she was, she fell into the familiar rhythm of waiting on customers. If she didn’t joke with them as usual, it couldn’t be helped. She was exhausted. She’d gotten no sleep last night and hadn’t managed to squeeze in a nap today—not after Billy had left her angry and frustrated.
She wasn’t as angry or frustrated anymore. No, now she was confused and rattled and out of rhythm.
And that sucked even worse.
It was hours later when she finally locked up The Ruckus. Skeeter walked her down the quarter block to the entrance to her apartment building.
“Sorry for the drama tonight,” she murmured as she opened the door to the staircase.
“Wouldn’t be any fun without it,” he grinned.
She supposed he was right, but at the moment, peace and quiet seemed more valuable than gold. She started up the staircase, feeling every step. She’d been running on adrenaline for most of the day, but it had drained right out of her. She didn’t know how she was still on her feet.
Her tired, aching feet.
Aggh, she missed her good boots.
Holding onto the railing, she made it to the second floor landing. A pang caught her midchest when she looked at the door to the rental apartment on her right. For a moment, she paused, scared it would open.
And hoping it might.
When it remained closed and silent, she took a weary breath and continued on her way. This was the problem with living on the top floor.
Summoning the last of her energy, she climbed the steps and turned for the last half-flight. She was three steps from the top when she realized she wasn’t alone.
Billy stood under the hallway light outside her door. He leaned against the wall, his long legs crossed at the ankles. He looked big and quiet and so sexy she wanted to just walk into his arms and rest her head against his chest.
Her fingers tightened around the railing to keep herself from doing just that. She didn’t have the will to deal with him right now.
She didn’t have the spirit to deal with anything.
His chin lifted when he heard her footsteps, and their gazes connected.
Roxie stopped, her legs just unable to function anymore. The connection went past her brain. It locked someplace deeper inside her.
“No roof tonight.” Looking solemn, Billy held out his hand to her.
Roxie held back.
But then the tension in her body deflated. Taking his hand, she unlocked the door. Neither of them turned on a light as they moved into the apartment. Behind her, Roxie heard the door latch and then lock.
He was leading her then, her hand still tucked in his. With only the moonlight to guide him, he pulled her into the bedroom. In the shadows, they both stripped.
Flipping back the covers, Billy crawled in. He moved to the far side of the bed and she crawled in after him. He pulled the covers over both of them and settled his arm around her waist.
He felt warm against her back. Solid and comforting.
“Just sleep, baby,” he whispered into her ear. “Neither of us will be able to tonight unless we’re together.”
Chapter Eight
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br /> When Billy woke up the next day, the room was lit bright as a tiki torch. Sunlight warmed the room, making it feel lazy and cozy. Roxie was tucked up against him, her body warm and soft. His cock was nestled against the curve of her bottom, already stiffening and ready to say hello. Nuzzling his face into her neck, he swept his hand up to cup her breast.
Outside, a songbird sang from a treetop at full volume.
“Damn Tweety,” he muttered.
Feeling the moment, he parted her legs with his knee and settled closer to her heat. Last night, they’d simply fallen into bed and crashed. He didn’t think either of them had woken since then, or even moved. Sometimes things just built up to the point where a person had to shut down.
But he was revving up again.
He kissed his way across her shoulder. Damn, but she felt good.
“Not good for you. Not good for you.”
He threw a glare at the window.
Roxie shifted, and her legs parted further. She rolled more solidly into his hold, and her nipple poked at his palm. Billy inhaled deeply as arousal surged through him. He shifted his hips forward, ready to penetrate her…
“Not good for you. Trouble.”
What the hell was that thing? A mockingbird?
“Son of a bitch.” Rolling onto his back, he stared at the ceiling and tried to catch his breath. His cock ached and his teeth ground.
Outside, the bird was tweeting up a storm. The high notes pierced right into his conscience. “Hooked. Your promise. Not good for you.”
Rocking upwards, Billy swung his legs over the side of the bed. The weight of the previous day settled once again on his shoulders. So much for a good night’s sleep.
He glanced over his shoulder when Roxie shifted.
So much for a good morning.
He plucked his jeans off the floor and watched her sleep on, oblivious, as he zipped them. What would have happened if she’d woken up to find him inside her without a rubber?
He blew out a breath. Yeah, that would have been trouble, all right. All hell would have come raining down on his head.
Raking a hand through his hair, he headed to the kitchen.
What was wrong with him?
He’d spent hours under the hood of Skeeter’s truck yesterday. As he’d tinkered with the engine, he’d also analyzed what was going on under his own lid. It hadn’t been pretty.
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