by Cindi Madsen
“Hey,” she said, a giggle following.
“Hey.”
She rolled her head, flipping her hair, and if he hadn’t dodged in time, they both probably would’ve gotten a nosebleed.
What the hell’s gotten into—
She ran a hand down his torso, her fingers pausing at the waistband of his underwear. He wrapped his fingers around her wrist, stopping the motion, in spite of his body’s begging to let it go on.
Her tongue darted out to lick her lips and she slowly looked up at him.
Her eyes were lined in black, making them look bigger, and the smudged right one made him think she’d been resting her cheek against her fist on that side, the way she usually did when she rode in a car.
A smile spread across her red lips, and she shook her hair out of her eye. “Hey.”
“We did that part already.”
“Which part?” She moved closer, her chest bumping his as she slid her hands up his arms and linked them behind his neck. “Did I miss it?”
He gripped her hips and lowered his forehead to hers, taking a moment to soak in the warmth of her body and the way her silky hair brushed his bare skin.
He groaned. “Addes, I’m not taking advantage of you while you’re drunk and lookin’ for trouble.”
She pouted her lips, something he swore he’d never seen her do before. “Is it because I can’t pull off this dress? I told Lexi I thought I looked ridiculous, but she insisted, and to be honest, I was already a wee bit drunk, so it seemed like a good idea at the time. Plus, I’m tryin’ to keep her happy so she’s glad that I’m back in the wedding lineup.”
“The dress looks amazing on you.” His fingers dug into her sides as he fought the temptation to tug her closer instead of holding her in place. “As for pulling it off, I definitely wanna help you do that.”
A saucy smile curved her siren mouth, and she tested his willpower by toying with one of the straps of her dress.
Then she winked at him—or tried, anyway. It was twitchy and the other eye half closed, too.
He wasn’t sure what kind of drinks they served in that club, but she’d obviously had more than enough of them.
Last night she’d made it clear that she wanted to go slow. Coming over like this landed in the mixed-signals category, but that was the thing with alcohol. It made a mess of logical thoughts and played a little too loose with inhibitions.
After taking a quick moment to glance at the ceiling and fortify his self-control, he quickly maneuvered her so she sat on the edge of the bed. “I’m gonna get you some water and aspirin before I put you to bed.”
She slowly crossed one leg over the other, her skirt hiking so high he got a glimpse of lacy purple panties. “You mean take me to bed.”
He straightened and scrubbed a hand over his face.
His body didn’t get the memo about not taking her to bed, so he got to walk around his kitchen aroused and suddenly way too awake and aware of the beautiful woman in his bed.
His best friend.
Shit. This had disaster written all over it.
There was crossing boundaries and then there was plowing through them with a tank, and now it was up to him to ignore the want that seared through his veins as he took in her sexy curves and those bare legs and take it slow.
After talking her into taking the pills, he nudged her back on the bed and pulled the covers over her.
Her fingers circled his wrist. “I know we barely kissed yesterday, and I don’t wanna sound like one of those clingy chicks, but are you gonna keep kissing other girls? Gonna keep flirting with Brittany over text? I just need to know.”
Oh. That helped explain some of whatever was going on. “I only texted her a few times. We haven’t gone out on a date or kissed, and she texted me tonight—”
Addie shot up, eyes ablaze.
“But I told her I’d started seeing someone.”
Because he hadn’t wanted to mess things up with Addie, no matter how out of his league he felt, and he still worried he was going to screw it all up, especially right now.
He eased her back down. “No kissing other girls, I swear.”
“You haven’t kissed me tonight, either,” she said, and the pout returned.
He tapped her lips, earning a scowl. “Because if I kiss you, and you start getting all handsy again, it’ll be hard to stop.”
“So?”
He grabbed her hand, halting its downward progress, and laced his fingers with hers. “So, you’re drunk and we’re taking it slow, remember?”
“What if I changed my mind?” she asked, and he shook his head. She frowned. “Was it my moves? I knew I wasn’t doing them right. Lexi told me guys were simple. A few hair flips and toying with your dress strap, add a wink, and bam!”
He bit back a grin, knowing it’d piss her off or hurt her feelings. “Not your moves.”
He almost added that he’d be equally tempted by her ponytail, stripping off her sweatshirt, and a solid shoulder punch, but that might have the opposite effect of hitting the brakes.
Trying to reason with a drunk chick was as difficult as getting a defense attorney to admit his client was guilty.
She let out an epic sigh. “I’m in a freaking dress, and still I scare off guys. I already know I’m a two-date-maximum kind of girl. The girl you date before you decide you want, like, a girlie girl.”
“You know better than anyone that I don’t scare easily.” He tucked her arm underneath the covers and stood, moving far enough away that she’d have a hard time reaching him, even if she broke free.
“You’re literally pulling away, Tuck.”
“That’s because, as I said, I’m not taking advantage of your drunken state. But believe me, I want to.”
She sighed again. “I guess that’s at least something.”
He leaned over and brushed her hair off her face. “Promise me something?”
Her eyes fluttered closed. “Hmm?”
“Anytime you get this drunk, you come to my houseboat instead of going home.”
He would rather wrestle his willpower and know she was safe with him than worry about her alone in this state any day.
She yawned, her eyelids remaining shut. “Fine. But remember, I can take care of myself.”
He smiled and pressed a quick kiss to her lips. “Got it.”
Back in the day, he would’ve climbed in bed next to her, the way he had dozens of times before, not thinking twice about it. If he curled up next to her now, it wouldn’t be for extra warmth or minor cuddling, and he’d never be able to fall asleep.
Flash happily took the spot Tucker wanted, jumping on the bed and curling up next to her, and then he was jealous of his dog.
He carefully weaved around everything Addie had spilled on her way in and lay back on the couch. Every sigh, every moan, they all carried over to him, making it damn near impossible to fall asleep.
Eventually he managed to drift off, and no surprise, nearly every one of his dreams involved the woman who’d crashed into his house and taken over his bed.
Chapter Eighteen
A wet, rough tongue woke up Addie, heavy panting accompanying it.
While she’d been desperate for a kiss last night, this wasn’t exactly what she had in mind.
She feared opening her eyes would confirm the blips of memories flickering through her head had actually happened, but after another doggy kiss, she decided it was face reality or death by puppy breath.
Sunshine assaulted her eyes and she squinted as she pushed herself to sitting.
Flash barked like he’d been waiting years for her to wake up, and she scratched his head as she noted her surroundings.
The houseboat.
She glanced down. Sequined black dress.
Nope, not a dream.
She’d shown up
at her best friend’s house and propositioned him.
With a groan, she dropped her head in her hands, then peeked through her fingers at the expectant white puppy she was clearly failing to impress.
“Where’s Tucker?” she asked, and Flash simply tilted his head. Not that she’d expected him to tell her.
Addie slipped out of the covers, padding past the remnants of last night’s poker game—empty beer bottles, crumpled bags of chips, and their trusty deck of cards.
That was where she should’ve been last night. Where she belonged.
Not in some ritzy club learning flirting tricks she could use to embarrass herself.
When it came to that sort of thing, she could embarrass herself plenty without hair flips and winks—oh holy crap, I winked at Tucker. While I pawed at his bare chest.
His very nice, very cut, bare chest.
She ducked into the bathroom, started at her reflection, and tried to smooth down her hair. She used her finger to brush her teeth with toothpaste and then swished with Listerine until her mouth burned with a minty, bad-breath-destroying fire.
That’s about as good as it’s gonna get.
The scent of coffee tempted her toward the pot as soon as she exited the bathroom, and she helped herself to a mug.
Then she ventured out to the deck, and sure enough, Tucker sat having his coffee, still shirtless, although he’d pulled warm-up pants over his boxers.
While the urge to flee flooded her system, she knew she’d have to face him sometime. Might as well do it in a ridiculous dress, yesterday’s eyeliner today’s smoky eye.
Was raccoon chic a thing?
“Um. Good morning.”
The smile he fired at her hit her square in the chest. “Mornin’.” He gestured to the seat across the tiny table from him and she settled into it. “How’s your head?”
“Not too bad. Minor pounding, and I feel like I drank a glass of sand.” Her nerves stretched to the fraying point, and she figured she’d go ahead and address the elephant. “What I really could use is that memory-swiper from the Men In Black movies. If I tell you to look right into my flashy-thing, you’d do that for me, wouldn’t you?”
“Not a chance. I plan on spending every spare second of the day rehashing the details of last night so I never forget them. I’ll bring it up constantly to tease you, too, in case you were wondering.”
“Thanks for that.” She took a drink of coffee and earned seared taste buds for her efforts. “Those city girls seem all innocent until they ply you with alcohol, force you into a dress, and drag you to a dance club.”
“I told you the city wasn’t all it was cracked up to be, but did you listen?”
“You know me. I like to make my own mistakes. Sometimes over and over, just to ensure I learn my lesson.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You’ve broken into someone’s houseboat and tried to take advantage of them before?”
She smacked his arm, and he laughed, the sound making her heart pitter patter. “No, that was a first.” She bit her lip. “Are we okay? I made it weird, didn’t I?”
He set down his mug, turned to fully face her, and curled his hand around her knee. “Not as long as I can still talk to you as a friend about this crazy drunk chick who broke into my house and threw herself at me.”
Her stomach sank—or it tried to. With his warm hand on her knee, it couldn’t quite decide on sinking or swirling. “Sounds pretty traumatic. I hope you called the police—except not Easton. You should probably keep the girl’s identity safe in case that was an out-of-character move for her, one she’d rather not have spread around town.”
“Yeah, I figured that might be the case. Only now she’s just made herself at home, grabbed a mug from my cupboard like she’s been here a hundred times, poured herself a cup of my expensive coffee, and I’m worried she might be a stalker.”
“Well…” Addie sipped the coffee, thinking that was why it tasted so yummy—he sprang for the good stuff. “You should probably buy shitty coffee if you want her to leave, so really that’s on you.”
“I guess that’ll teach me. Also, we need to talk about this dress…” His fingers slipped up her thigh and dizziness set in. “It’s pretty much the opposite of overalls and your ratty sweatshirt.”
“I’ve never been very good at taking instructions.”
“We should probably work on that.” He snagged her hand and tugged. “Come ’ere.”
Usually she would put up a better fight, but the intoxicating drag of his fingers had her aching all over. So she let him pull her across the small space and onto his lap.
She wrapped an arm around his shoulders, and his hand returned to her thigh, and while she used to roll her eyes at mushy gestures like sitting on laps, she understood it now.
He brought his other hand up, pushed his fingers into her hair, and then cupped her head and brought her face to his.
The mix of scruff and soft lips sent pleasure cascading down her spine, and then they were going at it like teenagers. Kissing and feeling each other up and moans and groans and not bothering to come up for air.
If she didn’t stop… She broke the kiss and worked to catch her breath.
“Let me guess,” Tucker said softly. “Today you’re back to thinking we should take it slow.”
“Is that all right?” she asked, placing her hand on the side of his face and peering into his blue eyes.
“Course it’s all right.”
Relief washed through her, even though she should’ve known he wouldn’t push. That wasn’t his style.
Thank goodness he’d been sober last night so at least one of them was using common sense.
Kissing him was amazing.
The cuddling thing? Sign her up.
But a small thought in the back of her mind gnawed at her, making her worry once again that they were setting themselves up for a crash.
“How many relationships have you had that lasted more than two or three months?” She didn’t want to ask it—especially since she was fairly sure she knew the answer. But she needed to remember what was at stake, and what exactly she was up against.
He swallowed and reached for his coffee, and the instant his hand left her leg, she missed it. “Not a lot.”
“Me neither.”
A contemplative crinkle bisected his forehead as he ran a couple of fingers across his jaw. She wanted to take over with her own fingers, forget she’d brought up such a gloomy subject, and go back to kissing.
“I’m not tryin’ to make you feel bad.” She raised her arm to the square. “I’m focusing on the truth and nothing but the truth, so help me God.”
He rolled his eyes, but his lips hinted at a smile. “Of all the times I’ve heard that phrase, I think this time is the worst, because I know what you’re getting at.”
“In court, you didn’t know what people were getting at? No wonder they fired you.”
This time she got the full smile, along with a pinch to her side, and at least they had this. Teasing. Joking.
She wanted to believe adding sex wouldn’t heap on extra complications, but how could she be that naked and that vulnerable with him without it changing everything?
Even her embarrassing failed attempt at seduction last night left her plenty raw, in spite of reassuring herself he’d been doing the admirable thing and it wasn’t a true rejection.
She glanced at the two large empty pots on either corner of the deck. “Your planters are pathetic. If my grandma hears about this, she’ll be breaking in next. I’ll probably get roped into helping her plant the flowers, too.”
“Someone should definitely call the cops on you two. Total menaces to society.”
She laughed and then lifted his hand so she could see what time it was, but he wasn’t wearing a watch.
He slipped his fingers between hers, and p
ressed a kiss to her shoulder—clearly, he was much smoother than she. “Any idea what time it is?” she asked.
He jerked his chin toward the table and she spotted his phone, partially hidden behind the mug. The fact that he trusted her with it sent warmth through her.
Then again, it was locked, so all she could see was that it was already nearly ten.
“You said you danced at the club last night,” he said. “Did you dance with any guys?”
So maybe there were shaky trust items on the dating front, and did it make her a weirdo that the gruff way he’d asked sent a shock of heat up her core?
“You’re not kissing other girls; I’m not dancing with other guys. To be clear, I’m not dancing with you, either. No more dancing for me—I’m banning myself, because that’s where I’m a true menace to society.”
“To be clear, no kissing other guys.”
“I’m sure our friends will be relieved to hear you won’t be trying to kiss them.”
He wrapped his arms around her and dragged his whiskered cheek across her neck, and goose bumps covered her skin. “Ha-ha. You know I meant you better not go around kissing other guys.”
“I think you overestimate the opportunity I have for that.”
“Addie,” he growled, and that zip of heat returned.
It was more fun than it should be to leave him hanging for a few seconds—to know she could even elicit that type of reaction from Tucker Crawford.
She twisted in his embrace and touched her lips to his. “The only person I’m kissing for the foreseeable future is you, ’specially since you’re so damn good at it.”
She bracketed his face with her hands and kissed him again—she couldn’t get enough of his lips and his tongue, and how kissing him made her feel like that exciting part of a free fall.
Which happens before you hit the ground and everything hurts.
She pulled away and scooted off his lap, hating her sober thoughts for being so logical. “I better get goin’. Lexi’s coming over to my house so my mother, grandmother, and I can help her organize the seating chart, and I think a shower and wardrobe change is in order.”