“No, don’t lick my face!” She choked out a laugh, dodging his tongue and trying to push him away. The ache in her face sharpened, making her hiss a little. “Ouch.”
“What’s this? I go for a run, and you have another man in your bed.”
She twisted to peer over her shoulder, smiling as she spotted him in the doorway. His t-shirt clung to his chest, soaked with sweat, and his hair was dark with it. He rubbed a hand over his bearded jaw, and she imagined him rubbing those wonderfully bristly whiskers on her. All over.
After the fright and stress of the day before, the first flush of desire felt like a benediction.
“When did you slip out?”
“About an hour ago.” He stopped at the side of the bed and leaned over to drop a light kiss on her lips. He would have moved away, but she slipped a hand behind his head and pulled him in. “I’m all sweaty,” he warned against her lips.
“I know.” She let her tongue flick out to tease the corner of his mouth. When he stiffened in response, she smiled. “You taste salty.”
“Small wonder. I ran my ass off.” He pulled back despite her grip on his neck, his gaze focusing on her injured cheek. “How does your face feel?”
“Fine.”
He just stared at her in that steady, unwavering way of his, and she rolled her eyes.
“Okay, it hurts. But it’s not unbearable.” She winced. “Unless I bump it.”
“I bet.” He reached out a hand to brush her hair back, his touch so gentle, she barely felt it. “Do you want a pain pill?”
“I really don’t. I don’t like how they make me fuzz out, and it doesn’t feel that bad. I’ll take some ibuprofen with breakfast.”
“Okay. If it gets bad, the pills are there.”
“I know.” She frowned as he straightened. “Where are you going?”
“I need to grab a shower.”
He peeled out of his t-shirt, and her mouth went dry at the sight of that tight, hard body. Her eyes darted up to his. “Come back to bed.”
A flicker of unease crossed his face before he smiled. “I’m sweaty, babe.”
“I don’t care.” She sat up, letting the sheets fall to her waist. She saw his eyes heat as they settled on her bare breasts, the subtle tightening of his muscles. Still, his eyes were cool when they met hers.
“You should try to go back to sleep if you can.”
“I don’t want to sleep.” She frowned now. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing.” He shrugged his shoulders, the jerky movement a glaring contrast to the usual smooth way he moved. And when he looked at her, he didn’t meet her eyes.
“Bullshit,” she said, deliberately blunt, and felt a little spurt of triumph when his gaze jerked back to her face. “Why don’t you want me?”
“Not want you?” For a moment, the emotion in his bright eyes was naked, and her breath caught at what she saw there. Then the shutter came down. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“It’s not ridiculous when you won’t touch me.”
“Look.” He dragged a hand through his hair, frustration and annoyance clear in the gesture. “I’m sweaty, and I really need a shower.”
“I don’t care. I wash. The sheets wash.” She gave the dog a poke, and Milo gave a huge sigh and lumbered off the bed. “They have to be washed anyway now. If you want me, then what’s the problem?”
“I don’t want to hurt you.” The words burst free, and the look on his face was so agonized, tears sprang to her eyes.
She fought them back. If he saw her cry, she’d never convince him. Instead, she rose to her knees on the bed, the sheet falling completely away. His eyes wandered her naked form, and when they returned to hers, there was a desperate desire there that made her smile.
She held out her hand in a silent plea. “You won’t hurt me, Ethan. You couldn’t.”
He swallowed. “You haven’t seen your face.”
“No, but I can feel it.” She continued to hold her hand out. “Ethan. I need you.”
He walked toward her slowly, as though he wanted to resist but couldn’t help himself. “You need to rest.”
She shook her head, grasping his hand as he drew closer. “I need you. I need us. Please.”
She drew his hand to her breast, cradling it against her. His hand flexed, squeezing lightly. They both jumped in reaction, his low groan mingling with her whimper as her nipple stabbed into his palm.
“Please,” she said again, and sinking back into the pillows, drew him down with her.
He settled next to her, his body pressed the length of hers. Warm from his run and damp with sweat, his skin slid against hers with a delicious friction that made her want to rub herself against him.
“Kiss me,” she whispered.
His free hand lifted to cradle her uninjured cheek. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.” She arched into him, loving the way his eyes darkened and his breath quickened as she rubbed against him. “I won’t break.”
“No, you won’t,” he murmured and pressed his lips to hers.
She sighed with pleasure, her lips parting as his tongue teased the corners of her mouth. Slowly, carefully, he took the kiss deeper.
She moaned, her body heavy now with lust. It wasn’t the fire she’d come to expect, fast and hot, but a slow, deep burn that left her feeling drugged. His hand left her face to stroke over her shoulder, down the length of her side to her thigh and back again, leaving tingles in his wake. His other hand began to tease and stroke her breast, and desire pooled, heavy and warm, in her belly.
She moaned into his mouth. “I need you.”
“You have me,” he promised.
His lips left hers to slide down her neck, soft kisses that made her sigh even as they stirred her blood. He lifted his head to look down at her, at the breast he held plumped in his hand, the nipple standing up hard and ready.
“So pretty,” he murmured, and holding her gaze with his, flicked at it with his tongue.
The jolt burst through her, had her arching up into the wet slide of his tongue. Hunger spiked, making her fingers clench on his shoulders, her nails biting into his skin. Shifting restlessly against him, the jogging shorts he wore catching against her skin.
Her hands dropped to his waist to tug at them. “Take them off,” she breathed, and he chuckled.
“Who’s running this show?” he murmured against her breast, and used his teeth, hard enough to make her squeal. She was still catching her breath when he took her hands in his and pressed them to the mattress.
“Keep them there,” he told her.
Panting, she looked into his eyes, and the heat made her tremble. “Why?”
“Because I said so,” he replied with a devilish grin.
Her laugh was husky. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” He lowered his head to lap at her nipple again, grinning all the wider at the strangled moan that slipped from her lips.
“Just let me love you,” he murmured, emotion storming into his eyes.
Her breath hitched in her chest, and tears blurred her vision. She saw the love and lust on his face turn to horrified panic, and she hastened to reassure him. “I’m not hurt,” she managed, her voice thick. She lifted her hands to frame his face despite his order; she had to touch him. “I just love you so much.”
He closed his eyes as he lowered his forehead to rest against her breast. “I’ve led an imperfect life by every standard I can think of,” he began in a rough voice. “But somewhere, somehow, I must have done something right to deserve you.”
He pressed his lips to her breast in a touch so gentle, it was nearly reverent. Her hands fell limply to the bed as he slowly worked his way down her torso, kissing and caressing so her body seemed to waken by degrees. Her skin tingled, her limbs were weighed down. Her heartbeat was slow and thick, each beat bringing a languid pleasure.
No, this wasn’t the flash and the fire she’d become accustomed to. It was more.
His mouth drifted lower, the sm
ooth pelt of his beard brushing across her belly as he sipped from her belly button, dined on her hip. Then lower, brushing across the bare skin of her mound, tickling and teasing at the same time. Her breath caught in her throat, and her thighs fell apart.
His low rumble of approval seemed to vibrate through her skin to her very core.
“I love how open you are. Not just here,” he murmured, stroking the edge of her labia with one rough fingertip and making her moan, “but here, too.” He reached up to lay his open palm against her heart.
As she struggled to give him the words that rose to her lips, he lowered his mouth.
She writhed under his touch, straining to meet the caress of his lips, the scrape of his teeth, the slick and sensuous slide of his tongue. Pleasure built slowly, thickly, until she felt the inevitable tightening within. Her hands lifted now, needing to touch him, wanting to be holding on to him as he held on to her.
Her hand slid into his hair to cradle his head, holding him close with hands and heart as pleasure crested in one long, rolling wave. Her body arched up, a keening moan escaping her lips as the waves crashed over her, through her, rapture and joy and love bursting through her so brightly she wondered that she didn’t simply glow with it.
Before the spasms had fully faded, he was rising over her. He slipped inside, bringing a moan to her lips. He looked into her eyes, and his hand fisted over her heart. “I love you, Honey. I love you.”
Overcome, undone, she wrapped herself around him and held on as he began to move, as the pleasure built again until all she knew was the bright, brilliant blue of his eyes staring into hers, and his hand fisted over her heart.
AFTERWARD, THEY SHARED a shower, laughing and splashing like children. Honey couldn’t seem to stop smiling as she dressed in a brightly patterned sundress, then sat on the bed to watch him pull on jeans and a t-shirt.
He glanced at her with a smile. “What are you looking at?”
“You.” She gave a little sigh. “You’re so pretty.”
His snort made her grin. “Pretty? I am not pretty. I’m rugged. Manly.”
“Oh, my mistake,” she said with exaggerated contrition, then giggled as he reached out to dig a finger into her ribs. “You are manly and rugged, but you’re also pretty. Have I mentioned how much I like the beard?”
“Yeah?” He gave his jaw a considering rub. “I was thinking about shaving it. It’s starting to bug me.”
“Well, it’s your face.” She sent him a sunny smile, then twined a lock of her hair, wet from the shower still, around her finger. “I was thinking about chopping all of this off.”
He froze in the act of pulling a shirt over his head. “Your hair? Why?”
She shrugged lightly. “It’s starting to bug me.”
“Ah, I see what this is.” She caught a flash of his answering grin as he tugged the shirt on. “This is hair-based blackmail.”
She snickered. “Hair-based blackmail?”
“Yep.” He leaned over to give her a smacking kiss. “But that’s fine. Here’s the deal: you don’t cut your hair shorter than say, your shoulders, and I won’t shave my beard.”
Since she had no intention of cutting her hair, she didn’t see the harm in agreeing. “I’ll sign off on that,” she said and gave him a smacking kiss in return. “What time are you meeting the guys?”
He glanced at the readout on his phone. “In about thirty minutes. Just enough time to pick up coffee and doughnuts.”
She frowned. “How come I don’t rate coffee and doughnuts?”
“I’ll bring you back a cappuccino and a crème filled.”
“Cool.” She paused as he shoved his phone, wallet, and keys into his pocket. “What are you going to tell them?”
He shook his head as he shoved his feet into battered sneakers. “I don’t know. I can’t tell them everything.”
“No,” she agreed. “But they need something.”
“Yeah.” He stood, his hands hanging loose at his sides, and for just a moment all the worry and the longing was naked on his face. “I guess I’ll need to figure it out.”
She rose to go to him. “They’re good friends, Ethan. It’ll be okay.”
“I hope so.” He wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight for several seconds before easing back. “I better go.”
She kissed him lightly. “Don’t forget my doughnut. When you get back, we’ll go check out the last day of the carnival.”
“Sure.” He gave her a brief smile and kissed her one more time before heading out the door.
She watched him go with a smile. He thought they’d reject him, that what had happened last night would cause them to turn away from the friendship they were building.
She had a feeling he was going to be very pleasantly surprised.
Chapter Twenty
It was five minutes after nine by the time Ethan pulled up outside the Market Street house. Neither David nor Seth were there yet, he noted as he got out of the car and circled the hood to retrieve the coffee and pastries from the passenger seat. He left the cup with Honey’s cappuccino in the cup holder, then pulled out a chocolate-iced crème filled doughnut from the box and laid it on the center console. Then he gathered the drink caddy holding three coffees and a handful of little sweetener and creamer packets in one hand, the glossy white bakery box in the other, and turned to the house.
It was looking good, he thought, eyeing the details as he strode up the walk. The siding had gone up, and the new, energy-efficient windows were trimmed out. The bare wood needed to be painted, something that would stand out against the deep bluish grey of the siding and give the house some depth.
The new roof was on, the front porch had been rebuilt. It was good work, he thought again as he climbed the steps to the porch. A good house that would make a happy home for some lucky family.
Family.
As he sat down on the top step, placing the coffee and doughnuts beside him, he realized he wanted that. Family. With Honey, with Aunt Winnie and Jacob, the friends he’d made already and the ones he might make. In this sleepy little town that had one doughnut shop, no Starbucks, where everyone came out for the end-of-summer carnival. He’d found something here he hadn’t even known he wanted during all those years of globe-trotting. Alone, isolated, always apart, a life devoid of joy. He’d thought he preferred it that way, but the summer had taught him differently.
He wanted the joy.
He sighed and plucked a coffee from the drink carrier, peeling back the lid to add cream and sugar. As he stirred it with a little wooden stick, Seth’s truck pulled up behind his car.
They’d come together, he saw as the two men climbed out of opposite sides of the truck. Seth with his shaggy blond hair and boyish enthusiasm, and David’s shorter, bulkier build and brawler’s face. Both men wore sunglasses, and even Seth looked serious this morning.
He stayed where he was as they approached. “Morning.”
“Hey.” Seth whipped off his shades. “How’s Honey?”
“She’s good.” Ethan could almost smile. Of course, their first concern would be for Honey. “A little battered, a little bruised, but she’s good.”
David shoved his hands in his pockets and left his sunglasses on. “Did you get her checked out?”
“Yeah. Nothing’s broken, and they were able to treat the cuts with butterfly bandages.”
David nodded. “Okay, then. You want to go inside, or do this here?”
“Here works.” Ethan reached behind him for the drink caddy and held it out. “Coffee, as ordered.”
He waited until each man had taken a cup, then set the caddy on the edge of the porch. David took his black, but Seth dumped in half a dozen sugar packets on top of three creamers before he was satisfied.
David sipped his coffee, his eyes still shielded behind mirrored lenses. “Doughnuts?”
Ethan picked up the box and held it out. “Also as ordered.”
“Sweet.” Seth snapped the lid back on his coffee and
took the box. “Shove over, man. I gotta sit down.”
When he did so with a gusty sigh, Ethan’s lips twitched. “Rough night?”
“Sadie’s pissed at me.” Seth flipped the lid up on the bakery box and selected a bear claw. “I had to sleep on the couch.”
“What’d you do?”
Seth eyed him as he bit into the pastry. “I wouldn’t tell her what happened at Honey’s house.”
Ethan winced. “Shit.”
“Yeah.” Seth gestured with the bear claw. “You’re going to have to come up with a story you’re comfortable with me passing on to her because I’m telling you right now, I’m not sleeping on that couch again.”
David sat on the other side of Seth and finally slipped off his sunglasses. “Abby’s practically bursting with curiosity. I had to threaten her to keep her from calling Honey this morning.”
“What did you tell them?”
“Just that you had some trouble, and Honey got hurt. Telling them any more didn’t seem wise, at least until we’d talked to you.”
Ethan nodded. “I appreciate that. You want the long story or the short one?”
They exchanged a look. “I want the long one,” Seth put in, “but I get the feeling it’ll be heavily redacted. Let’s start with the short one and go from there.”
Ethan shored up his courage with another hit of coffee and chose a cinnamon roll from the box. “The guy who hurt Honey last night was involved in organized crime.”
“What, like Goodfellas type shit?”
It surprised Ethan that he had to suppress a smile as he nodded at Seth. “Something like that.”
Seth gaped at him, giving Ethan a less than pleasant view of what was left of his bear claw. “Holy shit.”
David gave Seth a nudge with his boot, his eyes fixed on Ethan. “Let him talk.”
“I’d done some work for the family, and the guy from last night wasn’t happy with it.”
Seth continued to gape as David’s eyes narrowed. “I thought you were a financial planner.”
“Dude!” Seth’s eyes popped wide. “Did you like, launder money for them? Were you the black money man?”
“Seth.”
Seth scowled at David’s chiding tone. “What?”
Honey and the Hitman Page 28