Sure enough, her ploy worked. His gaze travelled the length of her, slowly taking in the subtle way she’d pulled her hair back and pinned it, then on to appreciate her clothes and new shoes. “I like it.” His anger seemingly forgotten, he sashayed closer and curled his hand around the side of her neck. “What brought this on?”
“I wanted to be pretty.” Ugh, maybe she should have practiced her verbiage as much as she practiced her makeup. “I mean, I wanted to do something special. For you.”
His mouth softened, and any distance he’d left between them was gobbled up in a second. He lowered his voice and slid his nose alongside hers. “Told you at least a hundred times now. I love you. Not what you wear.”
His rich scent wound around her, the soothing timbre of his voice scrambling all her well-laid plans.
Shake it off, Parker. Get your head in the game. Focus.
“I, uh...” She licked her lips and tried not to focus too long on his mouth just a kiss away. “I didn’t do it for approval.” Slow and steady. All she had to do was put herself out there and share the truth. “I like the stuff I usually wear. I mean, everything I own is comfortable, but I also wear it because it doesn’t draw attention. If you don’t draw attention, then you don’t ever have to get your hopes up and you never have to risk.” She let her voice trail off, hoping what she’d said didn’t register like the nonsense it sounded like coming out of her mouth.
He backed away and studied her face, a hint of surprise and a whole lot of pride sparking behind his eyes. “You’re putting yourself out there for me?”
“I’m trying.” It should have been terrifying—utterly devastating based on past experiences—admitting such a thing, but with the way he looked at her, as though he reached for her soul instead of seeing only on the outside, kept her solid as a rock.
“It looks good on you. The clothes and the attitude.” He skimmed his knuckles along her jawline and grinned. “Of course, you realize there’s a side effect to this little exercise, right?”
“Side effect?”
Fingering the low cut neckline, he teased her skin. “The more you dress up, the more time I’ll spend taking those clothes off you.”
She scoffed and batted his hand away, wrapping her arms around his waist. “The only chance I’ve had to wear clothes the last week is when we’re in public or you’re at work.”
“Which proves I’m good at what I do.” His playfulness ebbed and he cupped the side of her face. “And considering you’ve made such effort, I think it’s only wise I practice my skills and get you out of that top.”
“Oh, no.” She stepped out of arm’s reach before he could make good on his promise. “You can’t undress me yet. Not until I finish Danny’s bribe.” She tested the side of the Bundt pan.
“Holy shit, is that a cake? I thought you were sworn to all things healthy?”
She placed her cake plate over the top of the pan and carefully flipped the cake. “There’s a time to be healthy, and there’s a time to take off the gloves and sweet-talk your brother in the most literal way.”
Eyes glued to her work, he crept closer. “What’s up with Danny?”
“No idea. He’s been acting weird the last few days. Distant. Every time I try to talk to him, he gets pissed off. You don’t think he’s in trouble with Beckett, do you? I mean, his job is okay, right?”
For a flickering moment, a look she couldn’t quite categorize shot across his face. Whatever was behind it, he masked it quickly with a shrug. “He’s got no issues with Beck. At least none that I know of. And even if he did, it wouldn’t last long.” He grabbed her wrist as she pulled the Bundt pan free and looked her square in the eye. “I told you, gatinha. He’s family. We might fight, but we don’t leave each other hanging.”
Family. That had to be the second or third time he’d referred to Danny that way. For that matter, he’d included her a time to two. Did that mean they considered Danny a brother now? Was that something she could even ask? She knocked the topic out of her thoughts, grabbed the chocolate icing, and poured it over the top.
Zeke swiped his finger through a pool of syrupy goodness at the bottom of the cake and popped it in his mouth. “The way that looks, I’m kind of hoping you’ll hurry up and piss me off. Hell, I’m even thinking I’ll fake being mad.”
“What makes you think I’d make you a cake? Maybe I’d bribe you other ways.” A light, happy giggle bubbled up behind her playful retort. She was flirting! And doing a decent job of it, too. She set the icing aside and grabbed the powdered sugar, sprinkling it lightly over the top.
Her gaze snagged on a smudge of oil beneath her fingernails and she nearly tumbled the small bowl of sugar to the countertop. White puffs billowed up all around her as she scrambled to the sink.
“Gabe?” Zeke was beside her in an instant, snatching her hand out from under the water and smoothing his fingers across her hands as he scanned for whatever had hurt her. “What’d you do?”
She tried to tug free of his hold, but he only clamped down harder. “It’s nothing. I just saw some grease I missed from last night at the garage.”
Zeke froze for all of two seconds, then released her hand and shut off the water. “Gatinha, you jumped like you’d been burned. What’s that about?”
Her cheeks burned as hot as when she stayed out in the sun too long and the space along her hairline dampened. Talk about a mood killer. Only she could go from flirting and seducing her man to a fumbling catastrophe in a second. “I was embarrassed.”
“Why?”
She rung the dish towel and squared her shoulders. Klutzy mechanic or not, she was done with ducking her head every time she got embarrassed. “Because I was trying to make an effort, and I missed the grease. I didn’t want you to see a mechanic today. I wanted you to see a woman.”
He chuckled, slow and broken at first, then building to a full-on laugh.
“You’re not helping.” She crossed her arms and tried to keep a stern face, but it was really hard with him laughing so hard.
“Babe.” He pulled her against him, his shoulders jerking beneath each guffaw, especially now that he was trying to hold his laughter back. “There hasn’t been a time in the weeks I’ve known you that I’ve ever thought of you as anything but one hundred percent, make-my-dick-stand-up-and-take-notice woman. And the next time you worry about grease under your nails, factor in the fact that I think it’s hot as hell my woman can not only tell the difference between a carburetor and a crankshaft, but can replace either one if she needs to.”
She snickered and let her forehead drop against his chest. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have freaked out. It was just knee-jerk.”
“You’re learning something new. Freaking out’s part of the process.” He threaded his fingers through her hair at the back of her head and tilted her face up to his. “Now, do I have to wait for Danny to get his peace offering first? Or can I have a slice of cake in advance?”
How in the name of all that was holy had she gotten this lucky? Most men would have run screaming at all her social crap within an hour of meeting her, if not sooner. But here he was, moving right past her childish freak-out without so much as a backward glance. “I’ll make you a deal.”
“Ah, negotiating. I like it. What’s your offer?”
“You let me show you the rest of what I bought today, and if Danny’s not home by the time I’m done, I’ll cut you a slice.”
“Done.” He grabbed her hand and tugged her toward her bedroom.
“Hey, wait!” She tried to dig in her heels, but as traction went, her sandals really sucked. Not to mention he had at least eighty pounds on her. “You can’t just agree that fast. You didn’t even bargain.”
He slapped on his best Marlon Brando interpretation and did that movie-mafia yada yada hand gesture. “You made me a deal I couldn’t refu
se.” She’d barely passed her bedroom door, when he shut it behind her and ambled to the bed. Apparently, he planned on settling in for a while, because he shucked his boots and socks and stretched out on what he’d claimed as his side of the bed. “All right. Bring on the fashion show. But do me a favor. Stretch the clothes changing to a maximum.”
She cocked her head and anchored her fists on her hips, trying to keep a straight face. “Maybe you should have negotiated better.”
“Keep talkin’ and I’ll renegotiate by paddling your ass.”
A spanking.
In the space of a nanosecond, her sex grew damp and a slow, demanding pulse set up shop between her legs. Leave it to Zeke to send a miniorgasm ripping through her when he was all the way on the other side of the room. She couldn’t have moved or come up with a decent thought if someone had come through the bedroom door with guns blazing.
His goofy grin slipped and his eyes heated. “What just happened?”
Oh, no. No way was she going there. Not yet. Putting words around what felt good and sharing where her head was at with sex was one thing. Diving into fantasies she could barely admit to herself was something else entirely. “Nothing.”
“Nothing my ass. You totally shut down. Surely you know I’d never hurt you. Ever. I’d cut off my own hand first.”
She knew. She also knew that, while her exterior might have shown a shuttered expression, her insides were still revved up and ready to go. While she might be chicken when it came to dirty confessions, there was no way in hell she’d leave him thinking she’d even considered he’d cause her pain. “I wasn’t upset.” She licked her lip, for all the good it did her with her desert-dry mouth. “I was actually thinking you promising a spanking wasn’t the best incentive to get me to behave.”
This time it was Zeke who went crazy still, his sharp gaze shifting from concern to blazing devilment in a single heartbeat. “Now, there’s a promising development.” His mouth curled into a wicked grin that fanned the flames licking through her core. He crossed his feet at the ankles, jerked his head toward her walk-in closet and readjusted the rapidly growing bulge behind his Levi’s. “Show me what you bought, and we’ll see how bad of a girl you’ve been today.”
Oh.
My.
God.
Surely he didn’t mean what she thought he meant. Yeah, it was a fantasy. Lots of women probably had the same one, but to actually act it out?
“You keep standing there and I can pretty much assure you’ll end up over my lap sooner rather than later.”
She bit back a squeak and her toes curled in her sandals. “Um...” No big deal. All she had to do was carry on with her original plan. Where things went from there would just happen.
She swallowed and tried to look casual on her way to the closet. It wasn’t like she could drag things on too long. Yeah, she’d bought a few other new tops and some fun flats and flip-flops, but the bulk of what she’d spent her money on was folded in the top drawer of her dresser. Once she showed him the bra and panty set she’d donned this afternoon, she couldn’t imagine she’d get around to modeling those.
Stopping at the farthest edge of the closet, she toed off her shoes and pulled her shirt over her head.
Movement sounded on the bed behind her.
She didn’t dare turn around, was too afraid to confirm he’d shifted for a straight-on view of where she stood. If he had, he wouldn’t suspect much yet. From the back, her bra would look just like all her other boring white ones, but the front? Big difference.
With trembling fingers, she popped the buttons on her waistband and shimmied her jeans over her hips.
They’d barely cleared mid-thigh when Zeke’s low, hungry growl rumbled behind her.
She smiled despite the adrenaline racing through her veins. So, Zeke was a fan of thongs. Good to know. When she’d first pulled her jeans on over them, she wasn’t so sure she could adjust to the feel of her butt cheeks rubbing against the rough denim, but if that was his response, she’d grow accustomed to the sensation.
Taking her time, she neatly arranged her jeans on the hanger, then plucked her blouse off the floor and repeated the process.
“You’re taking too long.”
She peeked over one shoulder, though not enough to actually make eye contact. “I thought you said to draw the changing part out as long as possible.”
“I changed my mind.”
Her eyes slid shut and a near silent whimper whispered past her lips, a wild and unruly swirl of flutters sweeping through her belly. Her voice, when she managed to speak, came out husky and breathless. “I thought trauma docs were decisive, think-on-their-feet types.”
“I’m about to do a lot more than that on my feet if you don’t get over here.”
Smoothing her hand down the front of the blouse she’d hung on the highest rod, she dragged in a slow steadying breath and turned, only to have it escape on a shaky exhalation.
Gone was the patient man who’d lectured her about locked doors and alarm systems, replaced with 100 percent pure predator. He sat at the edge of the bed, his feet firmly planted on the ground and legs far enough apart she could easily walk between them. His carnal gaze leisurely assessed her head to toe, a starving wolf anticipating its main course.
Sheer need propelled her feet forward, instinct lending what she hoped was a sultry sway to her hips. “I didn’t buy much. Just a few underthings.” She trailed her fingertips between her cleavage, drawing his gaze to the delicate see-through lace. “You said you liked the white, so I stuck with the same color.”
He held his silence and fisted his hands on his knees.
“The lace feels really good. Like silk.” Emboldened, she gently cupped her breasts and halted just between his knees. His mouth was close enough his warm breath fluttered against her chest. “So? On a scale of one to ten, what do you think?”
He’d created a monster. A remorseless, sex-kitten monster. Zeke stroked the creamy expanse of Gabe’s torso, displacing her hands with his own so her breasts filled his palms. “On a scale of one to ten, I’d say your shopping trip scored a perfect ten.” He plumped the full globes and dragged his thumbs across her pretty pink nipples showing through the delicate fabric. “Your tits, though, are off the fucking chart.”
Her breath left on a shaky exhale and her whole body trembled beneath his touch. Whether she realized it or not, she angled herself closer, nearly brushing one puckered bud against his lips. “Does that mean I shouldn’t return the other colors tucked away in my dresser?”
God help him, his nuts were already drawn tight and ready to explode and he’d barely even touched her. He forced his hands to her hips and eased back enough he wouldn’t be tempted to suck one of those tempting peaks in his mouth. Eventually, he’d get a taste, but not yet. Not until he was sure where her head was at. “What it means is if you didn’t get at least two sets in every color, we’re going back to the store. Tomorrow. Today, I think my kitten wants to play.”
Another shudder, this one paired with tiny goose bumps flaring out along her arms and the tops of her breasts.
“You want that, gatinha?” He traced the line of her thong around her waist and to the small of her back where it dipped between her cheeks. “Want to see what it feels like taking my hand on your ass?”
Her fingers bit into his shoulders and she shifted her weight from one foot to the other, her breaths coming short and shallow. She opened her mouth as if to say something, then bit her lip instead.
“There’s not a wrong answer there, Gabrielle. Nothing to be embarrassed about. This is you and me. Safe. Honest. If you want to explore, I am one hundred percent on board.”
“You don’t think it’s...a little weird?”
It was a step. A good one. And one he had a very solid answer for. He pried one of her hands from his shoulde
rs, stood, and guided her palm so it covered his aching cock. The contact ripped a groan up his throat. “That give you a clue how I feel about the idea?”
She gently squeezed his length and rubbed the heel of her palm up and down. “You don’t think I’m a freak?”
“Who gives a fuck?” He flexed into her touch, halfway tempted to jerk his fly open for skin-to-skin contact. “If you’re a freak, then I’m one, too. If we both want it and it feels good, then nothing else matters. Now, are we playing, or are we saving that for another time?”
Releasing her grip on his cock, she slipped her hands beneath his shirt and guided it up around his pecs. She leaned in close. Pressing her parted lips to his sternum, she lifted her innocent, yet hungry gaze to his and flicked her tongue against his skin. “I think I’d like to play.”
His cock jerked in agreement, his pulse throbbing through his shaft. He yanked his T-shirt over his head and tossed it aside, eyes riveted to the way she plied her lips, teeth and tongue against his skin. Utterly devoted with no pretense of putting on a show. Innocence packaged as a wet dream.
And she’d just given him the green light on some seriously decadent fun. Fuck, he was a lucky bastard.
She fumbled with the waistband of his jeans.
Zeke clamped onto her wrists. “Easy.” No way was he freeing his dick. Not yet. The damned thing had a mind of its own when she was fully dressed, let alone when all she had on were a few scraps of lace. “You in a hurry?”
She tried to pull her hands free with zero success. “Yes.”
He grinned and earned himself a frustrated little pout from those naughty lips of hers. “That’s too bad, ’cause there’s no way in hell I’m rushing this.” He sat back on the bed behind him and tugged her in between his knees, his hands still manacled around her wrists. Beneath his thumbs, her pulse beat a wild rhythm.
Wild & Sweet (The Haven Brotherhood) Page 26