by Rie Warren
Cat rapped on the Jeep window and stood back, her arms folded across her body. I climbed out to join her. “Cold?”
“No. Why?” She took a step away from me.
I stared at the arms she kept crossed in front of herself. She dropped them to her hips, and I asked, “Nervous then?”
“Hardly.” Her little laugh and eye roll weren’t convincing at all.
I ran my hand down her arm then linked my fingers with hers. When I reached over to lightly caress her cheek, her lips quivered before parting. Her curiously arctic blue eyes locked onto mine as she inhaled a ragged breath.
“C’mon. The pooch is gonna be hungry and so am I.” I counted it as a win when her fingers curled around mine. The simple touch of her skin joined with mine set in motion a host of hot thoughts that included more bare flesh, joining.
When we reached the top of the porch, I let her go to grab the key from under the big ceramic planter beside the door.
“That’s your security system?” A dark fan of long lashes framed her eyes.
“That and Viper.”
“I guess you don’t have to worry too much, living out here in the boondocks.”
“Not a fan of the wild, Cat?” A grin slid across my lips as I opened the double front doors.
“Very funny.” After I flicked on the lights, she followed me inside with a slight strut to her steps. “And I wouldn’t exactly call this rustic.”
Her gaze moved around the open-beamed ceilings and the wide wooden staircase in front of us. The skylights two stories above opened to the starry night sky.
I shut the door and ran an arm around her waist, getting in close behind her. A hint of her perfume wafted up to me.
“I can do things a little more downhome if you want,” I murmured against her ear, daring a teasing lick along the lobe.
“I’m sure you have no problem doing things down low.”
She had no idea. I bit her earlobe and laughed when she jumped in my arms. Gripping her against me with one hand flat on her tummy, I walked Cat into the big front room. Surrounded by deep leather sofas, the ceiling-high fieldstone fireplace, and Mimi’s braided rugs, I whistled for Viper. She must’ve been pawing at the back doors, slobbering over squirrels if she hadn’t heard us yet.
“Prepare yourself.” I disengaged from Cat.
“For what?”
“Incoming dog.”
Viper’s claws scattering across the polished floorboards, she rounded the corner from the kitchen and launched herself at me. Her front paws landed on my chest, her long tongue on my face, and she gave my thigh a few of her usual humps. Her eyes rolled over to Cat.
After sliding down from me, Viper commenced her “New Person! New Person!” dance, which was akin to JJ’s when he needed to take a leak but was too busy for a piss break.
Just like me, Viper had no boundary issues. She took a second to loll her tongue over her maw then bounded at Cat. I chuckled when Cat spread her legs wide, bracing herself for impact, her hands held out for the canine approval sniff test. Viper didn’t disappoint. She started straight in on the face lick/leg hump combo. I couldn’t blame the dog. I’d done the same thing not moments before.
I left them to their woof-woof-woman dance long enough to fill up Viper’s water bowl and dish up her dinner. When I returned, she was latched on and well into the licking routine. I wanted to lick Cat, with the flat of my tongue so I could taste every single naked curve of her body. Jealous of a mutt. Jesus.
“Down, girl,” I ordered.
Viper spared me a look as if to say fuck off before renewing her efforts to slobber all over Cat.
“I can put her outside if you want.”
Cat batted Viper away from her face and crouched low to do the itchy-scratchy routine behind those sleek black-brown ears. She laughed when Viper’s hind leg thumped on the floor. I’d never heard her giggle before—the sound was breathy and light.
“She’s harmless.” Cat’s eyes glowed as she reacquainted herself with the Rottie she’d met—and previously been harassed by—at the August potluck.
“That’s what I keep tellin’ Josh, but . . .”
“He just has protective-daddy issues.”
“Overbearing-asshole issues more like.” I tucked my thumbs into the waistband of my shorts.
“How long have you known him?”
“Since we were sixteen. I can’t seem to shake him.”
“He seems very loyal.” She smiled up at me.
“Yeah. His similarities to Viper know no bounds.”
“Good friends are hard to come by.” Her gaze slid away from me.
“Good women, too.” The shorts fell lower on my hips as I approached Cat. Unlike her, I hadn’t showered at the gym. I was nowhere near fresh as a fucking daisy, but I craved contact with her.
Instead of hitting the locker room, I’d sat around listening to Josh moan about wedding plans. He’d griped about shit he couldn’t come to grips with: flower arrangements, travel arrangements, theme colors, and buffet or sit-down dinner menus. His out-laws’ trip to Charleston next month would overlap with my parents’ visit.
I shook free from thoughts of everyone but Cat. She smelled good. She looked amazing. Her hair was glossy smooth and pulled back. Her shirt was a black buttoned-up number that should’ve been boyish. On her it was almost indecent from the nip at her waist to the darts arrowing toward her high breasts. Her faded jeans were tight as a second sexy skin. As I moved closer, the spike heels of her boots tapped against the floor as though a nervous jitter ran through her leg.
A foot away from Wildcat, I toed off my sneakers and socks, placing them aside. Lifting the hem of my T-shirt, I peeled it off, hanging it from the side of my gym shorts. Cat drifted closer. Her fingertips glanced along my chest to the trail of hair down the middle of my abs. Her fingers followed the line until it disappeared inside my shorts. She watched her fingers. I watched her face. A knot of lust tightened in the base of my cock.
When her hand came to rest on the strings tying my shorts in place, a couple inches of slab-hard groin contracted under her short nails. “Are you getting undressed right here?”
“Want me to, darlin’?” I could make that happen, no questions asked. But it wasn’t just tonight I wanted from her.
I circled her wrist when her hand hovered over the waistband of my shorts and the obvious bulge below. Cat’s fingers balled together, and she pulled free of my grasp. Heat skimmed her cheeks, it flashed across her eyes.
“I’m filthy,” I said in a low rumble.
Cat’s eyes snapped to mine as I ran a hand through my hair, wavy and damp with sweat. Her gaze tracked the flexing muscles of my arm, and I hardened even more inside the pouch of my jockstrap.
“Mind if I grab a quick shower?” I asked.
“Be my guest,” she tartly replied, taking another step away from me.
“I think that’s my line.” I pulled her hand to my mouth, kissing her palm with moist presses. “Can I get you a drink first?”
“No. I’m good. I’m fine.”
Yes, you are.
“Is it okay if I take a look around?” she asked.
“Go right ahead. Mi casa, etc. I’m an open book.” I headed upstairs, taking the steps two at a time. Open book, bullshit. I had as many secrets as she did, judging by the locked-down looks and the stories written in ink on her arms. The only question was who would tell first?
I shucked off my shorts and stepped into the shower. Maybe I needed to take a cold one. I thrust the jets on high, letting the water pound me. My cock thanked me for being free of the jockstrap, but it wasn’t so happy about not even getting soapy wet palm action. Steam wrapped around my body from head to toe; a long lick, a moist open-mouthed kiss. One I wanted from Cat.
Cleaning up quickly, I thought about the colorful landscape of her arms, and imagined her in here with me, her long legs wrapped around my hips. My dick remained rigid and upright, achingly hard. The length was wet from more than
soapsuds and water. Precome dripped from my glans. But I wasn’t going to jerk off in my bathroom like a seventeen-year-old kid when Wildcat waited downstairs in the living flesh.
I found her cuddled with Viper on the sofa in my den. She’d found my sweet spot. Her eyes were shut, the thick fringe of her eyelashes like butterfly wings against her cheeks. Hunkering down, I kissed the place her dimple appeared when she smiled. I slid back on my heels when her eyelids fluttered open to reveal ice-blue wariness.
“I fell asleep?”
“Must’ve had something to do with an eighty-pound dog snuggling up to you.”
She glanced along her body to see my behemoth pup curled against her drawn-up legs. Viper chuffed in her sleep, her ears twitching.
“You look tired.” I brushed a knuckle beneath Cat’s eye.
She carefully unfolded herself from Viper’s warm den. She wedged one of Mimi’s afghans in her place the same way I did when I needed to free myself. “Long day, that’s all.”
“Yeah. Trying to kick my ass in the ring will do that to ya.”
“Smug arrogance doesn’t suit you, Mr. Love.”
“Really? I don’t suppose that’s why you’re smiling then, is it, Miss Steele?” I leaned forward. My fingertip brushed the swell of her bottom lip I wanted so much to kiss.
She stood and stretched with a yawn. A blush burned her cheeks. “I should head home.”
“No, you shouldn’t. Come, keep me company while I cook.”
She looked me over as I stood before her in my old jeans and bare feet and chest. “The Naked Chef?”
“I can do that if you want.”
Cat hooked one finger under the top button of my jeans. “It wouldn’t take much more to get you naked.”
“You keep that up and you’ll get more than a mouthful, I promise.” Her fingers brushed my skin as I drew her hand from my stomach and into mine.
“I thought we were here to talk about costumes.”
“I figure I oughtta feed a lady before I get her undressed. Call me a romantic.” I led her into the kitchen.
“Feed me what?” There was a hot dare in her eyes as she propped a hip against the counter.
I stood with the fridge door open, fairly certain I could offer her something sure to fill her up. “Well, now. That all depends on what you have in mind.”
She sauntered toward me and stood close enough to brush my body with hers. My knees started shaking.
Cat leaned forward to kiss me then stopped just short with a low chuckle. “Probably just food.”
“Damn.” I raked a hand through my hair, freeing the water droplets clinging to it from my shower. “I think I need a drink. Wanna beer?”
“Just a glass of water, please.”
I made her a nice cool glass and popped the cap off a brew for myself. Rummaging in the fridge and pantry, I found the fixings for some southern soul food: fried pork chops, hoppin’ John, and greens with bacon. I set Cat to work on the rice dish while I started on the chops and greens.
“You’re not living up to your good ol’ boy image here.”
“Just because I’m a bachelor doesn’t mean I have to live like a barbarian.” I curled an arm around her waist. “Besides, I like to keep you on your toes.”
“I was under the impression you wanted me on my back more than anything.”
I swiveled around and pressed her into the counter, pelvis to pelvis. “Trust me, darlin’, you don’t have to be on your back for what I have in mind.” After she gasped, I turned her loose. “Now scat before you make me burn the chops.”
“Who taught you your way around the kitchen?” Cat sounded impressed. Score one for me.
“My mimi.” The frying pan sizzled when the breaded pork chops hit the hot oil.
“She lives locally?”
“She’s old Mt. Pleasant stock, born and bred. She took me in when I was sixteen, that’s when I met Josh.”
Cat handed me the lid for the pot of rice simmering away on the stove. “But you’re not from here, are you?”
“I beg your pahdon. I’m from Bahston.” I put on my wicked good accent.
“You’re a damn Yankee!” She pointed at me in horror.
“Named and shamed, but I consider myself a southerner at heart. And I’ll have you know, my cooking skills aren’t just for the kitchen.” I stole a quick kiss from her lips.
I didn’t make any further moves on her while dinner cooked. I wanted to keep Cat at ease with this slow burn coiling between us until she was as desperate for more as I was.
While I was plating up the food, she slipped her arms around my waist from behind. Her lips brushed the back of my neck, and I dragged in a long breath. “You smell good, Nick.”
“You feel good.” I held in a moan, held my damn breath.
Her tongue traipsed over the muscle between my neck and shoulder. Her mouth sealed around skin and her teeth nipped. I groaned, shocked to the bottom of my balls by the impact of her lips on my skin.
Holding her hands firmly against my stomach, I said, “I thought you just wanted food.”
Retreating until her fingers slowly slid across my ribs and away, she gave a final tug on the belt loop of my jeans. “Well, I’d be a fool to pass up a chance to feel up the great Nicky Love.”
I shook my head at the counter, chuckling. “You’re a hard woman to read.”
“Isn’t that what makes me fun?”
Out of a long-misplaced sense of decorum, I pulled on a shirt before setting the food on the table. Cat stared at my bare feet and I gave a whaddaya gonna do shrug.
At the table, plates of piled-high food steamed in front of us. I pointed my fork at Cat. “Fun, yes. Frustrating, sometimes downright infuriating. And always very fucking hot.”
“I think that’s a compliment?”
“Oh yeah, that’s a compliment. Now tuck in and tell me how good it is. I have an ego to feed after all.”
Her first forkful accompanied by damn near orgiastic moans made me wonder what she sounded like in the sack. With proof of my cooking skills on my side, I bent my efforts toward wooing Cat with words while we ate dinner. I was intrigued by her low laugh and her slow smile as she told me stories about the rough riders who were members of the same MC as her brothers. She spoke about them all as if they were family but never once mentioned her mom and dad.
I shared some of the worst stories of Josh and me as teenage troublemakers just to make her laugh some more.
The sweet dimple curving up her cheek and the pale light in her eyes captivated me. We talked about bikes and my Chief. She definitely knew her way around a wrench, impressing me even more.
We’d cleaned our plates when she slid her chair away from the table. She looked out the back windows. The entire wall made of glass faced the deck and the Wando River. “How do you afford all this?”
One of my eyebrows twitched up. I couldn’t believe she was going to continue to play coy about my career when she’d already admitted she knew I was a writer.
“What?” she asked.
Then my other eyebrow rose. “Maybe you should consult your bookshelves and Vampires Do It in the Dark then tell me.” Leaning back in my seat, I grinned. “Your bro busted you.”
Her chair screeched back. “I’m gonna kill Brodie.”
Laughing loud, I grabbed her and pulled her onto my lap. “What’s so wrong about admitting you’ve read my books?”
She struggled in my arms, indignation sparking her eyes. “Well, I’m not going to fall all over myself asking for your autograph, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
Verbal seduction backfired. But I can salvage this.
“I wouldn’t expect you to ask for anything from me. ’Cause I’m gonna give it.” I went in for the kill, fuck talking about it.
With one hand clasping the back of her neck, I drew her to me. I caught the tail end of her whispered, “Yes,” when she turned fully to me to meet my kiss. Her lips were soft and juicy. Her tongue slipped into my mouth
with no hesitation. The sleek surrounds of her mouth and her low murmurs-to-moans made my erection pound in my jeans. When Cat’s fingers drove into my hair with a twist-pull, I groaned.
I held her by the hips, guiding her forward to grind against my cock. Moans turned to whimpers as our mouths angled. Our tongues twisted together, and the loud smacks of our lips were the best sounds I’d ever heard. When she broke away, the flush underneath her tawny skin and the blown pupils of her eyes clearly showed her desire. I continued with the kisses, down to her chin, all along her neck.
Cat shuddered when I hit the sensitive pulse on her neck. “I usually expect dessert after dinner,” she gasped out.
“Dessert?”
“Mm hmm. You know, chocolate, cake, cookies . . .”
Pie. Shit.
“We can do dessert.” I watched her replace all the loose strands into her ponytail. She nibbled on her pouty lower lip the whole time.
“Dessert, Nick?”
Oh, I have dessert. A cream covered delight right here in my jeans.
She stood from my lap, a little unsteady now in her tall black boots. I got up, making no excuses about the hard-on obvious in my pants. With a hand wrapped around hers, I dug through the refrigerator.
Then the cupboards.
And finally the freezer.
“Ice cream?” I asked.
It was hard doing the one-handed scoop thing, but as long as Wildcat didn’t tear her hand away from mine, I wasn’t letting it go. I filled two bowls with Rocky Road—not a metaphor for my life, not at all—and we sat down at the table.
Her lips parted for the spoon laden with chocolate and marshmallow sweetness, and mine opened for a deep ragged breath while I watched her lick the spoon clean. I made soup of my ice cream, just like JJ, too focused on Cat to give a shit about dessert.
“Do you box a lot?”
She swiped her tongue across her lips, missing a spot. I was right there with my thumb, wiping off the ice cream and sucking the gooey sweetness into my mouth.
Her spoon rattled on the edge of her bowl. “What?”
“Boxing.”
“I grew up the only sister with two older brothers, so they inducted me early. Saturday morning WWE with me the underdog.”