by Melissa Blue
He focused on his brother. “And then we're done. You don't pull this on me again?”
“You can go back to living a worthless life after this.”
Tristan dragged his gaze away from the woman he could still taste, smell on his hand, and with just a glance had him hard again. He had a craving for her.
“Bugger off,” he said without any real heat.
“Such a way with words when you know someone else is right. You do the hard backbreaking work when you can be the paper pusher. Why?”
He wasn't in the mood for self-reflection. “Five days and we're done. I have to get back to Da anyway.”
Ian pffted. “Da is old, but he's not that old. He drank more than us at the reception and wasn't even smashed.”
Tristan ran a hand through his hair and tried not to watch Keri as she leaned against the hood of her car. “You'd know, how? You've been gone and I've stayed home taking care of him and helping him run the pub whenever I can.”
“That good old Catholic guilt won't work on me. I know Jacob has been helping him since you left. Get whatever you need from the apartment, but you're staying at the hotel tonight. With Keri. Let her down easy. Joce will kill me if you break her cousin's heart.”
He let those words wash over him. “You're so whipped. It's depressing.”
“It usually takes you at least a day to talk your way into a woman's pants and head. A few hours...” Ian hissed. “When a women does that, she's letting you talk her into it. I'd say watch out, but you're too daft to listen.”
“I'm not that daft. I know what happened.” Because he couldn't fight the urge anymore, Tristan looked at Keri.
The roadster was a classic. A mint. The spring sun shone off the chrome. In the morning he could probably trim away his five o'clock shadow in the reflection. The woman leaning against it held his attention. Her hair was bunched up in the back, but she'd done something to make it simply appear tousled. She'd wrapped an arm over her torso and tried to crawl back into her shell. He knew, though, the glaze of satisfaction in her eyes, knew what her lips tasted like while swollen and parted.
She was a complexity he couldn't pin down. A con in heels with tight breasts and lush hips. Shy too, when he let himself really think about it. She had a touch of sharp wit and doe eyes to go along with it. Exactly the kind of woman a man with any sense would fall for.
She'd wanted him the moment he uttered “aye,” but she would have never demanded he take her. He'd made a study of women long ago to better understand how they ticked. At the time he had a vested interest in knowing the puzzle. With Keri, if he'd crossed a line, she'd have put him back by spouting off statistics about modern-day castration just to get her point across. She'd wanted him to drag her to the dark side. What was he supposed to do with that for the next five days?
Fighting took more energy than he had of late, but he wanted her. He could turn off the phone, close his eyes and just recall the sound of her moans and get off.
Five days of fighting or succumbing?
He sighed, wishing he could smash his brother's nose. “When it's done, I'll send you holiday and birthday cards wherever you are and you never speak to me again.”
Ian snorted. “Until you become an uncle and then we'll do this again.”
The notion warmed him, but he scoffed into the phone. “Uncle?”
“Joce wants to breed and I don't mind the idea of it with her.”
“Whipped.” He made a cracking sound just to drive the point home.
His brother laughed. “You're a shite of a human being. Talk to you later.”
Tristan snapped his mobile shut and threw it on the dashboard. He needed a minute before he dealt with Keri. He glanced down at his lap and then shifted his hard cock. Maybe he'd need more than a minute.
*****
Appalled didn't quite capture the essence of how Keri felt about what she'd just done, and that was before a lengthy lecture from her older cousin. When someone throws out the question “What did you let him talk you into?” and the only answer is “There wasn't much talking,” you might have found yourself in a sticky situation. Sticky being a nicer word for letting a man get her off on a staircase.
She'd come. Fireworks, the whole shebang with a man for the first time. A man she barely knew. In a stairwell. Not exactly how she'd imagined but she sure as shit wasn't going to complain. Her legs still felt wobbly. She couldn't remember most of what her cousin said, because her heart refused to slow down and all the blood pumping had turned into a dull roar in her ears.
The conversation had long ended but Keri kept an expression of concentration and her phone up to her ear. She wasn't ready to face Tristan. Yes, she was a coward for waylaying the inevitable. And...yeah. She kind of hoped he'd open his rented sedan's car door and approach her first.
He had his head down as though in prayer. Maybe he needed strength to let her down in a much firmer way. He'd delivered his first rejection with the kind of smile that had knocked her mind sideways. His accent had thickened from lust at some point. So she'd answered him absently, not entirely sure what he'd said, but after meeting his gaze she could see the goodbye there.
And now she had to face five days alone with him.
Obviously, she wanted more of him and he clearly didn't reciprocate. Why else would he be praying in his car instead of doing his best to get his hands into her panties again? He'd made her inability to come a moot point. So what else could it be?
She sighed, frustrated with herself for taking the immediate blame that something must be wrong with her. This was why she hadn't dated lately. She often felt like she was too literal, too much of a smart-ass, didn't dress sexy enough—too much like herself for any man to want. Keri could be all those things and the right man would love it.
Unfortunately she only attracted the wrong ones. There were only so many times a girl could take rejection before she started to despise anything with a dick. If that was what happened next—a firm, non-questionable rejection—she'd skip depressed. She had enough of that in her teens.
But what had made him leave dust in his wake?
“Ugh,” she said in frustration.
Womaning up, she pushed off the car, pretended to hang up the phone and wrenched open his car door. He didn't look surprised at her plopping down into the seat next to him. He actually looked resigned. She'd seen that reaction too many times to count and wanted to curl into herself. She yearned for her heavy clothes, her ugly but comfortable shoes, so she could disappear again.
“So?” she asked.
“Aye. We did too good a job.”
What a lackluster response. Keri ran a hand down the dress. The heels had started to pinch her pinkie toes, but they gave her an arch that looked fragile and feminine. The whole getup made it easy to act so unlike herself. She'd been all sexy and mouthy the moment he met her. Why not continue to be that woman? That woman wouldn't care for his expression. That woman would make him eat out of her hand with a glance.
Five days... She could be that woman.
The thought of being wild, sexy and as snarky as she wanted to be put a smile on her face. She directed it toward Tristan. He made a soft sound that brushed over her skin like a heated caress. Goose bumps rose over her flesh.
He'd made a sound so full of need, and that surprised her. Tristan still wanted her. So why did he have the kind of expression that said, well...that he'd rather have his nads waxed?
His stare strayed to her left thigh. When she'd plopped down, she hadn't straightened the dress. It bunched around the tops of her legs, and he was getting a good look at what he had his hands on earlier.
There was such an intensity in his perusal she pressed the toe of her heel to the car's floor and tapped her foot softly. He smiled, and the expression punched her in the gut. It wasn't the goodbye smile that held a crap ton of smolder that rushed blood into her ears. Nonetheless, her heart skipped. He threw his arm behind her headrest. The sedan shrank another size. Her heart skitte
red along and her breathing sped up—she was going to pass out.
“Do you need something, Keri?” he asked.
Okay. Okay. She could do this. Where to start? They needed rules of engagement. Talking him into seducing her again should be easy enough. “Yes.”
He cocked his leg closer, but there was never a chance for them to touch, not with half the car in their way. “And that is?”
I want to have more sex with you.
I want to be the kind of woman who has a lover.
Fuck me.
She blinked at the last thought. Was that what she wanted? Something raw and sweaty? Well, yeah, but did people ask for that? Or did it just happen? Probably just happened. Seconds ticked by and she couldn't bring herself to say it, and this was her other problem. Her brain got in the way of things most folks did impulsively.
His brows were up, but a smile curved his mouth. He had an inkling of what she wanted to ask and he'd let her drown in the discomfort until she spit it out. She felt partly warmed and irritated. A strange reaction to have and she didn't know how to classify it. And the more she thought about asking him to seduce her, the more she felt the notion was ridiculous.
“I need a ride to my cousin's apartment,” finally spilled out of her mouth. “You have the only key. I need more clothes.”
He made a noncommittal noise. “Clothes?”
Since she'd thrown that out into the world, she had to go with it. Dammit. “We're here for the next few days. The best way for me to be Jocelyn is to dress like her.” Keri wouldn't admit all she had at her house were Crocs and loose pants. Saying she was a tomboy was one thing; showing him just how much was another. “I don't have a key, but I'm guessing you do.”
He frowned. “I do.”
Hopefully, he'd let it go. She held her breath, but then he grinned at her. “Keri, I'll take you to the apartment to pick up some clothes. We'll head back to the hotel, and then you'll tell me what you really meant to ask.”
His tone didn't make it sound like a request—he'd make her. Her head swam at the ways he would. Tristan started the car, backed out and, without another word, placed his hand on her thigh. She'd been bouncing her leg nervously and his touch stilled the motion. She couldn't think when he did that. All she could concentrate on was the roughness of his palm against her skin and the promise of more when he brushed his fingers higher.
“So, you need clothes, eh? And that's it?”
She shook her head. He was turning this into a battle of wills—hell, a flirtation. She wanted to be irritated with him. Really, she did, but a smile crept out. “What else did you think I'd need?” she asked.
He laughed softly. “Women are strange creatures, but simple enough when you strip the rest away. So I'm assuming you mean exactly what you said.”
Next time she'd pull up her big-girl panties and ask for what she wanted. The next few days would be torture if all they did was tiptoe around each other. And flirt. He'd win eventually. The man was a pro.
She glanced at him again. No, he wouldn't let them tiptoe around anything. She let that thrill burn in her chest and her smile widened.
CHAPTER FIVE
Keri tossed her roll-away suitcase on the bed. Her nerves were on edge from uprooting her life to live in a hotel for the next few days and being around him for hours. So how could he act so damn cool about everything? She'd bet money someone could tell him the end was nigh and he'd greet the news with the same aplomb.
No surprise, he had the same easy-come, easy-go reaction to the all-expenses-paid room. A high-end flat-screen was the only thing worth noting in the room. Okay. The light blue down comforter tucked in neatly around the mattress looked inviting. They'd spent hours at her cousin and new husband's apartment to get her some clothes and for Tristan to go through his own.
Tristan was quite meticulous in what he chose to wear. So when he took his luggage to the dresser and started to place the clothes neatly in the drawers, the actions felt about right. And it felt equally right that this was the moment she could ask for what she wanted. They were alone with no interruptions. Okay. Ok— A loud thump reverberated through the wall.
She jumped away from the bed, whirling to face the wall, and collided with Tristan, who had stepped away from the dresser to look in the same direction. Loud and angry voices followed the thud.
Her heart rate eased. “These walls are thin.”
Tristan's fingertips brushed along her elbow. “So it would seem.”
His warmth disappeared before she could lean into him. Her excuse to bridge the distance gone, she tried to think of something else to say. Another thump against the wall as someone likely threw another object. The voices were too angry for it to be sex. She blinked at the sudden idea forming. The next thump was louder and that simply cemented the crazy plan. Another second passed and then she faced him. “We have a problem.”
“That is?” He continued to fold his clothes and place them with care into the dresser.
She pursed her lips. “If we can hear them, then they can hear us.”
“True.” His voice lowered.
She might have written off his reaction as thoughtless if she hadn't noticed the way his shoulders tensed. The casual dress shirt curved to his broad back. She wanted her hands on those shoulders and would take any excuse available.
So she added, “What if they're part of the association? You can't sneeze without running into a member or an applicant. The way we acted this morning, a silent night would be pretty suspicious. Don't you think?”
He held a pair of socks in his hands but glanced at her. His nostrils flared and in the back of her mind she detailed that response. Her scent had probably thickened in the air around him until all he could smell was her. Pheromones kept humans procreating even when they didn't want to.
What did she smell like to him? Could he put a name to it? She couldn't do the same to him. Yes, he smelled like whatever soap he used. The kind you wouldn’t find next to Old Spice. The expensive musk held the fragrance of man. Procreation. She exhaled.
He tossed the socks into the drawer and then slapped it closed. “You're right. Get on the bed.”
“Just...” She trailed off, surprised at his command.
He motioned to the mattress without any other instructions. Keri toed off her heels, excitement pumping more blood into her veins. That had been easy. A giddy relief rushed nerves into her stomach.
He nodded. “On the bed.”
Okay. Okay. She'd asked for this so she could play along and act surprised when he pounced. Still, she opened and closed her hands to shake off the tremble that had dampened her palms.
After climbing on the bed, she noticed Tristan only stood at the edge. His hands were stuffed in his pockets. If she had the balls, she'd have checked without shame to see if his cock pressed against his slacks like before.
Since she had ovaries, Keri met his gaze. “Now what?”
“Stand up,” he ordered in a calm voice.
The request didn't make sense until she noticed he'd be eye level to her...well, where she wanted him to be. The blue in his eyes seemed to gleam with mischief.
Suspicious, she tilted her head. “Now?”
“Jump,” he said without inflection.
What kind of sex involved jumping? “Jump?”
“Aye.” A hint of laughter laced the word. “Frolic on the sheets. These beds are cheap enough that even the slightest movement will bang the headboard against the wall. Jumping will have a believable rhythm. Don't worry, I'll help.”
Was he serious? Keri glared down at him and could see he was trying to be, but his shoulders shook as though he was trying to keep back a laugh. She stuck her tongue against her cheek and shook her head at how easily she'd created this ridiculous situation.
He had to know what she'd been insinuating. Apparently Tristan planned to take her innuendos and make a mockery of them until she asked in plain and clear words. She had to respect him for the strategy, and that meant the
ball was in her court. What could she do? What did a woman have in her arsenal?
Keri smiled, realizing nature had given her everything she'd need. She bent her knees and began to jump. The headboard banged softly against the wall. The arguing next door didn't die off immediately. It took a full minute for the bang, bang, bang to replace the argument with a loudly whispered conversation.
She didn't pay their neighbors too much attention because Tristan had forgotten one thing before telling her to jump on the bed. She hadn't worn a bra. And she was jumping. The mischief in his gaze slowly turned to heat that washed over her skin.
“I thought you were going to help,” she told him.
“Right.” He cursed under his breath and then the gray in his eyes darkened, his lids lowered. He strolled around the bed to the wall and leaned against it.
Without bothering to curtail the lust in his voice, he said, “Moan for me.”
Seconds ticked by as she gaped at him in shock. She suspected he had a dirty streak, but this... Oh. My. God.
“Come on,” he whispered, but his accent cloaked the words. “Jump or they'll think I can't last longer than a few seconds.”
Damn. The sound of his voice felt like that delicious warmth after taking a shot of whiskey. The effect of him burned in her chest and worked its way down.
“Huh?”
He gestured with his head at her legs. “You stopped jumping.”
Keri dropped her gaze down. Oh. Well, she hadn't expected him to go all Scottish and use his fuck-me voice. She started to jump again, and he...Good God.
“That feels good. So good. Fuck me back. Aye, just like that. Tight. So tight and wet.”
“Tristan.” She couldn't hide the surprise in her tone, completely forgetting she was supposed to say Ian's name.
He clapped, but the way he cupped his palms it sounded like a hand meeting warm flesh. “Want me to spank you harder? I know how you like that. Felt your pussy tighten around my cock. Aye. Like that.” He clapped again.