Kiltless

by Melissa Blue

  “Georgian, crown molding, looks in good enough shape. The problem would be removing the lead paint without damaging the molding. They went a little heavy on with the paint and decided to use it as a sealant so the molding wouldn't detach from the wall.”

  He'd have pried the thing from the wall to get a look at the wood from the other side just to see how deep the good bones went. He wasn't here for that. He was here as a penance.

  The insight made his brother look good and Keri pushed out a relieved breath. That was as far as he needed to take it, and based on Montgomery's expression, he could pull the man aside and get them out of this mess. And that would mean he could get very, very far away from Keri. He stepped forward to do just that when she wrapped her fingers around his forearm.

  “My husband continues to surprise me,” she said, pride ringing clear in her voice.

  That emotion slid through him like warm honey. If he stayed, if he told her the truth about his past, any pride, lust or awe would turn into disgust. He wouldn't blame her for it either. He had to get out of this—the sooner, the better.

  Montgomery stepped forward, quelling Tristan's thoughts. The man stuffed his hands into his pockets. “His knowledge is pretty impressive.”

  “Aye.” Tristan's skin tightened, right where Keri's fingers touched. “Can I have a moment of your time?”

  She took that as her cue to chat with the group. Despite the nerves, she conned pretty well when she stopped thinking about it as dishonest. That was how it started for him too. He didn't think past the moment of euphoria. He couldn't imagine the consequences or the people he'd hurt. He had to get the fuck away from her. For her own good and his sanity.

  Tristan edged Montgomery into the other room. At a glance the man looked comfortable in his own skin. He was the only one who tended to know a thing about antiques, older homes and renovation. The dull subject aside, the man knew about passion.

  “You've been married how long?” Tristan eased the man into the conversation, made him comfortable and gave him the upper hand.

  “About twenty or so years.”

  “No details, but I'm guessing you remember your honeymoon. Did it involve looking at historical homes? Spending time with groups of people? Anything outside of a bedroom?” He didn't wait for the man to answer. “I'm just asking because I appreciate what you've offered...”

  “You guys seem...very in love.” Montgomery blushed and looked away.

  Tristan hadn't seen the man on their floor, but the association members acted like a tight-knit group. The man had likely heard about their first-night bed tussle.

  Tristan grinned. “Madly in love.”

  Montgomery cleared his throat. “Excuse me for ruining that. We usually get enthusiastic amateurs, but rarely do we have professionals like you two.”

  Tristan relaxed. This was what he wanted. Of course they wouldn't be the wiser that he planned to abandon Keri the first free moment they had. He owed his brother, but that didn't mean he couldn't wiggle out of this promise as long as he fulfilled the main goal—getting Jocelyn and Ian their home.

  A soft knock on the door frame drew their attention. Keri smiled, lighting up her brown irises in a way that hit him straight in the gut. He needed to see her eyes glaze over with pleasure. He wanted to be the one to do it and none of the urge stemmed from his need to dominate, decimate a woman's desire to own it. He didn't need to know how she ticked. He wanted her because there was just something so pure about Keri coming.

  She was a fucking problem, because he could want all that and what would she get in a trade-off? A shite of a man.

  “We're going shopping,” she announced and even did a little bounce as though proud of herself.

  He might have enjoyed her reaction if he hadn't just tried to lay the groundwork for escaping. He forced his lips into a smile. “Sounds lovely. What kind of shopping?”

  “There's a fabric store downtown.” She announced the statement with enthusiasm but strain tightened the skin around her eyes.

  Should he worry about her discomfort for having to be sociable? No. She'd go to the fabric store. He'd head back to the hotel and pack. He'd leave a note telling her he had a good time and wish her the best of luck on her work. If his luck held, he'd never have to see her again. His brother and sister-in-law would get what they wanted, and he'd go back to not needing anything or anyone or wanting to be a different man with a different past.

  “Have fun,” he said, keeping any turmoil out of his voice. “Meet you back at the hotel?”

  She tilted her head, worry creasing her brows. “Sure, dear.”

  He rubbed a hand over the twinge in his gut. She was better off. He turned to Montgomery but the man hadn't let his gaze wander from Keri. And that meant the man was checking out Keri's ass. Her heels highlighted the long lines of her legs.

  Tristan's hand balled and he started to threaten Montgomery, but she wasn't his, would never be. Telling the man he'd rip off his balls and feed them to him wouldn't help his brother and sister-in-law.

  Montgomery got a hold of himself and stepped to the window. Good. Very good. Tristan relaxed his fist, but he still wanted to use it. Aye. Keri was a fucking problem. One he'd just gotten rid of. The twinge lodged deeper in his gut.

  *****

  Keri opened the hotel door room to find Tristan in only a towel. It recklessly hung around his waist. Since she knew what hung beneath the soft cotton, her brain misfired.

  “Hey.” She stuck to the breezy greeting so she wouldn't stammer.

  She tried to remind herself of all the conclusions she’d come to while browsing fabrics. This man wasn't built for the long haul. He probably had an arrest record longer than her arm. That list likely ran short compared to all the women he'd slept with. Her current unstable life didn't exactly have room for a boyfriend. She had some in the past and planned to in the future. When she did date again, Tristan wouldn't come within spitting distance of a potential candidate. From a logical standpoint dating an ex-criminal was dumb, reckless and just asking for heartbreak. It was equally logical to want him in her bed, considering his many talents, but insane to try to keep him there.

  Despite all that reasoning, and his current shocked and perturbed expression, she needed him to drop the towel. She swallowed, almost tasting him again.

  “Didn't expect you back so soon.” He didn't move to the bed or the dresser.

  Would the towel drop? Maybe. Looked like it didn't even need a soft tug to crumple to the floor. “Took them four hours to decide on curtain fabric. They liked the ones in the house we looked at.”

  “Huh.”

  Maybe he was standing there so she could get a real good look at his abs. She'd run her hands over the taut muscles, felt the dark hair tickle her palms, so she should know. Ogling him was nice but touching him was better. She wanted to touch him but he had a guarded expression, the same one he'd worn while talking to Montgomery.

  No. No. The same one he'd worn since they left the hotel. The one that crossed his face while her head spun and only the sound of her breathing had filled a stairway. This was why he wasn't made for the long haul. Tristan's first instinct involved bolting at the first sign that he may have to be a better man. As though he was scared of failing. A valid fear, given his past. Had he changed? Could she even believe it was possible? Questions that would vex her if their relationship was more than sex and circumstance.

  What she should focus on was whether or not that damn towel would fall. “Yup,” she said. “Looking at curtain fabric was just as exciting as your tone right now.”

  She kicked off her shoes and looked away for self-preservation. His luggage blocked the bed and sat open. He'd filled it with toiletries and hadn't put his clothes in, but Keri had no doubt he planned to. She tried not to give the sudden ache in her chest a name. The woman she was pretending to be wouldn't ask questions or care. She'd get the towel off.

  “My feet hurt and I feel sticky.” She pulled down the strap of her dress an
d glanced his way. His gaze followed the movement. “I need to wash off.”

  She dropped the other strap and the dress clung to her breasts. It wouldn't need more than a soft tug to make it crumple to the floor. His nostrils flared and he was probably coming to the same conclusion.

  Keeping up the act, she bypassed him and the bed while yanking the borrowed dress over her head. She hadn't had the time to go home to get something other than granny panties, and the laundry service hadn't come back in time that morning. Which left her very little choice but to do something crazy and wanton. She smiled at Tristan's gasp.

  She unclasped her bra and stepped fully into the bathroom. The woman she was pretending to be wouldn't close the door so she didn't. Yup, Tristan would bolt. He'd probably con his way out. Sex also wasn't a high priority—he proved that by not taking her to bed yet, with real sex. He let her set the pace.

  But he wasn't dumb.

  The man took whatever opportunity and stretched it to the breaking point. He'd follow her into the bathroom.

  She had sat under the shower's spray for a minute before he pushed back the curtain. The towel had a better handle on his waist than she initially thought. His hand fisted on the white curtain, but the lust in his eyes made her heart skip.

  She grasped the soap from the dish. She'd taken one from her cousin's pad and it left her skin smelling sweet and feeling smooth. Keri did her best not to drop it while his gaze practically devoured every inch of her bare skin. The steam of the water had yet to make the air thick and muggy, but she found it hard to breathe.

  “Did you need something?” she asked.

  “You're getting good at this.”

  She lathered up each arm as though him standing there and watching her made no difference in her world. Relationships filled up her backstory, but nothing this intimate. The only way she could stand straight and confident at his perusal was to act like it meant nothing. He planned to leave, but she'd have her fun before he could.

  “At what?” she asked.

  “Conning.”

  “Oh.” She said the smartest thing she could think to say, “And you think that why?”

  “You're a natural. Do you know the actual way to con somebody?” He said this while dropping the towel and letting go of his hold on the curtain. Not to walk away but to get in with her.

  She'd never get tired of seeing him naked. He had tan lines from working in the sun, but they only enhanced his Adonis line cutting across his hips and the muscles high on his shoulder blades. He had the kind of sleek-muscled physique you could only believe if you touched it. And she had, but not enough from the instant punch of lust that slammed into her. Just when she'd get a handle on all that there was the nipple ring.

  He left no room to protest or to give him an informal invitation to let him touch her again—not like she'd have told him to leave, anyway. And then he stood behind her. She wanted him close enough their skin stuck together the way sweaty lovers’ skin did, but only the heat of him teased her from behind.

  “Tell me,” she said.

  CHAPTER TEN

  “You've got to know what your mark wants more than anything,” Tristan told her. “Their greatest desire is right there in their grasp, you make them believe that. They are smart enough to attain it. Even with the logical side of their brain running all the pros and cons, you've got to get them to believe it's possible.”

  He reached forward, his arm brushing down her skin until his hand clasped around hers. She'd braced herself for contact, but that didn't prepare her for the brunt of the caress. He took the soap from her.

  “And how am I conning you?” she asked. “I don't know your greatest desire.”

  He drew a line up her forearm with the bar of soap, over her collarbone and down her other shoulder. “The other part of the con is getting your score.” He pressed his cock into the crease of her ass. “What do you want, Keri?”

  Steam misted the air. “You. Here.”

  He wrapped an arm around her waist, enveloping her. Water rolled down her chest, sliding over her stomach and legs. He continued to rub her arms in lazy strokes with the soap. “What else?”

  She'd practically rolled out a red carpet for him. Now she only needed to speak the words. She closed her eyes, still not brave enough, still ashamed for what she needed. Still scared she wouldn't come during penetration. And then she'd feel broken again. Worse, it would be with him too. “Sex. Real sex.”

  He stepped back, taking her with him. The spray pattered at her feet. “Lie. I'm not going to say it for you. Not tonight.”

  Tristan dragged the soap over her nipples. They beaded at the touch and the cool air. Her stomach jumped. He kept up a languid, almost clinical wash-down of her breasts. Almost, because no matter his intent, Tristan's touch ignited passion. He remained silent and waited for her to say the words. Seconds stretched and his hand lowered over her stomach, her sides...

  His breath quickened, hot against her nape. She knew what he wanted so she cocked her legs open. He slipped the soap between her thighs, but when he drew it out his finger traced the crease. She moaned, her back arching closer to his cock.

  Why wouldn't he let the soap go? She wanted to feel the roughened yet soap-slippery calluses on his palms against her skin. This wasn't even a true seduction. He bathed her to get from point A to point B. He didn't linger or let on that he enjoyed the way she felt slick and soft.

  He paused, and anticipation stole her next exhale. Tristan nudged her forward into the spray. Shocked at the abrupt movement, she almost turned around to hit him. Not that the blast of water hurt, but it wasn’t what a man did when naked with a woman, for goodness’ sake.

  Unless she broke the impenetrable silence, he'd planned to clean her up and let her out of the shower unscathed. How did one con a former con artist? How did one maneuver a man who didn't treat his erection like something that needed immediate attention, no matter how unbearably stiff and thick it grew?

  She couldn't say what he wanted, but Keri could tease him. “Get my back for me?” She glanced over her shoulder to him.

  Oh. She shouldn't have. Dangerous didn't quite fit his description when his jaw clenched and his irises darkened, barely showing through hooded lids. Her skin prickled despite the water still running warm. Did she honestly want this man unleashed? Her mind couldn't wrap around the thought that he could ever be satisfied with a kiss, caress or sucking him deep in her mouth until he came. She wanted to know what fed that predatory gleam in his gaze, so Keri offered him her back.

  He slid a hand, not soap, down the curve of her spine. “The final step to getting what you want is to make the mark believe this is their last chance, a limited opportunity.”

  She thought about that. “Make sure you get right on my tailbone. I think I walked too much in my heels today. It aches a little.”

  “Do you want me to lick you there instead?”

  She gasped, not expecting that reply. Her nipples beaded tighter. “No.” She swallowed. “Just use a bit of soap and knead it with your knuckle.”

  He chuckled, but the cool press of the soap lined her spine before he gently kneaded her tailbone. The water would turn cool soon, but she sighed. It hadn't been a full lie to tempt him. Those heels were going to be the death of her.

  She almost got lost in the soothing circular motion of his knuckle, but he flattened his hand against her back and rubbed the soap over her ass cheeks. Up again, and then he ran his finger in between. She bit down on her lip to hold in the moan. She expected more, but he sank his fingers into her hips and turned her to face him.

  “All clean.” His cock slipped against her still-slick stomach, and his nostrils flared. “You've put what your mark desires most right in their reach, you've given them a time limit to hook them. How do you close the deal?”

  She had no clue and all she wanted was for him to push the head of his cock into her. “I don't care anymore.”

  She wrapped her hand on the head of his penis. Satisfa
ction pooled in her stomach when the muscles on his torso jerked.

  “Aye,” he murmured but stepped back. “You get them to stop listening to reason, to fear and anything that stands in the way of taking your score.”

  She lifted on her toes, making sure their sex pressed intimately against each other. He groaned, cupped her ass.

  “I don't care,” she said slowly, hoping he'd lose reason.

  She nipped at his chin. Stubble had started to grow there. The spiky hairs grazed her sensitive lips. This close the whiskers were a dark auburn shade. He tilted his head down, his gaze fixed on her mouth. She rained kisses over his jaw and cheek, curling her fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck.

  “Keri.” He said her name like an epithet. He shut his eyes and stilled. His grip dug into her waist.

  She pressed her lips to the corner of his mouth. When he didn't turn his head, she traced his bottom lip with her tongue. Her heart thudded, while she waited for him to make the next move, but he could have been cut from granite.

  He wouldn't give her what she wanted until she said it. How bad did she want him in her bed? What ground would she lose? More importantly, would the woman she pretended to be say it without blinking? Yes, she would. His past was in the past. Right now he was a man tortured by passion. He was pushing his lover to be just as open and willing to do anything and everything without shame. Everything outside of bed was complicated and confusing. This was simple. Her sex felt swollen and wet already. She ached. Nothing they'd done could come close to what they could do. Her stomach clenched, her fingers trembled.

  She couldn't look him in the eye or raise her voice, so she leaned forward to his ear and whispered, “Fuck me, Tristan.”

  He made a soft growling noise. “You whispered it.” Tristan sounded both aroused and angry.