More: A Body Work Novel (The Body Work Trilogy Book 4)

by Sierra Kincade

  He pushed his hands into his pockets. The collar of his dress shirt stretched open to reveal the top of his undershirt because of the button she’d torn free earlier.

  “It’s not usually good news when she comes out wearing more clothes,” he said. The concern in his voice made her heart throb.

  She moved closer, the flip flops she’d put on smacking against her heels. Forcing herself to stand straight, she stopped before him, far enough away that he couldn’t reach out and touch her. The bare walls seemed to close in around them.

  “I was seventeen when I lost my virginity,” she said. “I’ve only been with one man, and it’s been more than two years since we were together.”

  The floor creaked as Mike shifted his weight. She stared into his eyes, bright even in the low light, and was surprised at the small burst of strength she felt.

  “I’m not good at this. I don’t...” She glanced away, then reached into the bag, slung over her shoulder. She pulled out the bottle of lube she’d picked up at the store earlier. “I need this, otherwise...you know.”

  He still didn’t speak. She hid the bottle back in her bag.

  “Based on the sheer volume of condoms in your car and all this,” she motioned to his traffic-stopping, model body, “I think it’s probably safe to say you have a little more experience than me. So if there’s something you like, maybe you could tell me, and I could try it.” She hesitated. “I want to try.”

  Nothing.

  “Or if we’re done, just say the word so I don’t have to embarrass myself any further.”

  She might have been wearing more clothes, but she might as well have been completely naked.

  “You sweet girl,” he said quietly.

  Any remaining air sucked out of her lungs. He was patronizing her. Now, when she’d laid herself bare.

  “You know what? Never mind.” She clutched her purse tighter. “This was a bad–”

  “Amy, you weren’t the one who wasn’t good. He just didn’t know how to touch you.”

  Her hands found her hips.

  “And you do?”

  “No.” He gave her a small smile. “Not yet.”

  She went still. His words sounded like a threat, but the kind that had her intrigued, not backing down.

  “This is new for me, too,” he said.

  Now it was her that was waiting. He lifted one hand and wrapped it around the back of his neck, and there was something so vulnerable about the way he dug the toe of his shoe into the floor that the cold in her veins began to thaw.

  “I don’t date,” he said. “I haven’t since Denise. There have been other women. More than maybe there should be. I don’t keep their numbers. We don’t go out. They never come home.”

  Her stomach tightened. “You just sleep together.”

  His jaw twitched.

  “I make a point to keep things simple. It’s easier that way. I tell myself it’s because of Chloe.”

  She wasn’t sure she liked where this was going, but she’d wanted his honesty and here it was.

  “Is it...I mean, are you safe about it?” She knew that desperate need to connect with someone after a loss. Grief made you stupid sometimes.

  His eyes narrowed, just for a moment. “Always.”

  He took a step closer, and she again became aware of the space between them.

  “This isn’t simple,” he said.

  He lifted his hand, and his fingertips grazed down her cheek.

  After Danny, her life had become about safety and routine. Protecting herself. But this man was stripping down her defenses and exposing her insecurities, and the worst part was, she was letting him. She couldn’t walk away. Not after the trial had ended, or when Iris had left. Not now.

  She was leaning closer again, and when the bag slipped off her shoulder and clunked against the floor, she startled. He stopped her from picking it up with a gentle hand, curving around her ribs.

  “You surprised me downstairs. I don’t have any expectations. Not when it comes to this.”

  She wanted to believe him, the truth was right there in his eyes. But everyone had expectations when it came to sex, and more than anything, she wanted to live up to his.

  “Could we start over?” she asked.

  “As many times as you want,” he said. But his hand moved away from her side, and he motioned down the hallway. “Come on. I’ll give you the ten cent tour.”

  She followed him room by room, feeling her nerves settle as he told her the modifications he’d made. New windows. A gutted closet. He’d replaced the ceiling because of a leak in the roof. The house was deceivingly large while still appearing quaint—if not a little rundown—on the outside. There were four bedrooms, not including a small office with a polished wood floor. The master had a nice layout, and he’d already redone the vanity and the mirror in the bathroom. The shower looked midway through a retiling job. Beige tiles were stacked on the floor, and the fixtures were covered with plastic bags held in place by tape.

  A big family would live here. A couple would make love in this bedroom, and their kids would decorate these rooms. She’d dreamed of a house just like this after she had Danny had gotten married. And when he’d left, he’d taken that dream with him. She couldn’t forgive him for that. Silencing her hope was worse than anything else he’d done to her.

  “I can hear you thinking from here, Hummingbird.”

  Mike leaned against the bedroom wall, just outside the bathroom, pride lifting the corners of his mouth. As he crossed his arms over his chest, his biceps flexed beneath the white fabric, and she shivered, remembering how tightly he’d held her downstairs.

  “You could add a splash of red around the center,” she said. “It’d break up the sandstone a bit.”

  He considered this. “Not a bad idea.”

  “I like color.”

  “I know.” He smirked. “That was the first thing I noticed about you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Your hair.” He walked toward her, slow enough to make the butterflies in her belly flutter their wings. “It used to be red. You wore it longer then.”

  She watched as he reached for her hair, twisting a lock around her finger.

  “You remember that? That was...” she did the math. “Almost three years ago, I guess.”

  “I remember,” he said again.

  She turned away from the window to face him fully. “I didn’t meet you until the picnic after Alec came home.” But she’d seen him before, of course. The first time had been at preschool registration, when she’d been so distracted by his gorgeous smile that she’d completely forgotten to hand in Paisley’s forms. That had been months after she’d started beauty school. She’d still been with Danny at the time. At least, on paper. He’d been staying with a “band mate” for a while by then.

  “My mom was watching your girl,” he said. “I saw you in the mornings, going to your car as I was dropping off Chloe. Silver apron. Dye up to your elbows.” He smiled. “You’re hard to miss.”

  She’d seen him, too, through her little kitchen window when he’d picked up Chloe from his mom’s. It had touched her, the way that big, handsome man had held his daughter’s hand across the parking lot. Even after her divorce, even after Iris’s repeated attempts to arrange a meeting, she’d known he’d been too good to be true. She hadn’t even considered making up a reason to run into him. She’s stayed in her kitchen, watching, holding onto those moments like a secret.

  It was silly, but she wondered if she’d been his secret, too.

  “It makes me brave. The hair. All the...stuff.”

  This felt like a huge confession.

  “Maybe you’ve got it backwards,” he suggested. “You already are brave. It’s a window in.”

  One finger twisted in her hair. She’d come to expect nervousness around him, anywhere from butterflies to full-on sweaty-armpit panic. But this feeling of being more comfortable with herself was something she wasn’t used to, and she didn’
t know what to do about that.

  “Your mom was the reason I went to beauty school, you know,” she said, trying to lighten the sudden intensity of her feelings. “She told me she got her hair done there because it was cheaper than a salon, and that she’d seen a flyer that they were accepting new students.” Amy had been hiding away some money, just in case. It wasn’t enough to start over, but it was enough to get through her first month. “She watched Paisley while I went to class. For the first semester I couldn’t even pay her.”

  She hadn’t told Danny because she thought it would make him mad, but when he’d found out, he hadn’t even cared. He didn’t want to hear how hard she’d worked to be the best in her class, or how she’d talked her instructors into moving her on the floor faster so that she could keep some money coming in. She’d been gone four days a week for a month, and he hadn’t even asked where she was going.

  She picked at her thumbnail. “Why didn’t you talk to me? Our kids were hanging out almost every day.”

  “You weren’t free,” he said.

  She looked down. She hadn’t been free until the day Danny had dropped off the divorce papers. That was when he’d cut the last tie, and finally let her go.

  If she’d been strong enough, smart enough, she would have set herself free.

  She wouldn’t make the same mistake again.

  Tentatively, she placed one hand on Mike’s chest, watching the way her fingers spread over the thin fabric of his shirt. She placed the other beside it, liking the feel of him, but also aware of the distance this created between their bodies.

  “Can I try again?” he asked.

  A small tremor worked through her. She wanted to say that he’d done nothing wrong, he didn’t need to ask for a second chance, but all she said was, “Yes.”

  He took her hand, and led her down the stairs. She was aware of every creak in the steps, of the way her cotton shirt brushed over her skin, of the rough feel of his fingers weaving between hers. He took her into the room with the blanket, and while she waited, clasping and unclasping her hands, he lit the candles.

  “I just want to hold you,” he said. “Is that all right?”

  She stilled. Her mind immediately turned to doubt. No real man really wanted that. Maybe this was some kind of foreplay, and even if it was, she couldn’t say she was opposed to the idea. But his eyes calmed her. His open palms gave her a strange feeling of peace. And when he lowered to the floor, she laid down beside him, and tentatively rested her head on his shoulder. His heart beat strong and true. It steadied her, like the rocking of a ship.

  “You feel good,” he told her, strong arms pulling her closer. “Talk to me. Tell me something.”

  She thought about this for a moment.

  “When I was little I wanted to own a hotel,” she said. “A giant house with big open doors where anyone was welcome. I’d host dinners in the restaurant, and have a pool where everyone could swim. I even learned how to make those flowers out of cloth napkins to put on everyone’s plates.”

  Even from a young age she’d wanted to be surrounded by noise, and love, and warmth. Everything her own home wasn’t.

  “I wanted to be a bull rider,” he said.

  She snorted.

  “I saw it on TV once. That or Spiderman.”

  “Why not both? Peter Parker would obviously have the upper hand. Sticky fingers, you know.”

  She could feel him smile.

  As the candles flickered, they talked. They told stories about the girls and laughed about the parenting milestones no one had prepared them for: the time Chloe had fallen off the bed when he’d been changing her, the first time Paisley had projectile vomited straight down Amy’s shirt, the long nights of teething when it felt like they would never, ever sleep again.

  His fingertips trailed up and down her bare arm. Her knee rose up his thigh, finding a comfortable place to rest. Their muscles stiffened, then relaxed as they adjusted to each other’s bodies.

  She felt like a teenager, trying to milk every second out of the night, fighting sleep because it meant she couldn’t look at him, and laugh with him, and touch him, even for a little while.

  The last thing she remembered was him kissing her brow, and saying thank you, though she couldn’t remember what for.

  Chapter Thirteen

  She woke early, cheek resting on Mike’s warm shoulder. One of her legs was locked around his, and her arm held him close, clinging to him like he might slip away. Only seconds passed before a panic started needling in her chest. She hadn’t checked on Paisley before bed. Even though they’d been talking about her, Amy hadn’t even thought to call.

  Easing off of Mike, she reached for the phone, on the small table beside the candles he’d blown out before they’d fallen asleep. Every creak in the floor made her wince. She kept the phone in hibernation, not wanting to wake him.

  Before standing, she looked down on him, sleeping peacefully. His head was turned slightly to the side, toward where she’d fitted against him, and his lips were slightly parted. The rise and fall of his chest was rhythmic, hypnotizing, and her gaze followed the crinkled lines in his dress shirt, now only half tucked in.

  He’d held her all night, just like he’d said, and she’d felt safe enough to sleep in his arms. Safe. Not like a failure. After the way things had started between them in the kitchen, she could have raked herself over the coals for screwing everything up, but she hadn’t. That tugged at something deep inside her.

  Standing slowly, she locked herself into a half-finished bathroom on the first floor. Her phone said it was just after five. They still had a little time before they had to leave. A missed text message flashed its alert, and when she opened it, her jaw dropped open at the picture that appeared on the screen.

  Alec. In full makeup.

  Obviously the girls had done it; he looked more like a clown than a drag queen with the bright pink circles of blush on his cheeks, and the red outline of lipstick that surrounded his entire mouth. His hair stuck out in two lopsided pigtails.

  Raided your supplies, was all the message from Anna said.

  Poor Alec. Dads signed up for that. To-be-newlyweds, not so much. Not that she felt particularly sorry for him.

  When she left the bathroom, she found Mike just rising in the living room. He was barely discernable in pre-dawn light, mostly shadows, but something stirred in her belly as she watched him. The outline of his body in the dark was primal, and made her think of urgent touches, and heated whispers.

  “Hey,” he said.

  She swallowed.

  “Everything okay?” Mike placed his own cell down on the box. Clearly he hadn’t received the same message from Anna, otherwise he would have been laughing.

  “Yeah,” she said, tossing her phone in her purse. He could see the picture later.

  The way he looked at her made her whole body come alive. Even in the dark she could feel his stare, peeling away her clothes, making her breath come faster. She was wearing a T-shirt, and leggings, and boring underwear, but she felt sort of sexy.

  She walked toward him, and maybe it was the dark that made her brave, or maybe it was how safe and strong she felt after a night in his arms, but she rose on her toes, and kissed the open spread of his shirt collar, where the strong muscles of his shoulder met the long cords of his neck.

  His abs hardened instantly.

  I’m doing that to him, she thought. I’m turning him on.

  She watched his throat work to swallow as his hands found her waist. Minutes ago they’d been asleep, this room as calm and peaceful as her dreams, but the air was changing now. The space between them was charged, she could feel it on her skin, making her ultra sensitive. His eyes stayed on her, reading her every movement.

  “Tell me something you like.” Her gaze followed one of his hands as it slid down over her hip. She unbuttoned his shirt, one piece at a time, until she could spread her hands over his thin undershirt.

  “I like your mouth,” he said a lit
tle roughly, and leaned down to take her lower lip between his. Her hands gripped his shoulders for support as the heat sizzled down her spine.

  “I like the way you feel.” His thumb rubbed along the top of her hip and her breath released in a shudder. Part of her couldn’t believe he still wanted to touch her like this. He was still, to her, that secret she watched through her kitchen window.

  “I like how you smell.” He nuzzled his face into her hair and inhaled slowly. “I know I’ll love how you taste.”

  A warning rang in her brain, and she clung to it, because the sudden need that scored through her system was too unfamiliar. Men didn’t really like that, Danny had said.

  Danny had said lots of things that weren’t true, though.

  Everything she knew about intimacy was tipping on its side. This wasn’t the calculated game she knew. This was slower, hotter, more...consuming. She could barely think, and that worried her, because she didn’t let herself lose control. That’s when you gave away your power. That’s when you got hurt.

  “We’ll go slow,” he promised, as if reading her mind. “What if I just kiss you awhile?”

  She nodded, still struggling to keep her wits about her.

  “You tell me when it’s too much.” His hand wrapped around her lower back and pulled her closer, so that their bodies touched, and his hardness rested against her belly. She sighed in relief at the physical proof that he desired her.

  When he kissed her again, she felt the world sway, and then the floor disappear beneath her bare feet. His mouth was so soft against hers, coaxing her lips open, drawing her tongue behind his teeth. She held onto his shoulders, bowed over so that he could accommodate her height. As his mouth found that place on her neck, below her ear, she gave a small whimper.

  “That,” he growled softly. “You like that, don’t you?”

  She nodded, because she couldn’t speak.

  “Can I touch you?”

  Her breath tumbled out. “Do you have a condom?”