Tough Love

by Lori Foster

In a wisp of sound, she said, “Looks fade.”

  Odd reply, especially for a woman in her midtwenties, while in the middle of foreplay. “Maybe.” No matter her age, he couldn’t imagine Vanity being anything other than stunning.

  “No maybe to it,” she argued with her eyes closed, her head back. “Women get older and everything changes.”

  Sensing some hidden insecurity behind the words, Stack frowned at her. “Men age, too.”

  She turned her head away. “It’s different.”

  For a single heartbeat, he forgot about sex, about the red-hot lust pulsing through his body. A butterfly kiss to her cheek brought her face back around, her lips seeking his. He obliged her with a kiss that felt both sweet and, because this was Vanity, molten hot. “It’s nature’s way,” he explained, drawing her closer, “for two people to age together and neither notices because they’re in love.”

  Her lashes lifted, and her gaze locked on his. He saw startled confusion, dark secrets—and he saw heat.

  Stack waited, curious as to what she’d say. But when she finally spoke, it was with mild complaint and a change of subject. “I thought you were in a hurry.”

  The glide of his fingers over her abdomen made goose bumps rise. “Changed my mind.”

  Her eyes flared. “But—”

  “I want to savor you. Now hush while I get back to it.” Lightly dragging his fingertips back up her ribs, he teased around one breast, with each stroke getting closer to her nipple. She tried wrapping a hand around his neck to draw him in for a kiss. And he let her—to a point.

  But instead of her mouth he bent to her other nipple, circling it with his tongue. Wet and pink, it beaded tight, spurring him to draw her in, to suck lazily. He took extreme pleasure in the way her body shifted, how those small sounds caught in her throat.

  The lift of her hips convinced him to redirect, and he caressed his way down her body, over her ribs, the pronounced indent of her waist, the flare of her hip. He clasped her upper thigh, then rose up to see her face.

  Head tipped back, eyes closed, she inhaled through parted lips. Seeing her like this...well, he wouldn’t mind seeing her this way a lot. For weeks. Months.

  But she hadn’t promised anything close to that, so he’d make the most of the time they had.

  “Open up for me.” Ensuring she did, he urged her legs apart until her knee bent, leaving her exposed to his hungry gaze. He filled his lungs with needed oxygen. “Nice.”

  Balancing on his elbow, he looked at her mouth, then had to kiss it, first her full bottom lip, then the upper before sealing his mouth over hers. She grabbed for him, turning the kiss hungry, her tongue seeking his—still with her legs open.

  Her mouth was hot and sweet, and somehow kissing her was so much more than it’d ever been with other women.

  He didn’t like that thought, especially since Vanity had a damned stopwatch ticking on their time together.

  To regain himself, he rested his hand low on her belly. “You wet again, darlin’?”

  Thick lashes lifted, and she stared at him. “You’re naked, touching me. Of course I am.”

  Holding her gaze, he whispered, “Let me see.” Using his palm, he rubbed over her until she again lifted to his touch. Little by little he curved his hand so that his fingers slid over her with each up and down rub.

  “Ah...God,” she breathed.

  Damned if she didn’t look close to coming again. He wanted her to. A lot. With two fingers he slid over her slick lips. “Yeah,” he growled. “Nice and wet.”

  “Stack,” she said on a vibrating moan.

  Using her own slick moisture, he moved up to her swollen clit.

  Brows pinching in acute pleasure, she bit her lip, and her hips flexed up to meet his touch, to stroke in counterpoint to his.

  “You wanna say please again, darlin’? I do like hearing it.”

  She lifted to him. “Ah... Stack!” Her breath caught, and she twisted. “Please, please, please.”

  Yeah, he liked seeing that, too, the sinuous roll of her body as she reached for the orgasm he’d give her. Getting down to business, he gave up the visual of her and instead went back to her nipple, sucking more strongly now.

  On a guttural groan, she gripped his hair and kept him locked to her. Knowing she’d like it, he shifted his hand so that two fingers pressed deep, easily because of her wetness. Making sure she wouldn’t miss a beat, he brought his thumb up to her clitoris, softly circling—and she cried out.

  Her whole body clenched, one of her thighs closing over his hand, new moisture bathing his fingers with each hot, rhythmic clasp of her body. At every inhalation, her heated scent filled his head.

  Filled him.

  Christ, she turned him inside out. As the tremors faded and she slowly sank away from him, Stack gave her breast one last, barely-there kiss, and again went to his elbow.

  Her breasts were flushed. Pretty.

  Sweat dampened her cheeks just beneath her eyes. Sweet.

  And her hair... He took his time playing with it, rearranging it around the pillow until finally she got her eyes open.

  “Hey.” He brushed his mouth over hers. “It’s hot as hell the way you come.”

  That made her blink. She sucked in air, slowly blew it out, then did it again.

  Stack smiled. He liked having Vanity Baker disoriented from pleasure. “You okay?”

  She stared at him with wonder. “That was...”

  “Yeah?”

  “I don’t have words.”

  Another grin. “I think please is the word you used most.”

  “Shush it, mister.”

  That made him laugh. Since when did he find sex this amusing? He’d wanted her for so long that he should have been driving deep already. Instead, he said helpfully, “Then how about stupendous? Awesome? Satisfying?”

  She sighed dramatically, reached out and laid her palm to his chest, directly over his galloping heart. “All that.” Suddenly her fingers tightened in his chest hair.

  He flinched, but quickly stilled. “Ow, hey now.”

  Looking stern, she jokingly ordered, “No more playing, Hannigan.” She lightly tugged. “Time to get down to business.”

  “Yeah, I think you’re right.” Catching her wrist so she couldn’t render his chest bald, he leaned in.

  Her lips parted. So did his.

  The obnoxious, unique ringing from his cell made them both jump. And since she still had her fingers caught in his chest hair, he gave a very real grimace.

  “I’m sorry!” She turned him loose, only to let out an “oof” when he dropped his head to her breasts.

  Catching on real quick, she asked, “What? You can ignore it, right? Tell me you can ignore it!”

  He wished. “Sorry, no.” Twisting away from her, he snatched up the phone, glanced at the caller ID out of habit—because he already knew he’d take the call—and swiped his thumb over the screen to answer. “Better be good, Armie, or I swear to God—”

  “I’m sorry, dude. Really fucking sorry.”

  Yeah, he knew that already, too. Armie wouldn’t have called him, not from the cell with that particular ringtone, without a damned good reason. “Let’s hear it.” The ensuing hesitation made Stack sit up a little straighter. “Armie...”

  Finally, Armie said, “Your sis called.”

  Seriously? Because it’d been... Stack had to stop and think. But somewhere around six weeks or so had passed since last he’d talked to anyone in his whack-ass family. And that last time, well, it hadn’t been good. He’d managed to alienate himself.

  They’d all needed some time, so for the most part he’d been okay with that.

  But if Tabitha had called, she had to have a reason. God knew she wouldn’t be the first to break their silent war unless she’d had no choice. “Tell me.”

  “She said not to panic, but your mom is in the hospital. She collapsed or something. I tried to get the deets, but she was seriously having a meltdown.”

  That
would have alarmed Stack more except that Tabby melted down over a broken nail. “I’ll call her.”

  “Let me know if there’s anything I can do.”

  “Thanks.” Stack disconnected and then looked at his missed-calls log. Sure enough, Tabby had called him three times, all while he’d been in the shower with Vanity. And thinking of Vanity...

  His hot gaze moved over her perfect form stretched out on the bed, buck-ass naked.

  Everything in him protested, because he knew he’d have to go.

  “What?” she asked without sitting up. “Everything okay?”

  Her eyes, now more alert but still simmering with need, searched over his face.

  “Sorry.” Stack stood and turned his back on temptation. “I need to book.”

  He heard the rustle of sheets and the rush of air behind him. Vanity’s arms came around him from behind, her breasts to his back.

  “No.” She squeezed him more tightly. “Nooooooooo.”

  Smiling at her forlorn wail, he brought her around in front of him. “If I had any other choice, no way would I budge.”

  “Then why?”

  “Something’s come up, and I’m needed elsewhere.”

  Now more subdued, Vanity hugged him as if trying to offer comfort.

  But, yeah, being naked with her sort of obliterated any chance of him feeling soothed.

  “That was Armie?”

  “Yeah, and he sends his apologies.” With that he stepped away to find his pants.

  Which meant he’d have to hit up the hospital in a freaking tux. Shit.

  From behind him, he heard Vanity moving around the room. “If it’s that important, then I guess it’s a good thing you didn’t ignore it.”

  He turned in time to see her headed to a drawer. She lifted out silky little panties and stepped into them. Wanting to groan in frustration, Stack sat on the side of the bed and pulled on his socks. “Believe me, I would have if it hadn’t been the signal.”

  “The signal?”

  “Yeah. You know we all help out in the community, right? Well, we each carry two cell phones, and when something’s up, we use the cell that we’ve set with a special ringtone to alert the others. That was from the emergency cell.”

  “With a special ringtone.” Excited, she grinned as she hooked on a matching bra, then slid it around and adjusted her breasts in the cups.

  Mind boggling.

  While pulling on a shirt, she said, “So it’s like a bat signal.”

  “What?” Watching Vanity dress was a huge distraction, slowing his own progress.

  “You know. Like on Batman. Do-do, do-do, do-do, do-do, Baaatman.”

  “No,” he told her flatly, a little insulted, a little turned on, a lot in a hurry. “Not like a bat signal.”

  “Sure it is.” She stepped into skinny jeans, then jumped a few times—God save him—to get them up.

  He had no idea why she was getting dressed, but the way the girl bounced was enough to keep him hard.

  Lowering her voice comically, Vanity spoke like an announcer. “The town needs you, the signal goes out, and you guys...” Dropping the theatrics, she asked, “What? Congregate and plot out formation or something?”

  “You’re poking fun.”

  Letting her finger and thumb almost touch, she said, “Just a little bit.”

  “I wanted to fuck you so bad.”

  Instead of being insulted, she propped her hands on her hips and gave him a look. “Instead, you kept messing around.”

  “Giving you screaming orgasms.”

  She softened. Harking back to the idiotic joke about him being a wolf and how ladies reacted, she said, “At least I didn’t howl, right?”

  Mocking her, he said, “Little bit.”

  She laughed. “Well, I wouldn’t want to ruin your rep.” Now decently covered, she sat on the bed beside him and pulled on socks. “So what’s happening? A street light go out? Lady’s cat stuck in a tree? Somebody have a flat tire?”

  “No, smart-ass.” Is that really what she thought they did? If so, he wouldn’t correct her. Soon enough she’d find out that, with Cannon’s leadership, they’d become watchdogs for the neighborhood. Together they’d run off drug dealers, stopped extortion, helped family-run businesses stay open, and secured the safety of the young and the elderly. Being honest, Stack told her, “But if that happened, we’d help if we could.”

  “Of course you would.” She looked beneath the bed, found ankle boots and, sitting on the floor, pulled them on. “So what’s going on then?”

  He eyed the boots with curiosity. Why the hell was she getting dressed? “My mom collapsed.”

  Her face fell. “Oh, God, Stack.” Scrambling back to her feet, she said, “I’m so sorry!”

  She looked sincerely, deeply sorry. Huh. They hadn’t yet slept together, she’d never met his mom, but she cared all the same. “My sister called while we were in the shower. When she couldn’t reach me, she called Armie.”

  “She knows him?”

  “They’ve met. In case of an emergency she has his number along with a few others.”

  Her small hand covered her mouth. “So this is an emergency?”

  “Hard to say.” He stood and buttoned up his tux shirt, leaving it untucked. “Tabby’s all into drama, so if Mom stubbed her toe, she’d be as likely to call it life and death.”

  Gasping, Vanity whispered, “Life and death? That was her message?”

  He had to grin at her horrified expression. “No, she just told Armie that Mom collapsed. I’ll call her on my way out to find out the details.”

  Nodding, Vanity rushed to her closet and withdrew a dark poncho. She snagged his hand and started out of the room. “Come on.”

  When Stack didn’t budge, she pulled up short.

  They stared at each other.

  “Why are you waiting? You need to make that call!”

  Stack nodded. “Where do you think you’re going?”

  “With you.”

  She said that so matter-of-factly that he frowned in suspicion. “Why would you—”

  Exasperated, she hooked her arm through his and tried to get him moving. “You haven’t yet met your obligations. Until you do, I’m not giving you a chance to back out.”

  “Believe me, I’ll be back as soon as possible.” He allowed her to drag him to the front door. This time, knowing sex wasn’t on the agenda, he looked around with more interest.

  “I’m going with you.”

  “Not to a hospital to meet my family.”

  “Yes.”

  Giving up his perusal of her interesting artwork, he turned to her. The innocence in her face amped up his suspicions even more. “That makes zero sense, darlin’, and you know it.”

  She huffed an impatient breath. “Look at it this way. All the wedding gifts are still in the trunk of your car.”

  “Like I said, I’ll be back to finish this.”

  Her hands twisted in his dress shirt. “You might need me.”

  Yeah, he needed her all right. Naked and willing. And she would be. Soon. “Vanity—”

  “What if things are worse than you’re thinking?”

  “I told you, my sister is a master of hysteria.” He’d learned a long time ago not to get too bent out of shape when Tabby screamed gloom and destruction.

  Staring up at him, Vanity bit her lip, waffled, then moved in for full-body contact, snaking her arms around his neck, aligning her mouth with his, kissing him until he damn near got another boner.

  When she finally let up, she whispered, “Please?” Her hands were now in his hair, her lips wet and her eyes dark. “You promised me a day together after the wedding, and it’s barely been an hour.”

  He’d promised her good sex, and, as he recalled, she’d insisted it be brief. But whatever. Maybe this was his opportunity to turn it into more. Did he dare expose her to the craziness?

  Would his mom latch on to her? Probably.

  Would his sister try to make a big deal o
f it? He snorted. Yes.

  “What?” Her gaze searched his. “What was that rude sound for?”

  Warning her, Stack said, “My family is whack.” He opened the door and led her outside. “Don’t bitch to me later when you wish you’d stayed home.”

  “I never bitch.” Now that she’d gotten her way she happily trotted alongside him to keep up with his long-legged gait. And she smiled.

  Proof positive—women were impossible to understand.

  * * *

  DAMP EARLY-MORNING AIR cut through her excitement, making her shiver. Quickly, Vanity slipped the poncho over her head before getting back into Stack’s car.

  Rather than hurry around to his side, he leaned in, one hand overhead on the frame, the other on the open door. He looked bemused. And still very interested.

  Of course, he hadn’t yet gotten his. No, the wonderful man had put aside his own pleasure to give her two bone-melting orgasms.

  When he reached out two fingers to stroke her hair away from her face, she stilled. The same rough fingers slid over her cheek, down beneath her chin, and tipped up her face so he could plant a soft, damp kiss on her lips.

  Was he regretting her intrusion? Even she had to admit that she’d shoved her way in with the subtlety of a typhoon. Not to herself, much less to him, would she confess how fearful she was of him walking away—and considering the job done.

  God, not that sex with her should be a job, but she wanted time enough to work on him, to show him they had more in common than lust. If a family illness kept him away all day, or even all week, would he still have any interest in finishing what they’d started?

  Trying to sound blasé instead of uneasy, she said, “I know I’m a mess. But you’re in a tux, so—”

  He shook his head. “How is it you look this good? I watched you get ready in under two minutes. Your makeup is gone. You didn’t even comb your hair, much less do all that other stuff women do. You’re wearing jeans and this—” he lifted the edge of her big poncho “—blanket thing. And still you look like a centerfold model.”

  “Wow.” The laugh hopefully covered her embarrassment. “Just what I was aiming for—something from a spank mag.”

  “You succeeded.” Ignoring her sarcasm, he kissed her again. “Buckle up.”

  She watched him circle the car and get behind the wheel. He backed out of the driveway and onto the road. Using a button on his steering wheel, he brought up his hands-free calling. A second later a phone rang from the car speaker and was immediately answered by a shrill female voice.