by K. A. Tucker
I tip my head back and let out an exaggerated moan. “I do see that!”
“Well, then when is this going to end? How far are you going to go with this?”
“I haven’t decided yet.” That’s the truth. I’ve played a few scenarios out in my head, but I’m not married to any of them.
“Well . . .” A wry smile curls her lips. “At least you have Ben to keep you occupied.”
“I do,” I agree, smiling as I peer over my shoulder through the window.
To see a platinum-blond hovering and Ben grinning down at her. “Shit. When did she get here?” What happened to those litigation guys keeping her entertained? I guess she’s not after just any lawyer.
She’s after mine.
I take a long draw of my beer as I try to make sense of the tightening feeling in my gut right now. Is it jealousy that he’s been with her? Disappointment that that smile’s not reserved only for me?
“Well, you’d better get in there before she puts her stripper moves on him,” Nicki says, standing. I follow suit and find myself face to face with Mason.
“Hey.” His face pinches up a bit. “Can I talk to you for a minute?” I look over his shoulder, but there’s no Lina in sight. “She’s inside,” he confirms, adding, “doing shots with Kent and Travis.”
“Ooooh . . .” both Nicki and I wail in unison. “Lina plus shots equals pukey-pukey tomorrow. Make sure you have a bucket,” I warn Mason, adding, “and hold her hair back.” Mason’s not going to deal with boyfriend vomit duties very well. This may prove a true test to their relationship.
“Catch you inside,” Nicki says with a pat on my shoulder, leaving me alone with my stepbrother. I fall back into the lawn chair and he joins me, to sit silently as I watch a stray cat dart across the street, its eyes glowing against an approaching car’s headlights.
“So . . . I think I know what’s going on.”
“You’re so clever.” I reach up to stroke his head and he swats my hand away, an annoyed frown touching his face.
“You know, when you moved back, I was sure you were trying to swindle Jack out of money. But so far you’ve done nothing but work and try not to act insane. My dad’s really happy, Reese. I haven’t seen him this happy in a long time.” He pauses. “And he wouldn’t be happy if he knew what you were doing.”
He’s playing the Jack card on me. And it’s working, guilt settling onto my shoulders like a dead weight. “Are you referring to what I’m doing with Ben or Jared?”
“Both.” Mason pauses. “You know, relationships aren’t supposed to be like this, Reese. I don’t know if you’re going after guys like this because you’re a glutton for punishment or because you’ve just never seen what a decent relationship looks like, but—”
“I’m not after Ben,” I snap. “And Jared was all heart and no head. That’s really the only way I can describe that.”
“And were you using your head tonight?” he pushes. “Because I get the impression that you think you have a score to settle with your ex.”
“What do you care, Mason? I get that you want to be nice to me because of Lina, but don’t suddenly try to be my big brother.”
“That’s not . . .” His lips purse together tightly. “Don’t you ever wonder why your mom is the way she is? What made her so callous? People don’t just grow up like that.”
“No, I don’t, Mason. I try not to think about Annabelle at all.” My irritation is growing by the second. Where the hell is Lina? She needs to come fetch her boyfriend.
“Well, I think it had something to do with what happened between her and your dad. I think she never got over it, and that makes her chew up good men like Jack.”
“And what happened between Annabelle and my dad exactly, Mason? Because I’d love to know and I sure as hell have no idea. Do you?” I learned at a very young age that bringing up Hank MacKay got me nowhere but sent to my room. Annabelle could have ranted about my father to me, but what she chose to do was far worse. She just pretended that he didn’t exist.
“No, I don’t,” he admits. “But I know that we’d all hate to see you turn into her.” He sighs. “I knew she was cheating on my dad before he did. I heard her on the phone, late one night. I just wasn’t sure who it was with. Then, when my dad caught them . . .” Mason’s jaw clenches. “I hated seeing him cry over her.”
A lump spikes in my throat. Jack cried over Annabelle? I certainly never saw Annabelle shed a tear over Jack. In fact, I don’t think I’ve seen her cry since the day I watched her set fire to a box of my dad’s things in the driveway. She stood there, her arms wrapped around her body tight, ignoring my questions, until there was nothing left but ashes.
“Well, I’m not Annabelle and don’t ever compare me to her.”
Mason’s mouth twists up. “I really hope that’s true, Reese.”
“All right.” I stand, struggling to quash the bubble of pain rising. “I’m going to join your girlfriend for some shots.” I round the corner and step through the doorway.
And find Ben with a Twinkie attached to his chest.
Chapter 24
BEN
Shit. This really isn’t helping right now. I peer down at Mercy, at her tits pressed up against my chest, the man-made cleavage through the center. I’m betting Mercy was an A—B, tops—before her implants. “You took the entire night off?”
She shrugs and then offers me a coy smile.
Fuck. I’m halfway drunk and now I have a sure thing rubbing her nipples against me. Where the hell is Reese? She wouldn’t have left without her phone and I’m not giving that back until tomorrow. The last thing I need her doing is responding to him. Leaving the party to go meet him. To do what? Vengeance fuck the guy?
I shouldn’t care, but I do. I’m just having a hard time figuring out exactly why. I don’t like watching my friends make stupid mistakes, but my gut is feeling off about the entire situation. I take a long sip of my beer as I try to figure out if I’m more bothered by her acting like an idiot or her screwing around with another guy when I want to be the one screwing around with her. The woman has turned me upside down. Ben Morris does not concern himself with this kind of shit. Ben Morris goes with the flow. Ben Morris is fucking Switzerland! He can get hot ass wherever and whenever he wants it, no strings attached.
“Are you upset about something?” My eyes find Mercy’s double-Ds waiting for me when I look down. Case in point. Though this doesn’t appear to be without strings anymore.
I give her my best dimpled grin. “Do I look upset?” Shit, do I?
“So what’s going on with that lawyer from your office?” she asks innocently.
“Just a friend,” I admit, not bothering to correct her on the lawyer piece.
“A friend like me?” Her hand slides down the front of my pants. Mercy giggles as she feels the hard-on I’ve been carrying around since Reese stalked into the bar in her red dress. “So this is okay? I mean, she could join if she wanted to.”
I struggle to keep beer from spraying out of my mouth with my burst of laughter as I picture Reese’s face in response to that proposition. It’s followed by a rush of blood southward. Damn, that could be hot. I wonder if she’d be into that?
Cool hands slide up under my shirt and then back down to my belt. “Want your gift now?”
Oh, hell. I stall her fingers with my hand. Where is Reese? Her friends are at a table pounding shots of tequila and Jäger, but she’s not there. Scanning the crowd, I catch Kacey’s eye. I don’t know when she got here. I give her a wave. She responds with a nod toward Mercy and then that “what are you doing?” glare.
“I leave you alone for two minutes . . .” I hear Reese’s voice—laced with annoyance—coming from my left and I quickly maneuver out of Mercy’s grasp to wrap both arms around Reese’s body in a close-fitting hug.
“Please don’t leave me again,” I whisper into her ear. “I’m defenseless against her.”
“Jackass,” she mutters, glaring up at me. I can’t tel
l, but I think she may be genuinely mad at me. There’s definitely a spark of anger in those gorgeous eyes.
So I drop a lightning-fast kiss on her lips and beg, “Save me from her silicone.”
She cocks her head to the side, her gaze dipping down to my mouth. “You know you’re a pig, right?” The bite is gone from her tone, though. In fact, I feel her leaning farther into me.
“Yeah, but I’m your pig tonight.”
“You weren’t lying.”
I smile. “Mama bought me two sets.”
“I didn’t think they even made them for a bed this big,” she murmurs, her finger tracing over a grinning Buzz Lightyear. Her gaze roams my room—the plain blackout curtains, a couple of empty beer bottles lining the dresser, and a wall of half-naked football cheerleaders, each poster signed and personalized to me.
“It’s exactly as I pictured it.” She steps over to read one of the messages and then shakes her head. “So, when do you plan on growing up?”
“Never. Just call me Peter Pan.” I don’t even notice the posters anymore. They’re like wallpaper. I figured I’d toss them when I move, whenever that is. I’ve actually started scanning the newspapers for a one-bedroom apartment, but the very idea of living alone isn’t appealing. That’s the thing I like about living in a house with five guys—there’s always someone around, always people coming and going. Just like growing up with my brothers and Elsie.
I thrive on that kind of chaos.
She glances coyly over her shoulder at me before her attention drifts to another poster—a Dallas Cowboys cheerleader who I met at a tailgate party and who developed a little crush on me. “So these are all fairies? Where are their wings?”
“Removable,” I offer, taking slow steps toward her, her bare shoulders and smooth skin begging to be touched. After the slew of almosts, I can’t believe I finally have Reese in my bedroom. I’ve never worked this hard to get laid in my entire life.
“As are their panties, I’m sure you discovered quickly,” I hear her mutter under her breath, her eyes still searching the wall, her jaw working against itself.
“How about you focus less on these women and more on the soon-to-be-naked guy standing behind you. If that really is your thing . . . I’m still wondering.”
I grunt as her sharp elbow flies back to jab my stomach, but it doesn’t dissuade me from shifting her hair off to one shoulder, giving my mouth access to her slender neck.
“You know, you’re a lot different than I thought,” she purrs, her body falling back into my chest, her head tilting up to give me a full view down the top of her dress.
I can’t help myself from grabbing her hips and jerking that full ass of hers into me, to let her feel how bad I want her. She rocks her hips against me in response; such a simple move and yet it’s driving me wild.
“How so?” I’ve been eyeing her dress for access points all night, so I know that the zipper runs along her rib cage instead of her back. Slipping my fingers up under her arm, I locate the slider and tug it gently. The tautness in the top of the dress immediately gives, the material folding over itself and falling to uncover a matching red lace bra. Another quick move by my fingers and I have that dropping to the floor.
“I don’t know. You just . . .” Her words fade in a heavy sigh as I reach up to fill my hands with her tits, trying hard not to squeeze them too tight. I don’t know what it is about the way she sighs, but it makes my ability to restrain myself vanish.
I slide my hands down her waist, my fingers working their way under the dress and panties until I’m able to push them into a heap on the floor and she’s stepping out of them without my request. Kicking them out of the way, I grab her waist and spin her around to face me. “Good, different?” I ask with a playful smirk as I press her up against the wall and force her legs apart, enough to make room for me as I fit my body between them.
I won’t lie. I’ve been in this exact position with women many times before. But being here now, with Reese, somehow feels new.
Her breath hitches, her arms moving to wrap around my neck and yank me down to meet her mouth, slipping her tongue in and out before I can even catch it. “Yes,” she moans, and I’m not sure if that’s a yes to my question or to what’s coming. Her clawing fingers at my back, my shirt bunching up within her hands, reminds me that I’m still fully dressed. Something I completely forgot about, distracted by the taste and softness of this tumultuous, vindictive woman’s lips.
My wild horse.
“Why is it I always end up naked before you?” I feel her cool hands retreat down to the hem of my shirt and slip under to drag it up. I break away long enough to yank it over my head and toe off my shoes, then I dive back against her.
Two hands pushing against my chest stop me.
Biting her bottom lip in a way that makes me want to shove her hands away so I can bite it for her, I heave a sigh. Her fingers assess the ridges of my chest, trailing down to my stomach.
“You love my body, don’t you?” I murmur.
Heated eyes lift to meet mine, boring into me with a new intensity I hadn’t expected, and I can’t stop myself from leaning in, more than eager to feel her skin. Once again, her hands push back to stop me.
“It’s been a while for me,” she admits, her gaze dropping to my belt buckle, her long lashes fluttering. Is she nervous?
“Since your ex?” I’m pretty sure the answer to that is yes, given what I overheard the other week when I surprised a sick Reese at her home.
A single nod answers me. Reaching down, her fingers make quick work of my belt and zipper, unfastening them until the dress pants I wore to work today are hanging open, showing off the sizeable bulge I have for her under my briefs. I catch her wrists and gently pull them back, allowing me space to step in until the cool metal of her piercing grazes my chest. I bend down to kiss the corner of her mouth. “You just tell me how fast or slow to go then, okay?”
In response, she pulls out of my loose grip. One arm reaches around to dig into my back pocket, seizing my wallet. She retrieves the condom waiting inside and tosses my wallet to the side as if it were trash.
“Well, you seem to remember the basics, at least,” I mutter wryly.
“Oh, I remember more than the basics.” Her palms slide slowly, all the way up the front of my body as if memorizing it surface, until her hands coil around my neck, her head dipping back to regard me with a smirk. “I just hope you’re decent or all this buildup will be rather disappointing.”
My head falls back as a loud bark of laughter escapes me. So do I. I’ve never had a problem, but with this girl . . . A sudden case of nerves hits me. “As long as I can get through those cobwebs, I should be fine.”
Thanks to the lamp I turned on when we came in, I catch her cheeks changing color. Maybe that’s why she decides to slap the condom into my hand and yank my pants and briefs down, barely making the effort to get the elastic around my dick.
My hips pull back in reaction. “Hey! Why are you intent on breaking it!” Unwilling to let her take control here—she’s either angry or nervous; either way, my vital body part will not become a casualty—I pin her hands up above her head with one arm before kicking off my pants and briefs.
She opens her mouth to say something but I cut her off with a deep kiss, slipping my tongue in to take complete control of her mouth, while my free hand runs up her inner thigh.
She may be nervous, but she’s soft and wet and so damn ready.
“Screw the foreplay,” she growls against my mouth, a leg lifting and hooking around my thighs to pull me against her. Her hands struggle against my grip but I don’t relent.
And I’m torn between laughing and groaning. Fuck. Normally, I try to keep my pants on as long as possible because once they’re off, I have a five-minute threshold until I need to be in something. And I need to be in her. Right now. She’s so close. Just a quick maneuver and I’m golden. And then she has to go and say that!
Except, the small mewling sound
s she’s trying to stifle as my thumb and fingers work against her is enough to hold me back. Breaking free of her mouth to shift my attention to her neck, I take my time inhaling that strawberries-and-cream scent as my tongue trails the curves of her collarbone. Her body’s still squirming against my hand, her breathing growing more ragged and uneven. I keep those hands pinned above her head until I lose my reach as my knees hits the floor.
“I need more time for—” She gasps when my tongue catches the first sweet taste of her, my arms hooked tight under her thighs, my shoulders holding her against the wall.
She cries out, grabbing fistfuls of my hair until my scalp hurts. I don’t give a shit; this reaction is worth the pain. It’s times like these when I’m happy I can bench press almost double my weight, because I have no problem keeping her writhing body still.
My name tumbles from her mouth in a moan as a thump sounds—her head falling back against the wall. “Okay, fine.” She resigns herself to the fact that I’m not letting her go. Her fingers slowly loosen their grip of my hair, until they’re rubbing my head where it’s sore, her thighs falling apart as they relax slightly. And when she comes?
Jesus.
I kind of wish the music weren’t so loud because if the guys had heard that, I’d be getting pats on my back for weeks.
The last quiver through her body is barely done when I’m on my feet. She falls into me as I lift and carry her to my bed. Tossing her gently, I reach into my nightstand for another condom—I’m not about to go looking for the one lying on the floor.
Her eyes are at half-mast as she peers up at me, a perfect balance to her flustered cheeks and the puffy lips I must have given her from kissing her so hard. Downright sexy.
“You’re not going to fall asleep on me, are you?” I tease, stretching over her. If she does, I’ll die.
A sly smile curls her mouth as one hand cups the back of my neck while the other reaches down to grab me and guide me into her. “If I do, then you’re doing something terribly wrong,” she whispers, smiling wryly, adding, “Just don’t hurt me.”