by Tracey Ward
“We’ll be able to see some of the good fireworks set off along the river,” Colt explains to me. He gestures with his frothy cup of beer toward the eastern sky. “They’ll be over there, on the other side of those buildings.”
“There won’t be much,” Lilly, his fiancé, reminds us. “The fire danger is pretty high.”
“What’s it going to set fire to on the water?”
“It’s about the sparks and this little thing called wind, Kansas. I know you’ve heard of it.”
“Are you about to make another Wizard of Oz dig?”
“I don’t know, Dorothy. Am I?”
“You’re mean, you know that?”
“Yes.”
He leans over in his chair to kiss her forehead lovingly. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”
“So are you,” she laughs.
“You’re lucky we’re still friends with you,” Sloane tells them dryly. “You two are disgustingly into each other.”
“You’re annoyed because they’re adorable. You don’t like adorable,” Trey tells her, rubbing his hand up and down her back slowly.
Sloane leans into his side, studying the couple across the table from her. “That’s it. They’re like baby pandas with their big doe eyes.”
“You don’t like baby pandas?” Lilly demands, shocked.
“They don’t do anything.”
“What would you have them do?” Hollis snickers. “Your taxes?”
“I don’t need them to do anything if they stop laying around on their poofy, fat asses eating bamboo and getting some weird amount of credit for it. Babies do the same thing.”
“You shouldn’t be feeding babies bamboo,” I warn her. “Not until their teeth come in.”
Sloane chuckles. “I shouldn’t be allowed to touch a baby, period. We don’t like each other.”
“You mean they don’t like you,” Trey points out, resting his hand on her shoulder. “They scream when you hold them. They can smell your fear.”
Sloane reaches up to pinch his hand sharply.
He yelps, laughing as he shakes it out. “Damn! Easy on the merchandise. I need that hand.”
“I’ll kiss it better later.”
“Can I get an advance on that kiss right now?”
“Baby,” she purrs, turning her face up toward his. “You can have a kiss anytime you want.”
His dark eyes are hooded, hungry, as he looks lovingly at her face. “I want,” he mumbles.
I feel like a voyeur watching them kiss. There’s something very intimate about it. It’s love and lust wrapped into one perfect package being passed between them, and a sentimental part of my heart aches to feel it. To know that kind of intimacy.
“There’s your next documentary,” Hollis tells me with a tip of his beer. “Babies: Super Predators. They can smell your fear.”
I smile. “I’ll pitch it to the crew.”
“Dimitri probably won’t be on board,” Travis warns.
Colt takes a sip of his drink, his eyes lighting up. “He’s the one with the new baby, right?”
Hollis blinks in amazement. “How the hell do you know that?”
“I know everything,” Colt replies with a cocky grin.
“He asks a lot of questions,” I explain. “Most of his interviews are directed at us, not him. He’s almost as good at deflecting as Kurtis is.”
“Now that’s skill,” Trey tells Colt, coming up for air and offering his knuckles for a bump.
Colt immediately obliges.
“He’s also a huge flirt.”
Colt gives me a dramatic glare. “Dude! Be cool.”
“Oh, like I don’t know that,” Lilly calms him.
“And that doesn’t bother you?” Trey asks. “Because Sloane would kill me.”
“Slowly,” Sloane confirms with a content grin.
Lilly snorts. “He flirts with their sound guy. I’m fine.”
“Is the guy hot?”
“A solid seven.”
“I’d be into that.”
Hollis drops his drink down hard on the table. “Are you still watching gay porn?”
“Of course I am,” Sloane laughs.
“What is wrong with you?”
“What is wrong with you? It’s sexy.”
“So is your boyfriend. Quit being greedy.”
“Straight porn is designed for men. The girls are hot or slutty or whatever you need, but the guys are usually old or skeevy because nobody cares about them. You guys are tuning them out so it doesn’t matter. In gay porn both guys are young and hot. It’s better.”
Hollis looks impatiently at Trey. “And this doesn’t bother you?”
“I don’t care what she fantasizes about as long as it’s me she gets real with,” Trey answers calmly.
“Amen to that,” Colt agrees.
“So it wouldn’t bother you two if they were watching lesbian porn?” Hollis demands of Lilly and Sloane.
“I assume they are,” Lilly replies.
Travis lifts his beer. “Amen to that.”
Lilly looks past Travis, over my shoulder, at something behind me. Or someone.
Her cheeks are pink, embarrassed, but still she opens her mouth to ask fearlessly, “What about you, Kurtis? What’s your porn of preference?”
I feel him then. I feel him without looking and I wonder how I missed him until now. I should have known the second he walked into the building. The moment he hit the roof. The instant he put his big body within inches of mine. My heart hammers violently in my chest until I can see stars at the edge of my vision. Everyone else has turned to look at him, but I hold very still. I will myself to be calm.
His hands come to rest on the back of my chair, his fingers brushing against my naked shoulder blades, blowing my ‘calm’ plan out of the water. I’m acutely aware of what I’m not wearing, of the exposed skin on most of my body, and I make the very real mistake of imaging his hands moving. Of them exploring. Touching. Taking.
His fingers flex restlessly, caressing my skin as though he can read my thoughts. I wonder if it’s an accident.
Then again, I don’t think Kurtis Matthews does anything by accident.
“I don’t watch porn,” he says simply. His voice rumbles low as the bass from the speakers surrounding us, but it cuts through the noise like a knife.
“Bullshit,” Colt accuses laughingly. “Every guy needs to get off sometimes.”
“If I need to get off I get laid.”
“Simple as that, huh?”
He doesn’t reply. Not with words.
His fingertip glides up between my shoulders and back down again, slowly. Over and over.
I can barely breathe.
Trey watches Kurtis patiently, his observant eyes focused on him for a long moment. I worry he’s aware of what Kurtis is doing, even though I don’t know how he could be. Finally he smiles. “You know, I actually believe him.”
“I don’t,” Colt disagrees.
“Rona would,” Lilly mutters.
Kurtis’ finger stops. He stands up straight, releasing my chair. Releasing me.
“I’m glad you made it, man,” Colt tells him happily. He stands to come around the table. “Let’s get you a drink, yeah?”
“Sounds good.”
Colt chuckles in disbelief. “Seriously?”
“Yeah. I could use a drink tonight.”
“Hell yeah! Let’s do it. Anybody else need anything?”
Everyone at the table turns down his offer.
“Harper, how about you?” Colt singles me out. “Your glass is empty.”
“Sure. I could use something cold.”
“What’s your poison?”
“Surprise me.”
Colt grins. “That’s my specialty.”
I didn’t feel it when he arrived, but I feel it when Kurtis leaves. Like the air behind me has cooled and uncoiled. Like I can breathe again.
“You okay?” Travis asks quietly.
The rest of the table ha
s jumped back into conversation. It sounds like they’re talking about how crazy it is that Kurtis showed up. I guess he’s always invited to hang out with the team, but he rarely accepts.
“I’m fine,” I breathe.
“You look flushed. Are you feeling sick?”
I put my hand on the side of my face. My skin is hot from the sun. From the oppressive heat hovering over this roof. From fingers on my spine, rough skin and the softest touch. “How long have we been up here?”
“Three hours at least. Do you need to go inside? Cool off?”
“I think so, yeah.” I push my chair back, standing swiftly. The entire table turns to look at me. “I’m gonna go to—I need to get some air.”
They stare at me blankly. I suddenly realize what I said.
I chuckle at myself. “I mean, I need to get some cold air. Out of the sun. Probably some water too.”
“Second floor apartment is open and the AC is on,” Lilly tells me. “There’s ice in the freezer. You can chill in one of the bedrooms if you need to lay down.”
“Thanks. I’ll be okay, though. Just overheated, I think.”
“Let us know if you need anything,” she offers sweetly.
I smile to the group before heading downstairs. I pass the second apartment, silent and empty behind a solidly locked door. Colt is very open, but his home is something he keeps off limits. A magazine recently asked to get inside and take pictures, but that was where he drew the line. He’ll stand in front of a camera broadcasting to the world with nothing on but a vanilla swirl cone and a smile, but his house is off limits. He owns the place downstairs, but it’s a rental. He makes money off it, not memories. He said not a single thing in the place is his. I guess that’s why the door is unlocked and partially open when I make it down. He simply doesn’t care.
It’s an open space inside. A loft with a lot of leather furniture and high, exposed ceilings. Very industrial chic. Not exactly masculine but not feminine either. Whoever decorated it knew it was going to be rented. There’s not a personal touch to be seen.
I don’t bother with the kitchen or the ice. I know why I’m flushed. I need a minute to get my head on straight, that’s all. A quick trip to the bathroom, some water on my face, a pep talk in the mirror. Keep my cool. No matter what happens here tonight, I need to be smart. I need to move slowly and everything will be fine.
It’s a good lie, one I almost believe.
I find the bathroom just off the kitchen. The door is closed and a quick jiggle of the handle tells me it’s locked.
“Shit,” I mutter.
“Yeah!” someone shouts from inside. “Exactly.”
I chuckle, backing away. “Sorry.”
“Not as sorry as I am! You’re not gonna want to come in here after me, sweetheart! It’s a warzone.”
“Thanks for the warning.”
“It’s the least I can do. You having a good time?”
I pause, looking around the apartment hesitantly.
Is he seriously striking up a conversation with me while he takes a dump?
“Uh, yeah,” I answer slowly. “Great time. You?”
“I was until about ten minutes ago.”
“Yeah.”
“You a friend of Lilly’s?”
“No. I work with Colt.”
“Me too. But you sound too pretty to be a football player,” he chuckles.
I smile. “I’m not. I’m a documentary film maker.”
“Oh snap! You’re with the movie people. The ones doing all the interviews with the team.”
“That’s us.”
“When are we gonna sit down and talk, huh?”
“Right now, apparently.”
He laughs loudly, the sound echoing off the bathroom walls. “I hope you’re not recording this.”
“Never assume you’re not on the record. Not when we’re around.” I back away from the door. “I’ll leave you to your war. Godspeed.”
“Adios, mi amor!” he grunts painfully.
I pick up the pace, distancing myself from his situation. It’s getting too real for my taste.
There are multiple bedrooms in this apartment, meaning there’s got to be more than one bathroom. I’m banking on a master bath off the largest room. I’m not disappointed. I leave the light off as I cross to the white marble room glowing in the flickering light from outside. A group has gathered on the streets to set off smaller fireworks in the road outside the building, casting shadows across the dark bedroom. Sparks reflect like falling stars through the bathroom.
I leave the door open as I lean over the deep sink, splashing cool water on my face and neck. I linger there with my bare feet freezing on the cold tile, my warm skin rejoicing in the cool feel of the water, my limbs loosening and relaxing. It’s quiet here. Contained and comfortable, and I start to feel like myself again. I feel like I’m seeing clearly as the light from outside sparks red as blood. I watch it reflect around the room, dancing erratically before dying out. Before leaving me cold. Alone.
The towel next to the sink is blue and soft on my skin as I dry my face and hands. I walk carefully across the large, echoing room, back out to the bedroom. Right into his waiting eyes.
Kurtis is there, sitting on the edge of the bed in the dark. He’s wearing gray swim trunks and nothing else. Nothing but the masculinity that emanates from his every pore and hits me hard as a slap in the face. I’m breathless looking at him, drinking him in.
His chest is broad and bronzed, cut from stone in effortless, smooth strokes. Dark hair blooms from the center of his chest, trailing down the rippling ridges of his stomach, disappearing inside his swim trunks. His hair is everywhere; his head, his chest, on his arms, his long, thick legs, his jaw. My body responds violently before my mind can understand why, but then it’s clear. He’s not a boy, not a child, not even a guy. He’s too serious for that; too wearied, too worried. He’s a man. All man, from head to toe, inside out, and I want to know what it’s like to be touched by one. Kissed by one. I’ve been craving it since the day I met him, yearning for what I’ve never had. What I desperately need.
A man. This man.
“I came here for you,” he tells me quietly, answering the question I can’t ask. “I thought I was coming to prove a point to them, but I was lying to myself. I was lying to them. But I won’t lie to you.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t want you to lie to me.”
I take a steadying breath, my toes curling inside the plush carpet under my feet. “I came here for you too.”
He nods solemnly. He knew that, but now he knows it, and what do we do with it?
I step farther into the room, reaching behind me to the strings dangling at my back, holding my bikini together. My eyes dart from his to the closed door of the bedroom. A door I didn’t close when I came in.
“I locked it,” he promises, his voice as dark as the coming night. I shiver in the wake of it, excitement flooding my body.
I take another step toward him, my eyes locked on his. He watches with raw need as I tug slowly at the strings. They give way easily. I pull the loose fabric from my chest, up over my head where it tangles in my hair. He watches my face as my hair cascades down around my shoulders, finding freedom from my top. I toss it carelessly to the side.
Kurtis takes his time looking at me. He mesmerizes me, draws me in smooth, even strokes with a brush from his eyes that I can feel like breath against my skin. His face is perfectly calm when I step closer, hooking my thumbs inside my bikini bottoms, but in the flickering light from outside I can see his pulse in his throat. It throbs, quick and angry. In time with my own heart hammering in my ears.
When I’m close enough to touch he reaches for me. His hands still mine on my hips, pulling them from my bikini and dragging them to his shoulders. His skin is hot under my hands, hard as steel over his shifting muscles. He opens his legs, pulling me between them until I’m staring down at him; breathless, topless. His hands are on my hips, hi
s eyes on my body, and the moment is too real, too strong to be ignored.
I kiss him first. I cross that barrier and he dives headlong over it with me, delving his tongue deep into my mouth on a satisfied groan. His hold on my hip is bordering on painful, but I melt into his touch. I make it hard for him to hold me as I fall apart under his lips, his breath. The taste of bourbon and the smell of cologne. The feel of a man putting his arms around me, grabbing my ass, tangling his hand in my hair and his tongue in my mouth. It’s heady, addicting. My body feels foreign as he touches it. Supple and pliable in a way I’ve never known before.
In ways I’ll never be able to forget.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
KURTIS
Her tongue tastes like coconut. Like paradise and sunset on a warm sandy beach. It’s different than her flavor in the stairwell. That was taught and tormented. Twisted up in a way that swirled with a dark desire. This is something else. Something saccharine and easy. Hot. This is sex in a whisper. One soft, yearning sound that sets me on fire:
“Please.”
Harper sighs as my hands glide up over her stomach. I feel the bare skin tremble under my touch. It’s cool and inviting, soft in a way that doesn’t make sense. That doesn’t seem possible. Her hands take hold of my face, pulling my mouth hard against hers as I move my palms higher. My fingers trip over her ribs, making her twitch, making her moan as I cup her full breasts in my palms. She whimpers excitedly against my lips. Her fingers are tangling in my hair, pulling painfully, urging me on.
I slow my tongue, slow her, slow my hands and this night because I want to enjoy it. I want to make it last, for her and for me. I lick a line across her lips, devouring the last of that sweet taste until there’s nothing but hot breath passing fast and urgent between us. It builds as I squeeze her in my palms. It peaks as I touch her nipples, hard and waiting. Ready.
“Please.”
I don’t know who says it this time. It might have been her, it might have been me, or maybe it was the air around us demanding that I don’t stop. Not now. Never again.
I roll one hard peak between my thumb and forefinger. She shivers violently, her face rising from mine to look down at me. Her heart shaped mouth is open to bursting, her lips wet with my kiss. She’s looking into my eyes and she’s in the moment, in my hands, and nowhere else. She’s one hundred percent with me, and the open, expectant look on her face makes my dick jump hard in my shorts.