Blood & Rust (Lock & Key Book 4)

by Cat Porter

  I eyed him. “What is it now?”

  “I was wondering—”

  “Here we go.”

  He narrowed his eyes at me, acknowledging my gibe. “Are you going to wear a tight dress and high heels for the opening tonight?”

  “Why?”

  “’Cause I really, really like you in a tight dress and high heels.” His hand slid down over my ass.

  I pressed against him. “I’ll take that under consideration.”

  “You do that, Scarlett.” He laid a deep tongue-ridden kiss on me.

  I melted against him, and a chuckle escaped from the back of his throat.

  “I’m not picky, babe. Heels and no dress, or heels with just that crown, or heels and nothing else works real, real good for me.”

  Four hours later, and the opening party at the gallery had begun. I had invited the Innocents back to play, and their piano player and bassist were filling the space with a jazzy riff.

  I admired the fat tin bucket that I’d found at my great grandmother's house, which now graced the round wood table at the entrance of the store. Butler had a huge bouquet of sunflowers delivered after he’d left earlier. A surprise for me. A perfect one.

  “You did good, Tania. It looks fantastic,” said Neil, sipping from the clear plastic cup of wine in his hand. “I have a surprise for you. I wanted to tell you in person.”

  I tore my eyes away from my gorgeous, vibrant flowers. “A surprise?”

  “I’ve got Carl Trenton on my ass about the Gerhard collection. And, I mean, each and every piece.”

  I grabbed his arm. “Are you serious?”

  Carl Trenton was a contemporary art dealer in New York, who had a personal passion for American outsider art, which he collected for himself. Neil had cultivated a friendship with him back when he worked with the Alden Merrick Gallery.

  “I went to New York and showed Carl your photos myself. We talked. The timing couldn’t be more perfect. Last year he left his hole-in-the-wall space in Chelsea and moved into this huge loft on the Lower East Side, and he wants to showcase something different. I pitched him the idea of setting up his gallery like Gerhard’s studio with a lot of the original props alongside the artwork.”

  “And?”

  Neil grinned as he took a sip of wine. “After the show is over and you send me the pieces, he’s coming to Chicago to see what we have.”

  “Oh my God, Neil!” I hugged him, spilling his wine.

  He laughed. “I tried to convince him to come all the way out here to the Wild West to see this, but that was a no-go.” He rolled his eyes. “Anyhow, we’ve been talking about doing a traveling exhibition, giving the collection a real sense of importance. I want to begin with me in Chicago and then send it to Carl in New York. And—”

  “And?”

  “And a curator from a major arts center in the Midwest called me back.”

  “Oh, Neil.”

  He raised his cup at me. “Here’s to you, Tania.”

  “Here’s to Gerhard,” I said. “Dave and his family are here from Sioux Falls. I’ll introduce you.”

  “Ah, good.”

  The Innocents finished their song, and the crowd burst into applause.

  “Thank you!” Den, the guitarist and lead singer, spoke. “We’ve got a special guest performer with us. A friend of ours from right here in Meager.”

  The brittle strum of an acoustic guitar filled the space, and the bassist plucked a slow, slinking rhythm underneath it. The singer’s voice broke through, husky and smooth. Earnest and rough.

  My pulse burst, sending a rush of heat through my veins. That voice.

  I let go of Neil’s arm and edged past a couple standing in front of us.

  That deep voice growled and declared.

  And I saw him.

  Butler.

  Onstage.

  Playing his guitar.

  Singing.

  Singing that song. One of my very favorite songs ever, Carly Simon’s “Touched by the Sun.” That song was me. That song—

  My stomach dropped, and shivers raced over my skin as the piano erupted, intensifying the drama. Butler wore a black linen men’s shirt, most of the buttons open, revealing his silver hummingbird necklace hanging against his phenomenal bare chest. The lights made his wavy longish blond hair even lighter, setting him apart from the other musicians.

  The drummer pounded out a haunting beat beneath. Butler’s clear deep voice filled the room, his chords driving through me. His voice was almost gentle and then pleading and determined. I moved toward the stage, as if drawn there by a supernatural force, brushing past people, slipping through the crowd grouped around the small raised platform.

  I got to the front and was rooted to the spot, entranced by his smooth-with-a-hint-of-gruff-at-the-edge voice, his sexy and confident stage presence.

  Den joined Butler in a gorgeous harmony, his electric guitar grinding out a heated solo. Butler jumped in again, declaring his do-or-die passion. He was thinking and feeling every line, delivering pure emotion. His warm, almost grainy voice gave life to the lyrics, a fervent vow to dream, dare, and soar. He was resolute, adamant, committed, ready to risk, desperate to feel the burning heat of the sun.

  He sang the title words, his shoulders rolling with his movements over the guitar, with the driving rhythm of the song. We’d discussed music and our favorite songs many times before. He knew how much this song meant to me; obviously it meant the very same to him.

  I sang that triumph with him.

  His voice roared, and my heart roared with it. His eyes found mine, and he called, he beckoned, he insisted.

  The music swelled as the musicians headed toward the powerful climax, Den’s electric guitar wailing, the pianist and drummer flying in. Then, it was only Butler’s voice along with his guitar strumming the final splintery chords.

  We cheered and clapped loudly. Boner and Kicker’s whistles ripped through the room, Lock and Dready joining in.

  Butler scraped a hand through his hair. “Thank you. A huge thank you to The Innocents for putting up with me, so I could give my woman a special gift on her big night.”

  “Anytime!” Den shouted out over the fresh round of applause. “That is one good set of pipes on you, man.”

  Butler tagged fists with Den and the rest of the band, and then he turned and headed straight for me.

  The band started a new song. The thundering drum line burst and rolled through me like a fresh wave of adrenaline and purpose.

  My heart beat like that drum.

  Butler was coming for me.

  My very own rock and roller.

  My man among men.

  My Rhett.

  His lips curved into that wicked, arrogant grin, setting my blood on fire.

  He adored me.

  And I was a pile of fangirling excitement and swooning mush.

  I was going to lay a huge kiss on him.

  And let him kiss the hell out of me. In front of everybody.

  Crush.

  Swoosh.

  God, yes.

  He released me, an arm holding me close, as the Jacks crowded around us, each brother slapping him on the back, high-fiving him. The excited faces of Grace, Alicia, Lenore, Mary Lynn, and my sister filled my vision.

  “That was for me?” I searched his bright blue eyes. “For me?”

  “Yeah, that was for you. I haven’t sung in front of people in a long, long fucking time. I wanted to surprise you. I wanted you to see that part of me, and I wanted to give it to you.”

  “Oh, honey, I saw, and I heard, all right. And I loved everything about it.”

  He leaned into me, his lips brushing my ear. “You gave that back to me when you gave me the guitar, when you believed in me.”

  I wrapped my arms around his middle. “You were fantastic.”

  His hand fisted in my hair and tugged my head back. That carnal zing exploded in my ovaries right there.

  “Baby, I need to tell you. I—”

 
; I put my hand over his mouth. “Shh!” I grabbed his hand and dragged him into the back room where I immediately unbuckled his huge leather belt.

  “What the hell are you doing?” He laughed. Knowing. Turned on. “There’s no door here.”

  “So what?” I pulled down his zipper. “Don’t say another word before I make it up to you.”

  “Make what up to me? I’m lost.”

  “Our hook-up that never was at Wreck’s shop over twenty years ago? We need to appease the bad Karma gods before we do or say anything else.”

  Yes, yes, I would make this happen before either of us spouted those three little words. With that heated, intense look in his eyes just moments ago, those words that were on the tip of my happy tongue, were most probably on the tip of his as well.

  I pushed up on the sturdy butcher-block table I had in a corner and bunched up my skirt. I hooked my fingers in the loops of his jeans and pulled him in between my legs. I was in a frenzy for him, for his cock, for doing it all right for a change. No more looking back over my shoulder.

  “Scarlett, wait.”

  I blinked at him, breathless, willing my hands to stop moving at the waistband of his boxer briefs.

  He cradled my face, his lips a breath from mine. “I don’t ever want to forget this moment. How this very second feels. This, right now.” His deep voice vibrated against my skin. “Not ever.”

  His hands went to my bare thighs and slid up my skin, taking my breath away. He tugged on my satin panties and ripped them off my legs.

  My head fell back. “Hell yes,” tumbled from my mouth.

  I’d never been so grateful for having gone to the gynecologist and gotten myself birth control. Ciao, rubbers!

  Butler hooked one of my legs around his torso as I steadied myself back on my arms. His fingers nudged at my opening, swirling through me.

  “Fuck, you’re ready for me, aren’t you?”

  “Since I heard you sing those first notes.”

  A grunt escaped from the back of his throat as he stroked his cock once, twice. He thrust inside me. Slowly, controlled. “Ah, shit, Scarlett…fuck. Feel so good on me bare.” His eyes squeezed shut as his chest heaved for a breath.

  “Oh, yes.” I raised my hips, taking him all the way in.

  He leaned over me and took my mouth and held on to our groans with an unforgiving kiss. He rocked inside me again. “I want you slow. Want to feel every stroke in you. Every fucking one. Deep and tight. Want to feel you come on me.”

  “Markus.”

  His fingers painfully gripped my flesh, pinning me to that rough table. “I love you, Tania. I love you.”

  “I love you, too, baby,” I whispered.

  I reached for his mouth, and he gave it to me.

  He gave it all to me.

  The noise of the crowd, the spirited, moody music of The Innocents, our choppy breaths—all of it dinned in my ears. The artwork and antiques we had found together, Wreck’s pieces, pieces I had brought from Wisconsin, my great-grandmother’s house—all of them here, in the small back room, were silent witnesses to our lovemaking.

  I couldn’t see his eyes in the dark, but I could see everything in my heart. Butler was there, larger than life. His passion, his strength, his generosity. I trusted the sensations whirling inside me and danced to their beat. The steady, torturous, and sure thrust of his hips into mine, the sliding of our damp skin, his cock filling me, his every grunt as he suddenly quickened his pace were a raucous maelstrom that whipped every dream, every wish, every heartbeat into its vortex, making us one.

  We both came within moments of each other, and I bit down on his shoulder to stop from moaning out loud.

  I kissed the bite mark I’d left behind. “What do you think, Blondie? Did we put our bad Karma to rest with that?”

  He licked the skin under the side of my jaw, and I shivered. “Oh, baby, I think we just cured that great blue wound of the past. But I think you’d better stop calling me Blondie if you want it to stick.”

  We clung to each other, the two of us shaking with laughter.

  “YOU WOKE ME UP.”

  “You didn’t like that?”

  “You woke me up with kisses,” Tania said.

  “Yeah.” My fingers cupped the side of her face. “Again, you didn’t like that?”

  “I loved it.”

  And I loved having her here in my bed, at my place.

  She ran a hand across the base of her neck, over her sexy collarbone. She was confused.

  “You want to tell me what that reaction was about now?”

  She bit her lip.

  “Okay,” I said. “I’ll start. Kyle…”

  She put her fingers over my lips. “Yes, Kyle. I used to complain that he’d never kiss me good morning, but he’d say he kissed me good morning when I was still asleep. He always woke up first, and I’d never realize since I’m such a heavy sleeper.”

  “Baby, when I wake you up with kisses in the morning or in the middle of the night, you’ll feel it. You’ll wake up. You’ll fucking remember.” I rubbed my hand across her collarbone and up her throat. Goose bumps raced over her flesh. “Your body will fucking know.”

  She squirmed against me. “I sure woke up that night in the motel in Sioux Falls.”

  “Yes, you did. See what I mean?”

  “Hmm.” She raised her hips against mine, her lips pressing into my skin.

  I ground against her, bringing her hands around my shoulders. “You understand what you got here now?”

  “Make me understand some more,” she whispered, giggling softly.

  Her mouth opened to mine, and I took her in, our tongues tangling, stroking. A laugh bubbled up in my throat.

  She pulled away, her dark eyes flashing. “What’s so funny?”

  I kissed the side of her chin. “I’m glad you like kissing me as much as I like kissing you.”

  “I love kissing you.”

  I pulled her in closer. “You know what else I love?”

  “I cannot wait to hear.”

  “I love it when I touch you right here.” My fingertips whispered over the smooth skin of her hip, right over her bone, and her body tightened, her breath audibly catching in her throat. “See what happens? You like it a lot; it’s a little thrill every time for you. Such a simple thing, slight, delicate even, over a small passage of curves, yet everything about it drives you tighter and higher for me.”

  “Lordy, I love how you can’t shut up after we have sex,” she said. “And during sex, too.”

  “We didn’t have sex just now.”

  “We had lots of sex last night.”

  “Yeah, we did. Well, enjoy my talking because, who knows? Years from now, I might just roll over after and fart.”

  She laughed. A hearty, rich laugh.

  Years from now.

  Her one hand caressed the side of my face, and that wave of warmth slid through me again. I leaned into her palm for a moment. I liked that, settling there in her touch. There was comfort born from surety there. Understanding. No noise. Fucking peace.

  We kissed again, slowly, more gently than before. I took her in my arms, and we settled back against the pillows. The window shade flapped and floated in the warm breeze streaming in through the open window.

  “What’s with the nightlight in the bathroom?” she asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  “It wasn’t on when we went to bed.”

  “I got up and put it on after.”

  “Scared of the dark?”

  “No, it’s this thing Stephan and I had. We shared a bathroom at home. He liked having a nightlight in there just in case one of us woke up in the middle of the night.”

  “Practical.”

  “Very. I hated it though. I’d tease him about it. But since he died, I’ve always used one.” I took in a breath.

  “I like nightlights,” Tania whispered, her hand stroking my arm.

  Her gaze fell to the row of medicine bottles lined up on my
dresser.

  “We haven’t really talked about what the cardiologist said yesterday. We fucked about it, but we sure didn’t talk about it.”

  Always insightful, my woman.

  “You complaining, Scarlett?”

  “Not me, no way. But I’d like to hear how you feel about it. We went out to dinner after the opening, came here, and attacked each other. I think you can say a few things about it now, don’t you?” She smoothed the hair back from my face.

  I let out a breath. “Yeah, I feel great that I have an arrhythmia. That I gave myself this life-threatening condition. When I think about your mother, who, through no fault of her own, got struck with a debilitating, life-sapping, body-strangulating, pretty much uncontrollable disease, and then here I am, responsible for my condition—what can I say?”

  “You know what it is. You have a good doctor monitoring your condition. You’re being treated. That’s positive. Not skipping doses anymore.”

  “I have to eat better and sleep more.”

  “That, I can help you with.”

  “I quit smoking.”

  “I can imagine how hard it must be after years of doing it.”

  “It’s not’s so hard now that this fucked-up heart of mine is beating for you, Tania. I fall into your arms at night, rest my body against yours, and it feels so fucking good. What’s tobacco next to that?”

  “I want to be that for you,” she breathed, a finger trailing over my chest. “I want to be where you rest.”

  “You are. And you’re where I celebrate what I have, what we have.”

  She blushed, curling into me, her lips brushing over the base of my throat.

  I took her hand, and with it, I stroked my dick’s hardening length from top to bottom, harder and harder.

  “I love it when you do that.” Her voice came out hoarse. “I love feeling you, with you.”

  I twisted on top of her. “Spread your legs wide, baby. My cock can’t take the wait.”

  She threw her head back and laughed.

  “You don’t laugh when your man’s dick is in his hand, and he’s telling you he needs to fuck you. Kiss me, Scarlett.”

  Her eyes gleamed. “Cock or mouth?”

  “Mouth is good. Cock would be better.”