by Tessa Bailey
“I’m so wet,” she moaned, lifting her hips, running the insides of her knees up and down his heaving rib cage. “I’m ready. I need you. Rough as you can.”
That full, smooth dome pressed up against her entrance, and she braced, one hand flying to his shoulder, the other to the wooden bunk rail. And still she wasn’t prepared for the savagery of that first thrust. With a hoarse roar, his hips drove Piper up the narrow bed, his thickness invading all available space within her, and without allowing her time to acclimate, he was already pumping feverishly, rocking the bed with staccato squeaks.
Piper’s mouth was permanently wide open against his shoulder, her eyes watering with the force of pleasure. Pleasure from having his hard sex smacking through her wetness like it owned the joint, his calloused hands shoving her knees down, opening her wider for his convenience. Pleasure from having brought this vital man to his proverbial knees with need. God help her, she loved that. Knew he loved being challenged. Knew he loved that she loved challenging him. Perfect, perfect, perfect.
“Scream for it, baby,” he panted, raking her ear with his open mouth. “Whine for my cock. No one can hear us.”
A lid came off inside of her, whatever was left of her inhibitions hopping out and running wild on tiny legs. She choked on her first attempts to call his name, because the force he was exerting on top of her was so intense, his huge body surging between her legs without cease—and still fully clothed while she remained bare. Why was that so sinfully hot?
“Brendan,” she gasped. Then louder, “Brendan. You’re so good. It’s so good.”
“I’ll never lie in this bed again without having to jerk off.” His hand came up to frame her jaw, applying just enough pressure while looking her square in the eye that another rush of wetness coated her sex, aiding him in his destruction of her senses. “You love knowing that, don’t you? You love making me fucking crazy.”
She bit her lip and nodded. “Sure you want to be my boyfriend?”
“Yes,” he growled, and slammed into her, holding still, deep, his pained face dropping into the crook of her neck. “And don’t call me that right now or I’m going to come.”
Oh. Jesus. That confession sent a contracting ripple through Piper’s core, and she let out a strangled sob, her hands flying to Brendan’s ass inside his loosened jeans, fingernails sinking in and yanking him, scraping pathways into his flesh. “Oh my God. N-now. Now.”
“Fuck,” he ground out, picking up his blistering pace again, the sound of wet slaps echoing in the tiny room. “Fuck it. I can’t stop.” She milked him with her intimate muscles, and he moaned, pumped harder, rattling the bed beneath them. “That make you hot, baby? Hearing how being your man is going to get me off? Get your boyfriend off? Say it again.”
She ran her nails down his hard, flexing butt and dug them in, whispering, “My boyfriend fucks me so right, I let him come inside me whenever he wants.” A smile, dazed and wicked, curved her lips when she snuck her middle finger down the split of his backside and cinched it inside the puckered entrance. “He knows just how to earn it.”
Piper had been hovering right on the edge of her own orgasm when she purred those last three words, but Brendan’s reaction pushed her even closer to oblivion. She watched through an opaque cloud of gathering bliss as he barked a shocked curse, his hips punching forward and back in desperation, neck tendons looking ready to snap. “Christ, I’m done. I’m done. And you better fucking come with me, Piper,” he rasped, reaching down and fondling her clit with his thumb. “I satisfy my girlfriend’s pussy every time.”
And, oh God—boom—she fired out of the cannon. Her knees shot up and hugged his body, back arching as she screamed, shook, slapped at his shoulders, all while tears rolled down her temples. It wouldn’t end. The hot, grinding pulsations wouldn’t end, especially when Brendan drove deep, deep inside of her, stilled and then shuddered violently, his hips moving in disjointed patterns, the volume of his moans rivaling her scream that still lingered in the air. She writhed underneath him, trying to find the bottom of the pleasure well, but until his mouth landed on hers, anchoring her, she didn’t realize . . . didn’t realize the bottom of the well wasn’t physical. She needed their emotional connection to calm herself down. Needed him, his heart, his Brendan-ness. As soon as their lips met, her heart sighed happily and rolled over, languidness traveling through her limbs and making her go boneless.
“Shhh, honey.” He breathed hard, his fingers shaking as they stroked the side of her face. “I’ve got you. I’ve always got you.”
She didn’t look away. “I know.”
Satisfaction filtered into his silver-green eyes. “Good.”
Brendan eased off of Piper and disappeared into the bathroom, coming back with zipped jeans and paper towels, wiping off the insides of her thighs and kissing sensitive spots as he cleaned. Then he joined her in the bed, both of them turning onto their sides, her back up against his chest, a possessive arm wrapped around her waist.
Piper was slipping into a drowsy slumber when Brendan rumbled the question in her ear. “So are we going to just not talk about the finger thing?”
The boat rocked steadily in the sunshine as they laughed and laughed some more. And five miles from land, it was easy to pretend no hard decisions would have to be made.
Sooner rather than later.
Chapter Twenty-Two
They pulled into Grays Harbor that evening. Brendan had planned to be back earlier, but Piper had fallen asleep on his chest, and a bulldozer couldn’t have moved him.
There she went again, changing his plans. Taking a red pen to his routines.
As he parked his truck in front of No Name and glanced across the console at Piper, he thought back to the conversation on the boat. They’d managed to clarify a lot of unspoken issues between them. His marriage, her fears about his profession, and most important, the way she viewed herself. All that talk, all that clearing the air, led to her staying in Westport, whether she was willing to discuss it yet or not. What would it take for her to consider it?
He was asking for a lot of sacrifice on Piper’s part. She would have to leave her home, her friends, and everything she’d ever known.
Hannah, too, eventually, when she went back to LA.
Simply breaking free of his patterns didn’t even come close to what he was asking of Piper. Compared to what—to whom—he would get in return, that was nothing.
And that bothered him. A lot.
Made him feel like a selfish bastard.
“Hey.” Piper leaned across to the driver’s seat and kissed his shoulder. “What’s with the scary frown?”
He shook his head, debating whether or not to be honest. There had been a lot of honesty between them on the boat, and it had cleared their most pressing obstacles. Made the apprehension of what was to come feel mitigated. Manageable. But he couldn’t bring himself to remind her of the unbalanced scales. Didn’t want her thinking about it or considering the issue too closely. Not yet, when he hadn’t been given enough time to find a solution.
Was there a fucking solution?
“I was just thinking about not having you in my bed tonight,” Brendan said finally, glad he didn’t need to lie. Not completely. “I want you there.”
“Me too.” She had the nerve to blush and avert her eyes after what they’d done on the boat? Goddamn. This woman. He wanted to spend decade upon decade deciphering all the little components that made her up. “But it’s not fair to Hannah. She’s in Westport because of me and I can’t keep leaving her alone.”
“I know,” he grumbled.
“I’ll text you,” she coaxed. “And don’t forget about your shiny new nudes.”
“Piper, even when I’m dead I won’t forget them.”
She shimmied her shoulders, pleased. “Okay, well. Good. So, I guess this is where we do the big, dramatic boyfriend-girlfriend kiss and act like we won’t see each other for a year.”
Brendan sighed. “I always thought it
was ridiculous, the way the guys can’t peel themselves off their wives and girlfriends at the dock. Pissed they’re making us late.” He regarded his beautiful girlfriend stonily. “I’ll be surprised if I don’t try and carry you over my shoulder onto the boat next time. Take you with me.”
“Really?” She sat up straighter. “Would you?”
“Hell no. What if there was a storm or you got hurt?” Why was he suddenly sweating? His pulse wasn’t functioning the way it was supposed to, speeding up and tripping all over itself. “I’d lose my shit, Piper.”
“Hannah would call this a double standard.”
“She can call it whatever she wants,” he said gruffly. “You stay on land unless it’s a short trip like today. And I’m with you. Please.”
Piper was battling a smile. “Well, since you said please, I guess I’ll turn down all of my fishing boat invitations.”
Even though she was being sarcastic, Brendan grunted, satisfied. “You said something about a big dramatic kiss,” he reminded her, reaching over to unbuckle her seat belt, brushing a knuckle over her nipples, one at a time, as he took his hand back. They puckered under his gaze, her hips shifting on the seat. She cut off his miserable groan by leaning over, tugging his beard until he met her halfway, and kissing him. Lightly at first, then they surged together and sank into a long, wet sampling of lips and tongues, their breaths shuddering out between them.
They broke apart with reluctant sighs. “Mmmm.” She blinked up at him, slid back into her seat, and pushed open the door. “Bye, Captain.”
Brendan watched her disappear into the building and dragged a hand down his face.
If Piper Bellinger was going to kill him, he’d die a happy man.
He started to drive home but found himself turning toward Fox’s place instead. His best friend lived in an apartment near the harbor, a stone’s throw from the water, and where Brendan’s house had an air of stability, Fox’s was as temporary as it got. Cursory paint job, basic furniture, and a huge-ass television. In other words, a single man’s dwelling. Brendan didn’t tend to visit Fox at home very often, since they saw each other for days—often weeks—at a time on the boat. Not to mention, Brendan had his routines, and they didn’t involve going to bars or meeting women or any of the things Fox did with his spare time.
But this whole business of Piper sacrificing everything while he gave very little? It was pushing up under his skin like tree roots. Turning the problem over and over in his mind wasn’t solving it. Maybe he needed to address his worries out loud, just in case he was missing something. An easy solution. Hell, it was worth a shot. Better than going home and stewing about it alone.
Fox opened the door in sweatpants and bare feet, a bottle of beer in his hand. The sounds of a baseball game drifted into the breezeway from behind his skipper. “Cap.” His brow was knitted. “What’s up? Something wrong?”
“No. Move.” He pushed past Fox into the apartment, tipping his head at the beer. “You got another one of those?”
“Got a dozen or so. Help yourself. Fridge.”
Brendan grunted. He took a beer from the fridge and twisted the cap off with his hand, joining Fox in front of the baseball game, putting the men on opposite sides of the couch. He tried to focus on what was happening on the screen, but his problem-solver brain wasn’t having it. Five or so minutes passed before Fox said anything.
“You going to tell me why you’re chewing nails over there?” Fox held up a hand. “I mean, chewing nails is kind of your default, but you don’t usually do it on my couch.”
“You have company coming over or something?”
“Jesus, no.” His friend snorted. “You know I don’t date local.”
“Yeah,” Brendan said. “Speaking of which, you usually head to Seattle after a payday like the one we just had. What are you doing here?”
Fox shrugged, stared at the TV. “Don’t know. Just wasn’t feeling the trip this time.”
Brendan waited for his friend to elaborate. When he didn’t seem inclined to, Brendan guessed there was no point in putting off the reason for his visit anymore. “These women you meet in Seattle. You’ve never been . . . serious about any of them, right?”
“I think you’re missing the point of leaving Westport to meet women.” He saluted with his beer bottle. “Sorry, sweetheart. Just in town for the night. Take it or leave it.” He tipped the drink to his mouth. “They always take it, in case that wasn’t obvious.”
“Congratulations.”
“Thank you.” Fox laughed. “Anyway, why are you asking me about—” He cut himself off with an expression of dawning comprehension. “Did you come here for advice on women?”
Brendan scoffed. “That’s a stretch.”
“You did, didn’t you? Son of a bitch.” Fox grinned. “Piper still giving you a problem?”
“Who ever said she was a problem?” Brendan shouted.
“Relax, Cap. I meant . . .” Fox searched the ceiling for the correct wording. “Have you gotten her out of your system?”
As though such a thing was possible? “No.”
“You haven’t slept with her?”
Fuck. He didn’t like talking about this. What happened between him and Piper should be private. “I’m not answering that,” he growled.
Fox looked impressed. “You have, then. So what is the problem?”
Brendan stared. “I think the problem might be that I came to you for advice.”
His friend waved off the insult. “Just ask me what you want to know. I’m actually pretty fucking flattered that you came to me. I know two things: fishing and women. And those two things have a lot of similarities. When you’re fishing, you use bait, right?” He pointed at his smile. “I’ve got your woman bait right here.”
“Jesus Christ.”
“Next you’ve got the hook. That’s your opening line.”
A hole opened in the center of Brendan’s stomach. “My opening line to Piper was basically telling her to go home.”
“Yeah, I’m pretty surprised that worked myself.” He rubbed at the line between his brows. “Where was I with my analogy?”
“You were done.”
“No, I wasn’t. Once she’s hooked, you just have to reel her in.” He leaned forward and braced his forearms on his knees. “Sounds like you’ve already done all that, though. Unless . . . Wait, the goal was just sex, right?”
“I didn’t have a fucking goal. Not at the beginning. Or I probably wouldn’t have shouted at her, called her purse ugly, and strongly suggested she go home.” Suddenly sick to his stomach, Brendan slapped down the beer bottle and pushed to his feet. “God, I’m lucky she’s giving me the time of day at all. Now I have the nerve to try and make her stay here for me? Am I insane?”
Fox gave a low whistle. “Okay, things have progressed a lot since the last time we talked.” His friend’s bemusement was alarming. “You want that girl to stay in this town?”
Brendan massaged the pressure in his chest. “Don’t say it like that.”
A beat of silence passed. “I’m out of my depth on this one, Cap. I don’t have any advice on how to actually keep the fish in the boat. I usually just let them swim off again.”
“Fuck sake. Stop with the analogy.”
“It’s a good one and you know it.”
Brendan sat back down, clasped his hands between his knees. “If she went back to LA, I’d have no choice but to let her. My job is here. A crew who depends on me.”
“Not to mention, you’d go crazy there. It’s not you. You . . . are Westport.”
“So that leaves Piper to give up everything.” His voice sounded bleak. “How can I ask her to do that?”
Fox shook his head. “I don’t know. But she’d be gaining you.” He shrugged. “It’s probably not a total shit trade.”
“Thanks,” Brendan said drily, before sobering. “If she’s happy, she won’t leave. That stands to reason, right? But what do women like? What makes them happy?”
&nb
sp; Fox pointed to his crotch.
Brendan shook his head slowly. “You’re an idiot.”
The man chuckled. “What do women like?” This time, he seemed to actually consider the question. “I don’t think there’s any one thing. It depends on the woman.” He jerked a shoulder, went back to looking at the ball game. “Take Piper’s sister, for example. Hannah. She likes records, right? If I wanted to make her happy, I’d bring her to Seattle tomorrow. There’s a vinyl expo happening at the convention center.”
“How the hell do you know that?”
“It just popped up on the internet. I don’t know,” Fox explained, a little too quickly. “The point is, you have to think about the specific woman. They don’t all like flowers and chocolate.”
“Right.”
Fox started to say something else, but a series of notes filled the room. It took Brendan a moment to realize his phone was ringing. He shifted on the couch and tugged it out of his back pocket. “Piper,” he said, hitting the answer button immediately, trying not to be obvious that just the promise of hearing her voice sent his pulse into chaos. “Everything okay?”
“Yes. The building is still intact.” She sounded breezy, relaxed, totally unaware that he was across town trying to unlock whatever magic would give them a chance for a future. “Um, would it be a lot to ask to borrow your truck tomorrow? There is this amazing, artsy chick on Marketplace selling a shabby chic chandelier that we need, like, absolutely need, for the bar. For forty bucks. But we have to pick it up. She’s located between here and Seattle.”
“About an hour drive,” he heard Hannah call in the background.
“About an hour drive,” Piper repeated. “We were trying to figure out the cost of an Uber, but then I remembered I have a hot boyfriend with a truck.” She paused. “This wouldn’t mess with any of your routines, would it?”