Her laugh was genuine when it came. It was musical and light and filled up the air around them. He loved that sound. He would do anything to be the one to hear that sound every single day. He just couldn’t tell her that. It was enough that they were standing there, saying things he thought he’d never get a chance to say, doing things that had always been completely taboo, as if a physical wall separated them. Though that wall was crumbling now, he couldn’t just blurt out that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. That would scare her off for sure and he didn’t want to do anything to ruin what they were sharing. She might have admitted that she felt something for him. Hell, she used the word love, but that could be anything. He wanted to be careful. He understood what she meant about taking it slow.
“You never thought I was uncool. And that,” Heather said, voice sad. “Won’t happen for a long time. If there is anything between us, it has to be low key. Between us only. That way, if we screw up, it won’t hurt anyone else.”
“Anyone but us.”
“I guess that’s the risk everyone takes.”
Rone could feel Heather’s defenses crumbling. “I swear I would never hurt you. I would do anything to keep you safe and happy.” That sounds an awful lot like telling her that I love her.
She seemed momentarily taken aback, but when her lips curled up into a smile again, it was soft and sweet, almost shy. She blinked up at him.
“Seeing as you invited me to a pool party, we should at least go for a swim. It’s hot and I took two long bus rides to get over here. I really was looking forward to a dip in the pool.”
“So you’re not leaving. We’re really doing this?”
“I’m not going to leave. And as to this, I guess so. We’re going for a swim and that’s it. There isn’t going to be anything going on in this house after. Understood?”
“Understood.” It nearly killed him to say the words. The thought of Heather in the pool with him, wet, in a bathing suit… he wasn’t sure he could take it. “Just to clarify,” he said as he stepped back, carefully unpinning her from the wall. “Does that mean that I can’t get up to trouble while we’re in the pool?”
“How high is the fence in your backyard?”
“Pretty damn high.”
“Well… maybe a few kisses wouldn’t hurt.”
“Get changed,” Rone groaned. “I have a bathroom down the hall.”
“I have my bathing suit on underneath my dress.”
“Don’t talk about things underneath your dress while we’re still in the house or I might break the rules I just agreed to.”
Heather frowned thoughtfully. “Maybe it’s not a hard rule. Maybe we could bend it just a little.” Her soft words were all the encouragement he needed.
Rone stepped forward, locked his arms around Heather’s waist and lifted her effortlessly. He picked her up and she locked her legs around his waist as his lips crashed down, crushing hers. Her small, warm hands wrapped around his neck and she whimpered as her lips parted. He didn’t thrust his tongue into her mouth just because the opportunity presented itself. He took his time, savoring the feel and taste of her lips, glorying in the heat of her body pressed against his. His hands remained on her waist, supporting her.
It was unbearable, the press of her body against his. He wanted to take her right to his bedroom, slam her down on the bed, pull off the bikini bottoms hidden under that dress, feel how soaked she was, taste her, inhale her, teach her what true pleasure could be, let her show him in return. He’d never taken it slow with women before, tried to make himself move on, tried to prove to himself that Heather wasn’t anything special. He hadn’t succeeded.
Just the taste of her mouth and he knew he was lost. He deepened their kiss, pushing his tongue past her lips. She was ready for him. Her tongue stroked his, took the lead. His thin thread of self-control snapped. He’d made a rule. One that he was going to break in ten seconds flat. He thought about any hard surface, the cupboards in the kitchen, the table, the couch… there were so many places he could take her… but he’d given his word. This sure as hell wasn’t slow.
Just to prove that he could be a gentleman even when he was utterly senseless, his body on fire, consumed by flames of desire, he stalked through the house, through the kitchen. Holding Heather with one arm, still bruising her lips, he slammed open the door to the deck. He stepped outside and walked over to the pool in a few easy strides.
In one quick motion, he broke the kiss, set Heather down and reached for the hem of her dress. He ripped it away, her arms lifting to facilitate the motion, a dead giveaway that she was just as ready to break her own rules.
He made a noise, a feral noise that sounded half animal, when he saw her standing there in a little black bikini that barely covered the rounded globes of her breasts. She was inked. Everywhere. Her arms, her chest, her pelvis, her legs. He’d known her when she was just a kid. He’d watched her grow up, together, with him. And now, she was a woman. A woman who knew herself and knew what she wanted. He knew just how much Heather’s mom hated all that ink, but he loved it. He fucking loved that Heather could live through that. That she could take that pain, that her art made her unique and beautiful. He loved her spirit, her spitfire personality. She was absolutely the most beautiful he had ever seen.
“You’re glorious,” he whispered raggedly, right before he took her up in his arms again, stalked over to the pool and plunged them both into the cold, deep water.
Chapter 5
Wet Encounter
Heather
Rone always had been nice. To her at least. He’d been a good friend to her brother. They got up to their share of trouble, but Rone wasn’t one of those bad teens. He was never a bad guy. She’d always thought he was a little soft under that massive exterior, but hearing him say those words, words she didn’t even know he was capable of thinking, seeing the way he looked at her, as if she was the only woman on the planet, it did something to her. She would have liked to think she had an ounce of willpower, a shred of control, a shield, a wall. Something. Anything.
She might have had, but it was torn away, washed away in the deep water that Rone swept them into. She hadn’t been expecting it, but she managed to take a breath just in time and held it as they were plunged into the water.
His hold on her waist never loosened. He kicked hard, bringing them to the surface. They took a breath at the same time. She reached up and slicked beads of water from her hair and forehead, out of her eyes. Rone shook his head, clearing his vision.
“You’re fucking crazy,” she rasped.
“If I am, you love it,” he responded raggedly before his lips crushed hers in a kiss that was every bit as scorching and startling as the first one had been.
She shut her eyes and was transported back to every single romance novel she’d read as a teenager, the times she wished it was her who was the heroine, Rone who was the hero. Sleepless nights, body burning, wishing, wishing for the man who would never be hers. And here he was, his arms wrapped around her, kissing her breathless. And she wanted rules? Who am I kidding? It wasn’t just that she was afraid or that she didn’t want to be a one night stand as she’d said. She would have accepted it in a second. It was more than that. She couldn’t imagine it being just one time. She knew she’d always crave Rone. Once would never be enough. Once was just the start.
They floated together, Rone’s hands cupping her face. He broke the kiss and stared down at her. She felt the heat of him through the cold water, burning into her. The hardness of his cock pressed up against her stomach. It made her achy and a rush of wetness that had nothing to do with the pool water soaked her already wet bikini bottoms.
“You’re so beautiful,” Rone whispered. He kissed her briefly before he moved his face to pepper her cheeks with kisses. She giggled and tried to pull away, but he held her fast against him.
“Stop telling me stuff like that or I’m going to get a complex.”
“I’ll keep telling you until you
believe me.” He claimed her lips again, sweetly, lingering, with all of the passion in the world, but no possessiveness. No need to own her, no need to change her. He was just Rone. The Rone she’d always known and loved. The Rone she thought would never want her.
He pressed into her beneath the water, his hardness hitting her in just the right place. The place she needed him most. She thought how easy it would be to strip her bikini bottoms off, rip his shorts down and take him inside of her.
He growled next to her ear, clearly thinking the same thing. One hand remained around her waist as he kicked the water, treading it for them so she didn’t have to. The other pushed her bikini top aside and clutched her breast. She gasped at the bold contact and arched her back instinctively, thrusting herself into his hand. His fingers played over her sensitive nipple, heating the peak, rolling over it and playing back until she was writhing against him.
He drove her wild with need and she ground against him, pushing his hardness between her legs until it hit just the right spot.
“Do you want me to touch you there?” His breath was warm and whispery on the side of her neck. His tongue snaked out and licked her there. Heather jerked violently at the contact. White hot heat spread from the spot and radiated out through the rest of her body.
She pressed against him harder, hardly daring to say the sinful words. His hand left her breast and trailed over her flat stomach. He caressed the swell of her hip and finally, finally his hand settled over her sex, where she needed him most. He left trails of molten heat behind, flaring hot and sizzling despite the cool waters.
He moved her bikini bottoms aside and suddenly his fingers, so very hot, were sweeping over her sex. She was almost embarrassed at how slick she was. She was about to slam her legs shut and pull away when Rone’s knee came between her legs and he pushed her up further on his waist. His head came down and his mouth clamped over her breast. He suckled her nipple through the wet fabric. Her hips bucked against his hand and his finger slid easily through her swollen sex and stopped right at her entrance.
The feel of him there, so close, so thick, so ready to give her everything she wanted and needed, drove her wild. Her hips bucked wildly, grinding and bucking against his hand, hoping like hell he would just get inside of her already and end the horrible need turning her blood to fire. Her hands wrapped around his neck. She pulled him closer, scrabbled at his shoulders, dug her fingers in desperately, bucking and riding out the vibrations of pleasure.
“God, Rone…” she panted near his ear. He released her breast and brought his face back to hers. He kissed her, brutalizing her mouth, licking and sipping her lips. It was strange. No one had ever kissed her like that, like she was the reason they were alive, like it was her breath that animated his lungs the desire for her that made his heart beat.
“Is this slow enough for you?” He said hoarsely.
“Not- at- all.”
“I can stop.”
“Don’t you dare.” Her voice didn’t even sound like hers, it was so desperate and breathy.
Thankfully, he didn’t. His finger pushed into her, giving her an inch, slowly, so very slowly. He went back to nipping at her lips, sucking her bottom lip, scraping his teeth over her bottom lip, nipping her. Her hands scrabbled over his neck, lower, until she was gripping the iron of his biceps, just barely managing to hang on.
“Next time we do this, it’s going to be my mouth here,” he rasped. “And then my cock.” He thrust his finger inside and the thickness was all it took to send her careening over the edge. She crashed into the orgasm, barely managing to clamp her lips together to keep from screaming. The last thing she needed was for some neighbor to be out in their backyard and hear the racket. The fence was high, but not insurmountable. She didn’t want an audience.
A gentle wail did escape and she breathed Rone’s name. He let her ride out the waves, her inner muscles clenching his finger tightly, before he slipped out. He brought his hand up and sucked his index finger between his lips, taking it into his mouth as his eyes closed shut. She nearly orgasmed again, watching the bliss on his face as he tasted her.
“Next time,” he said hoarsely next to her ear. “Next time, you’ll scream my name.”
“And if I don’t?” She asked breathlessly.
“Oh you will. I’ll make you come until you do.”
Annoying, Rone released. She nearly sank before she could get her wits about her enough to tread water. Her body vibrated and ached. She felt wrung out. Her head still felt like it was floating off her shoulders. From across the pool, Rone started swimming laps, not the least perturbed that she was a hot mess just mere feet away.
Next time. Oh god, she couldn’t wait for there to be a next time.
Chapter 6
We Have A Fainter
Heather
Ironically enough, Heather spent so much time thinking about Rone’s upcoming appointment with Mike that she forgot all about it the day it actually happened. The shop was busy, with six out of seven artists working at appointments. She was in the back helping sterilize equipment when Rone came in. She didn’t even know he was there until she walked past Mike’s room. The door was open and Rone was sitting on the chair, head bent in conversation with Mike.
Heather scurried past the room. She sat down heavily behind the reception desk. She realized she hadn’t taken a breath since she’d seen Rone. She released a rush of air, hoping to dispel the heat that was rising just as quickly. It didn’t work. She felt sticky and uncomfortable, prickly in her own skin. It felt like someone had cranked up the heat in the shop too, but she knew that was just herself, internally combusting.
Like a wicked TV program, her memory played back images from the last time she’d seen him, shirtless, at the pool. Her lips tingled again, like they had so often in the past few weeks whenever she thought about how he’d kissed her. She’d never been kissed like that before in her life. It was the kind of kiss she’d always known a man like Rone could give her. No other man measured up. It wasn’t exactly like there was something wrong with her, it was just that she’d always known there was one person who could complete her and that was Rone.
“Heather, can I get a glass of juice? We have a fainter back here!”
Heather started at the sound of her name. She didn’t realize she was so lost in thought until she whirled around and came face to face with Kian, the owner of the shop. He had a menacing look, but deep down, he truly was a nice person. It wasn’t his fault his countenance was just naturally that dark, broody even. She used to be a little afraid of him, when she started working at the shop, but that had been years ago. She was young, only nineteen. Since Kian had met his wife and had a couple kids, he’d really mellowed out.
“What? Your client doesn’t look like a fainter. She never mentioned that on her form. She has three other tattoos!”
Kian shook his head. He rolled eyes that were so dark they were almost black. “It’s not for me. It’s for Mike. Apparently he just started up the gun and the guy passed right out. Didn’t even touch him or anything.”
“Oh my god!” Heather jumped up so fast that her chair nearly tipped over. Kian lifted a brow. “No need to rush or anything. The guy’s still living. He’s coming round. I just thought some juice would help. Usually does.”
“I’ll get it.” Heather hoped she wasn’t blushing. Kian’s eyes swept over her, sensing right away that something was more than a little off. She wasn’t the rushing, blushing kind. Ever.
She blew past Kian, walked down the hall and stalked into the small lounge area that served as staff quarters for breaks and lunches or just downtime. The row of cupboards also contained all sorts of sugary goodies she kept stocked for these exact moments. There were suckers, granola bars, juice crystals and power bars for clients who sat for long periods of time. They were sometimes just exhausted after a while and something to eat got them through the rest of the sitting.
The glass of juice she mixed up came together in record time
. She rushed back down the hall to Mike’s room where Rone was sitting in the chair, pale as a ghost. He looked up, saw her and scrubbed a hand over his face, trying to pull it together. She was so concerned about him she didn’t even process the fact that he had his shirt off and was sitting there like a bronzed statue.
“What happened?” Heather stopped just short of the black tattoo chair. The thing looked far smaller than it usually did, with Rone’s massive size dwarfing it. “Are you going to be alright?”
“Yeah- uh…” His gaze flew to where Mike was sitting, a few feet away. Heather could tell, by the lift of Mike’s brow, that he found the whole thing far too damn amusing. It was pretty ironic, when tiny women came in and sat for ten hours like a champion, but guys like Rone passed out or tapped out before their artist even started.
“Do you want some juice?” Heather held out the red plastic cup like it was some kind of precious offering. “It’s grape,” she added uselessly. Finally Rone’s hand reached out. She placed the cup in his palm and his fingers curled around it. She tried very hard not to study his hand, but her body reacted violently to the memory of it on her skin. His caress, so infinitely gentle despite his massive size and inherent strength. He’d touched her almost reverently. She blinked and retracted her hand before she could risk their fingers grazing each other.
“Thanks.”
Heather crouched down at the side of the chair, waiting. Rone pounded back the juice and handed the glass back to her. “Are you going to make it or do you want to reschedule? You didn’t have to come in if you weren’t feeling well.” She watched Rone’s throat bob as he swallowed hard. She knew right away that it wasn’t it at all, though his words tried to convince her otherwise.
Heroic Heart_A Brother’s Best Friend Rebel Romance Page 4