Truth About Tequila (Surviving Absolution #3)

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Truth About Tequila (Surviving Absolution #3) Page 4

by Nikki Belaire


  “I want to.”

  “I’ll do anything to make sure you do.”

  She smiles at his whisper as her eyes drift shut, forcing herself not to say the three words he’ll regret hearing.

  #####

  He blinks a few times, the light behind the blinds dancing on the checkered carpet, the white noise of the shower floating over him. His mouth and his groin twitch at the thought of Gina wet and naked. But he can’t join her yet. He forces himself to pull on his jeans and do a quick check through the suite. His footsteps echo on the tile, stepping around the glass shards still splayed across the floor, creating the only noise in the open space. Everyone still sleeping off the night before. Good, he can relax a little bit longer.

  Silence greets him back in Gina’s room. Damn, he missed his chance. He pushes open the bathroom door. Maybe not. Fire races through every nerve of his pulsing body at her stepping out of the marble stall, her beautiful figure stretching to reach the cream color towel draped over the bar a few steps away. He closes the distance between them and grabs it before she can. “Let me help you.”

  Her tongue rubs across her pouty lips, and she shakes her head. “That’s not why you’re here.”

  He tosses the linen on the counter and yanks her against him. “You’re right.”

  Flames shoot from his fingertips to his groin at her moan in his mouth. She drives her fingers into his hair trying to pull him deeper, clawing at his skin in her urgency. He picks her up, pressing his hardness into her soft core, reminding her how much he craves her. Her whisper of his name against his lips destroys his last attempt at self-control. He has to have her.

  He places her on top of the counter, the towel bunched under her slender legs. A smirk he loves to generate twists her lips while she watches him push down his jeans and boxer briefs. As soon as he kicks them off, her fingertips trail his chest, his breath hitching as she strokes farther along his treasure trail. Her hands as magical on his length as his back. “Keep doing that G, and we won’t make it to the bed.”

  “Who says we have to?”

  Damn, she’s so fucking sexy. He grips her bottom and lifts her against him, his gaze never breaking from hers as he glides into her with a slow, deliberate thrust. Both of them getting all the tests to be completely free with each other was sheer genius.

  Her arms coil around his neck and her legs wrap his waist. With her panting in his ear, he guides her hips up and down, stoking the blaze burning through his body. Lavender fills the steamy air, their slick bodies skim against each other, over and over before her teeth sink into his shoulder. An intoxicating blend of pain and pleasure rushes through him. The only woman he’s ever known to bite at orgasm. She clenches around him, her whisper of his name weakening his resolve to hold back from driving into her again, making it almost impossible not to press deeper into her throbbing softness. He lets her float down before nibbling on her ear lobe. “Give me one more.”

  At her nod, his fingers caress the silky skin of her thighs, and he carries her into the bedroom and lays her on the bed. Already missing being buried inside of her, yet needing to slow down the pace, he kisses up her legs and across her stomach before settling on her breasts. Her hips lift against his chest, squeezing the breath out of his lungs, but he laughs ignoring her request. “Not yet.”

  “You’re the only man I know who goes back to second base when home plate is free and clear.” Her fingers slide under his chin, lifting his head to meet her hooded gaze, fire dancing in the chocolate depths. “The coach is waving you home.”

  With slow, penetrating strokes circling her pulsing nipples, he quiets her complaints. Her back arches, lifting the soft mounds closer to his mouth and he takes a nub between his teeth, returning her favor from earlier. Fingernails drag up his back when he moves to the other hard pebble and scrape over his scalp before tugging his hair. He smiles against the velvety skin between her breasts and lazily runs his tongue up to her neck, sucking the tender skin at the hollow of her throat, barely hanging on at her moan under his lips. “So impatient.”

  Her hand moves between his legs, stroking down his length and cupping underneath. “So fucking irritating.”

  That’s it. She’s his. Her gasp as he drives into her almost pushes him to the brink. Not yet. They’re going together this time. Laying his forehead against hers, he thrusts into her silky folds, shuddering at her surrounding him, fitting together like no other woman ever has. Her eyes drift shut, but she keeps her lips pressed to his, her small hands cupping his cheeks. The only time she lets him in completely, welcoming the bond between them and shutting out everyone and everything else. “So perfect.”

  Her eyes fly open, dark with doubt, always seeking confirmation of his words, of their connection. He kisses her gently, before his lips move to her ear. “Believe me.”

  She clings to him as he sinks into her again, their bodies moving in the same rhythm before she cries out his name and pulls his skin between her teeth. He lets go at her pleasure, swearing through his clenched jaw as he explodes inside her. The feel of her sweet body pressing against him the only thing he’ll ever need.

  His racing pulse slows while her fingertips trail over the damage on his shoulder, her mark on him bringing a smile to his lips.

  “I’m sorry.”

  He lifts her fingers and kisses them, forgiving her unnecessary guilt. Her expression softens, and he tucks his head into her neck, breathing in his scent on her. “I have to take care of something for Nick, and I’m going to be gone for a few days.”

  Feigning indifference, she shrugs, letting her hand fall to her side. “But, I don’t want to be away from you.” Her head turns toward him, slaying him with the happiness radiating from her crooked smile. He’s pierced the armor. “Will you come with me?”

  Chapter 5

  The rumble between Max’s thighs isn’t enough to soothe his stress this time. Not calming enough to ease the guilt of what he’s running away from. Or eliminate the doubt that who he’s hoping to find at the end of his ride will be happy to see him.

  He drifts onto the interstate edging downtown, the previous miles flying by in a fog. Lost in his thoughts. But he can’t pretend he didn’t know where he was going. He knew as soon as he walked out the door where he would end up. No matter how much he feigns otherwise.

  The fading sun peeks between the sky scrapers, dark except for a few lighted windows shining through the smog. Maybe from workaholics who’d rather stare at a screen on a Sunday evening than be at home alone. Kind of like him. A feeling of loneliness he’s beginning to hate.

  He had to get away. Fucking ironic how the mansion has become too crowded with the addition of only one other person. But, if he’s honest with himself, it’s not her. Or, them. It’s just him.

  Shae’s as generous and thoughtful as ever. Always including him. Making sure he feels a part of their family. Taking care of him as much as she does Nick.

  He isn’t jealous. He would never want Shae for himself. Or for Nick not to have her. She gives his best friend everything he’s ever wanted.

  They’re just another reminder of what he doesn’t have. A woman in his life who makes him plant flowers or buy furniture or watch corny movies with happily-ever-after endings. That domestic existence he never thought he would want. Now it's everything he thinks about.

  After pulling into an empty space, he pushes off the bike, and swipes his phone, tapping the purple diamond. The tracker confirms his suspicions. She’s running the long route tonight. That’s fine. She’s always worth the wait.

  He strides down the sidewalk. An Italian dive only a few blocks from her townhouse. Not the best pizza he’s ever had, but quick and easy.

  Less than twenty minutes later, he heads back. Heat seeps through the cardboard in one hand, a cold carton swinging in the other. The box lands with a thump before he drops down next to it on the second step and twists off the cap of a long neck. She won’t mind he started without her. Not her drink of choice any
way but a good match for their meal.

  The last swallow goes down easy as she comes into view. God she’s fucking stunning. His body tightens with need. And fucking jealousy. What the fuck is she doing running in that skimpy sports bra and tiny shorts? Who the fuck is he to say she can’t? But, damn the thought of some bastard ogling what should be his pisses him off more than he ever thought possible.

  Her pace slows as her wide gaze meets his, and she yanks out a single ear bud. Always smart enough to not let herself be completely blocked off from the possible threats around her.

  “What’re you doing here?”

  “I missed you.” The words pop out before he even registers them. The shock on her face matches his own, but the admission isn’t a lie. And, not just because he has no other place to go. Here with her is exactly where he wants to be. “I thought maybe we could hang out.”

  Uncertainty replaces her surprise and she studies him, like he’s asked her to buy into a time-share or some other absurd request. “Hang out?”

  “You know…” He taps the red and green checkered lid with his fingertips. “Eat pizza? Talk? Watch a movie?”

  That same weird expression crosses her face. He looks up. Nope. No full moon. What the hell is he missing?

  “I have to take a shower.”

  “Okay.” Well, that’s a start. At least she’s going to let him come inside. He gestures for her to go first. Once she passes, he grabs the food and the beer, following her up the steps. Her long sideways glance scrutinizes him again before she taps in the code and pushes the door open. She kicks off her running shoes and slides her phone onto the black catch-all table in her entryway.

  “I’ll be out in minute.”

  She nods toward the bedroom but remains in place. Like he’s a little kid who can’t be left alone. Less than twelve hours ago she was naked underneath him screaming his name and now he can’t be fucking trusted. Damn. He has got to fix this relationship. “Okay. I’ll warm up the pizza.”

  “I can show you—”

  “It’s fine. I’ve got it.”

  Giving her no opportunity to argue, he strides toward the kitchen. The room remains as empty as the first time he was here. Bare countertops, empty cabinets, minimal basics in the drawers. Only able to scrape together a spatula with the tag still on it and an unused dish cloth he improvises into an oven mitt. Apparently she hates to cook as much as she hates to shop. He taps a few buttons on the monitor and slides the box into the oven.

  The hiss of running water fills the hallway and he forces himself to ignore the twitching of his dick at the thought of her wet and naked again. They’ll never move beyond being just fuck buddies if that’s all they ever do.

  Boxes still line the walls of her make-shift studio. A hint of acrylic permeates the air, probably from the portrait on her easel. Only the gray of the woman’s hair complete. The individual strands so realistic they seem to lift off the paper. He picks up an orphan tube and tosses it into the haphazard pile covering her work table. The same emerald color from her unsuccessful attempts to use him as a nude model. Which of course, turned into a long, hot shower scrubbing paint off each other before he ended up taking her again pressed against the tile wall.

  Fuck. Thinking about that shit only leads to trouble. He blows out a deep breath and wanders into the other spare bedroom. Fucking failing to cool his ass down as the lavender scent always floating on her silky skin welcomes him. The bottles of oil lined up next to her iPod and stack of towels. All organized and ready for the next client.

  Her footsteps tap against the hardwood floor behind him. “Oh? You want a massage.”

  She sounds relieved. Almost as if now the explanation for his presence is clear. “No, just looking around while I waited.”

  “Sorry I guess I thought...I wasn’t expecting…”

  Fuck. He broke the rules he didn’t even realize they had. Maybe this is too much. Maybe impromptu visits for no real reason push her too far. And away from him. Damn. “Listen. I can go if you want. I know we—“

  “No. Don’t.” Her body softens, a smile lighting her face as she finally relaxes. “I’m glad you’re here.”

  “Me too.” His stomach growls from the growing scent of simmering oregano and garlic, and he nods toward the doorway. “I’d better check our dinner.”

  After following him into the kitchen, she digs through a basket of paper plates and napkins from the top of the fridge. “I thought you might join me in the shower.”

  “I wasn’t invited.”

  Her gaze meets his, lingering for a second before trailing down his body at the growing bulge below his belt. “When has that ever stopped you?”

  Damn, she’s back. And, he’s hard. Again. That smirk like a lightning bolt to his groin. “I’ll remember that the next time.”

  “If there is a next time.”

  Okay, she wants to play. Fuck the pizza. And his promise to himself to be good. He strides to her, pressing his chest to her back and sliding his hand down between her cashmere skin and body-skimming pants. The lacy triangle at the apex of her thighs no barrier to his fingers curling inside, while he rolls her nipple through her thin cotton tee. “It’ll be me every time.”

  “You think so?”

  “I know so.”

  Wetness covers his fingertips as she presses against his hand urging him deeper. All the defiance from just a few seconds ago gone, replaced with tiny mews of pleasure. “Max, I…”

  Her words lost in a shudder as he strokes her favorite spot. She grabs the countertop edge to steady herself. Fuck that’s sexy. Knowing she’s weak because of him. From his touch. That he’s broken through her shell, allowing herself to be vulnerable to him. His teeth graze her earlobe before he whispers, “Let go, G. I’ve got you.”

  With his permission, she slumps against him, her knees buckling underneath her. Only his arm around her hips and his fingers cupping her taut breast hold her up.

  “You don’t play fair.”

  A smart-ass chuckle bubbles in his throat from her breathless accusation. “Never said I did.”

  He’d love nothing more than to bend her over the mosaic tile and bury himself inside her. But, fighting against their size difference, he needs a little help. After a quick scan of the small space, he walks her toward the pub style table with wooden rectangular seats on each side. Her head lolls against his chest as he teases her throbbing clit, her body arching with each flick of his fingertip.

  He laughs again at her grumble when he slides his hand out of her panties only to push down the silky fabric and her pants. Lifting her up, he presses his mouth to her ear. “Kneel on the stool.”

  His groin almost detonates at the groan in her delicate throat. Fucking sexier than hell to have her looking over her shoulder at him in anticipation. Need burns in her gaze as she watches him strip. Running his tongue across her shoulders, he kisses the tender skin at the nape of her neck and caresses her cashmere thighs. “Open for me.”

  Her trembling legs spread wider, knees hanging over the edge, and she raises her cute little ass to grant him access to her soft folds. Swear to God she’s the fucking sexiest woman’s he’s ever seen. He glides inside, curling over her back and resting his forearms on the cool wooden surface. A sharp contrast to her warm body gliding along his torso as he thrusts inside her. Delicate fingers entwine with his, squeezing him as they move together in the same slow rhythm, building an inferno inside him he can barely control. They could be so much more than fuck buddies if she’d just let him in her heart as well as her body.

  He brings her hand to his lips, kissing the palm before wrapping their coupled arms around her narrow shoulders. Holding her tight as he drives deeper and harder. Her breathy moans bounce off the almost blank walls as she clenches around him. Nuzzling her neck, he forces himself to hold back what he really wants to tell her. “Trust me, G. I’ve always got you.”

  She nods against him. Drops of her sweat mingle with his, the essence of them together th
at he never wants to wash off. Forever wanting her touch, her scent, her body on his. One last pinch of her pulsing clit pushes her over the edge and she cries out his name. Her teeth sink into his wrist and he explodes inside her, his body jerking from being in her heaven. He grinds out through his clenched jaw with the same ecstasy as their first time together. Never able to get enough of her. "Fuuuuuuck."

  "Um, yeah. I think that's what we just did."

  With his forehead resting on her shoulder, he lightly smacks her ass cheek, playing off her rebellious tone. “That’s for biting me.”

  “If I’d known that was going to be my reward, I would have done it harder.”

  He massages over the warm spot and down her shaking legs before scooping her up. “I’ll remember that next time too.”

  Hugging her against his chest, he kisses her temple and carries her to the bathroom. A sated smile plays on her lips. All of her reluctance from earlier seemingly gone. Maybe now they can relax and enjoy the rest of their evening.

  She wobbles a bit when he stands her on her feet. The circulation needing to return from being pretzeled for so long. His arm wraps around her waist, and he flicks on the faucet with his other hand, letting the water warm. “You okay?”

  Her head bobs. The sleepy grin never fades as he squats down and curls the heated washcloth between her legs. Gingerly wiping away their pleasure from her thighs.

  “Thank you…” Her eyes meet his, her gaze never wavering as he slowly rises. “…for taking care of me.”

  An unexpected tenderness in her voice stirs his heart. Rarely having the chance to be gentle with each other, he must prove to her he’s capable of so much more than she expects.

  “Thank you…” His answer floats above a whisper. Trying to avoid spooking her. Not wanting to ruin this loving moment between them. “…for letting me.”

 

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