Neve pursed her lips. “He let you drive the Bugatti?”
“Well, we had a wager. He lost. I won.” Ian winked at her. “That was the prize.”
“And if he’d won? What would he have gotten?”
“I don’t know.” Ian shrugged. It was mid-afternoon, past the lunch rush and well before the evening crowd and he wished he didn’t have to be working the bar at the pub.
Neve seemed to be busy examining the surface of the bar and when she started to trace the grain of the glossy wood, he reached out and caught her hand. “I don’t believe it.”
She tensed.
Staring at the crown of her head, he willed her to look up at him.
After a few more moments, she did and he reached out, cupping her cheek in his hand.
He was more than aware that several people were watching them and he didn’t care. What he cared about was bringing the smile back into her eyes. “I saw what was in the bag,” he said, keeping his voice low. “And I don’t believe it.”
When she didn’t respond, he traced his finger over the curve of her lower lip. “That shite, it wasn’t yours.”
“No.” A heavy breath escaped from her and she slumped, almost as if she’d deflated, but he understood. She’d come in here, half afraid of the reception she’d receive. If he’d had his way, he would have tossed her over his shoulder and taken her back to his flat. If it was just the two of them, he could erase the shadows in her eyes.
That wasn’t an option, though.
“How do you know?” she asked softly. “Was … did Brannon or Gideon call you?”
“No.” With a snort, he pushed away from the bar just as one of the servers came up, already giving him the order. He started on a Guinness and dug out a bottle of Bud Light, popping the cap before turning the bottle over to be delivered. He checked the Guinness and went back to Neve. “I knew it just by the look on your face. You’d told me you had a fear of needles and I believed you so the drugs didn’t make sense but I’ve gotten to know you and aside from that … all I had to do was see your face.”
Another order came in; he took care of that and finished off the Guinness before returning to her.
“So, there you go. I don’t believe it.” He shrugged when she glanced up at him. Once more, he braced his hands on the bar’s smooth surface. It was that or reach for her and he didn’t really want to go pulling her over the bar.
“I was…” She broke off and then gave him a jerky shrug. “I was thinking I’d hang around. Eat some dinner. You can drive me home when you’re done.”
He had other ideas in mind that sounded preferable, but the bruised look in her eyes had him keeping quiet on those plans. “I think we can make that work.”
He spun the keys and then leaned over, pressing a quick, hard kiss to her lips, ignoring her quick gasp. “Maybe you and I can talk about our plans, then.”
“What plans?” Neve’s brow furrowed as she stared at him.
“The plans I’m putting together for our next date.” He slid a finger down the back of her hand, studying her from under his lashes. “I’ve got an urge to seduce you, Neve McKay.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Ian studied her solemnly and then looked down. After another moment, he picked up a letter and added it to the board game in front of them.
Neve looked down and felt her face go red as she read the word c-u-m. “That doesn’t count as a word. Well, not unless you’re a thirteen-year-old boy.”
Ian winked at her. “A thirteen-year-old boy lives in the heart of every man, love.”
She rolled her eyes. “You’re just trying to get cheap points now. I’m going to win and you know it.”
“Well, if we’d played strip Scrabble, it wouldn’t matter who won or lost. But we had to play it with our clothes … oi, that’s not a word, either!” He glared at the board where she’d used a d to make out the word v-a-d-e-r.
“Sure it is. As in Darth Vader.” She smugly tallied up the points. “If you can use dirty words, then I can use names.”
“Dirty words, eh?”
She realized she’d somehow unconsciously challenged him. A few minutes later, he had the word c-u-n-t and she wrinkled her nose at him. “I don’t like that word.”
“I don’t see why not.” He shrugged, unabashed. “It’s short for cunnilingus, you know, and you do enjoy that. So if I were to say, Neve, I want to lick your cunt—”
She threw one of the little letters at him and he didn’t dodge it in time. “Come now,” he said, rubbing at the red mark on his cheek. “What if you’d hit me in me mouth? I wouldn’t be able to put it to good use later.”
“Are we going to play or are you just using this to try and embarrass me?”
Ian reached out and stroked his finger down her hand. “Why would it embarrass you to know that I plan on putting my hands all over you later, Neve?”
Her breath hitched when he caught her hand and lifted it to his lips, catching one finger in his mouth and sucking on it. Heat fluttered inside, then spread when he pulled that finger out and moved to the other. “It wouldn’t embarrass me if you sat there and told me that you wanted to put your mouth on my cock. Or any other part of me.”
Before she could formulate any sort of reply, he let her hand go and then braced his elbows on the coffee table. The lights were dim, the remnants of a pizza on the table next to them. “Right, then. Your turn, Neve.”
Dazed, she looked down at her letters.
She had no idea what possessed her but she did it.
She reached out and took from the words already on the board, highly aware of Ian’s bemused expression. As she spelled out the word c-o-c-k, she didn’t dare look at him.
A moment later, the Scrabble board went flying and she was on her back on the couch, with Ian sprawled on top of her.
“I think you win that round,” he said, his voice gruff.
* * *
Ian could, without a doubt, seduce her. Even with something as simple as dirty Scrabble and pizza by candlelight.
He could also destroy her.
Her hands gripped the edge of the table, and she sucked in a breath as he pushed her thighs wider and licked her.
The table was cool under her back—cool and slippery—and when she tried to arch closer, her shirt slid over the smooth surface. Ian’s hands caught her hips and held her steady.
Those hands might be the only thing keeping her from flying into a thousand pieces as he started to toy with her clitoris, using his tongue in a rhythm that set her to gasping and whimpering all over again.
She came with hard, near savage intensity and when he levered his weight up over her, she stared at him, panting.
“That was dessert,” he said.
“Dessert?” It took two tries to get the word out.
“Aye. It’s time for the main course, though. I’m so hungry for you.” Ian nuzzled her breasts through her T-shirt and she wished she’d thought to take it off. Clothes had never been so annoying as they were around him. If they could both just spend their time together naked …
The loud rasp of a zipper had her heart hammering harder against her ribs.
“We … um.”
He came down over her and she used her hands as a buffer, holding him at bay as she looked around.
“Ian, we’re on your table.”
“I know.” He rolled his eyes. “The next time I sit down here to eat, I’ll end up with an erection and blue balls.”
“But…”
His lips lightly pressed against the corner of her mouth. “Neve, can I tell you a fantasy of mine?”
He didn’t wait for her to answer, just forged right on ahead. “I want to see you naked in every room of my house and have you on every flat surface that will hold our weight.”
A laugh bubbled out of her, a mix of excitement and embarrassment. “The back of your couch wasn’t flat.”
“Well, then. I’ll have to amend my fantasy.”
He brushed aga
inst her and the discomfort she felt, the vague embarrassment, faded at the feel of his cock, so hard and thick, stroking against the folds of her sex.
“I…”
He sank inside her.
“I think I could get on board with this fantasy,” she squeezed out as he withdrew and surged forward again.
“I knew you’d see it my way.”
His mouth came down on hers and rational thought spun away, lost in a haze of bliss.
* * *
William idly stroked his thumb against his forefinger, a habit he seemed to have picked up almost overnight. The scarf.
He shouldn’t have left the scarf.
As much as he would have liked to have watched the whole spectacle play itself out, he’d stayed in his chair, pretending to read the pitiful excuse this town had for a newspaper. He’d been surprised she’d reported it. First one, then a second, police car had arrived and they’d stayed there for close to an hour.
Neve had strode out from between the two buildings at one point. Anticipation had burned in him and he’d laid out enough money to cover the coffee he’d been drinking, but she hadn’t left that spot.
No. Ian fucking Campbell had emerged from the alley behind her and the two of them had been all but joined at the hip.
Then there was the blonde—the women had spoken together for some time and he’d spun yet another scenario in his head. Perhaps she’d leave with the woman. If she left with the other woman, he could follow …
But she hadn’t.
It had been almost a week since he’d left his message for her and he’d yet to see her more than a handful of times and not once had he been able to approach her.
When she’d hopped out of a flamboyant car that was the most atrocious shade of red, he’d felt the frustration course through him yet again. She paused to wave at the car behind her and William curled his lip at the sight of Brannon McKay.
Neve had then disappeared into a shop just down the walk. Renovations were going on inside and he knew he wouldn’t have even a whisper of a hope of her being alone.
Men with tool belts came and went in an unending parade and more than once, Campbell had gone in there and the two of them would emerge.
They’d done that, just twenty short minutes ago.
He’d watched, expecting them to go into the pub.
But Campbell had dipped his head toward Neve’s, perhaps to say something. She’d looked up at him, and then they’d kissed.
Neve hadn’t even pretended reluctance when she let him lead her into the alley.
They were inside Campbell’s flat. He’d followed and now William could hear them, low grunts and soft moans.
He reached up and traced his finger over the small, round sticker. It was discreet, but its message was clear.
There was an alarm system and he’d already seen how promptly calls to the police were handled. More than a few uniformed men tended to have their lunch in the pub. He doubted he could get in there and get out without being seen by the cops—pursued, even.
As a broken cry echoed through the door, William turned.
He’d go back to the diner.
Sooner or later, she’d slip up.
She always did.
Then she’d pay and if he was lucky, perhaps he could even get his hands on Campbell. Just the thought of him putting his hands on Neve made William’s vision run red.
His.
She was his.
She’d learn how foolish it was to humiliate him like this, just as her brother had learned. Did Ian Campbell know?
Did the sod know that Neve was his?
He would, and so would Neve, once and for all.
Nobody humiliated him and just walked away from it.
It had taken time to figure out just how he’d handle it, but he’d done it. That meeting in New York, running into Neve McKay, although it hadn’t been an accidental meeting as she’d always assumed.
No, he’d been watching and waiting for a chance. She thought she was so fucking powerful, all of them did. Fucking McKays with their money and their name. But he knew people, too. He had friends as well and he knew who to talk to, knew how to wait, so he’d done just that.
He’d watched, he’d listened, and when he heard about Neve, he’d known she’d be perfect. Ripe for the plucking.
He’d just planned to have a bit of sport with her, but she’d been so vulnerable. So needy. So perfect.
She was his. He’d have his chance at her soon. He’d just have to be patient again and watch, wait.
Neve would be his again and he’d teach her the same sort of lesson he was teaching Campbell and her prick of a brother. Nobody humiliated William Clyde. Nobody.
Somebody appeared at the table and he looked up.
The female gaze that pinned him was cool, assessing. William returned her stare with one of his own.
A slow smile stretched across her lips.
* * *
“I saw you.” Shayla Hardee said the words coolly, calmly.
The man across from her put his coffee cup down on the table and leaned back, studying her with a faint, amused expression on his face. “You saw me … here? How observant of you.”
“Very funny.” She leaned in. The crowd around them had her lowering her voice. “I saw you … last week. Out behind the pub.”
His lids flickered. He said nothing, but when he cocked his head, she smiled. “Joel Fletcher lives in one of the little apartments in the building behind the pub. It’s on High Street. His apartment is in the back. We were … visiting.”
“Visiting.” He laughed shortly. “Is that what it’s called these days?”
She ignored him, reaching out to rest a hand flat on the table. “She went into the police department, you know. I heard what happened, about the bag…” Shayla fluttered a hand vaguely. “Small towns, ya know. People talk.”
“Indeed.”
Unperturbed by his cool demeanor, Shayla leaned back over the table, elbows braced on the candy-apple red surface. Smiling, she added, “All that mess goes down behind the pub, nobody knows anything, saw anything … Ian’s bike get trashed. Neve’s got a backpack back there filled up with drugs. That was stupid, you know. Neve’s got this fear of needles that’s … well. It’s legendary. People might believe she’d sell them for the hell of it, but use them? Oh, hell, no.”
“Is there a point to this?” He lifted his coffee cup and sipped, staring at her over the brim.
“You had a bag with you. I saw it.”
Impatience started to leap inside her when his eyes remained cool and unreadable.
“What would you like?” he asked easily. “A medal?”
“Well.” She lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “You’re not too far off. Medals are, after all, usually gold.”
She let those words sink in.
“Money.” His lip curled as he said it, the word clearly distasteful. Still, in that crisp accent, he sounded so elegant, so refined. “You want me to pay you.”
Shayla smiled. “That’s the idea.”
He studied her with narrow eyes and then leaned in. “There’s a boat dock a few miles out of town. Landry’s. You know it?”
“Who doesn’t?” Shayla rolled her eyes.
“Be there tonight at ten. We’ll discuss this more … openly.”
“You better be ready to trade.” As he stood up, she slumped more comfortably in the chair and lifted her hand to flag down the server. This called for French fries.
* * *
“I’ve been thinking.”
Ian’s chest was warm under her and she could feel his heart beating. It was a soothing, steady cadence and she thought maybe she could be happy to spend the rest of her life like this. Or the rest of the day, at least. Sooner or later, they’d need food.
Then she’d want sex again.
Then they could go back to lying like this.
But he’d said something. Popping one eye open, she studied the room. Soft light fell through
the window, painting everything with warm, golden colors.
“Thinking. Why?”
Ian laughed softly. “Because sometimes it saves time and trouble.”
“Sometimes thinking causes trouble.” She shifted around and rolled onto her belly to stare at him. “Aren’t you the one who tells me I think too much?”
That face.
Just looking at him like this was enough to make her feel all hot and raw inside. And greedy. Not just for sex, although she’d come to appreciate that act far more than she would have thought possible.
But she was greedy for him. For everything about him—she wanted more time, she wanted more laughs, she wanted more conversations late in the night while she lay in her bed back at Ferry and he lay in his here in town.
Why couldn’t she have found him instead of William?
What would she be like if she hadn’t been so …
“… not a bad idea, is it?”
“Huh?” She blinked at him. Blushing, she sat up. “I’m sorry. My mind was wandering.”
“Just what a man wants to hear when he’s got a lovely woman in his bed.” Ian glowered at her, but she saw the glint in his eyes.
“I was thinking about you, if that helps.” She reached out and touched a finger to his lower lip. The softness of his beard and the warmth of him sent a shiver of pleasure up her spine.
“It helps.” He caught her hand and pressed a kiss to her palm.
Then he sat up, levering his weight back against the headboard. “So…” He drew the word out pointedly, staring at her. “I was thinking that maybe you could bring some of your stuff here. That way, if you end up staying the night again, you have clothes.”
Bring some of your stuff …
A wave of cold hit her. Air knocked out of her chest. Just a few things, Neve darling. It would be so much better that way and really, I can’t stay in your flat. There’s hardly room for you. William’s voice, so gentle and persuasive, rose out of the depths of her memories to mock her.
“My…” She licked her lips. “My stuff?”
She didn’t know where exactly it came from, or why it hit her like that, but suddenly, the lazy, easy warmth was gone. Even those thoughts of staying like this forever had faded.
Headed for Trouble (The McKay Family #1) Page 28