“Hell no. I want to get to know you,” Bowie moved closer and whispered in her ear. “Before I get to know you.” He pulled back.
An appealing blush highlighted her cheekbones. He liked knowing he put it there.
“What do you want to know?”
He reached up and brushed a piece of hair away from her eyes—those beautiful, soulful blue eyes. “I want to know everything, so let’s play a game I call truth or lie.”
“I know this game. You want to go first?”
“Ladies first, Duchess.”
Katie sipped her soda water. “I’m turning eighteen next month.”
Bowie choked on his beer. “I pray that’s a lie because if it isn’t, I’m going to jail tomorrow.”
She laughed. “I’m twenty-eight, but my birthday is next month. Your turn.”
“I’ve been shot seven times.”
She chewed her cheek and stared at him. “I’d say that’s the truth. Do I get to kiss your scars?” Her voice was soft and low and seductive.
“I’d love to feel your lips on me.”
Doc rose from his stool and gave a wave goodbye. Cannon brought another pitcher of beer to the jerks at the pool table.
“I recorded a record when I was fifteen.” She sat there with a straight face.
Bowie wasn’t fooled because even though her face was solid serious, her hands tapped nervously on her knee. That was her tell. She was a terrible liar.
“Lie.”
“How did you know?”
He leaned back against the counter. “I’m intuitive.” He fed her the same words she’d given him the day they met.
Over the course of the next hour, they learned a lot about each other.
She ran three times a week.
He spent three months in a hospital after his last injury.
She had a younger brother and sister.
He had Cannon.
She loved sweet potatoes.
He loved eggplant.
She’d always wanted a dog.
He wanted a new Harley.
She loved lip gloss.
So did he when he tasted it on her lips.
She loved reading about romance.
He loved penthouse.
She liked bad boys like him.
He liked her.
When the jukebox played, she pulled him to his feet. “Dance with me. I love this song.”
He didn’t recognize it, but she told him an artist named Indigo sang it. They found an empty piece of floor, and she fell into his arms while the moving voice of the artist sang about unfulfilled wishes and dreams.
Moments later, the blond idiot poked him in the shoulder. “Mind if I cut in?”
Bowie laughed. “You really have a death wish, don’t you?”
“I’m just asking you for a minute with a pretty girl.” He looked at Bowie’s scarred face.
“I don’t mind stepping aside as long as you don’t mind castration.” Bowie looked down on the man. He was stupid but brave. “You come near her again—in fact, if you even look at her, I’ll rip your gonads free and feed them to you. Got it?” He pulled Katie into his arms. He loved the way she naturally curled into his side. “Let me give you some advice. Here in Aspen Cove, there are rules. You don’t jump on someone else’s ride. You don’t fish in another man’s pond. You don’t touch another man’s woman. This one is mine.”
He nodded toward his brother, who was watching from behind the bar, then led Katie out the door.
What the hell did I just do?
He’d claimed her.
Chapter Twelve
“Would you have really fed him his … what did you call them … gonads?” Katie walked close enough to Bowie to be considered a piece of him. Every one of her curves slipped into the notches of his body. He nestled perfectly beside her.
He stopped in the center of the street and looked down at her with a lazy smile. “I would have ripped them out through his throat as a warning to others. You are not the girl to mess with.” He leaned down and pressed his mouth to her forehead. Lighting-laced lips sent a jolt through her that made every nerve ending tingle.
Although he was easily eight inches taller than her, they seemed to be perfectly matched.
“For a guy who wants nothing more than a good time, you sure put out the possessive vibe.” She tilted her head to look at him. “When you’re done with me, I’m never likely to get another date in this town.”
The hard line of his jaw twitched. “Tonight, you’re mine. I’m a selfish bastard, and I refuse to share.” His big palms cradled the back of her neck as he leaned down to kiss her.
The man fried her brain with his touch. “Tomorrow, I’m free game?”
He wrapped his arm around her waist and led her to his truck. “We’ll see.” When they got to the passenger side, he opened the door and helped her into her seat. “Let’s live it a minute at a time.” He covered her mouth and stole a kiss.
Her heart galloped at a pace that left her dizzy. She’d been kissed by plenty of men but never had her heart want to leap out of her chest and live inside theirs until now.
She pulled away. “Who knows? By tomorrow I might be done with you.”
She doubted every word that came out, but it felt good to say it. He’d been telling her since they met that all they’d be together was a good time. There was no questioning that fact. If Bowie could turn her insides to goo and her brain to stone with a kiss, who knew what he could do to the real estate between her legs? But part of being independent meant she got to decide, too, so she reminded him he wasn’t in control of her or how this moment would turn out.
“That’s a possibility, not a probability.” He closed the door and walked around the truck to his side.
She liked the easy confidence of his walk. Bowie wasn’t out to prove a point. She doubted very much he’d fret over her pleasure. He held an air about him that said he knew he could please her. That kind of confidence was sexy as hell.
“Your place or mine?” Katie buckled her seat belt.
“Mine. No one will be home tonight. Dad’s at Maisey’s, and Cannon basically lives at B’s.”
She turned her body to face him. “Won’t that be hard for you?”
He made that warm, soft sound that wasn’t quite a laugh, but something closer to a growl. It sent shivers racing down her spine.
“No, but give me a few minutes, and I’ll be hard for you.”
She reached over and playfully punched him in the chest. “You know what I mean.”
A moment of silence stretched between them as they drove the few blocks to his house. He pulled into the gravel driveway and killed the engine. He unbuckled his seat belt and shifted his body to face her. The uneasy expression in his baby blue eyes showed the turmoil he must have felt inside.
“I won’t lie to you and say it’ll be easy, but we’ve got this place or your place, and I’m not ready for the bakery.”
Katie felt a deep need to comfort the man she knew was hurting inside. She slid to his side of the bench seat and crawled into his lap. “I want to help you through this. I want you, Bowie. I want this moment with no expectations of more. Let’s forget about the world and get lost in each other. Surely, the universe can grant us a few minutes of pleasure.” She rested her hands on his tense shoulders. Her fingers kneaded the taut, tense muscles.
“A few minutes?” His shoulders shook with his laugh. “You don’t have much confidence in me, do you?” He swung the door open and slid out of the seat with her wrapped around his waist. She loved the way his hands cradled her bottom and pulled her body close to his. The ease with which he held her made her feel light as a snowflake. “I’ve learned to not expect much.”
With a bump of his hip, he shut the door. Three long strides got them to the front porch, two strides up the steps, skipping several as he went. A quick stop to unlock the door. Several steps down the hallway to a room that smelled like him.
She looked around at the walls cov
ered with classic rock posters. A lava lamp sat on his dresser, with the blob of blue oil drowning at the bottom.
“Welcome to the nineties.” He lowered her to the edge of the bed. “Just pretend we’re in one of those joints that rent themed rooms.” He glanced around the space and shook his head. “I was never one for decorating.”
Katie rose from the bed and walked to the poster of No Doubt. “I don’t know … Gwen Stefani knows how to make a room pretty.”
Bowie snuck up on her and buried his head in the crook of her neck. The scruff of his unshaven face roughed up her tender skin in the most delicious way.
“You make my room look pretty.”
“Flattery will get you … everywhere.” She turned around and pressed her hands against his hard chest. Her fingers traced his muscles from his pecs to the start of his beard. “Glad you didn’t shave.” Once her hands were wrapped around his neck, she pulled him down for a kiss. She wasn’t usually so bold, but this was the new Katie, the one who went after what she wanted, and right now she wanted Bowie.
He turned them around and walked her back to the edge of the bed. The mattress hit her at the back of her knees and folded her back on top of the soft blue comforter.
“Everything comes off but these boots. They’re sexy as hell.”
She pulled her lower lip between her teeth and chewed. She hadn’t given this much thought. Sure, she’d fantasized about Bowie and her in bed since the day they met, but to actually be here with him looking at her with eyes filled with liquid lust was a different story. She felt completely unprepared for the emotions and sensations he stirred within her.
The last time she dated a guy, they made it to the fifth date. She thought being honest about her condition was prudent, but when she told Samuel she was a heart transplant recipient over dinner, he folded his napkin and stood. She thought he was going to the bathroom, but fifteen minutes later he hadn’t returned. When she asked for the bill, the waitress said the gentleman had paid and left.
He took two days to text her. “I can’t be with someone so broken.” That was the first time she realized she viewed herself differently than the rest of the world. Whereas her ten-inch scar spoke of weakness to others, it spoke of strength to her.
She never considered herself broken; she thought of herself as fixed. Broken was when at twenty she lay in the hospital without the energy to press the nurse call button; today, she could run for miles at a stretch. The only thing broken was Samuel. Right then, she decided that to tell someone about her illness weakened her position in the relationship. Then again, she didn’t want to strip her shirt off and shock the hell out of Bowie.
“I’ll take everything off but my shirt and boots.”
He shook his head back and forth. “No way, Duchess. I’ve been dying to see those breasts of yours.”
“Fine, but I’m scarred.” Like ripping off a Band-Aid, she said the words quickly, hoping it would take the sting out.
“We’re all scarred.”
He reached for the hem of her shirt and pulled it over her head. She watched as he took in every bare inch of her body. His eyes lingered on the black lace that barely contained her breasts. Sitting perfectly between the two lace cups was a long, thin, silver scar that ran from the top of her breastbone to the bottom of her ribs. He took her all in, but not once did he look disgusted, or worse, filled with pity.
“You’re perfect.”
Those were words she hadn’t expected or prepared for. If she didn’t fall more in love with him, then nothing would pull her heartstrings. “Glad you’re blind.”
“Oh, sweetheart, I see what’s important.” He traced her scar with the tip of his calloused finger. “This doesn’t tell me what you aren’t. It shows me what you are. You’re one badass, sexy woman.” His thick fingers unhinged the front clasp of her bra. When it fell open, his eyes, once the color of a spring sky, turned night blue. “I can’t believe you’ve been hiding these from me.” He cupped her full breasts with his palms. “I knew it.”
Katie lay back while Bowie moved up her body, knees on both sides, straddling her hips. “Knew what?”
“That these were made for my hands.”
She reached up to cup the roundness of his chest muscles. “You overflow mine.” For the first time, she didn’t focus on her scar because he didn’t. It was like he didn’t see it. “Take your shirt off.” She didn’t recognize the throaty growl to her voice.
He sat back with his firm butt pressed to her thighs and crossed his arms, gripped the hem of his shirt, and slowly pulled the cotton up his chest and over his head. Katie sucked in a breath at his beauty. Sure, he was scarred like her, but every one of his scars represented a battle with life and death. A battle from which he came out the victor.
Her fingertips skimmed over his battle scars. A long gash across the right side of his chest. An indent to the left of his happy trail. A jagged line that ran the length of his right side.
He placed his hands over hers and moved them down his body. “Knife fight.” He left the gash and lowered their hands to his side. “Shrapnel from an IED.” He unbuttoned and unzipped his pants, leaving the two sides to fall open. The indent bled into another scar that disappeared beneath the denim. “Bullet wound and surgery.” He let her hands go and leaned over her, his lips a breath away from hers. “They don’t define me.” He adjusted his body. The hot stroke of his wet tongue ran down her scar. “This doesn’t define you. You are beautiful.”
His lips and tongue continued their path until the denim of her jeans stopped his progress. Her entire body vibrated with need. On her elbows, she lifted and watched him tug her button open with his teeth then quickly move the zipper down. She drew in a ragged breath and willed her heart to slow its pace. She couldn’t think with the whoosh of blood sounding in her ears.
While he tugged the tight jeans over her hips, she heeled off her boots. If he wanted her in them, he could put them back on her. Distracted by her pants, her red boots were forgotten.
What started off as a languid taste of her skin turned into a frenzy of clothes flying in all directions. She pulled at his pants until they bunched around his ankles. He hopped up and out of his jeans.
God, he was magnificent. A body carved in stone. Her eyes took him in from the top of his cropped hair to the rigid length of him curved up toward his stomach. For a woman who was practically virginal for her age, he didn’t frighten her. With only two solid experiences under her belt, she could have been struck by nerves. Instead, she was consumed by need.
He blanketed her body with his. The coarse hairs on his chest tickled the sensitive buds of her nipples. The scruff was back at her neck, moving against her skin in what could only be described as practiced seduction.
“You like this?” He jutted out his chin and rubbed back and forth across her chest.
“Oh, yes.” A sexy sigh escaped her lips. She loved it. She wanted to feel that texture on her skin until he left her chafed and burning. “Kiss me.”
“Gladly.” He moved up her body, the length of him sitting heavy between her thighs. “I love your lips and your taste and that little moan that sounds each time I kiss you.”
He covered her mouth with his. His tongue probed at the seam of her lips until she opened to him. The kiss was deep and moving. He wasn’t simply kissing her. He explored everything about her, from her taste to her texture. That little moan he spoke of filled the air.
When his hands reached for her breasts, she inhaled sharply. With her shirt-on rule, they rarely saw action; so, when he rolled the puckered skin between his fingers, she arched up to meet his touch.
It didn’t take him long to leave her mouth so he could run his hot tongue to the same buds that begged for attention. Hot and searing, he sucked and pulled at them until she was a quivering mess.
She ignored his chuckle as he lowered himself to the cradle of her thighs. “Is this where you wanted to feel my five o’clock shadow?” The heat of his words blew across the
sensitive flesh between her legs.
“Yes.” She’d experienced the hunger of a man once before and could only say she was a fan. “I want to feel you everywhere.”
And she did. Bowie did things to her body she only imagined could happen. He took her from shaking between the subtle strokes of his tongue to the screaming of his name several times. When she lay like a wet noodle in the center of his bed, he hovered over her. The proof of his desire twitched between her legs.
He lifted his head. “What about birth control?” His voice hung low in the air. A bit of gravel and a lot of need made four words sound like continued foreplay.
“We need to use a condom. I’m not on anything.” With her condition, barrier methods were less risky.
He rose from her body, leaving goose bumps on every inch of her skin. “Lucky for us, I’ve got two condoms in my wallet. These suckers have been to several countries.” He pulled his wallet from his pants and took out the two foil wrapped packages.
“How old are they?” Katie knew latex had a shelf life. She had no idea what it was, but she wasn’t willing to take chances.
“Less than a year.” He lifted the corner of one packet to his mouth and tore the foil open. He held it up to the light. “It looks all right to me.”
“Glad you came prepared.”
She was glad because she couldn’t imagine having to turn back now. She looked at the green condom pinched between his fingers. Why condoms had to come in crazy colors, Katie didn’t know. She’d never had a longing desire to be filled with green until that moment. Hell, Bowie’s condom could have been any color, and that would have been her favorite.
He rolled it onto his impressive length and climbed between her legs. “You ready?”
She gripped his hips and pulled him to her entrance. “If I said no?” She shifted her hips, pressing him inside of her a fraction of an inch. She watched his eyes narrow as he rode the razor’s edge of self-control.
“I’d ask you why. If I couldn’t get you ready, then I’d lie beside you and hold you. I’d never force you into anything.”
She hiked up her hips more. “I’m ready.”
One Hundred Heartbeats Page 9