by Sabrina York
She was well on her way to amassing quite a collection.
Sex with Devlin had been amazing. More amazing than she could ever have imagined.
The memory of his cock sliding in and out of her, even now, made her tingle.
She’d awoken from her nap, curled against his hard, warm body on the couch, steeping in the euphoria still bubbling in her womb…until mortification had set in.
Not that she’d fucked him. Hell no. That was an experience she’d clutch to her heart for many long, lonely nights to come. He’d been magnificent. Feral in his passion.
But she hadn’t intended to tumble so easily. She’d planned to give him what he wanted…a peanut butter blow job. Planned to bring him to the very edge of insanity, licking and lapping and exploring his thick cock…and then sashay away.
It hadn’t worked out that way.
He’d backed her up against the wall and touched her. Kissed her. Fed on her until she was in such a frenzy, she completely forgot about her evil plans. She’d wanted nothing—nothing—but the long slow slide of his cock inside her.
Everything else had been stripped from her brain, as though he’d peeled her civility away and tossed it aside like long-forgotten panties, reduced her to her most primal core.
They hadn’t even used a condom.
She was not pleased that he’d forgotten to use a condom.
She was not pleased that she’d forgotten to insist. She always insisted. Even though she was on the pill.
She’d never forgotten. Never been so swept away by passion, by sheer animal lust, that she’d neglected to politely ask a man to wear a raincoat. She lived in Seattle, for God’s sake.
That in itself should be enough to remind her how treacherous her feelings for him were.
But it had been phenomenal.
Almost too phenomenal to bear.
Certainly too phenomenal to stomach the awkward after.
So she’d slipped away. Like a thief in the night, skulking through the shadows back to the safety of her den.
The lights were on in the great room and she could hear murmured conversation rumbling in the room. She closed the door quietly, tiptoed down the hall and peered into the kitchen, dreading what she might be interrupting.
Anymore, when one was bunking with Kristi and Cam or Bella and Holt, one never knew what kind of shenanigans one might walk in on.
Earlier, she’d blithely tripped downstairs into the rumpus room and discovered Bella and Holt in a…compromising position. Well, Bella was in a compromising position. Tied hand and foot. Getting spanked.
Holt hadn’t been compromised at all.
He’d been so into it, he hadn’t even noticed the interloper.
Tara had turned tail and sprinted back up the stairs.
Honestly. Would it be too much to ask for them to hang a necktie on the doorknob? Or, in this case, a leash?
But there were no naughty reindeer games happening now. At least, not of the sexual variety. She was relieved to see Cam and Holt, along with Drew at the table playing cards. Probably poker, if she knew them. And she did.
She dumped the purloined jeans on the kitchen counter and pulled out a glass, availing herself of the open bottle of Bombay on the counter. “Hey guys.”
“Hey Tara.” Drew grinned.
“Where’ve you been?” Cam asked, tossing out a card.
She tipped up the bottle, sloshing in several fingers of gin. She needed it. “I went to Darby’s.”
Holt pointedly checked his watch and arched a brow. He didn’t need to say a word. She’d been gone far too long for a quick drink at the bar.
She decided to forestall his question with one of her own. “Where are Bella and Kristi?”
“Bella’s…taking a nap.” Holt’s lips quirked. Judging from his expression, Tara didn’t want to ask. She didn’t need to ask. Poor Bella. Whatever it was, it wasn’t a nap.
“Kristi’s in the hot tub.” Cam thrust his thumb toward the deck.
Tara sliced a lime and squeezed a wedge into her drink. “And you’re not with her?”
Cam shrugged. “We don’t have to be together every minute of the day.” Snorts rounded the room. The two were inseparable lately. “Besides, she likes to stay in there until she prunes.” He shifted in his seat. “And I don’t want to cook the boys.”
Tara chuckled and began rooting around in the fridge. “Anything to eat?” She’d planned to grab a sandwich at Darby’s and gotten…distracted. Now she was starving.
“Didn’t you eat at the bar?” God damn Holt and his too-sharp eyes.
Tara pulled out a loaf of bread and made a quick turkey sandwich. She would have preferred peanut butter…but she wouldn’t think about that. “Hmm. I ran into Avery.”
“Avery Warner?” Drew perked up.
“Mmm hmm.” She took a bite of her sandwich. “Did you know it’s her birthday this weekend?”
“Really?” Holt stood with a scrape of his chair and meandered to the fridge to grab another beer. His gaze stalled on the jeans on the counter and then flicked to her blouse, which she’d tied around her breasts leaving her midriff bare—the way they’d done when they were girls and wanted to pick up guys. She hadn’t wanted to pick up guys. But she’d had to do something creative…as Devlin had popped off nearly all the buttons.
Holt said nothing, but the way he cleared his throat was telling.
Tara shot him a mischievous smirk. “You’re all invited to the party tomorrow.”
Holt twisted the lid off his beer and tossed it into the trash. “But I didn’t bring a gift.”
“You know Avery. She’d consider your luminous presence at her BDSM party as a gift in itself.”
“Christ.” Drew buried his face in his hands. “It’s a BDSM party?”
“You expected Hello Kitty?” Cam chuckled, popping a handful of cashews into his mouth.
“Only if Hello Kitty was sporting a cat-o-nine.” Sometimes Holt had a dark sense of humor. Or maybe it was usually. He turned to Tara. “Are you going?”
“I was thinking about it. She was rather…adamant. Insisting we come.”
“We?” Holt didn’t miss a thing.
Tara cleared her throat. “I told her you would be there,” she quipped, grabbing her sandwich, scooping up her prized jeans and heading for the stairs. “Don’t be late. There will be forfeits.”
“Of course. And Tara…” The high, slightly panicked tone of Holt’s voice on her name stopped her in her tracks.
“Yes?”
“Bella’s in the green room.” Oh crap. And then, at her horrified expression, “She’s…on timeout.”
She nodded and blew out a breath, mentally thanking him for the warning.
The last thing she wanted was to walk in on Bella in a compromising position again.
Once a weekend was plenty, thank you very much.
Tara didn’t sleep much that night. Her mind kept drifting back to that amazing ride with Devlin and for some reason, her pulse would start to pound and her body got all warm and she had to take care of business.
Thank God she had her own room. Hopefully she didn’t wake anyone with her moaning.
The third time she woke up from a scorching dream with a burning hunger, it became a little annoying. Honestly. It was only a tryst. With a guy. She’d had trysts with guys before and walked away with absolutely no residual lust.
But they weren’t Devlin, a voice whispered in her head.
She told it to shut up.
He was just a guy. Like any other guy.
Okay, he was hotter than any other guy. And he smelled better. And the low thrum of his voice as he whispered in her ear kick-started something deep in her core…but there was no reason to moon. She hated mooning. She never mooned.
Though, when she thought about it, she had to admit, it had been phenomenal. Phenomenal enough to want more. One more fling.
Too bad it wasn’t going to happen.
Fucking him again would only encou
rage him.
Best to put him from her mind altogether.
Yet, for some reason, when she woke up, he was there, lingering in the mists of her mind, teasing her sanity. It put her in a seriously bad mood.
She yanked on a t-shirt and some jeans and padded downstairs, delighted to see no one else was up yet. She made the coffee and an omelet and then, because she knew it would get eaten, fried up a pan of bacon. Then she took her breakfast out on the deck, sat at the patio table and stared at the sea.
It was a beautiful morning. The gentle fingers of dawn painted the water in soft orange and yellow. The evergreens on the shore swayed in the gentle breeze. Tiny sandpipers chased the waves, dancing along the surf line. It was peaceful and quiet.
It was a benefit to being a baker, she supposed, that one could get up early enough to enjoy the sunrise, and still feel as if one had languorously slept in.
“Morning.” Holt’s voice was gruff with sleep. Or perhaps he’d been growling at Bella all night. Tough to tell.
“Morning.”
He pulled out a chair and plopped down beside her and cradled his coffee mug in his hands. “What a view.”
“It is beautiful, isn’t it?”
He grunted and took a sip. She glanced at him. He had sleepy face, which she found adorable on a man, especially a man as handsome as Holt. His eyes were half-open and a little blurred, there was a pillow crease on his beard-speckled cheek and his muscles had a softness that was not present in his usual demeanor. She wondered what Devlin’s sleepy face looked like, then caught herself and forcibly thrust the thought away.
“It’s always a thrill, coming here,” she said, just to have something to say. Something to fill the moment. She did not expect his attention to snap to her, to fixate on her, the way it did.
“Why don’t you come more often?”
God. She shouldn’t have said anything.
“I come often enough.”
“No. You don’t. I think I’ve seen you twice in the past year.”
She shrugged. Studied her mug. It was empty. Damn. “I need more coffee.” She pushed back from the table but he stopped her. Caught her wrist in a warm grasp.
“Why don’t you come more often?”
She blew out a laugh. “I have a job, Holt.”
“We all have jobs.”
“I have a business.”
The screen door opened and Bella came out onto the deck, carrying a mug and a plate piled with the pastries Tara brought and, of course, bacon. For a self-proclaimed vegan, she ate a lot of bacon. She caught Tara mid-scowl. “Well, don’t you look chipper this morning,” she said, setting her plate on the table.
She and Holt shared a kiss, which was a relief because it meant he would get distracted and drop this uncomfortable topic.
But she was wrong. Once Bella sat beside him, he snagged a slice of bacon and continued. “So you have a business. How does that keep you away? If you love it here, how could that keep you away?”
She forced a saccharine smile. “Are you saying you miss me, Holt?”
He held up his hands. “Hey. I’m just curious, is all. We all come pretty regularly—except Patrick, who has good reason—and you.”
She stared at him, lips working. Couldn’t help it. What was he talking about? She wasn’t one of them. She wasn’t a Dawg. She was an interloper, here because one of them had so graciously invited her.
“Yeah,” Bella chirped, crunching into a chocolate croissant. “Why don’t you come more often? And why didn’t you bring more cream puffs?”
Holt’s arched brow provoked her, so Tara snapped, “Because I’m not one of you, that’s why.”
His eyes narrowed. “You are.”
“I’m not on the lease, Holt.”
“So?” This he said as though it made no difference at all that she had no legal right to squat here with impunity.
“So. I’m not part of the clan.” She was on the outside looking in. She knew it. He knew it. Everybody knew it.
“We’re hardly a clan.” Bella licked some chocolate off the side of her hand.
“Just a group of people, who happen to like each other, who happen to like spending time together.” He shifted in his seat, his intensity swelling. His sleepy face was definitely gone. “Are you saying you don’t feel comfortable coming here?”
“I feel very comfortable coming here, Holt. Don’t make this into some big hoo-de-do-dah.”
“I’m not making this into some big hoo-de-do-dah.”
Bella leaned in. “What’s a hoo-de-do-dah?”
“But I absolutely would feel uncomfortable coming here without an invitation.”
“Why?”
Why? “Because it’s not my house.”
“That’s stupid.” She could smack Bella. Really, she could.
“What’s stupid?” Egads. Was everyone coming out here? Tara turned to see Lane, still in his pajama bottoms, leaning in the doorway. “Is that bacon?” Despite Bella’s attempt to hide the plate, he grabbed a slice and though she pouted, she let him have one. One. “What’s stupid?” he repeated.
Holt waved a hand in Tara’s direction. “Did you know the reason she hasn’t been coming is because she doesn’t feel welcome?”
“I didn’t say that!”
“Why doesn’t she feel welcome?”
“Because she’s not on the lease.”
Seriously? “I’m sitting right here.”
Lane gaped at her, a puzzled frown. “You’re not on the lease?”
“How can you not know who’s on the lease? It’s your goddamn lease!” Honestly. Sometimes Lane was such a doofus.
He shrugged. “I don’t pay attention to stuff like that. I have people for that.” It must be nice to have people. It must be nice being richer than Croesus. “But if it’ll make you feel better, we’ll put you on the lease.”
“Yeah,” Bella winked. “And you can start paying your share of the utilities.”
“Bella,” Holt warned.
“She does spend a lot of time in the fridge.”
“I do not!”
“Why is everyone out here?” Kristi asked, stepping onto the deck with Cam following close behind. Really? Everyone?
Yes. Everyone. Because here came Drew, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and yawning widely. “What’s going on?” he asked. “Why is everyone out on the deck?”
“Did you know Tara’s not on the lease?” Bella asked.
Drew blinked. “I thought we added her years ago.”
Holt shook his head. “She’s not on the lease.”
“Well hell.” Drew scrubbed his spiky hair. The Dalmatian tattoo on his bicep bulged. “We need to get her on the lease. Stat. I need you to come more often, Tara.”
“You do?” His woebegone expression was adorable. The batted lashes, probably unnecessary. But she appreciated his playfulness. It cut the tension. “You need me?”
“I would die without your pastries.”
“Oh my God. Me too.” Cam eyed Bella’s plate.
“I’ll have my lawyer take care of it on Monday and bring the paperwork by for you to sign.”
A heat rose on her cheeks. “No, Lane. I… You don’t have to do that.” Hell. This show of solidarity for her was welcoming enough. Unfamiliar. Uncomfortable, maybe. But damn nice.
“Tara.” Da-ham. Holt could be authoritative when he put his mind to it. Her name rumbled on the skeins of the wind, as though he’d used The Voice. “You are one of us. You belong here. You will sign the lease.”
“Sign the lease,” Drew chanted, and, of course, the others joined in. The doofuses. Doofii. Whatever. She freaking loved them.
“Do you promise to sign the lease?” Holt asked. “Do you?”
“Yes Holt. I will.” she said, fluttering her lashes, because playing it off like a joke was the only way she could deal with the depth of her emotion. The only way she could keep tears from dribbling down her cheek.
“Excellent.”
She p
icked up her mug and said, with a gruff grunt, “I need more coffee.” But before she could escape, Kristi stopped her with a hug. “What was that for?”
Kristi grinned. “I’m proud of you.”
“Proud of me? For what?”
“You’re signing the lease.” Did she need to smirk like that?
“And?”
“And that, my dearest friend, is a commitment. Not a huge commitment, but definitely a step in the right direction.”
Tara pursed her lips, but didn’t say anything. Kristi was having fun teasing her and she didn’t want to ruin the moment. But when Holt hugged her too, things got a little awkward. On account of Bella’s glower.
But he made it better when he whispered in her ear, “For the record, Tara, as far as we’re concerned you have always been one of us.”
Chapter Eight
Tara made it a point to get to Avery’s party early on Saturday. She’d seen the kinds of forfeits Avery could deal out and she wanted no part of them. Of all her friends, only Bella and Holt were brave enough to accompany her. Bella was even kind enough to lend her something with a little kink to wear so she would fit in.
Lane and Drew claimed to have very important business to attend to, which was the coward’s way of saying Avery’s parties were a little too wild for their delicate sensibilities, but Cam and Kristi had been far more blunt. They had plans to canoodle.
What a shocker.
Avery and her friend Mel greeted them at the door. Avery wore a sparkly tiara festooned with little pink penises. And though they were early, the party was in full swing. Apparently no one wanted to be the last to arrive. The great room thrummed with music. Couples danced and chatted and sipped. It seemed like a regular party—just like any other party.
Tara knew better.
At some point the action would move down into the basement, into the dungeon. That’s when things would get really wild.
That was probably when she’d slip out.
Though Avery had expressly invited Devlin too, Tara knew he wasn’t coming. The expression on his face had made his intentions crystal clear. The thought depressed her a little—because a part of her really wanted to see him again. And maybe fuck him again.