She was on top of me now, pelvis to pelvis, chest to chest. We were still kissing, and I loved every minute of it. She was a great kisser – with soft lips and a talented tongue.
Through the thin fabric of the borrowed shirt, I felt the roundness of her breasts and the hardness of her nipples. I felt her hands on my face and her feet rubbing against the bottoms of my jeans.
I wanted to kiss her all night long, and not only on the mouth. Trailing kisses as I went, I moved to her earlobe and then to the spot just behind it. Her skin was soft and surprisingly warm. I could make her a lot warmer if she'd let me.
I stopped to whisper in her ear. "You're addicting. You know that?"
It was true. Even before now, I'd wanted Chloe more than I'd ever wanted any other girl. Yeah, I'd been with a lot – starlets, pop stars, and some swimsuit model, to name a few.
They were nothing compared to her. They were just noise. Chloe, she was the real deal.
She felt right in my arms and right in my house. I wanted to pack her stuff and move her in. Crazy, yeah. I knew that. But still, as we kissed, the thoughts kept coming. What would it be like to have her here with me, always?
My hands dipped to her waist, and then a couple inches lower. I paused, giving her the chance to stop me if this was too much, too fast. That was something new, too. With most girls, I didn't have to stop, and I didn't have to wonder, because they were naked and willing in no time flat.
But now, this was Chloe. She wasn't naked, but I wanted her to be. I let my hands roam lower. I skimmed the thin fabric of her lacy panties, and felt her backside tighten when she ground against me.
She was making me crazy, and I loved every second. I cupped her cheeks and pulled her close, feeling my hardness surging as our lips kept moving. I decided that I hated my jeans. I hated her panties. I hated everything that was coming between us. I wanted it all gone, now.
Take it slow, I reminded myself.
But it was so damn hard. I was so damn hard.
Our kisses were frantic now, not so gentle, but so damn good . When she gave a soft moan against my mouth, it sent ripples through me that I hadn't felt in, well, forever.
Even in this, I couldn't get enough. I slipped my hands underneath her panties and caressed her bare ass while our lips and mouths continued to move. With her, everything was just right – the taste of her lips, the feel of her body, the sounds she made when stroked her skin.
Breathlessly, she pushed herself up, giving me a view that, even with the shirt, was sexy as hell. Her back was arched, and her hair was tousled. The look in her eyes made me hungry for more.
As I drank in the sight of her, she ran her soft hands along my naked torso. Watching as she went, she started at the top, trailing her fingers over my shoulders, over my chest, and lower, down to my abs, which rose and fell with my uneven breathing.
I wanted her. I wanted her more than anything. But first, there was something I had to say. "Chloe?"
Her hands, still trailing across my abs, paused. Her eyes met mine, and I could hardly think. Somehow, I managed to say, "I want you to know something."
She reached up and caressed the back of my neck. "Hmmm?"
I tried to put it into words. "This means something to me. Whatever we do – or don't do – I want you to know that. You're not like any other girl I've ever –" I paused, searching for the right way to say it. "It's just, you're different. The way I feel for you, it's different. It's been different from the first time I saw you."
Her lips parted, and her gaze grew warmer, but then, she paused.
Had I said too much?
Dumb-ass. Take it slow. Remember?
I considered all the girls I'd been with. They'd always wanted more. They'd shown up at odd hours. They'd left panties in my dressers and shoes in my closets. They'd asked for spare keys and the codes to my alarms. Slow or fast, they'd tried to move in, one way or another.
They'd claimed to love me. They'd claimed to know, in spite of what I told them, that I loved them back.
I didn't.
But with Chloe, it was different. Now, it was me wanting to move fast. Too fast? Maybe. But how about her? I studied her face, looking for clues.
"What is it?" I asked. "You okay?"
Smiling, she lowered her head and touched her lips to my neck. Against my skin, she murmured, "Actually, I'm better than okay."
She kissed my throat, and her tone grew teasing. "So I'm different, huh?" She ran a hand over my chest. "Different bad?" She trailed her fingers lower, brushing my abs. "Or different good?" Her hands drifted lower still, caressing my hardness in slow, tantalizing strokes.
My breath hitched, and I could hardly talk. "Different good. Really good." My eyes drifted shut, and I tried again. "You showing up, me finding you tonight, I swear, it's like a gift."
I was too far gone to censor my words. "I wished for it. I'm not kidding. They had this stupid cake, and when I blew out the candles, swear to God, I saw your face."
It was true. I'd wished for her. And here she was.
"Cake?" she said. "Is today your birthday?"
No. Today was the best day of my life, because I'd finally found her. Somehow, I managed to say, "Technically, a couple days ago."
She paused. "But I didn't get you anything,"
"Wrong," I said. "You fell right into my lap. Seems to me I got exactly what I wanted."
She gave me a smile. "Now that, I'm finding that a little hard to believe."
I ran a hand along her back. Her skin was soft and smooth, and I wanted to feel more of it. "Yeah?"
She nodded.
"Well," I said, pulling her close, "now that you're actually here, maybe it's my job to convince you."
"Funny," said a familiar male voice from the doorway, "I always thought your job was to beat the shit out of people."
Bishop.
That's it. Brother or not, I was going to have to kill him.
Chapter 31
With a gasp, Chloe bolted upright and scrambled to the other side of the couch, where she sat, glaring at Bishop.
I was already on my feet. So, my job was beat the shit out of people? Suddenly, that didn't seem like a bad thing. I turned to face him. "Funny, I sort of feel like beating the shit out of someone now."
Bishop leaned against the door jamb. "Yeah?"
"Yeah," I said. "You interested?"
Bishop grinned. "Bring it on."
"I wasn't joking."
"Neither was I."
On the other side of the couch, Chloe gave him another murderous glare. "You need to stop doing that."
"Doing what?" he asked.
"Sneaking up like that," she said. "Make a sound or something next time, will ya? Seriously. It's freaking me out." She lifted her chin. "And besides, it's rude." She gave me a quick glance, as if wondering if I'd disagree.
I didn't. What could I say? She was amazing. In spite of Bishop, I felt myself smile. "You're awesome," I told her. "You know that?"
"Huh?" She squinted at me. "What?"
"I've been wanting to tell him that for years," I said.
From the doorway, Bishop spoke. "You have been telling me that for years. Now, c'mon, I've gotta show you something."
"Not a chance," I told him. "Now get the hell out. And this time, don't come back."
Ignoring what I'd just said, he turned to Chloe and asked, "Still need to get back in your house?"
Before she could answer, I did. "No. She's staying here. Too late for a locksmith."
Bishop lifted his eyebrows just a fraction. "A locksmith? You stickin' with that story?"
I knew what he meant, but I wasn't going there. "Oh fuck off," I said. Too late, it hit me that Chloe was within earshot. I glanced in her direction. "Sorry."
Before she could respond, Bishop spoke up. "Sure." He flicked his head toward the back patio. "But first you've got to check this out. Sorry, but it can't wait."
On the couch, Chloe crossed her arms. "You don't sound very sorry,
" she told him.
"True," Bishop said. "But it seemed the thing to say."
"Son-of-a-bitch," I muttered. I gave him a hard look, but he didn't back down. It was a no-win for me, and we both knew it. Chloe was here. I obviously wanted to impress her. We both knew she wouldn't be all that impressed if I went for this throat. "Fine," I told him. "Gimme five minutes." I turned and gave Chloe an apologetic smile. "Sorry about this."
"That's alright," she said, giving Bishop a long, annoyed look of her own. "It's not your fault."
She looked so adorable, glaring at my brother that I wanted to scoop her up and carry her away.
Later.
"Hey," I said, "still want that shower?"
She glanced down at her legs, still smudged with streaks of dirt. Pushing a hand through her still-damp hair, she gave a quick nod.
"How about this?" I said. "I'll set you up, and maybe we can meet back here in, I dunno, a half hour?"
She glanced toward the open doorway, and her eyebrows furrowed. I knew why. Bishop had disappeared. I was used to this. She wasn't. She turned to me and asked, "You related to that guy or something?"
I glanced toward the empty doorway. Counting Bishop, I had five half-brothers. Who knows? Maybe I had more, given my piss-poor excuse for a dad. But no one knew about that, and I was hoping to keep it that way.
I kept my tone casual. "What makes you say that?"
"Oh please," she said, "I have eyes. You could be brothers. Are you?"
"Well, since you're so curious about him," I teased, "his name is Bishop."
"First or last?" she asked.
"Last. But that's the one he goes by."
"Oh." She gave a shake of her head. "Cousins, then?"
I laughed. "No. We're definitely not cousins." By now, it was pretty obvious she hated the guy. At the moment, I wasn't too crazy about him either. But once she got to know him, she'd see things differently. In the meantime, I couldn’t resist saying, "Don't tell me you have a thing for him?"
"God no," she said.
"Good," I said. "Now, forget him." I stepped closer and traced the side of her face with my fingers. "Let's talk about you. If I let you out of my sight, you're not gonna sneak off on me, are you?"
She smiled up at me. "Not a chance."
"Good. Because I'm not kidding. You look amazing just the way you are."
She gave me a dubious look, but said nothing.
I wasn't kidding. I meant every word. I reached out a hand to help her off the couch. When she stood, I pulled her close and nuzzled her neck. "Seriously," I said. "I don’t want to leave you for one minute. But if I don't, he'll just come back, and then –" I shrugged.
"Then what?" she asked.
"Then, well, I'd have to kill him."
Chapter 32
A couple minutes later, I was leading Chloe through the mess of beer bottles, cocktail glasses, and plates of discarded food.
I glanced down at her bare feet. "I still think I should carry you."
She laughed. "And I still think you've carried me enough for one evening." She sidestepped a spilled drink and kept on going. "Besides, I can't get much dirtier, can I?"
That's where she was wrong. She could get dirtier. A lot dirtier. I could help her with that. I shook my head. What the hell? This wasn't a porn movie. It was real life.
I focused on the real issue. "There's broken glass."
"Yeah," she said, "and we stepped around it."
"There might be more."
"And we'll step around it again."
Dirty or not, I hated that she was barefoot in all this mess. About carrying her, I wanted to insist. I would've insisted. But I didn't want to push the issue. Not yet.
She was my guest, not my girlfriend, so throwing her over my shoulder wasn't exactly an option, as fun as that sounded.
Next time.
As we waded through the destruction, she looked around, as if calculating the damage. I tried to see it through her eyes. Yeah, it was pretty bad, but mostly it was just superficial stuff. By this time tomorrow, the mess would be gone.
"That first room," she said, glancing back the way we came, "why was that so clean?"
"Because no one was allowed in there."
She looked surprised. "And they actually listened?"
"No. But it was locked, so, you know." I'd unlocked it myself when I'd carried her inside. Probably, she'd been too shook up to notice. I shrugged. "It was still off-limits."
"Really?" she said. "Then why'd we go in there? Is it because the rest of the place was trashed?"
"This?" I kicked aside an empty beer bottle as I led her toward the main stairway. "You haven't seen trashed. Should've seen my place last New Year's Eve." I glanced around. "Different house. Same mess though. Times a hundred."
"So why was that first room off-limits?" she asked.
I gave it some thought. "I guess, it's because no matter how many people are here, I like to keep some space private. Just in case."
"Oh." She hesitated. "So, it's uh, for interludes?"
"Interludes?" I laughed. "Was that what I said?"
"Wasn't it?"
"No." I shook my head. "Definitely not. No interludes there."
"Well," she said in a teasing tone, "it's probably a good thing your friend came in when he did, huh?"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean you might've broken your own rule."
We were on the stairway now. But at this, I stopped and turned to face her. I gave her hand a squeeze. "Except you're not an interlude." I rubbed my thumb lightly over the side of her palm and said, "You're something else."
She glanced down at my thumb, and I saw her swallow. I was distracting her, but that was the whole point. I didn't want to talk about anything – or anyone – else. The only thing I cared about was right here.
She glanced back the way we'd come, and I could see the wheels turning. For some reason, this wasn't going to go away. So I tried again. "Mostly, the room's an escape hatch."
"From what?" she asked.
"More like from who."
"Then who?"
"Whoever." With her hand in mine, I started walking again. "Come on. Let's get you that shower."
After a couple of steps, she asked, "Are we talking guys or girls?"
Was she jealous? I'd never liked jealous girls. But for some reason, the thought of Chloe getting jealous made me see it differently.
She gave a playful tug on my hand. "Come on, tell me."
Walking beside her, I tried to find a nice way to say that people – even those I might call friends – could irritate the piss out of me. Sometimes, they were too needy, too aggressive, too wrapped up in the whole star-fucker thing.
Sometimes, I just wanted to be a regular guy. And when I couldn't, sometimes, I just wanted to be left alone.
I blew out a long breath and tried to put it in a way that wouldn't make me sound like a dick. "With the guys, well, they're not usually a problem. If they get out of hand, I just, uh –"
She grinned. "Kick their asses?"
"No." I paused, but then couldn’t help but laugh. "Okay, well, sometimes. But normally, I just tell 'em to leave."
"Do they?"
"Almost always."
"And when they don't?"
"Well, uh, that's when the ass-kicking comes in."
She laughed. "And the girls?"
"Girls?" I looked away. "Yeah, well, they're a little harder sometimes."
"Why?"
I knew why. Because too many of them didn't get the hint. Because no matter what I said up-front, if I screwed them senseless, they'd stick around wanting something more. Because if I tried to take the high road and didn't screw them, they'd still stick around, hoping I'd change my mind. Because they were interchangeable, desperate, and shallow.
Because none of them were Chloe.
I could tell her that – and watch her run screaming out the door. Or, I could try to make a joke of it. "I can't exactly kick their asses," I
pointed out.
That part was true. I'd never hit a girl – not even Brandy Blue, who some might say sorely deserved it for that whole sex-tape fiasco.
Next to me, Chloe grew quiet as I led her down the main upstairs hall. Up ahead, I spotted that stupid red bow, still lying where I'd flung it.
With a mental curse, I led Chloe off to the side, hoping like hell that she hadn't noticed – or if she had, that she wouldn’t think too much about it. I mean, there was other stuff lying around, so anything was possible.
Finally, I steered her into a nearby bathroom that overlooked the back of the house. It wasn't just the bow that I was avoiding. For all I knew, the front of the house might still be filled with cars or busses or who-knows-what, and I sure as hell didn't want Chloe to see that either.
Thanks to my housekeeper, the bathroom was stocked with everything Chloe might need – soap, shampoo, whatever. But it wasn't stocked with clothes, so I briefly left her while I grabbed some things from my own closet. I kept it simple, going with a plain T-shirt and nylon sweatpants.
Returning, I found her standing at the sink, combing her fingers through the damp tangles of her hair. She turned and gave me a sheepish smile. "I'm a mess, aren't I?"
She wasn't a mess. She looked tousled and sexy with her bare legs and tight curves, only semi-hidden by the oversized shirt. She looked like love in the morning or sex on the beach. Dirt, tangles, whatever – she still looked like heaven to me.
I let my gaze linger. "I don't see a mess."
She laughed. "Then you're not looking."
That's where she was wrong. I was looking. And I liked what I saw.
She glanced down, eyeing the clothes still in my hands. "Are those for me?" she asked.
"Yeah." I held them out, noticing again that they looked about ten sizes too big. "They're not gonna fit, but at least they're clean." I leaned my face close to hers and said, "Is it bad if I like what you're wearing now better?"
Her eyes lit in a way that had me that wishing I could stay. But Bishop was waiting. And if I didn't find him soon, he'd be finding me.
It was just as well. Brother or not, the guy was long overdue for an ass-chewing.
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