by Cari Quinn
“Tonight, we should hit the sex.”
He nudged her thighs open. “Something else I need to hit first.”
“Again?” She rubbed against him playfully. “I can’t keep up with you.”
He urged her onto her back and kissed her as hungrily as if he hadn’t just made love to her ten minutes before. It never went away, this urgency. “I liked finding you in my bed.” He dropped kisses on the valley between her breasts. “Next time, make sure you’re naked.”
Her laughter floated over him. “Next time you storm off like an irritated little boy, you mean?”
His lips never faltered, but his body braced. “You don’t understand the situation.”
“So explain it to me.”
When she slid her hand down his back, those nails he’d imagined touching him for so long lightly scratching his skin, he lifted his head. Her cheeks flushed as his gaze roamed her body, but she didn’t move to cover herself in the watery morning light. Progress.
He waited for her to ask more questions, but she didn’t. Instead, she laced her fingers behind his neck and pulled his mouth to hers.
Her legs locked around him, and though he rocked against her, it wasn’t a prelude to more. The moment itself was enough. His shoulder had started its typical morning protest, and his body wasn’t ready to make a case for another round quite yet. But he stayed close, holding her, kissing her, letting her homey vanilla-and-sugar-cookie scent wind around him as surely as her arms.
Vincent tucked his nose into her hair, breathing deep. On a cold winter morning, snuggling in bed definitely had its perks. Not that he’d ever experienced it before. The heroes he’d written had, of course. But not him.
When her fingers tangled in his chain, the slight tug dragged him back to reality. With a glossy maroon nail, she traced the contours of the gold key he wore. “What is this?”
“Looks like a chain to me.”
Kiki turned the key over to read the words engraved in French. “You hold the key to my heart?” Her eyebrows winged up. “Did a woman give this to you? A French woman, no less?” She smirked. “Thought you only liked Italians.”
It should be easy to toss off an answer. He was a storyteller, after all. Maybe he had more parts geek than poet, but he hadn’t missed the boat completely. But nothing came, except for an annoying tickle in his throat.
“It belonged to someone important to me,” he said at last. He was about to add more when the phone rang.
A couple minutes later, he ended the call and glanced at Kiki. She was sitting cross-legged, watching him. “They found him, didn’t they? The robber.”
“They think so.” He lifted her hand to his lips. “Up for a trip to the police station? They want us to make the ID.” She didn’t say anything, but her fingers flexed in his. “If you want to skip it, I can handle it.”
“No. I’m fine.” She shoved her free hand into her hair, then let it drop into her lap. “Stupid to be freaked over seeing him again. I mean, I’m fine. Nothing happened. Well, something happened to you, but we’re okay. God.”
Vincent kept his eyes steady on hers. Her expression had shifted from relaxed to panicked to a studied—and obviously, fake—calm in mere seconds. “You don’t have to put on an act with me, Kiki. Whatever happened or didn’t happen that night, neither one of us can deny it changed—”
“Everything,” she finished quietly.
“Yeah.” He nodded to distract himself from the boulder lodged in his throat. Everything about summed it up. “Sometimes I forget, even with the mariachi band thumping in my shoulder. But talking to the cops reminds me of everything.”
All at once, he was back there in Kiki’s arms on that dingy floor. The smell of blood and the crisp, comforting scent of Kiki’s detergent surrounding him. Her voice, so gentle and reassuring, keeping him calm.
He’d never forget that night. Or her. They were woven together inextricably in his mind.
Vincent stroked his thumb over her knuckles. “If that night hadn’t happened, would you have ever gone out with me?”
“Probably not.” She lessened the sting by brushing her lips over his cheek. “But it would’ve been my loss.”
“Did you really cry all night, like my grandmother said?”
She took so long to answer he began to think she wouldn’t. Rising, she gave one quick nod. “We better get a move on.”
He heard the shower a moment later. As he ran her silky tank top through his hands, his lips quirked, but not because he wanted to smile. Not by a long shot.
Fate could be one hell of a bitch. Because the loss would’ve been his. And still might be yet.
Chapter Ten
She’d never been inside a police station before. Or actually slept in any man’s bed other than Nico’s. Those two things weren’t related, really, but by the time she and Vincent had taken care of business with the cops, the one-two punch had all but knocked her out for the afternoon.
What she wanted was her couch, her cat, and some crappy TV. What she got was the exercise in humiliation that was writing her first sex scene with Vincent.
Talk about mortifying. She couldn’t say the naughty bits without stammering. Even her fingers stumbled over the keys.
“Do you want to take a break?”
That he was being so nice and understanding aggravated Kiki more. “I don’t need a break.” She tossed another handful of peanut M&Ms into her mouth. They’d been her crutch all afternoon. “Do you?”
“No. But you seem….” Vincent stopped as she craned her neck to glare at him. He was sprawled on the couch, two pillows under his head, with his dog curled in a lump on his feet. She’d taken the floor and sat typing on her drawn-up knees. Stupidly, she’d thought facing away from him as he walked her through the scene would help. Not so far.
“I seem what?”
His smile warmed his already sexy voice. “Tense.”
“Well, I’m not.”
“We could do this later, if you’d rather.” He scooped his fingers through the choppy ends of her hair. He was always touching her, and damned if she’d didn’t like it. “I know seeing Fielder again was rough on you.”
Fielder, AKA the Quikky Snak robber. The guy who’d shot Vincent. The man who could have easily ended their lives.
“I’m fine,” she said in a low voice, returning her gaze to the screen.
But she wasn’t. Yeah, writing this scene was ten times more difficult than she had expected. She’d figured since they were lovers, her natural inhibitions would melt away. But it hadn’t happened, and she had a feeling the morning’s events were at least partially responsible.
As for the rest? Obviously she was a prude. Nico had been right. The fucker.
Kiki stabbed the space bar. “He’s in jail. We ID’d him, and it’s over. Now I’m just trying to get this scene down, and you’re not focused.”
The jab was meant to divert his attention, but since his response was to nibble the back of her neck, she had to conclude it hadn’t worked. “Hard to focus,” he murmured into her ear, “when all I can think about is you.”
She wanted to purr as he kneaded her shoulders. God knew, the relentless burn between her thighs she’d endured since they’d started writing this scene made it difficult to concentrate. But she wasn’t a quitter.
If he could handle this, so could she.
“She’d like taking control,” she said, channeling her repressed need through her fingers as she typed. “By sucking Nathan’s”, she clenched her teeth, “cock.”
At Vincent’s silence, she glanced over at him and discovered he was grinning like an idiot. If he weren’t so cute, she would’ve slugged him. “What?”
“You only turned two shades of pink.” He chucked her chin. “Good for you.”
Irritation and embarrassment warred inside her. “I hate you sometimes.”
“Feeling’s mutual.” His hands inched lower. He didn’t caress her breasts, though his wandering fingers touched everything
but. “Guess I might as well admit the truth.”
“Huh?”
“This is my fault.”
She frowned. Why was he speaking in riddles when her brain already hurt? “What is?”
“I didn’t set the scene. Here. With us.” Vincent angled back, leaving her more disappointed than relieved. “When you’re writing sex, sometimes it helps you get into the mood if you lower the lights or turn on music. Whatever does the job.”
Kiki smirked, thinking of the night she’d interrupted him jerking off. “So you’re saying we should crank up the pornos.”
His gaze never wavered. “Sure.”
She immediately swiveled her head toward the laptop screen. Not going there. “I’d rather we just focus on the job at hand.” The doorbell rang, and she popped to her feet. “I’ll get it,” she said, ignoring his chuckle.
She threw open the door and gave Lynsay and Brent a beatific smile. Seeing them with little hearts bursting out of their eyes gave her a jolt, but anything was better than pretending she could write sex with Vincent. “Hey. Come in.”
“No, you come out.” Lynsay grabbed her hand, tugged. “We wanna play in the snow.”
“It’s snowing?”
“It’s coming down in buckets,” Brent chimed in.
Kiki looked up at Vincent, who had joined them in the doorway. “Buckets applies to rain, son, not snow,” he said, pressing a kiss on top of Kiki’s head.
She bristled, expecting Brent or Lynsay to make some sort of wisecrack. But they only laughed.
Vincent shifted his lips to her ear. “Relax.”
She blew out a breath. Relax. Right. Where were the Valium?
“It’s a great day for a snow fight. Unless you two are busy,” Lynsay said with an eyebrow waggle.
Kiki edged up on her tiptoes to peek out the hall window. White dripped and glistened beyond. She swept her tongue along the inside of her lower lip, glancing at Vincent. As much as she wanted to make snow angels, that wouldn’t get his book written. “You guys go ahead. Maybe we’ll catch up with you later.”
“No.” Vincent had already turned to grab her coat off the couch. “What we’re doing can wait.”
“Wow, didn’t take long for the doldrums to set in with these two.” Lynsay swept her nails through Brent’s oak-brown hair. “Let’s hope it takes a little longer for us.”
Kiki had to smother a laugh at Vincent’s astonished expression as he helped her into her jacket. “I thought you were a lesbian. I also thought you were a Comtek employee.” He glanced pointedly at his watch. “Why aren’t you at work at 3 p.m. on a Tuesday afternoon, Ms. Paulsen?”
“Called in sick.” Lynsay flashed him a saucy grin. “Stacie and Neal can handle the Stavros project for one day. I have my priorities. Unlike you, Mr. Work, Work, Work.”
Ignoring her dig, Vincent cocked an eyebrow at Kiki. “She’s not a lesbian?”
Kiki shrugged. “Actually, she’s bi.”
“I’m not bound by society’s ridiculous conventions. I refuse to label myself.” Lynsay rubbed Brent’s butt and he growled. She laughed and whirled around, her honey-blonde curls bouncing on her shoulders. “Let’s go, people. Snow’s melting.”
“Are you sure this is a good idea? Vincent’s not healed yet, and he could get hurt.”
“I’m fine, Kiki.” There was no mistaking the bite in his tone.
“But you’re still sore—” She stopped at Lynsay’s rapid shake of her head. “What?”
“If I said I’m fine, I’m fine. My mother’s been dead for the last twenty-four years. I don’t need you to start filling in now.” Vincent tugged on his jacket, his glare covering up most of his wince.
Jerk. Indignation welled up inside her, until she finally clued in to his remark. His mother was dead? She hadn’t ever considered where his parents were. Kinda stupid in retrospect, considering the situation with his grandmother. But she’d been so tied up with her own emotional reactions to Vincent, she hadn’t bothered to ask him the most basic of questions.
So his family in Sicily didn’t include his mom. What about his dad? Was he dead, too, or just out of the picture? Did he have siblings? He hadn’t mentioned any, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything. He could be tight-lipped with the best of ’em.
She glanced at Brent and Lynsay, who were looking anywhere but at her. Clearly neither of them wanted to wade into the fray.
“Have it your way then,” she said, heading for the door. “Let’s go.”
The flurries continued all afternoon. Snow dripped from tree branches and lay at least six inches thick on the ground. As far as Vincent was concerned, he’d seen enough of the white stuff for two lifetimes.
Kiki, however, seemed to be in her element. She dove into snow banks with the abandon of a child hyped on licorice and laughed so hard he was sure her stomach must hurt.
The four of them had ended up at a popular sledding spot a few blocks away from Vincent and Brent’s apartment building. Upon arriving, Kiki had immediately conned two unsuspecting kids into letting her “rent” their sleds for an hour. Since their friends didn’t mind sharing with them, they’d happily pocketed her ten—which was actually Vincent’s because he knew she couldn’t spare the cash—and trotted off.
Now she was sitting on Brent’s lap, about to descend the hill once more, and Lynsay and Vincent were arming themselves from the arsenal of snowballs they planned to wing at their SOs as they flew past.
SO—short for significant other, Lynsay’s term—seemed a little heavy to describe his thing with Kiki, but since Lynsay had just started sleeping with Brent the night before, he wasn’t arguing. He also didn’t need to know any of the details of their brand-new sex life, but Lynsay hadn’t hesitated to share.
They’d always had an open, friendly relationship, even though Vincent was her boss. But when her exploits included the closest thing to a best friend he’d ever had, he wasn’t nearly as interested.
Vincent rounded another snowball into his preferred shape. He glanced up, narrowing his eyes at Kiki’s war whoop as she and Brent plowed into their two hundredth snow bank of the day. They ended up in a tangle, and the affection so evident on their faces as they dusted themselves off twisted something deep inside him.
“Wish it was you, huh?”
Kiki’s cheeks were rosy from exertion, and her smile made her entire face glow. God, she just sparkled.
“What?”
Lynsay jerked her chin at the snowball he hadn’t thrown. She’d thrown hers, but as her skill was considerably less than his, it hadn’t traveled more than a few feet. “Your mind’s somewhere else. I’m thinking it’s with her, on that sled.”
“I don’t ride on sleds.” Or make snowballs. He heaved his latest creation aside in disgust.
“Why? Too much fun?”
“I’m an adult.”
“And you think they’re not?” The pink pom-pom on Lynsay’s ski hat bounced into her eyes when she shook her head. “You have any clue what she’s been through the last few years?”
“No.” Did Lynsay mean Kiki’s relationship with that creep Nico? Because he didn’t have anything else to do with his hands, he retrieved his abandoned snowball. “She doesn’t tell me anything.”
“Did you ask?”
“I don’t want to pry.”
Vincent watched Brent lift Kiki to her feet and pat the snow off her back. They were both laughing, and for some reason, their shared joy stirred an ache low in his gut. “Were they ever….” He cleared his throat. “Involved?”
“No way. They’re pals.”
“Like you and Brent were until last night?”
“Like you and Kiki were until last week?”
“Touché.” He dropped his snowball into the pile and brushed snow off his hands. That his shoulder hadn’t given more than a few protesting tweaks was a positive sign. “It doesn’t bother you, seeing them together?”
She shrugged. “Brent and I just hooked up. I haven’t gotten nearly
as possessive as you are with Ki.” Her eyes gleamed bright blue against the backdrop of white that surrounded them. “I should warn you now, because I like you and all. If you hurt her, I’ll twist your teeny weenie into more knots than a Billy Bob’s pretzel, boss or no boss.” She showed him a predatory flash of teeth. “And I don’t make idle threats.”
Vincent didn’t know whether to laugh or to salute her. So he simply rose to greet Kiki, smiling at the picture she made dragging her borrowed green sled behind her. “Have fun?”
“Boatloads. It’s so amazing.” Must have been because she leaned up on her tiptoes to give him an enthusiastic, snow-laced kiss. When he eased back, reluctantly, he noticed Lynsay and Brent were similarly occupied. “I wish you could come with me.”
“Pretty sure I have on a couple occasions.” Grinning, he tightened her fuzzy red scarf around her neck. If she pinkened any more from the cold, she’d need to spend a couple hours in a hot tub to warm up.
Which wasn’t a bad idea, actually. And he knew just the place….
“Mind’s always in the gutter, isn’t it, Buonfiglio? I’m talking good, clean fun.” Her slate gray eyes beseeched him. “Maybe if we’re really careful, we could take one ride before I give back the sled.”
“Trying to pop my sledding cherry now, Miss Wyatt?” He shook his head in mock disapproval, flicking snow off her eyebrows. “You make me feel so cheap.”
She laughed and wound her arms around his neck, careful as always not to lean on his left shoulder. “All kinds of ways to lose your virginity. Although I can’t believe you haven’t gone sledding even once.”
“Haven’t.” He coaxed her plump red lips apart with his tongue. She responded at once, thrusting her tongue against his so he could savor her cool, minty taste. But before he could really settle into the kiss, she laughed again and shifted back.
“It’s fun. Exhilarating.” She rubbed her lips over his Adam’s apple, adding just a bit of teeth. “Works up quite the appetite.”
“If I work up any more appetite, we’ll never make it home.” Vincent framed her face in his hands. Though it was nearing sunset, his radiant sprite practically lit up the night. “All the kids will scream and run away, and we’ll end up back at the police station. Don’t want that, do you?”