***
“That much?” She knew her voice was disbelieving, but couldn’t help it. The price quoted was too much for hockey lessons. She couldn’t pay those fees, not and keep up with expenses, as well as set a little aside.
“Yes, ma’am.” The polite woman on the other end of the phone spoke quietly, sympathy thick in her tone. “It covers registration, ice time for practice, as well as games, gear, and staffing. I know it’s a lot, but the kiddos get a ton of experience out of the development camp.”
“Okay. Thank you. I’ll have to think about it.” Which was broke-parent speak for ‘this ain’t gonna happen,’ and the woman knew it, because she was quick to interrupt the hanging-up process.
“I do know of another option that might work for you.” She paused, and when Hope made an inquisitive noise, continued, “There’s a local foundation that does regular lesson sessions year-round, and they have a scholarship program. I can email you a link to their website if you are interested.” She heard Hoss call from the living room, having let himself into the apartment. In the past few days, it had become their ritual, and she knew he would seek her out, so she kept her focus on the woman offering her a lifeline.
“Please,” Hope breathed, because the one thing Sammy loved more than her was hockey, and if she had to beg this foundation, she would. Rattling off her email address, she waited while the woman read it back, and then thanked her before they hung up, both feeling a little better about the exchange.
Her eyes closed involuntarily when warm hands slipped around her hips to cross low on her belly, a hard body pressing up against her back. His breath was warm on her neck a moment before his lips found skin, and she shivered at the sensation. There was no way she would ever get used to the physical effect he had on her. Everything he did to her felt so good, even if it was only sweeping her hair off her shoulder so he could nibble along the line of her neck. “Who ya talkin’ to, baby?” She felt his words in heated gusts of air across her skin, and she shivered again.
“I was calling about something for Sammy. The lady is going to email me some info.” She was pleased with the evenness of her voice when she answered him, because it certainly did not reflect the eagerness and terror that had equal space in her head right now. She had made plans without telling him, and hoped…prayed she had gotten things right.
Mouth still working her neck, his hands moved, one roaming upward across her belly, fingers working their way underneath her shirt to cup around her ribs on one side. She felt the sweep of his thumb on the side of her breast and she drew in a quick breath, biting down on the gasp that wanted to escape as his other hand crept downward across her stomach.
He uttered a guttural “Fuck,” when she leaned her head back against his shoulder, tilting her head in invitation of more. It was so quiet in the house it seemed a bubble had formed around them, and all she could hear were the soft noises he made deep in his throat as he caressed and kissed her. “Beautiful.” More kisses, more scrapes from the edges of his teeth, more hot trails left by his tongue…more. Up to now, they had been limited to heavy makeout sessions similar to what had happened in the park. “Where’s Sammy?” He pulled her tight back against him when he asked the question, letting her feel his hard arousal, communicating without using words why he wanted to know.
“He’s over at DeeDee’s, playing with Jonny.” She couldn’t control the tremor in her voice, and knew he would understand at her next words. “He’s spending the night there. His first sleepover.”
“I get all night with you, baby?” Hoss’ voice was low and thick, his hand at her breast moving to cover the soft mound, finger and thumb meeting in a brief pinch at her nipple, and then his palm slid across it soothingly as she shivered. He hooked a finger in her bra, slipping it down, baring her breast, trailing his nails over the soft skin. “All night?” His other hand inched between her legs, pressing and lifting, pushing hard until she shifted her hips forward, thrusting against his hand. “Fuck,” he whispered.
“Hoss,” she called softly and he stilled behind her, waiting. “I’m…a little nervous.” Understatement of the year, she thought with an inward snort. Terrified was more like it.
“I won’t hurt you, Hope.” His words were more of a promise than she thought he knew, but she must have made a noise of disbelief, because his arms tightened around her. “I won’t, baby. Will never hurt you. You’re always safe with me.” His voice was filled with conviction, and she wanted to believe, but she had never had that before. Never had a safe haven, not really.
His hands were moving again, deftly setting her bra back in place, and she lost the heat of his hand between her legs when he moved both arms to circle her waist instead. She froze, because he was retreating, and she wasn’t sure what she had done to stop where they were headed, where—even with the nerves making her legs shake—she knew she wanted to go.
“Hoss?” That quaver was back in her voice as she said his name, this time not in anticipation, but loss.
“Not gonna do anything you aren’t ready for, Hope.”
He sounded resolved and she didn’t know how to shake him, wasn’t at all sure how to get things back on track. She had zero experience in this area, and was nowhere near comfortable enough to voice her…desires. Crap, you can barely say it in your head. How are you going to tell this beautiful man what you want?
“Want you to trust me, baby.”
“Honestly?” She waited for a response from him and he gave her a grunt, finally sounding as frustrated as she was beginning to feel. “I don’t know what I’m ready for, and I don’t know if I understand what safe means to you. I don’t know if it means the same thing to you and me. I’m mostly nervous, because I don’t want to disappoint you. You’ve been so patient with me, all along. I see how you’ve been there for me since the first night I met you. And you’ve been patient. Hoss,” her voice cracked, so she paused and swallowed hard then repeated his name, “Hoss, I want…this.”
Silence, then he gave her a squeeze and nibbled up her neck, pressing a hard kiss behind her ear. “Then it’s my place to show you what safe is, baby. Want you to trust me, but I can be patient a little longer.” His mouth worked her neck for a moment, hot lips against her skin and his erection pressed against her, still hard and hot behind the zipper of his jeans. “I can be patient, Hope. But you have to trust me, can you do that?”
Immediately, she nodded, not speaking, letting him know that by still being in his arms, she was giving him some of that trust.
“Come for a ride with me,” he invited softly, and she nodded again. Without removing his arms, he turned them and then, laughing, walked them with exaggerated strides over to where her jacket lay draped over the back of the couch.
Once on the bike, she snuggled up behind him, wrapping her fingers around his belt in front of his belly, burying them against the heat from his body. Without a word, they rode out of the parking lot and onto the surface streets. Unlike the first time, she wasn’t as afraid and tried to lean with him around the corners.
He seemed to have a destination in mind, and knew the route, timing the lights when he could. But, he took every opportunity to caress her, slowly running his hands up and down her calves, threading his fingers through hers, turning his head and demanding a kiss when they had to stop for any reason. Between his constant attention and the vibration of the motorcycle beneath her, she was fairly humming with anticipation for their return to the apartment, surprised when he steered into a large, gated housing complex instead, lifting a familiar hand to the guard as they motored through the entrance.
A few minutes later, he was pulling into a circular drive, and as he passed in front of the garage, the door soundlessly lifted, allowing him to walk the bike backwards into the lighted space. His home. He had brought her to his house, instead of back to Mercy’s apartment.
Stifling silence descended when he shut off the motor, and he reached back one hand, wordlessly offering her the stability of his grip a
s she swung her leg off the bike. Standing beside him, she watched him dismount and take a step towards her.
As he reached out to put his hands on either side of her waist, a voice called from the deepening dusk outside the garage. “Isaiah, I’m glad you’re home. I had a question about the contract…” The voice trailed off to silence, and Hope twisted to see a pretty woman in a sleek red shirtdress standing in the pool of light the garage cast on the driveway.
“Evenin’, Tamara,” he called, turning Hope and pulling her back against his chest. “Hope, this is my neighbor, Tamara Leinstill. Tamara, want you to meet Hope Collins, my girlfriend.” There was no mistaking the look of surprise on the woman’s face, and Hope immediately disliked her.
“Pleased to meet you,” Hope lied, linking her fingers with Hoss’ at her waist and leaning into him. He called me his girlfriend, she thought with a thrill.
“Yes, you too,” Tamara said insincerely, her eyes fixed on a point just over Hope’s shoulder, apparently never leaving Hoss’ face. “I’ll come back later, shall I?”
“Go ahead and ask your question now. I don’t know as we’ll surface anytime soon,” he said softly, his arms tightening around Hope when she made an embarrassed noise.
“Yes, well.” She paused and then huffed in what seemed frustration. “The agreement isn’t exclusive, Isaiah. I don’t know if I can get the gallery to go for these terms.” She shrugged one elegant shoulder, and watching the scarlet glide of what was obviously silk moving across her form, Hope suddenly was excruciatingly aware of the coarseness of her own gray shirt rough against her skin. This woman was everything she wasn’t, stylish, sophisticated, beautiful. Experienced.
“Then the gallery don’t get my shit,” he shot back, and Tamara’s eyes narrowed, flicking down then up Hope, and then fixing on Hoss’ face over her shoulder again. “If that’s all you got to say, then I’ll end this with goodnight, Tamara. You know the drill. My shit, my terms.”
Tamara huffed out a frustrated breath, and then with a brief, smooth wave, she disappeared into the darkness outside the garage without another word. Hoss rested his chin on Hope’s shoulder for a moment then muttered, “Fucking woman.” Throughout the encounter, he had positioned her in front of him like a barrier and with a sinking feeling in her stomach Hope knew his words had been meant that way, too. A throwaway phrase to make Tamara keep her distance. Hoss didn’t like the woman, and Hope understood that tonight she had simply been a convenient line of defense. “Come inside, baby,” he said, kissing the side of her head as he turned them.
Reaching the interior door, he opened it with one hand, keeping one around Hope’s waist, and then he slapped a button on the doorframe and the garage door slowly closed behind them, shutting out the night, and any further interruptions by his neighbor. “Welcome home,” he told her softly, moving her quickly through the kitchen and living room, leading her up a hallway to what was evidently his bedroom. Her steps slowed and he turned to look at her, a questioning quirk to one brow.
“This is your house,” she said quietly, and he nodded.
“Yeah, baby,” he responded and frowned when she resisted the tug he gave her hand, her feet refusing to move. “Hope, talk to me. What’s going on in that head of yours?”
“You called me your girlfriend.” She couldn’t help herself; keeping eye contact was too hard, so her gaze dipped to the floor. Since she couldn’t see his face, the first indication of his reaction was his black motorcycle boots moving, striding firmly towards her. Surprised, she looked up and shrank backwards, because he looked angry.
Pressing her against the wall with his body, his musky scent surrounding her, he caged her head with his forearms, leaning into her, his gaze locked on hers. He didn’t speak as his face slowly lowered, and then his mouth was on hers. This wasn’t a soft kiss. It wasn’t tentative in any way. This was a kiss of possession; he was marking her, owning her. His mouth moved over hers hard and fast, drawing her onto her toes to pursue his lips when he pulled back for a breath, and then crashing back together with bruising force. His teeth clicked with hers and then bit her bottom lip, tugging with a growl that didn’t sound playful.
After an interminable time, he slipped his face to one side, panting breaths in her ear evidence he was as affected as she was by the passionate kiss. The scrape of his beard against her cheek made her shiver and raised goosebumps all over her body. His voice was harsh when he said, “Such a tame fucking word for what I feel for you, Hope. Because you are all woman, and I do not feel friendly towards you.” His tone softened, lowering an octave and turning rich with desire as he ground out, “I want to eat you, fuck you with my fingers, and watch you break for me again. Wanna fuck you hard, so hard the bed leaves marks as it moves across the floor. Want you to ride me, taking yours while I get to watch those pretty titties bounce and shake, play hide and seek in the fall of your hair across your chest, and then see that look on your face of wonder and surprise when you get there on my cock.
“Want to feel your golden hair…all that goddamned, beautiful hair sweep across my legs as you suck me off, taking me deep, letting me fuck that gorgeous mouth. Wanna make love to you slow, your legs wrapped around my ass, pulling me as deep into your body as you want it.” He sucked in a breath and laughed humorlessly, his dark chuckle echoing up the hallway. “Girlfriend. Tame fucking word for everything I’m feeling, baby.”
Listening to him, she had gone still, the evidence of his desire clear in the hardness of his erection pressed against her belly, taut muscles in his arms and shoulders holding him off her. When he spoke about wanting her mouth on him, she sucked in a breath, because the image evoked was so erotic that heat flooded between her legs, arousal making her slick and wet. She wanted that, wanted to give him that. Wanted to be on her knees for him.
As if he knew what was happening, when he finally moved, it was to slide his knee between hers and bring his thigh against her, grinding into her until she gasped his name. “Fuck, yeah, baby,” he said with a groan. “Want you in my bed, no interruptions, no Mercy coming home with a friend, no tummy troubles…no one but me and you. And now, here we are, and I have you. All. Night. Long.”
He slowly pushed back from the wall, gradually breaking the clinging grasp her fingers had on the sides of his shirt. Wrapping his palm around her wrist, he looked down, watching his fingers move across her skin as he carefully slid his grip to her hand, lacing his fingers between hers. Once he had a firm hold on her, he looked up and she watched as his brown eyes darkened, the tawny ring around his irises becoming small and thin as emotion flooded through him, his gaze tracing her face. “Makes me an asshole,” he said quietly and she jerked, but before she could interrupt, he continued, “because I know I’m bringing danger to your door, baby. But right now, knowing you arranged this space of time because you wanted to be with me, all I can think about is your pussy, and burying myself deep inside you, fucking you until you scream.” Without explaining…without another word, he turned, leading her up the hallway as if their transit had never been interrupted.
In the bedroom, he didn’t give her a chance to do more than glance around before he was pressed against her, mouth back on hers, distracting her as he removed her clothing one piece at a time. Somewhere in there, he lost his own. The only thing she remembered later was him kneeling in front of her, his hands on her legs as, standing, she stepped out of her boots, and then a few minutes later, watching him fold his leather vest across the top of a chair. In between was a cacophony of touch, and passion, and want. Eyes sinking closed when his mouth moved down her neck, heat from his body seared her front, and then her mouth slipped open and she gasped when his hand moved between her legs and his rough fingertips pressed hard against her there.
“Wet, fuck. God, baby, you make it hard to—” His fingers pressed deeper, the edge of his hand sliding along the inside of her thigh. “Fucking want you so bad, Hope,” he muttered, lips moving against her neck, fingers dragging on an outward sl
ide. “Gonna get you off quick, but then I can’t wait any longer, baby. Need you.”
She nodded and he spun them, backing her towards the bed. She stumbled when the backs of her knees hit the edge of the mattress, and then was on her back. He put a knee to the bed, stretching out over her, propping himself up on one arm while his other looped around her waist, lifting and tugging her into the middle of the soft surface. Using her heels to push up in the bed, she was surprised when he moved back down, and then called his name like a question when he lifted one of her legs, folding it across the front of his body until he was positioned on his knees between her thighs.
“You on the pill, baby?” His voice was thick with emotion again, face twisted in a beautiful expression of tautly held passion. When she shook her head, he let out an explosive pant of air. “Fuck. Hope, you got no reason to trust me on this, so I’m gonna use a rubber this time. But we’re going to the clinic tomorrow morning, get some papers to show each other, and then next time, we’ll have a different conversation.”
Slightly confused, she nodded again, but the question running through her mind must have been written on her face, because he let out another hard breath. “I won’t put you at risk, beautiful. Not to make it better for me. And, even after labs are done, if you decide you want me to suit up, then I roll on a rubber. Every time.”
Scooting backwards on the bed, he trailed his calloused fingertips down the insides of her thighs, over her calves to her ankles, then back up, the delicate sensation as thrilling as it was exciting. Her chest tightened at his next words, fear threading through her. “That means I eat you now, because latex tastes like fucking garbage. If I fuck you first, I’ll have to wait for us to clean up before I can eat you, and I find I’m a selfish, impatient bastard when it comes to you. I want everything, baby. Every-fucking-thing with you.”
Hoss (Rebel Wayfarers MC Book 7) Page 17