Bending The Rules: Stewart Island Book 10

by Tracey Alvarez

  Cue female rashness and the mantra drummed into all writers: show, don’t tell.

  One second she was chastely seated, the next she’d half lunged across the console to cup Noah’s face in her hands. And, oh, his facial hair was both prickly and soft. His skin warm, his mouth an irresistible temptation.

  He twisted his head, pressing his lips into her palm. “Is this a thank you for your service moment?”

  “Something like that.” The words came out a little breathier than intended, since she was already imagining the feel of his mouth on her.

  God, he’d better be prepared to be thanked but good.

  Tilly drew his lips down level with hers, savoring the tremor of blood rushing at full speed through her veins in anticipation. Her eyelids slipped shut and she just breathed him in, the heady scent of raw masculinity giving her a delicious dizzy moment.

  Here there be tygers…

  Or dragons, as medieval cartographers would add to sections of their maps when they didn’t know what lay ahead for the unwary sailor. And by kissing Noah for a second time, she was crossing into the unknown.

  What the hell.

  Her lips still curving in a smile, Tilly pressed her mouth to his. The roller-coaster plunge she’d felt the first time Noah kissed her returned—and this time it felt more akin to leaping out of an aeroplane. The unexpectedness of the connection, the jolt she’d brushed off as a first kiss only sizzle, parted her mouth in surprise and wiped her brain clean of further thought.

  Noah used her mindlessness to his advantage by sliding one big hand into her hair and deepening the kiss with the light flick of his tongue. His fingers lightly massaging her nape, he melted her with deep, drugging, unhurried kisses. Like he was taking his time to prove he could disarm every weapon she had to resist him in her arsenal, with just his mouth.

  And his hands. Damn.

  She was a hot mess just from him touching her neck—she’d probably go off like a blowtorch if he explored anywhere south of her collarbone.

  Again—what the hell.

  Without letting his mouth escape, Tilly fumble-crawled over the console and somehow wedged herself onto his lap. It was a tighter squeeze than she’d anticipated, with the bottom of the steering wheel jammed into her spine. However, something just as hard was lodged between her thighs, and of that she wasn’t complaining. With a moan of lust mixed with ouch, that’s uncomfortable, she pulled her mouth from Noah’s and arched into him in an attempt to escape the steering wheel melding permanently with her lower back.

  He gripped her butt, and she was gratified to note—in between squirming motions—that his breathing was ragged. “What’re you doing, Til?”

  She made a less than graceful attempt at bowing sideways to reach the driver’s seat release lever. “Showing you my appreciation, dammit.”

  He gave a strangled groan and his hips pistoned up, grinding against her with such an achingly pleasurable friction that the gasp of his name leaving her lips came out more like a shout. His bigger hand pushed hers aside as he reached for the lever, then she was flung forward onto his chest as the seat scooted backward. She sprawled over him, her breathless giggle cut off when the hand still on her butt cheek held her tighter against him and his other fisted lightly in her hair.

  What control she’d had over the situation—and it was doubtful she’d had much—was handed to Noah right then, wrapped up in a pretty red bow. Coincidently the same color as her bra and panties, which she hoped he’d discover in due course.

  “I make it a rule not to do women in my patrol car,” he said.

  “Noted,” she gasped.

  He thrust against her once more, his gaze on her mouth so hot she could almost feel her lips chapping. His fingers flexed, the caught strands of her hair making her scalp tingle almost as deliciously as the feel of his stubble scraping her skin. Dipping his head, he slid his mouth across hers. Firm, damp lips clung and teased her sensitive skin. As he continued to torment her with pulsating, wet kisses, he caught her spread thigh in one big hand and rocked her against his hardness in a matching rhythm.

  A telltale quiver quickened deep inside her. She let out an embarrassingly aroused whimper as she ground into him, digging her nails into his upper arms as she moved. She canna take any more, Captain. She’s gonna blow! Caught between a giggle and a groan at the appropriate Star Trek quote popping into her head, her brain translated the sharp knocking sound beside her as mini explosions.

  Except they weren’t. Someone was knocking on the window.

  Noah jerked upright and Tilly whoopsied backward, her butt connecting with the steering wheel’s center and a deafening horn blast ensuing a split second later. Her gaze collided with Noah’s, then swung toward the slightly misted-up window.

  But it wasn’t misted up enough to conceal the man bending down to stare at them with a wide smile on his face.

  Chapter 11

  What the actual hell was Wade doing here?

  Noah turned away from his brother’s laughter and thunked his head against the ute’s headrest, his hands still clamped on either side of Tilly’s hips. Hell if he could loosen his grip, not when he was still steel hard and his dick hadn’t yet comprehended that the vehicular make-out session was over.

  “I’ll give you two a moment, eh?” he heard his brother say.

  Tilly had her face screwed up and her hands covering her eyes, face glowing hot enough to warm the entire cab. “Oh my God.”

  She hadn’t yet moved and her warm weight centered over an aching part of him wasn’t helping matters.

  “Tilly.” He gentled his voice as best he could. “You should probably climb back over to your seat now.”

  She dropped her hands and immediately avoided his eyes to stare intensely at the passenger seat, as if traversing the center console was harder than scaling the difficult face of New Zealand’s tallest mountain. “Yeah. I probably should.”

  She still didn’t move—but since his fingers remained glued to her hips, it wasn’t entirely her fault. He had to fight the instinct to grind into her softness, but another glance out the window to where his grinning brother stood a few feet away did the trick. He gave her one last squeeze and subtly lifted her hips off him. “To be continued.”

  She made a low hum in her throat that could either be agreement or denial, then she lurched off his lap, crawling over to the passenger seat. She smoothed her clothes, shooting him or possibly his dead-man-walking brother a wary glance.

  “Who is that?” she whispered out of the side of her mouth.

  “My younger brother, Wade. I’ve no idea what he’s doing here.” Actually, he had a few ideas about why Wade had shown up, none of them good.

  He blew out a long breath and tried to think of unsexy things. Almost impossible when he had the taste of Tilly in his mouth, the scent of her perfume in his nose, and the sounds of her excited little moans replaying over and over in his inner ear.

  “I’ll go.” Tilly unlatched the car door.

  As Noah expected, the sound was like a starter pistol to Wade. He rushed around the ute to hold the door open for her. Anyone who didn’t know his little brother would think he was a gentleman—until he opened his big mouth, that was.

  “Thanks,” she muttered to Wade and got out. “And thanks for the ride, Noah.”

  From behind the open car door came a snort of laughter.

  Tilly froze for a moment, then met Wade’s amused stare head on. “So you’re the youngest Daniels sibling?”

  “I am,” he said. “And you are?”

  “Noah’s almost neighbor. Nice to meet you.” She extended a hand for him to shake and he did, the grin never slipping from his mouth.

  “Likewise. Always a pleasure to meet one of Noah’s…neighbors.” Wade’s gaze skipped past Tilly to nail Noah, still sitting inside the car.

  With something inappropriate due to fall out of his brother’s mouth at any second, Noah climbed out and circled the vehicle’s hood.

  “O
h, a family reunion Hallmark moment.” Tilly took a giant step away from Wade. “I’ll leave you two to catch up. I just remembered I left something in the oven.”

  She speed-walked away from them, taking her porch steps in one bound and disappearing inside the house.

  He glanced back to see Wade watching him watching Tilly with great interest.

  “Almost neighbor, huh? Is that what you call a woman you dry-hump in your squad car? Must be some new street slang I haven’t caught up with.”

  Noah wasn’t going there, though he was sorely tempted to knock Wade’s block off for talking about Tilly like that. The Daniels men didn’t discuss relationships or the sticky, uncomfortable spectrum of emotions. Navel-gazing was for regular people, their dad like to say. Daniels men had five default emotional settings—happy, pissed off, horny, fearful, and not happy—and only the first three were open for discussion.

  “Why are you here?” He leaned against the hood, folding his arms.

  Wade gave him the eyebrow lift of innocence. “Because I got sick of waiting at your place. I heard your truck drive past and when you didn’t show up, I came to investigate.”

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  Wade shoved his fists into his pockets and rocked back on his heels. “Can’t a guy spend a weekend hanging out with his big bro without getting the third degree?”

  Noah’s gut clenched. “You’re here for the weekend? The whole weekend?”

  “I’d hardly make the effort of flying down here just for a few hours. Thought I’d couch surf at your place for a couple of nights. Chillax and go with the flow.”

  “Go with the flow?” Noah shook his head and pushed away from the truck. “You and Dad and Mark don’t know how to go with the flow. When was the last time you took a weekend off?”

  “It’s been a while,” Wade admitted.

  A twitch of Tilly’s living room curtains announced they had an audience. Noah decided they should probably take this conversation elsewhere so he climbed back into the ute and started it.

  Wade flicked a thumb downhill. “I’ll see you there.” He loped off toward Noah’s house.

  Bloody hell. Noah reversed out of the driveway, giving the big vehicle a little too much gas so the tires shrieked on the road. All he wanted to do was kick down Tilly’s door and finish what they’d started. But instead his brother had plans to wear him down about their dad’s retirement party by the sheer annoyance of his presence.

  Twenty-five minutes later he was ready to club Wade with a length of two-by-four and bury his body deep in the bush where he’d never be found. He could do it, too—get away with fratricide—he’d enough training to outfox forensics. He’d been correct in his assumptions that his younger brother had been coerced by Mark to try to twist Noah’s arm in person.

  “I’ve got to get back to work.” Noah stood up from his kitchen table where Wade was eating the sandwich he’d helped himself to.

  “No worries.” Wade gave an exaggerated yawn. “I’ll crash in your room for a power nap for a few hours. That couch of yours feels like it’s made of rocks.”

  “Later.” Noah strolled out the back door and returned to his truck.

  From inside his house Wade had apparently found Noah’s sound system and cranked it up. Wonderful. Two nights sleeping on his rock-hard couch because it wasn’t worth the hassle of having Wade bitch like a girl about it each morning.

  Unless…

  He slid out his phone and composed a text to Tilly. His heart gave a little jolt as he hit send, wondering which way she’d choose to interpret it.

  Noah: Would you consider having a guest stay at Southern Seas for two nights?

  From Mary Duncan’s secret journal:

  Sometimes you just need the courage to step out on that tightrope, because some things are worth the risk.

  * * *

  Tilly read and reread Noah’s text. She’d quickly sensed there was friction between the two brothers, so one might assume Noah was asking for a room on Wade’s behalf. But that wasn’t the conclusion her demanding erogenous zones had come to—even after a tepid shower that’d left her shivering. She continued to sit in the living room, curled up in her fluffy robe, her ears tuned to the street outside. The rumble of his ute started up then faded as he drove away.

  She scanned the message again, crinkling her nose. Putting aside her desire to lock Noah in her bedroom for forty-eight hours, Tilly couldn’t imagine him telling his brother he was indulging in a two-night shag-fest with his neighbor, all the while staying in a downstairs guest room like a monk.

  So of course he was talking about his brother.

  Tilly: Sure. Happy to help out.

  He wasn’t the only one who could be ambiguous. Yet her stomach gave a little flutter at the thought of Noah sprawled out on her bed. Speaking of which…

  Tilly hopped off the couch and hurried to the linen cupboard for a fresh set of sheets. It didn’t hurt to be prepared. While she was changing the sheets, another text arrived.

  Noah: Appreciate it. Put Wade in the shark room. He screamed like a girl the first time Mark and I made him watch Jaws.

  Well, that solved the mystery of who was having a sleepover. Her phone buzzed again.

  Noah: Seriously. The kid wouldn’t even go into a swimming pool for a couple of years.

  She laughed, trying to imagine what it’d be like growing up with two older brothers. Would they’ve behaved differently if Wade had been their sister? Probably. If Mark was anything like Noah the two of them would’ve beaten the living daylights out of anyone who made their little sister miserable. Suddenly she was curious to see the family dynamics of the two brothers in action.

  Tilly: Why don’t you use your powers for good instead of evil and grab some takeout dinner from Due South? Bring Wade. Not in a body bag.

  She hit send. The reply came a few seconds later.

  Noah: It’s a deal. And if you insist.

  Tilly found herself grinning like an idiot at the prospect of seeing Noah again in a few hours. She slid the phone into the nightstand drawer and shut it. Outta sight, outta mind. Away from the temptation of composing a dirty NSFW text about what could be for dessert.

  The brothers arrived just before seven, Wade with a sports bag in hand, Noah with two brown paper bags that had delicious smells wafting out of them.

  “Hello, Noah’s neighbor.” Wade dumped his sports bag on her front porch. “You disappeared before we could be formally introduced. I’m Wade.” He shoulder-checked Noah aside and entered the house first, a huge smile on his face.

  “Tilly.” She found herself smiling back at him. “Tilly Montgomery.”

  Habit had her skimming his features to compare likeness with his older brother. Wade was tall like Noah, though perhaps an inch or so shorter. They both wore jeans and a T-shirt, but while Noah bulked out his T-shirt, muscles testing the fabric’s stretchiness, Wade was of a lankier build, even though it was obvious he, too, was in the top, super-fit percentile of men. Noah’s hair was a couple of shades darker than his brother’s and his facial features stronger. Wade was kind of a watered-down version of his elder brother, but in a flattering way. Yet her heart didn’t pogo around her chest at the sight of his smile like it did with Noah’s.

  “Noah’s been babbling on about you all afternoon.” Wade leaned a shoulder against the entranceway wall, stuffing a hand casually into the pocket of his jeans. “All good, of course.”

  “Don’t listen to him.” Noah brushed past his brother with a scowl that could sour milk. “He’s winding me up as usual.”

  Her gaze skipped past Noah’s broad shoulder to Wade, who mouthed, “He’s lying.”

  “Come on into the kitchen.” She turned away, but not before she caught a glimpse of Noah’s gaze fixed on her face. There was a glimmer of male possessiveness in his stare and it caused a prickle of awareness to spread across her shoulders as she strolled down the hallway. Behind her Wade gave an indignant, “Hey!” and she wondered wh
at Noah had done to him.

  She’d already set the dining table for three, and not knowing what Noah would turn up with food-wise, she’d a bottle of pinot chilling and a bottle of merlot on standby. Plus a six-pack of beer that, according to Caroline at the grocery store, was the only acceptable brand of beer most men would drink this far south. Playing hostess, she pasted on a smile and opened the fridge.

  “I’ve got beer, white wine, or red. What’ll it be?”

  “Beer, please.” Wade slid into a dining chair and immediately tipped it back on two legs. “I’m off duty.”

  Tilly selected a can and turned back to where Noah was unpacking the plastic containers of food from inside the paper bags. “Noah?”

  He glanced up, his expression dialed back to neutral. “Nothing for me.”

  “Don’t expect wine by candlelight with this guy.” Wade put his hand out for the beer. “He’s always on duty, aren’t you, bro?”

  Tilly passed it to him, and he cracked the tab.

  “Part of the job description of sole-charge officer.” Noah set the last container on the table and scrunched up the paper bag. With uncanny precision, he tossed it across the table where it landed neatly in the trash can. “Nobody wants an inebriated officer trying to cope with an emergency situation. I don’t have the luxury of backup.”

  “That’s got to feel restrictive sometimes.” Tilly broke the seal on the bottle of red after spying the three steaming containers of lasagna. “To your social life.”

  She carried the bottle and a wineglass to the table and chose an empty seat—unfortunately the one opposite Noah. Unfortunate, because how attractive did one look stuffing pasta, ground beef, and dripping-with-cheese sauce mouthfuls into one’s mouth at close range?