“Well.” Kezia’s voice lowered dramatically as she leaned in. “She’s a writer on that K-Road show. She asks a lot of questions around town and she seems to be developing an addiction to Erin’s muffins.”
“Really? What else?”
“She’s only staying long enough to sort out her great-aunt’s things and to clean the place up ready to sell.”
“I’d heard that, too.” Though for some weird reason Tilly’s stomach gave a sickening little dive toward her ankle boots.
“And…” Kezia’s dark eyes gleamed. “A little birdie named Mrs. T is convinced something is going on between her and our very own officer of the law. Something much more scandalous than my twins or Zach moving away from Oban in a few months’ time.”
A rush of heat spread across her chest and crept upward. “I suspect Betsy sees Cupid wherever she looks.”
“True, cara. But as the old saying goes, where there’s smoke there’s a couple burning up the sheets, sì?
“Noah and I aren’t burning up anything,” she said. But, boy, did she want to. Really, really want to. She squeezed her thighs together at the thought. “We’re just neighbors.”
That came out in the tone of a toddler denying they’d helped themselves to the cookie jar. But if she ran with that analogy, she hadn’t yet managed to taste the cookie. The double chocolate chunk cookie that was Noah Daniels.
Of course, at that moment she spied Noah walking between two of the stalls. He stopped to chat to an elderly man holding the hand of a little boy. Yeah, he was definitely a double chocolate chunk cookie. Looking at him in his worn-soft cargo shorts and a screen-printed ‘Keep Calm I’m a Cop’ sleeveless T-shirt, Tilly definitely wanted a bite out of him. Or just to bite him. Preferably on one of the many muscles he had on display.
Kezia made a low hum of amusement and hooked her arm through Tilly’s. “Let’s go and wish your neighbor good luck.”
She towed Tilly across the grass toward Noah.
He glanced up from his conversation, gaze locking onto her as if every other living being in a mile radius had suddenly vanished. He murmured something to the man and offered a fist to bump to the little boy—who punched Noah’s fist with enthusiasm. Tilly’s heart gave a squeezy jolt as Noah pretended to cup his fingers against his chest in pain. Then he strode over to meet them.
“Hey!” A wide smile spread across his face. It encompassed both her and Kezia, but she guessed it didn’t affect Kezia with the same low-down-in-the-belly tremble as it did her.
“Hey, yourself.” Kezia dragged them to a half a foot away from Noah. She released Tilly’s hand and stood hipshot, crinkling her nose at him. “Shouldn’t you be warming up for the gumboot toss? Ben’s already practicing with Zoe as his boot-retrieving girl.”
He smirked at Kezia, folding his arms and rocking back on his heels. “Eh. I’ll let Ben have that one. I’ll get him at the horizontal bungee. He hasn’t beaten me yet.” His gaze slid to her again, so much in his eyes that wasn’t neighborly. “Are you coming to watch?”
A simple, polite question, and yet Tilly’s tongue superglued itself to the roof of her mouth. And while some body parts got stuck, others loosened in a delicious, melting rush.
“Mmm-hmm,” she managed, feeling Kezia’s hawklike gaze do a sideways zip.
“Heading there now to get a good spot, aren’t we, cara?” There was much repressed laughter in Kezia’s voice.
“Yep.” Reduced to a one-syllable witless repertoire, Tilly grabbed Kezia’s arm and made a giant sidestep around Noah. “Better go.” She aimed herself at the same gap in the stalls that he’d appeared through and lurched forward, pulling Kezia with her.
“Aren’t you ladies going to wish me good luck?” He raised his voice to be heard over the sound system announcing there were ten minutes left until the gumboot tossing was to begin.
Kezia put on the brakes, forcing Tilly to do the same. Kezia dragged her around to face a grinning Noah.
“Not a chance, loser,” Kezia called. “You’re far too cocky as it is.”
Noah crooked his eyebrow at her, following it with a slow, sexy smile. “Do you think I’m cocky, Til?”
Once again she was almost dumbstruck, smacked upside the head by the man’s sheer charisma. “Um. No comment,” she squeaked and turned away to the sound of his laughter.
Noah asked himself for the millionth time why he was doing this again. Then, with a mental shrug, he strained another foot closer to the flag staked in the ground. Ten feet across from him, Ben inched his way over the trampled grass and drew level.
The crowd surrounding the roped-off section of field where two idiots were harnessed to horizontal bungee cords and attempted with brute strength to scramble and crawl over greased plastic sheeting and through mud in order to reach a flag before the other, roared approval. Ben was the favorite to take out the title this year.
Noah had to give it to his mate. Even with a wife, two kids, and twins on the way, the big guy hadn’t let himself get too soft. Quite an accomplishment considering how many home-cooked Italian meals he was treated to. Unfortunately for Ben, Noah didn’t have the distraction of a family to get in the way of keeping himself in prime condition.
He gained another two feet, fingers digging into the mud, back muscles burning from the strain of the bungee tension. He made a rookie mistake of turning his head toward the crowd. Jumping up and down in front, shrieking with excitement, were Ben’s girls, Zoe and Jade. Their enthusiastic support was almost enough for him to throw the event and let Ben win—but, nah. Noah bared his teeth in a rictus grin and lunged forward again. If Ben wanted it, Ben would fight for it. The same way Noah had fought tooth and nail to get through the national selection process into the AOS. Grueling runs, full-kit endless marches over rough terrain, and sleep deprivation were just the tip of the iceberg.
Made the Manly Man of the Year competition seem like a teddy bear’s picnic.
Six feet to go until he reached the fluoro-orange flag. Cue rookie mistake number two—sliding a glance at the cheering crowd again and spotting Tilly. Her cheeks were flushed scarlet and her hands were clasped between her breasts, the soft knit of her dress emphasizing their lush curves. Her mouth was moving as she chanted along with the crowd—her soft, sinful mouth—and he could easily imagine her lips caressing his name as he made her shatter blissfully in his arms.
The bolt of lust that shot through him, electrifying every nerve ending, literally knocked his feet out from under him. He slid back a few inches, his fingers clawing uselessly into the ground, then déjà vu—face-planted into the mud and whipped ungracefully across the wet sheeting to the starting line. Swiping mud out of his nose and with the sound of thunderous applause in his ears, Noah rolled to a sitting position. He was in time to see Ben triumphantly snatch up the flag before also being hurled backward through the mud.
Tilly, however, was swallowed up by the crowd.
He gained his feet and offered a hand to Ben, who grasped it with a grimace.
“I’m getting too old for this.” Ben stood and flicked a chunk of mud off his neck.
“Yeah, this should probably be your last year, Grandpa.”
Ben found another chunk of mud on his face and threw it at Noah’s head. Noah ducked out of the way, laughing.
“Even though I handed you your ass, thanks for making me look good in front of the girls,” Ben said. “Owe you one.”
Noah shot a glance toward the crowd, found Wade chatting with a pretty blonde, and finally spotted Tilly a short distance away. “Cover for me for an hour and we’ll call it even.”
He turned back to Ben who stared in the same direction, his mud-streaked face creasing into a knowing smirk. “Gotcha back, Daniels. Go take care of business.”
Noah didn’t need to be told twice. With a wave to his supporters, he leaped over the rope barrier and jogged across the field toward the changing rooms used by the local sports teams…and Tilly.
She had an open bag of
cotton candy in her hand and was guiltily sucking sugar off her fingertips when he drew alongside and slowed his jog to a brisk walk. She opened her mouth—he suspected either to commiserate or to explain her eight-year-old-girl taste in snacks—but he spoke before she could utter a word.
“Meet me behind the changing rooms in ten minutes.”
She blinked at him, her lips remaining in a perfect O as he picked up speed again and headed to the changing room for the world’s quickest shower.
Eight and a half minutes later he slipped out of the changing room. Checking no one was looking in his direction, he strode around the corner. Tilly waited for him, leaning against the back wall, holding her half-eaten bag of cotton candy. Her eyes widened at his approach and if I want to screw you senseless wasn’t written all over his face, he’d eat another helping of paua guts as he had to win round three of the competition.
He snagged her hand, leading her away from the changing rooms to the encroaching line of native bush that bordered the rear of the fields.
“Where are we going?” Tilly almost had to break into a jog to keep up with his longer legs.
“Investigating your suspicion that a crime is taking place.” He aimed them toward a narrow path between the trees.
“My suspicion?” Her nose crinkled. “I didn’t say anything.”
“Yeah, you did. It’s my duty to thoroughly investigate any such claim, and since you’re bound and determined to see what it is I do, you’re coming with.”
Tilly slammed on her brakes, the nose crinkle turning into a frown. “But I didn’t—”
Noah leaned in and pressed his finger against her full lower lip. He lowered his voice to a rough growl, allowing some of the need churning through his system to show. “Thoroughly investigate.”
Again her eyes widened. “Oh. Right.”
One last glance over his shoulder at the gala behind them revealed the backside of the stalls and no one looking their way. He tugged on Tilly’s hand and pulled her into the shelter of the trees. The air around them was rich and earthy smelling, and leaves flicked wetly against their arms as they followed the well-worn path. Batting against stray branches and stumbling over exposed roots, Tilly was kept from any further questions until they burst into a little clearing among the trees.
Tilly stumbled to a halt, facing the biggest tree in the clearing and staring up at the platform built on the widespread branches. “It’s a tree house.”
“Tree fort.” He gestured to the wooden ladder leading up to it. “Up you go.”
She narrowed her eyes at him and folded her arms. “I’m not climbing a ladder. I’m wearing a dress.”
He chuckled. “What if I promised to be gentlemanly and not look up at such a tantalising view?”
She rolled her eyes. “Would you mean it?”
“Nope. Climb.”
With a huff she crossed over to the foot of the ladder and pulled herself up the first three rungs. She tipped her head down and shot him a smile that had him instantly growing hard. “It’ll serve you right if you do look up my skirt, Officer Sexy-Britches.”
She flounced up higher on the ladder and he couldn’t resist—he never claimed to be a gentleman. Gentlemen didn’t get laid. The soft fabric of her dress swirled around her legs as she climbed. A light gust of wind sent the skirt billowing outward, rewarding him with a glimpse of toned thighs and a flash of lacy black thong panties. She was a hundred percent correct—it served him right for being a perv because now he was harder than the tree trunk supporting the wooden platform.
He waited until she’d climbed up to the platform—pert ass high in the air as she crawled onto it—before he scaled the ladder. She’d already slipped off her shoulder bag and dipped into the cotton candy by the time he eased onto the wooden planks and moved over to sit beside her. A speck of pink melted sugar dotted the center of her lower lip and before he could kiss it off her, her tongue darted out and licked it away.
“You’re killing me here, Til.”
She dug into the plastic bag and brought out a pinch of pink fluff, offering it to him. “Sorry. Guess it’s rude not to share. Want some?”
Yeah, he wanted some. Making sure she didn’t break eye contact, he lowered his head and bit into the spun sugar, grabbing her wrist so she couldn’t escape. Then he sucked the remaining sweetness from her, scraping his teeth over the pads of her fingertips. She shivered, and he couldn’t resist a moment longer. With his free hand, he cupped the back of her head and drew her in. He dipped his head, and lip to lip tasted sugar and the even sweeter taste of Tilly.
She let out a needy little moan and his fingers tightened in her silky hair. He flicked his tongue along her lower lip. Her mouth parted and she welcomed him into a deeper, wetter kiss that soon had his heart jackhammering against his ribs. Fingernails raked lightly down his chest and fisted his T-shirt at his hip.
So sweet he couldn’t get enough.
He drew her in closer, easing them down onto the platform. His hand skimmed up her side, drawn to the soft swell of her breast. Another needy moan escaped as he palmed her breast and squeezed, brushing his thumb over her budded nipple. She arched into him with a jerk of her hips, knocking him off balance so that she sprawled half over him. Praying the creak of wood beneath them didn’t mean an imminent collapse, he held her tight—and his hand slipped down to land on a warm, smooth butt cheek.
Noah palmed her deliciously curvy ass and traced his index finger down the back of her lacy thong, stopping just before the point of no return. Once he touched her, he wouldn’t be able to stop. He reluctantly broke the kiss, pulling back enough that their gazes could meet. Her eyes were still half closed with a dazed expression in them that made him want to pump a fist in the air. Asking for consent to touch her was on the tip of his tongue, but the sight of her—tousled, breathing raggedly, wanting him—caused his own breath to hitch.
Then she took the need for permission from him by sliding forward so that his fingertips delved into warmth, lace, and wetness. This time he was the one to moan, arching up to stroke along her length until he reached the apex of her sex. He pushed lightly against the lace of her panties, touching her through the thin fabric. She inhaled on a shudder, her eyelashes sweeping down, nails digging into his biceps.
Touching her through a layer of lace wasn’t enough. He worked the tip of a finger beneath her panties and marveled at the slickness that soon coated it. He stroked, she moaned. Magic. Except he couldn’t access all that sweetness as easily as he would’ve liked with her panties in the way. She gave a whimper of protest when he removed his hand from between her legs, gasping as he hooked the elasticized waistband and dragged them downward.
“Are you as talented removing underwear as you are a bra?”
Referring to his win of the fastest time to free Siobhan the mannequin of her double-D cup bra event earlier.
“Better,” he said.
Noah reversed their positions so she lay partially on her back—making his job of tugging her panties down her thighs a hell of a lot easier. He retraced his fingers up her bared legs, watching lust and anticipation soften her features, listening to the soft rasp of her breath as he paused at the juncture of her thighs.
“Kiss me,” he ordered.
She angled her jaw and slid her mouth against his, her tongue tracing along the seam of his lips until he parted them and took control of the kiss. He kept his palm still, waiting until he was lost in her, until he couldn’t resist one more second. Then he scissored two fingers through her folds, gently capturing her clit between them. Shuddering, she squeezed her thighs together and rocked into him. He found her soaked entrance and dipped his fingers inside, all the while keeping a light pressure either side of her clit. She bucked into his hand and he obliged, lifting his hand slightly so both fingers thrust inside her tight wetness. God, she felt amazing. Her inner muscles bore down on him and he withdrew up to his knuckles, then pumped them into her again.
She moaned into his mou
th and the clench of her thighs around his hand loosened, even though the tension around his fingers didn’t. Her desperate grip on his biceps as he began to stroke his fingers in and out, as he used the pad of his thumb to massage her clit at the same time, gave him an indication of how close she was to coming apart in his arms. Their kisses became faster and more intense, his tongue mimicking the rhythm of each claiming stroke of his fingers. She rode him hard, all inhibitions swallowed by her need for release. He felt the quivering tense of her muscles and pulled back from her. Watching Tilly come for him wasn’t something he wanted to miss.
Her eyes fluttered open and he found himself falling into their depths. The indescribable way she looked at him, with both wonder and a level of trust that he hadn’t expected, blew him away. Her hand snaked up his arm to his shoulder, and then cupped his jaw.
“Noah,” she whispered, then the whisper dissolved into a whimper as her body clenched around him.
She bowed, arching back, trapping his fingers as she shuddered out her release. He wasn’t complaining—well, parts of him were. Loudly. The only thing keeping his dick in his pants was a sliver of common sense. One, he didn’t have a condom. And two, he wanted to take Tilly without the fear of splinters in either one of their asses.
Fortunately or not, depending on what body part of his was asked, the loudspeaker crackled to life.
“Five minutes until we draw the raffles and award our manly men their trophies, folks.” Mrs. T’s voice bugled across the playing fields. “See you at the main stage tent. Be there or be square.”
He glanced down to see Tilly staring dazedly up at him, her cheeks flushed a shade closer to crimson than pastel pink. She’d gone completely lax, even though her hips continued to rock softly against the heel of his palm.
And his fingers.
Which were still buried to the hilt inside her.
It made what he had to say next incredibly difficult, though he kept his features as neutral as possible. Admitting to her this early in the game that he was close to blowing off his responsibilities was treading on dangerous ground.
Bending The Rules: Stewart Island Book 10 Page 16