New Tricks

by Kelly Moran

  No guilt . No shame . No doubts. Being with her was...right.

  “Are you okay?” She held his face, her gaze seeking. Her lips were swollen from his kiss and her cheeks were flushed.

  “Yes.” He wasn’t merely okay. That term could be described as what he’d been the past four years. Zoe and his brothers had made sure of that with their actions and presence. But, over the course of a few weeks, she’d managed to make him much more than simply okay. He was happy again. “Definitely, yes.”

  His gaze dipped past her throat, collarbone, and to her breasts. Tiny. Perfect. Olive skin and dark, pert nipples. Breathtaking. He glanced up, meeting her eyes as he cupped her, and brushed his thumbs over the swells. Her breath caught and her fingers toyed with the hair on his nape. Watching her, he slid his hands past her belly to her red lace panties, tracing the waistband with his fingertips.

  “You have a thing for lace.” The yellow pair she’d worn the other night would be imprinted on his retinas forever.

  Removing her hands from his neck, she fingered his nylon shorts. “And are you a boxers or briefs man?”

  She gave him no time to respond. Pushing him to his back, she used that weapon of a mouth to suck, kiss, and bite his throat. Lower to his nipples, where she swirled the tip of her tongue. Lower yet across his stomach. And then… She tugged his shorts down his hips.

  “Boxer briefs.” She smiled up at him.

  Immobile, he stared at her. Desire so potent he was dizzy spiraled through him. Stole his air. He tried to swallow and couldn’t. Hell, now she was taking his briefs, too. His erection sprang free and he suddenly forgot what the hell he was supposed to do, where to touch, what to say. He clenched his fingers at his sides.

  “Zoe,” he rasped in a voice hoarse with need.

  She tossed his clothing aside, set her palms on either side of his hips, and leaned on her hands. Without so much as a muscle twitch, she looked in his eyes. Calm. Assured. And, if he wasn’t mistaken, as turned on as him. Silently, she asked him with her expression what he wanted. Yes or no.

  Muscles shaking with curiosity and violent need, he lifted his head and wove his fingers through her hair. Lavender rose up to claim him and he nodded. Still, she waited a moment, then wrapped her fingers around his base and stroked.

  His head slammed to the pillow and his hips involuntarily rose. When she got to his tip and added her mouth, his lungs emptied. To avoid hurting her, he unclenched his fingers from her strands and pressed them to the headboard instead.

  Hot, wet mouth. Firm, deft fingers.

  He groaned from a place so deep his throat burned. Lightning splintered his nerves. His lower back tightened and he arched off the mattress. He tried warning her he was close, but she didn’t stop. Lifting his head, he looked down at her and got trapped by her hazel eyes locked on his, her red mouth wrapped around him.

  And he was done for. Chasing the white light, he exploded with her name on his lips, and the release seemed to go on forever. Spasms. Tension. Insane fucking pleasure. He slumped, staring at the ceiling, panting like a man dying.

  She crawled up his body as he caught his breath. Mind blown and thought obsolete, he wrapped his arms around her. And since that didn’t seem like enough, he ran his hand up her back, into her hair, and kissed the shit out of her.

  Smiling, she nuzzled her nose with his. “You seem very pleased.”

  Running his thumb across her lower lip, he cleared his throat and fought the pressure in his chest. “You amaze me.” And he’d reciprocate as soon as he knew what planet they’d landed on.

  A grin lit her eyes as she leaned in to kiss him. This time, she started slow. A build up. More endearment than heat. But, in typical Zoe fashion, that swiftly catapulted into blinding desperation.

  He slid his hands down the curve of her spine, under her panties, and grabbed her ass. Fingers kneading, he stroked her tongue with his, mimicking the dance he couldn’t wait to do with her next weekend. She made those noises that drove him to delirium, and he rolled her beneath him.

  For months, he’d wanted to kiss every inch of her, know what it felt like to have her beneath him, and the reality was almost too much. Completely unashamed of her taut little body, she wrapped her limbs around him, her hands tracing the contours of his where she could reach, and all while she kissed him with reckless abandon.

  Resurfacing for air, he made his way over her collarbone and to her breasts. Sucking one hardened bead into his mouth, he fingered the other. She bowed to meet him, moaning and fisting his hair. By the time he moved to her other breast, he was hard as fieldstone again.

  Inching lower, he swirled his tongue around her belly button and looked up at her as he got to her panties. She had one arm bent under her head, the other hand resting just below her wet breasts, and unadulterated passion in her eyes. Getting his answer, he slid her panties down her thighs and dropped them to the floor.

  His gaze immediately landed on the tattoo on her pelvic bone. He got a better look this time, and emotion clogged his airway as he remembered that day. He traced the dandelion stem, the fluff, then the seeds drifting. And because he’d never get her memory for the ink out of his mind, he kissed her there. “I’ll give you a hundred dandelions next time.”

  She went rigid under him. Slapping a hand over her face, she emitted a whimper. Belly quivering, she sucked a harsh inhale and shook her head like she couldn’t deal.

  Hell. While she still hid behind her hand, he called her name, praying he wouldn’t find tears. She shook her head again, brows pinched.

  “Zoe, honey. Look at me.” When she finally did, her eyes were dry, but red-rimmed as if she’d let go any second. “A hundred of them. I swear to you.”

  Forehead wrinkled, she pressed her lips together. Her breath hitched.

  To diffuse her, he kissed the tattoo again, then her inner thigh. Her expression smoothed in ease, and he moved his lips higher until he hovered over the dark triangle of neatly trimmed hair on her mound. Gently, he spread her thighs, keeping his gaze locked with hers, and waited. Only once her eyes radiated interest and not distress did he finally break the connection and look down.

  Damn beautiful. Pink lips already wet for him and her little nub was hard. He kissed her there first, and with a quiet inhale, she closed her eyes. Refocusing on his task, he tasted her, using his tongue and fingers until she threw her head back. Her hips rose to meet him.

  Even during pleasure she was vocal. Sounds and sighs and breathy whispers of encouragement. He was unaccustomed to it and found he liked it immensely, loved knowing what she craved. Wanting nothing more than to see her fall off the cliff, he groaned and increased the pressure as liquid fire flowed through his veins.

  She didn’t take long. With a cry and a shudder, she came, bowing off the bed. He brought her down slowly while she bit her lip, still trembling with flushed cheeks. Her arms flopped limply to the mattress as pride filled his chest.

  He shifted to lie beside her and, eyes still closed, she turned to him. With her curled to his side, he covered them with a blanket and kissed her forehead. Damn amazing night. Exhausted, happy, and sated, he started to drift off.

  She yawned and burrowed deeper. “You get back on the saddle pretty well, cowboy.”

  Chuckling, he dipped his head and kissed her. Long, languid, and trying to infuse every sentiment swirling inside him.

  The next thing he knew, he was prying his eyes open to sunlight streaming through the balcony doors. He stretched and patted the bed beside him, finding the sheets cool.

  With a frown, he sat up. A quick glance at the chair showed Zoe’s purse and clothes were still there. Muffled voices rose from the lower level. He climbed out of bed, relieved his bladder and brushed his teeth in the bathroom, stepped into a pair of shorts, then headed downstairs.

  His brothers sat at the kitchen island on stools, Zoe was at the stove
wearing his tee from the night before, and four dogs were positioned obediently at her bare feet.

  A yawn cracked his jaw as he stepped deeper in the room. “We have visitors.”

  Zoe glanced over her shoulder. “Yes, and explain to these two this isn’t what it looks like.”

  Cade grinned. “Looks to me like you’re wearing Drake’s shirt, your hair is sleep tousled, and you’re making breakfast in his kitchen.”

  Spatula in hand, she faced them. “Okay, it’s kinda what it looks like.”

  Unable to help it, Drake laughed. He kissed her cheek. “Good morning.”

  Flynn’s brows rose to his hairline. “Speaking of morning. Since when do you sleep past seven?”

  Drake glanced at the wall clock. Almost eight. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d zonked out that hard. Typically, he’d crash after midnight, get sporadic rest at best, and rise promptly at six.

  He shrugged and poured himself a cup of orange juice. “Must’ve been tired.”

  “Or worn out,” Cade muttered under his breath.

  Zoe choked on her coffee.

  Setting his drink aside and ignoring his brothers, Drake wrapped his arms around her and kissed her properly. He couldn’t recall ever waking up so damn...satisfied either. Happy. While he waited for her heavy lids to open, he peeked at the stove. Omelets. Awesome. She blinked up at him, amusement in her eyes. He grinned, kissed her nose, and reclaimed his juice.

  Zoe went back to the stove, the dogs following.

  He stared at Tweedledee and Tweedledum over the rim of his glass. Both brothers looked like they’d been smacked upside the head with a golf club. “Problem?”

  Eyes wide, expression flipped to stunned, Cade shook his head. “Zoe, come over here, yeah?”

  She glanced at him. “Why?”

  “Just do it.”

  She mumbled something about shoe ad slogans and walked around the counter while Cade kept his eyes on Drake. “What?”

  “Closer.”

  She stepped beside Cade’s stool.

  Little brother grabbed her shoulders, smacked a quick kiss to her mouth, and pushed her back. “Thank you.”

  “Gah, Cade.” Seemingly horrified, she wiped her mouth. “What the heck?”

  “Thank you.” He grinned at her as if in awe, pointing to Drake. “See that? Check him out. Thank you.” He swiveled to face the island. “And be glad I’m happily married or I’d kiss you proper.”

  With a roll of her eyes, she went back to the stove. Flynn hopped off the stool and blocked her path. Her hands flew up to sign and speak simultaneously. “Oh, no. Not you, too.”

  Flynn held up his fist instead. After she bumped it, he hugged her.

  Grinding his molars, Drake narrowed his eyes. “Stop touching her. Both of you. Why are you here anyway?”

  Flynn and Cade headed for the back door, two of the four dogs in tow, and Cade turned. “We come bearing a request. Family dinner at Mom’s tonight. She expects Zoe, too.”

  The guys left.

  Zoe crossed her arms. “I’m totally tattling on him to your mom for kissing me.”

  Chapter 21

  Sunday dinner at the O’Grady home front was a two-hour affair. Zoe played tic-tac-toe with Avery’s daughter, Hailey, and then watched the guys chase the dogs around Gayle’s yard with Gabby. The meal consisted of baked ham, mashed potatoes, and peas. No one dared make her eat the latter. The entire night, Drake’s mom watched Zoe like a hawk, a smile permanently on her face and relief in her eyes. Zoe even managed to rat out Cade for kissing her, to which no one but Drake got angry about.

  She’d had many family dinners at the house growing up, yet it was the first time Zoe was dating one of the boys. It wasn’t uncomfortable by any means, but she didn’t care for the hero worship from Gayle or Drake’s brothers. Yes, he was finally moving on past his grief, and yes, he did seem happy and more like his old self. But if they knew her possible future, surely they’d think Zoe was as selfish as she felt.

  As they all were getting ready to leave, she noticed the picture of Heather and Drake was missing from the mantle and replaced with one of him and Zoe. She hadn’t seen this one before, but it had been taken at the softball game when Drake had dragged her away from Jason and Parker to kiss her.

  Gayle stepped beside her. “You made him happy again.”

  Damn. Just…damn. She glanced at Drake, but he was talking to his brothers by the door. “Please put the photo of them back up. She was an important part of his life.”

  Gayle smoothed a hand down Zoe’s hair. “It wouldn’t upset you having it out?”

  “No.” God, no. “She was his wife and my best friend. Ignoring her is like pretending she never existed. If you want to display this one of us, that’s great, but please keep the other picture as well.”

  With an endearing smile, Gayle nodded. “That’s a very mature approach, Zoe-bug. I’m not sure most women would think that way. How is it that just yesterday you were climbing trees and coloring with crayons, and today you’re all grown up? I’m very proud of you. Your mom would be, too.”

  Feeling like the lowest species of life form, she hugged Gayle and fought the guilt clutching her stomach.

  On Monday, Drake insisted on going to the doctor’s office with her first thing in the morning for the blood test, even though it was just a lab visit. And since this was typically her day off unless the clinic was crazy-busy, she spent the rest of the whole day painting. What started out as a whim turned into a mission, and after work the next two days, she finished the four pieces.

  By Thursday, she was crawling out of her skin to not only skip town with Drake, but to learn the genetic test results. Her doctor said the labs had to be sent out of state, so it might take up to two weeks to hear word. The findings were supposed to be mailed directly to her.

  Ever since Mama’s diagnosis, Zoe had teetered back and forth on whether to be tested. On one hand, knowing would bring relief on many levels. But on the other hand, how could she live with herself if it was positive? If she and Drake stuck, he’d be giving up the family he desperately wanted and they’d be counting the days until she cracked. The fallout after it happened would be disastrous. Mama’s decline proved it.

  Trying to get her mind off something she couldn’t control, she glanced around the Animal Instincts break room late Thursday afternoon. Avery had closed shop early and pulled them into a meeting. They were waiting on Brent to return from an errand to get started. While the others chatted, Zoe mentally went through her packing list for Portland.

  A few minutes later, Brent strode in.

  “Finally,” Gabby said. “You’re late.”

  Brent took a chair beside Cade. “Sorry. My dentist was like, you need a crown, and I was all like, I know, right? A sparkly one.” He waved his hand. “Anyway, what gives? We never had meetings before Avery came along.”

  Avery narrowed her eyes. “You never had a charting system, supply closet, or coded files either.”

  “I’d shut up or she’ll make your life hell.” Flynn grinned.

  “Exactly.” Avery tapped her iPad. “First up, Drake and Zoe’s Portland conference. Check in is at three on Friday. There’s a drink mixer at the hotel bar that night.” She passed Drake a sheet of paper. “That’s the schedule. I have our clinic brochures for you to take. They appear to have five workshops and two guest speakers on Saturday. And good thing I checked the itinerary because there’s a formal banquet dinner that evening. Black tie. Continental breakfast on Sunday, check out. Blah, blah, blah.”

  Drake laced his fingers and stacked them on his head. “Guess I’m packing a suit.”

  “Squee.” Brent clapped his hands. “Looks like Zoe and I are going shopping tonight.” He dropped his voice to a stage whisper. “We’ll hit up the lingerie store, too.”

  “Christ, man. TMI.” Cad
e tossed a wadded piece of paper at him.

  “Said the guy who kissed me yesterday.” Zoe looked from Cade to Brent. “My underwear drawer is quite sexy. You’re already acquainted with it.”

  “Interesting. Thought you were going to a work conference.” Flynn grinned.

  “Shut up.” Drake frowned and then focused on Zoe. “How would Brent know what your panties look like?”

  “He’s in the know about such things.” Gabby dropped her chin in her palm. “Trust me.”

  Flynn eyed Brent. “You are so lucky you’re gay, else you might be a dead man.”

  “Miles agrees with you.” Brent blew on his knuckles and swiped them on his shirt, his face smug.

  “Anyway.” Zoe reached behind her chair and pulled out the eight-by-ten paintings she’d made. “Speaking of Miles, are you two good? Is he ready to kill you yet?”

  Somehow, Brent managed to cock a hip while sitting. “Please. We’re fantabulous.”

  “Good. This is for you, then.” She slid the painting across the table and watched while he examined it. The piece wasn’t like her usual surrealism twist. None of the ones she’d completed this week were, in fact. The canvas she gave Brent was him and Miles holding hands by the tree in the park, twilight behind them.

  Eyes wide, Brent waved a hand in front of his face. “Oh my Cher. I f-love it.”

  “Awesome, Zoe.” Cade looked over his tech’s shoulder. “Why don’t I get—”

  Eyebrows raised, she passed him another canvas. And before the others got pissy, she handed over Flynn’s and Drake’s, too. “I had time this week and my muse showed her face again.”