I shook my head watching my hair brush over his hands. “I’m not…”
“You are. Baby, you have a body that would drive any man insane. Watch. Look in the mirror. See for yourself what you do to me.” His hands moved to cup my breasts. Arms at my sides, I found myself mesmerized by the erotic scene playing out in front of me.
His warm masculine fingers slowly traced the pale skin of my curves. Seeing and feeling what he was doing to me was a potent combination, a seductive spell that made my heart race and my breath shorten. I noticed that his emerald eyes had gone almost completely black. His hard body behind me, he leaned over my shoulder concentrating on his task while I continued to be transfixed by our reflection. A lock of his hair slid over his eyes. I longed to reach back and brush it aside.
When his head came up, our eyes met again in the mirror. I watched the corners of his mouth curve into a dark smile before he rubbed the stubble on his chin back and forth along the smooth line of my shoulder. I loved the feel of the roughness against my skin, but the encore, a barrage of popcorn style kisses followed by a touch of his warm lips and then just a hint of his wet tongue, was even better.
My knees started to tremble and went completely out from under me when he rolled a nipple between his finger and thumb. “Justin,” I moaned.
“I’ve got you, babe. I’ve always got you.” One of his arms wrapped around my torso and held me up while his other hand lightly tugged on the supersensitive peak.
He groaned, his breath coming out hard between his very sexy parted lips. I felt vibrations shoot straight down to my melted core as I watched and experienced a delicious shiver as he did the same roll and tug with the other nipple.
It was too much. My eyes drifted closed and my head lolled back onto his strong shoulder. I could feel warm shimmery sensation in every cell in my body.
When I felt his hands skimming lightly down my ribs, I opened my eyes again to watch. Fingers darker than my pale skin spread wide as they smoothed over the flare of my hip. I looked at his face in the mirror, his eyes were smoldering. Mine were dazed. He had made me damp and throbbing from just a few simple caresses, though I was beginning to realize nothing was ever simple when it came to Justin Jones.
“Do you believe me now?” His tone was light, but roughened by desire and his fingers flexed insistently against the tender flesh at my hip. “If anyone’s in over their head in this relationship, it’s me. You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen or touched, Bridget Dubois.” He continued to stare at me and I knew without him having to say so that he was waiting for me to make the next move.
I swallowed, my throat was so dry. I wanted him, badly, more than I’d ever wanted anything in my life, but I knew I wasn’t ready to go to bed with him, not yet. As he continued to watch me, I finally spoke, “Justin, you’re wonderful. But you’re right. It’s too soon for me.”
I saw the flicker of disappointment in his eyes though I could tell he tried to hide it from me as he stepped back. I immediately felt the loss of his heat and hugged my arms around my body to ward off the sudden chill.
Justin bent and retrieved the towel from the floor. When he straightened, he held it open wide before he draped it back around me. My hands brushed against his as I brought the edges tightly together and lowered my head. Behind the curtain of my hair, I bit my lip, suddenly feeling a little shy and maybe even a little bit afraid he’d be mad at me.
His warm fingers slid under and lifted my chin. “I want you, Bridget, in my life and in my bed, I think you get that now, but I can wait. I only want you to go there with me when you’re a hundred percent certain.” “But I promise,” his voice was still a thick whisper, and I blinked wordlessly up into his drawn face knowing it was going to take quite a while for my own passion to cool, “it’s going to be phenomenal between us.”
Throughout dinner, I couldn’t help but watch her. Her cheeks blushed whenever our hands touched or our eyes met. I knew she was remembering how it’d been up in my room earlier. I was thinking about it, too. That had been the single most sensual thing I’d ever experienced in my life. One I would never forget. She’d been equal parts shy and responsive. And her body! Holy hell, my woman was a total knockout. I shifted uncomfortably. The cold shower hadn’t done me a bit of good. I still had a boner that was as hard as a rock.
“Too hot?” Rheta asked me.
“Huh?” The question yanked my mind abruptly from the zone that I had been in.
Bridget helped me with a pointed gaze directed toward my plate.
“Oh, yeah. Way too hot.” I stared back at Bridget instead of the plate, my intent just as clear. Her blushed cheeks meant she followed me. “I’m just waiting for it to cool down,” I continued flirting, “before I eat it.” I brought a bite to my mouth, blew on it, and arched a brow while Bridget’s gaze dropped to my lips, her eyes all warm and glittery.
Across the table, my sister cleared her throat. I looked over to find her smirking at me. A quick glance around the table confirmed pretty much everyone was on to us, except for Carter. He was completely oblivious digging greedily into his food.
I lifted my glass to Avery and the smirk dissolved, though her eyes continued to hold a trace of a smile and something more. She kept my gaze a moment longer, bobbed her head, and then turned to talk to Marcus. I understood. She was happy for me, letting me know in that wordless way that only a twin could communicate.
“How do you like Vancouver so far?” Mrs. Anthony asked Bridget.
“The ocean and the mountains are beautiful, and the people are really friendly.” She smiled wistfully. “I miss the warmth of Florida, but Vancouver’s definitely growing on me.” That last part was said low and meaningfully with her eyes on me.
I beamed a bright glance back at her, distracted by her yet again. She was a seductive temptress without even trying. I wanted her so badly, and though I knew it was the way to go, and that it’d be worth it in the end, it was getting harder and harder to be patient.
Harder in more ways than one, I thought wryly.
Eventually I quit staring at her and distracted myself, tuning into the conversation going on at the head of the table where Rheta sat, catty corner to Carter.
He was excitedly recounting his day, the seaplane adventure, to petting the calves, to everything he’d seen out on our walk. Rheta just smiled and listened attentively, chin on her folded hands, as if remembering her owns sons as young boys.
Unable to wedge any words in, I turned back to Bridget. “I notice he cleared his plate.”
“Yeah. Rheta’s an excellent cook.” Bridget’s eyes dropped to her empty plate and then came back up, a ripple of sadness ebbing across her features. “I haven’t had food this good since Meemaw passed.”
I reached over under the table and brought her left hand to my thigh, to let her know that I was there for her without drawing everyone else’s attention. The coolness in her eyes warmed. Taking that as an encouraging sign I powered on with my mission. “I gained ten pounds when I lived at the farm during Avery’s tour. Wait until you try her fried pies. You’re gonna flip.” I lowered my voice, eyes pointing to the other end of the table. “And watch Don. Right before dessert, he always untucks his shirt and loosens his belt to make more room.”
She gave me a small smile that made me feel like the richest man on earth. “They’re sweet together, Rheta and Don. So are your sister and Marcus.”
I leaned toward her, my lips almost touching her ear. “I think we’re sweeter, babe.”
She didn’t say anything, but when she leaned forward and reached for her glass, I noticed that her hand trembled slightly. Pleased with myself, I leaned back in my chair with a satisfied smile and draped my arm over the back of her chair. I took a moment to enjoy the cozy scene, conversations at a low murmur all around the large rustic driftwood farm table.
Smiling at me, Rheta pushed back her chair. She disappeared into the kitchen for a few minutes but returned with a large serving tray piled h
igh with pastries and a carafe of coffee. My mouth started to water in anticipation.
Then I heard my dad cough into his napkin. I turned to see a pained grimace overtake the contented expression he’d worn earlier. I felt a crease form between my brows. I noticed that my sister’s gaze was narrowed in on him, too. Her eyes met mine for a brief moment and in that moment I knew that Marcus had told her.
“What kind did you make tonight, dear Rheta?” my dad asked as if to deflect attention from himself. I was glad to note that the pain seemed to have receded from his eyes.
Rheta placed the tray in front of him. “Apricot for you, Arthur, and cherry for Don.” The platter was passed around, everyone eagerly taking one while Carter and I both took two, one of each flavor. I kept one eye on my dad, glad to see that he wasn’t coughing anymore and that he still seemed to have his appetite.
When everyone began groaning and complaining about how full they were, Rheta rose from the table. “Alright gang, time to work off those calories.” Everyone began to move immediately as if choreographed, picking up plates, glasses, and utensils, and carrying them dutifully into the kitchen.
“How’re Dwight and Lisa,” I asked Avery when we bumped into each other on our second run to the table. Dwight was Marcus’ older brother and the bassist in their band.
“They’re good. They’re still in Hawaii, spending some final time as a couple before the baby arrives.”
Bridget had her arms up to the elbows in the deep farm sink full of dishes and soapy water when I came back in and set down my load.
“Honey, you can dry.” Rheta pulled out a dishtowel from a drawer and handed one to Don before she moved to the butcher block island where she and Carter began storing the leftovers into Ziploc bags. Don took a rinsed pan that Bridget handed him and started to dry it. Marcus opened the dishwasher and started loading the smaller rinsed dishes that Bridget passed along. It was a scene of domestic efficiency. Everyone had a task to do and even the lead singer of one of the world’s biggest bands wasn’t exempted. I knew without a doubt that Marcus’ family kept him grounded.
“Avery and Justin,” Rheta called, drawing our attention. “Let the rest of us finish this. I want both of you to go back into the den and talk to your dad. He needs to have a word.”
He was waiting in the recliner, his expression worn in the lamplight. Avery and I walked over to the faded overstuffed couch across from him and scooted in close beside each together.
“So you both heard the news by now, I’d imagine?”
“Yeah, Dad.” Avery immediately got up and moved over to him. She knelt down in front of his chair and placed her hand on his arm. “Maybe the doctors are wrong.”
“Perhaps.” He stroked a hand across her hair, but his eyes met mine over her head, and I could tell from his resigned look that he didn’t believe that, not for a minute. He was just going along with her because he didn’t want to upset her more. Then he looked down at her and something passed between them. I couldn’t see Avery’s face but it seemed as though my father drew strength from her. I pressed my lips together while my eyes filled. I was glad they had made their peace together. My dad obviously adored her. He loved me, too. I didn’t doubt that anymore. “I don’t want you to change any of your plans for me, Avery.”
“But, Dad,” she sputtered.
“No buts,” he cut in. “We don’t know how long I have, but I want both of you to carry on as if we had all the time in the world. That’s the way I want it. As normal as we can make it. Let me enjoy just being a part of your lives again. There’s nothing in the world I want more than to see both of you happy.” His warm emerald eyes settled on mine. “I like your girl, Justin. A lot.”
“Yeah, me too, Dad.”
“Lot of wisdom in those beautiful blue eyes of hers. She’s a good mom to that boy, too. And you’re different with her…different in a good way, I think.”
I nodded.
“Don’t let her get away.”
“I don’t plan to.”
He gave me a sage nod. “Avery tells me you’re lead singer of Tempest now.”
“Yeah.”
“How’s that new job going?”
“It’s a little rough,” I admitted, rubbing a hand over my neck. “I’ve got some pretty big shoes to fill. Their lead singer was pretty damn good.”
“You’re pretty damn good too, son. They’re lucky to have you. Be patient. You’ll be fine.” I was surprised his words so closely mirrored Bridget’s. I silently mulled that over as he pulled his reading glasses from the pocket of his sweater.
“Let me get your book for you, Dad,” Avery insisted and swiveled around on her knees. I saw the concern in her eyes as she grabbed a worn Bible from the coffee table behind her.
“Thanks,” he told her after she handed it to him.
I managed a difficult swallow as I watched him settle his glasses on his nose. We’d grown up Catholic and had been regular attendees until Mom passed and Dad went off the rails. I knew renewing his faith had been a big part of him being able to turn his life around. I saw the evidence of that in the time I’d spent with him while Avery had been away on tour.
My sister came back to sit next to me and we exchanged a long look as he opened it up and began to read silently.
Carter wandered in just then looking a little tentative as his gaze wove between the three of us. I scooted down the couch a bit and nodded toward the empty spot between Avery and me. “Come and sit here with us, Champ.”
He smiled, shuffled over, and hopped up beside me. I patted his knee. “You have a good time today?”
He nodded his head, his recently cut hair swishing over the tops of his ears now. I kind of missed the longer length, but the new haircut made him look older, something I knew he desperately wanted. “We didn’t get to do our guitar lesson. Since you went out with my mom and all.” There was more than a little bit of disgruntlement in his tone.
“You’re right, we sure didn’t. I’m sorry.”
“I worked on my chords all week. I wanted to show you.” His lip jutted out.
“I’ve got a guitar out here,” Avery interjected. “Marcus has one, too.” She leaned forward to look past me. “Come with me, Carter. We’ll go get ‘em and my brother can make up for that missed lesson right now.”
The rest of the kitchen cleanup crew came into the den while Avery and Carter were away. His arms stacked with firewood, Don moved to add more fuel to the fire. Marcus took a seat in the chair next to my dad and Rheta went directly to her usual spot on the loveseat. Bridget hesitated, looking lost. I crooked a finger. She smiled at me and came over, snuggling her warm curvy body up beside me on the couch. My chest squeezed so tight I found it difficult to breath. I nestled her head down onto it and brushed my lips against the top of her silky hair.
My heart was in complete overflow with her.
Don stoked the fire before settling beside Rheta on the loveseat. He picked up her feet and placed them on his lap as my sister and Carter returned, guitars strapped to their shoulders.
With a little encouragement, I coaxed Carter into playing what I’d taught him. He plucked at the chords ably, even though it wasn’t the scaled down version he’d been using.
“That’s really good, Champ,” I told him beaming with pride. “Keep that up and I don’t think you’ll need that smaller guitar back home for long.”
He grinned seeming to grow two inches taller from my praise. “Avery says you used to play together. She told me she misses it.”
“Really, Sis?” I asked, finding that difficult to believe. As lead guitarist for one of the most celebrated rock bands on the planet, I couldn’t imagine that she longed for those lean early years. Her name was recognized everywhere now, and she’d also have that solo album out soon.
Her gaze swung to Marcus. Some message traveled silently back and forth between the two of them before she looked back at me. She gave me a nonchalant shrug, but I could see the truth in her eyes.
&n
bsp; “Why didn’t you ever say anything before?” I straightened, stood, and reached for the guitar Carter had used. “Let’s play something together now.” I thought quickly. “How about ‘The Only One’ …for Dad.”
“What’s that?” My father took his reading glasses off and set them on the side table.
“It’s a new one, Dad,” Avery replied. “We wrote it together after reading Mom’s diary.” She turned to me. “It’s not ready, Justin. I mean the music is, but we don’t have all the words figured out yet.”
We hadn’t then, but I think I did now. Because of Bridget. Because I now understood what my mom and dad had. What I’d been missing my whole life. Because of Bridget I had a brand new language running through my brain. Things I’d never have said before, but that felt perfectly and completely right in this setting.
I leaned in and whispered those words in Avery’s ear.
Her brows lifted in surprise. “That’s good.”
“Yeah, I think so, too.” I clipped on the strap and threw the guitar over my shoulder, freeing up my hands in order to bring over two of the chess table stools for Avery and myself.
“This one is for you, Dad,” Avery announced in her melodic voice before we started strumming together, me on rhythm just like old times and her on lead, the only way she knew.
Somewhere between the teasing at dinner and during the lyrics of that song, I gave in and stopped fighting my feelings for him. Fleck by fleck, shard by shard, he’d chipped away at my ice encased heart and gotten to me. Eyes burning with that realization, I watched him talking to his father, his sister and Marcus. A lock of his auburn hair had fallen forward into his eyes again. He was as overdue for a haircut as Carter had been, but I liked it long. I loved the feel of the silky strands between my fingers. I was tempted to go over to him right now in front of everyone and tunnel my fingers into it and kiss him and tell him how I felt, if I only had the nerve.
As if sensing my eyes on him, he turned his head in my direction. We stared at each other across the room, warmth sizzling along that invisible connection between us. His features went soft and his eyes melted.
Enticing Interlude (Tempest #2) Page 14