by Violet Duke
“What was that? Was that an ‘I’m sorry?’”
That smoked her out. “I said, ‘You’re welcome,’” she flung out quickly before diving back in.
Not nearly quick enough, however.
An indignant cry pierced the air as he smeared a dollop of salvaged whipped cream down across her face.
“Thank you, sweetheart.” He kissed her forehead between chuckles. “That was the first belly-deep laugh I’ve had in years.”
She gave him an adorably disgruntled pout before using his t-shirt to wipe her face, and then smiling back at him from ear to ear. “You should laugh like that more.” Her eyes twinkled up at his. “It sounds good on you.”
SUDDENLY, SHE FELT his thumb stroke over the corner of her lip to wipe away a smudge of whipped cream. And without even realizing she was doing it, her tongue flicked out and curled around the pad of his thumb.
Oh my.
An intense fireball of hunger flashed, burned in his eyes and then without a sound, he pivoted, grabbed her hand and walked her to his bedroom.
The door slammed shut behind him, cloaking them in darkness.
“You drive me crazy, you know that?”
God, his voice had dropped even lower, to a sexy thunder down under rumble.
“Crazy in a good way or a bad way?” she managed to ask as her eyes adjusted to the lack of light.
“Both.” He circled slowly around her as if she were a dangerous animal…he was getting ready to pounce on. “You have no filter whatsoever. Not with what you do or say, and especially not with how you react.”
“That’s not my fault. You can just point that finger at yourself buddy,” she grumbled back before snapping her mouth shut.
Alright, so maybe he was right about the filter thing.
“What?”
Man, if looks could strip. She’d never felt this naked before, this out of control. Inwardly, she sighed. The guy just brought out the uncivilized in her.
Oh well, she came this far, may as well see where this ride ends. “You heard me.” Her chin came up defiantly. “I can’t think when you talk in that ridiculously sexy voice. Or when your biceps suddenly double in size in the middle of even the simplest of tasks like lifting a coffee mug. And don’t get me started on your eyes. My god, I almost walked into a wall the last time you smiled and your eyes went from that soft ocean blue to deep turquoise. I mean who does that?!”
It was like she just couldn’t stop talking.
When he came to a standstill and simply stared at her like she’d lost her mind, she huffed. “It’s simply not reasonable to expect a girl to have a filter with all that steamy-eyed, bicep-popping, talking-like-a-wet-dream-voice-over madness going on!”
Silence.
Huh, so where might one buy one of these filters, she wondered.
With a quiet curse, he stomped toward her and picked her by the waist, not even pausing in his stride as he kept right on walking to the bed. Well, if he going to take her for a ride…she speared her hands into his thick, tousled waves and nearly purred with pleasure.
“Stop being so damn open,” he rasped, sounding like a man about ready to do the unimaginable, his lips a whisper away from hers.
“Stop being so damn irresistible,” she threw back, digging her heels into the carpet until his body ran flush into hers and bulldozed her straight back, flat onto the bed.
The air wedged in her throat as she watched the outline of his granite-etched jaw clench and release. He was so beautiful. Oh to hell with it. She wrapped her arms around his neck and touched her lips to his throat. The quiet male hiss she heard shot her attention down to the fact that he was more than a little happy to see her. Impressively so. And her sigh of pleasure against his throat served as a live current of electricity that she felt run through him…everywhere.
His hands slid into her hair and tilted her head back before he brought his lips crashing down onto hers. “You’re so unbelievably, goddamn sexy,” he muttered gruffly against her lips as his tongue swept into her mouth. “For chrissakes, I have zero control around you.”
FOR ONCE, TESSA DIDN'T have a snappy comeback for him. And despite his current state, which was anything but funny, Brian grinned over that as he flicked his tongue out to slide along the seam of her lips in triumph.
But then he nearly bit his own tongue off.
“I like making you lose control,” she whispered, sliding a hand down past his waistband.
He jackknifed upright and flipped her onto the bed, pulling her hand up out of his boxer briefs to pin both of her wrists behind her back, wedged against the mattress.
She wriggled against him. “You’re always holding my hands down. Don’t tell me, you have a thing for bondage?” she teased as she tried to escape his grip.
When he couldn’t stop his hips from bucking sharply against hers in response, she stilled and met his gaze. “Um…do you? Because if that’s what you’re into, we can uh…”
Keeping her wrists in place with one hand, he clapped the other over her mouth in exasperation. “Don't you dare finish that sentence.”
Her body stopped squirming finally but there were still the equivalent of floating cartoon question marks in her eyes.
She was going to be the death of him.
“Have I fantasized about bondage?” he rumbled, his voice straining at the seams. “Of course. What guy wouldn’t want a woman at his sexual mercy for a change?” He let out another silent oath when her eyes sparked with naked, hungry curiosity. “Do I want to try it with you? Probably, one day. It’d be hot as hell. And if you don’t stop talking, that one day is going to be today—all your work deadlines bedamned. So for the love of God, stop pushing me before you sentence us to an even longer bout of hot, hard, take-you-six-ways-to-Sunday sex.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
HE DIDN’T CALL. After Brian had liquefied half her brain cells with that speech, and made it impossible for her to think of little else besides what she could do to get her sentence extended from six to seven-ways-to-Sunday sex.
Not one call or text all week.
She felt like an idiot.
Clearly, he was rethinking things between them. And the thought of that filled Tessa with a bone-deep feeling of loss, which was ridiculous really because he hadn’t even been hers to lose.
Not hers to lose.
She repeated that mantra to herself as she picked up her ringing landline.
“Hello?”
“Tessa?”
She sighed. Still not hers to lose. “Hey Abby.”
“Tessa, I promise I’m not playing cupid again. I really do need you to do me a favor if you can. Brian and I usually spend this day together every year. Doing nothing. It’s a long story. And one that’s not mine to tell. But I’m not feeling well and I don’t want him to be alone today. Do you think you could go over in my place?”
“I really don’t think—”
“Please Tessa, I swear I don’t have any ulterior motives here. I’ve never left Brian alone on this day for years. And you’re the only one who I think will understand.”
What if he doesn’t want me to understand?
But she was wavering; Abby sounded so broken up about it. What could have possibly happened on such a specific day? She knew Beth hadn’t died in the Spring and unless Brian had some severe phobia of leprechauns, she didn’t know what terrible thing could be plaguing him on March 17th.
“Why don’t you ask Connor?”
“Because I think Brian would want to see you. In fact, I know he would. Now that I think about it, even if I weren’t feeling under the weather, I’d still think you’d be the best person for this today.”
So cryptic. “Okay, I’ll be there.”
BRIAN GLANCED at the clock and went over to answer the door, reaching over to snag the phone along the way. He’d meant to call in the pizza order before Abby arrived but somehow, he’d lost track of time. Seemed his mind was more distracted than usual today. But not with the usual di
stractions.
“Tessa.”
He opened the door wider. And Tessa pushed through with a determined stride and a take-no-prisoners gait that was almost domineering enough to cover up the unsure set of her jaw.
Dammit, she was so freakin’ cute.
“Tessa, what are you doing here?”
“Abby sent me.”
For chrissakes, when did his best friend become such a meddler?
“She promised she’s not playing matchmaker this time,” interjected Tessa quickly. “She’s not feeling well.”
Now Brian was concerned. “Is she okay? Is my brother home with her?”
“Yes, and yes. Abby said she’s just been exhausted with her long work hours. Connor is apparently at home force-feeding her chicken soup and subjecting her to endless fussing. But she promised she’d call you tomorrow.”
Tessa grabbed the throw pillow, plopped on the couch and looked up at him expectantly, concern written all over her face. “So, do you want to tell me why Abby thinks I’m the best person to spend St. Patrick’s Day with you? You don’t have to tell me. But she seems to think I’d understand what you’re going through.”
He thought about that for a moment and shook his head. “I’m not sure you would. You didn’t put your sister in a care home, did you? I remember Connor saying something about that once.”
A sad look of understanding clouded over her face. “No,” she said quietly. “I didn’t. I couldn’t bear to leave her there alone.”
That pierced him in the gut like a dull, serrated blade.
“Oh, Brian, I didn’t mean—”
“No, it’s okay. I did what I knew was best for Beth and Skylar. I couldn’t be there to watch Beth all the time because I had to work. The care home took care of her in ways I couldn’t.”
“March 17th was the day I admitted her. I remember it distinctly. And sadly, so did she.”
“Her dementia hadn’t set in yet?”
“It came in waves. But that day, she was definitely lucid.” And just like it always did, remembering the look on Beth’s face when he left the care home that day—without her—hit him like a punch to his gut, served as a reminder that he’d failed to love and honor his wife in sickness and in health.
“I think Willow would’ve wanted to be put in a home.”
Stunned, Brian looked over to see if she was just trying to make him feel better.
Apparently not, because frankly, Tessa looked a little astonished herself. “I’ve never said that out loud before. But it’s true. I think toward the end, before her memory started going, she actually did want to be put in a home. She tried to tell me once but I wouldn’t hear of it.” She sighed. “It took me a few years to realize why she probably said it. My dad and I had arranged our work schedules so one of us would be at Willow’s bedside at all times. I worked the bakery from 2 am to 11 am, and dad worked security at the lumberyard from 4 pm to midnight. It worked, but the schedule never really accounted for sleeping.”
“Since dad had his own HD symptoms taking a little more out of him each day, I always made sure he got lots of rest. So, the only times I would sleep were the times he wasn’t sleeping when he was home, which was only a few hours here and there. I remember I’d always be terrified to go to sleep; I’d be so sure something would to happen to Skylar while I was. And one day something did. I was sleeping when she had a massive seizure. I didn’t even wake up. Luckily, my dad had just come home from work and he was able to call the ambulance in time.”
“It was after that, when Willow mentioned the care home.” Gripping his hand in hers, she said softly, “I know it seems like they would feel abandoned. But when I looked at it from her perspective, from what she’d see every day in our exhausted faces, what she’d see in my sobbing apologies when she woke up in the ICU, I saw that sometimes, that is far more painful for them than being put in a care home.”
Tessa squeezed his hand gently. “So I guess I’m saying that at the end of the day, your way with the home, or my way without it, there was no winning or losing either way. Don’t beat yourself up over it too much.” She chuckled softly. “Says the pot to the kettle.”
And just like that, the ice he’d built around his heart all day simply cracked right down the middle. He stared at her for a long moment and then asked, “Do you want to do something today?”
“BUT…ABBY SAID that this was the day you two actively did nothing. Isn’t it like a tradition for you two?”
“Until now, it has been. But really, it was her tradition that I adopted and applied to my own day of pain.” His eyes ran over her face slowly. “I don’t know, when I’m around you though, you’re filled with such life. It’s kind of inspiring. Plus, you make me laugh; you make me want to do something today. Is that okay?”
She smiled at that character profile. “If I let you pick our activity, can I pick the meal?”
Chuckling, he replied, “Sure.”
“Okay then, c’mon," she checked her watch, “there’s this great food truck over in Tempe that serves the best Southern food I’ve ever tasted. The guy puts the exact location where he’s parked up on his twitter account every morning. It’s kind of a thing. And I swear, no matter where he’s parked, there’s always a huge line.” She hopped up off the couch. “If we book it over, we’ll catch him before he’s done for the day.”
They were off and running, but they hit a small snafu when her skirt got caught on the edge of the porch rail and tore at the seam.
“I think Abby left a sewing kit in the house if you want to try and sew it up.”
“No, that’s okay.” She flipped her skirt around and studied the tear. Then she picked up the hem of her skirt, hooked her key in the tear and let it rip.
Brian stood there just watching in fascination while she tugged the tear the rest of the way to the bottom of the skirt.
“You don’t do anything normal do you?”
“I make every effort not to.” She flipped her skirt back around. “There, now it’s a skirt with a slit. It’s cute. C’mon, let’s go. Seriously, you have to taste this guy’s shrimp and grits—”
He caught her by the elbow and spun her back into his arms. “You are so wonderfully weird.” He leaned in and captured her mouth in a perfectly chaste kiss that still managed to make her dizzy.
Wrapping her arms around his neck, she held on when he turned to the car. “What’s a few more minutes going to hurt?”
After those few minutes came and went, however, he sighed. “Okay, we better go. I want you to get the meal choice you want.” He tugged her toward the car. “So, serious question, can I pick what were just doing as our activity for the night?” His brows rose suggestively.
“I don’t see why not,” she shrugged, “Because one more minute and I was going to suggest we forego eating altogether.”
He grinned, shaking his head. “I’m really glad you came over today.”
AS THEY WALKED back to the car, Tessa was savoring the last bite of her ice cream cone—her prize for beating him at bowling tonight, even though he maintained that she’d cheated the entire time.
Never had anyone ever accused her of using, letting alone having ‘feminine wiles’ before.
She liked it.
Brian opened Tessa’s door for her and helped her in. It wasn’t until after she was buckled with no chance of escape, however, that he leaned in and said, “Okay, so tell me about your rules for flings.”
Startled, she blinked at him, wondering if he’d snuck in some beers at the bowling alley. “What?”
“The other week, you said you weren’t looking for anything serious. Connor used to have a one-month parameter on his flings; I figured you must have some specifics as well. And I’m curious to know what they are.”
Crap. She was simply not this good at improvising on the fly. Especially not when she had absolutely no frame of reference, and exactly one sexual experience in her past.
She should just tell him the truth.
“Okay,” he admitted, “I’m not just curious, I’m interested. Like you said, we have a connection, and since I’ve recently been thinking of trying my brother’s methods—seemed to work great for him—I thought I’d put it out there and ask you flat-out if you’re interested.”
Was she interested? Um. That was a no-brainer. “Yes.”
He grinned. “Great. Do you want to get together next Friday? The girls will be at Becky’s for a sleepover until Sunday. I can meet you at your place and you can tell me all your fling parameters then.”
Next weekend. Awesome. So that gave her one whole week to study up on flings.
TAKING A SEAT on the couch in Tessa’s apartment, Brian eyed a stack of chick flick DVDs on the side table that he was actually surprised to be in Tessa’s collection, along with a notebook and a neatly written, short, but…interesting list.
RULES FOR FLING
1) No sleeping over (the guest flingee must depart before the resident flinger wakes up)
2) No making plans further than one week in advance
3) No two consecutive date nights in a row
4) No telling Skylar or Connor or Abby
5) No sex in each other’s beds (the ground, sofa, countertops, hotel beds are fine)
Criminy, she just kept getting cuter every day.
“So is there someplace for me to sign on this contract?” he called out.
“What?” She returned from the kitchen with two beers and gasped in horror. “Ohmigod, put that down. That was…just a draft.”
“Uh huh.” Oh boy, this was just too much fun. “So what’s the deal with number one? That’s a little harsh. What happens if the guy doesn’t wake up as early as you? I know I myself like to sleep in late.”
“Well, then I’d kick you so you’d wake up, and then I’d go back to sleep.”
“Geez, I bet that was fun for all your past flings.” He grinned when she balked, her reaction just the answer he’d been looking for. “But one night stands sleep over all the time don’t they?”