Indulgence

by Liz Crowe

  I casually threw my arm over my lap to cover my desire.

  “There you are.” He looked us both up and down, his lips twitching. “You have a photo session and a meeting with the photographer for the magazine’s first fashion shoot in an hour. You about ready?”

  “Um, yeah.” Her eyes never left mine. The need I saw in them could bring any man to his knees. She took a deep breath and broke the spell. “Just getting Hank situated. Thanks for reminding me about the shoot.”

  Oliver looked us over with a grin, then focused on Aspen. His lips twitched into a frown when his gaze focused on Aspen’s head. He put his hands up and started fiddling with her hair. He pulled something out of his pocked, and swept a piece of her hair back in place.

  “Excuse me? What are you doing?” I knew I had no right or claim to her but another man’s hands on her, touching her in an intimate way, had me ready to stick my boot up his ass.

  “Excuse me?” His brows knit together as he kept messin’ with her hair.

  I got up and was to her side in two strides. My hand curled around his wrist in a tight grip. “Why the fuck are you touching her like that?”

  His eyes went wide. Good. Little fucker better keep his hands off my woman.

  “Hank?” Aspen looked confused. “He’s fixing my hair.”

  “Yeah, Cowboy, looks like some big man paws were rifling through all my hard work.” His pointed glare confused me.

  None of this made a lick of sense. “You think I’m thick boy?” My tone came off more as a growl.

  “Hank, you’re misunderstanding. Oliver does my hair. He picks all my clothes. He makes sure I’m always put together,” she said.

  Explanation received, still in the dark. She must see that I was having a time with this.

  “Oliver’s boyfriend was a makeup artist and stylist. Ollie picked a few things up from him over the years.” She smiled sweetly.

  “You’re into dicks instead of chicks?” Oliver was gay? That explained a lot. I don’t know how I hadn’t picked up on that earlier. Must have been all the drugs. I looked the man up and down. All the signs were there. He dressed fancy all the time. His hair was never out of place. He even had a perfectly manicured face. Damn, now I felt like an asshole.

  “Well, I guess I’m not needed here anymore now am I?” Oliver turned around and stomped out of the room.

  “Ollie, no. He didn’t know.” Aspen yelled after him. “God Damn it, Hank. Haven’t you ever met a gay man before? Jeez. You hurt his feelings.”

  I shrugged. “Sorry. I saw him putting his hands all over you and I reacted. Not going to apologize for that, Darlin’, but I didn’t mean to offend him.”

  She blew a breath out long and slow. Watching her pink lips pucker in agitation was like calling my dick to attention with a “here boy, come out and play, boy.” This line of thought was not going to get me anywhere but in the doghouse.

  “We’ll talk about it later. But you will apologize to him.” Apparently I’d screwed up royally. Looks like the little fella was a big deal to my angel. My over-reactive possessive side was going to be hard to squash down. Gay or not, a man like me didn’t want any man touching his girl.

  Aspen was worth the trouble so I conceded to fixin’ it. “I’ll talk to him. He could use a little toughening up though.” It was true. The man freaked out and scampered away like a puppy running away from a rolled up newspaper.

  “He is my best friend and the most important person in my life.” Her eyes were harsh. It was the first time I’d seen her truly angry. “You will treat him with respect or this” she gestured between the two of us, “will be over before it has ever even begun.”

  The most important person in my life. The phrase stuck but good. I didn’t like it one bit. I was fixin’ to change that about my girl. One day she’d be saying that about me. God-willing.

  “I get it. Angel, I’m sorry. I don’t give a rats ass if he’s gay or not. I’ll fix it. Promise.” I tried to touch her hair but she backed away. That stung more than a bumble bee landing one of its stingers in the soft patch of skin at the arch of your foot.

  “I’ll be home for dinner. Gustav will take care of your lunch. The in-home nurse will be by in an hour. She’ll be visiting three times a day to change your bandages and set up your cold therapy.” The warmth of our shared experience a moment ago had been destroyed and replaced with a chill so cold it ran bone deep.

  I nodded. “Thanks.”

  She turned to leave and then stopped at the threshold to the door her back to me, head hung low. “I’m glad you’re here, Hank.” That simple phrase was a start back on the right track.

  “Me too, Angel.”

  Chapter Six

  The last thing on earth I wanted to do was spend an entire afternoon consoling Oliver after Hank’s outburst. He was worried that Hank had a problem with gay men. That wasn’t the issue. It was clear after Ollie left that Hank is possessive and old-fashioned. Something that you didn’t often find in a man on this side of the country. Still, I could maim the man myself for treating Oliver poorly.

  Hank said he’d fix it and I have to believe he will. I told Oliver that Hank wanted to talk to him about his behavior and apologize. Of course, my Ollie wanted to pout and hell if he didn’t have the right. Instead, my focus should have been on overseeing our very first photo shoot for Bright Magazine—not dealing with a pissed off gay man with the undeniable power to use guilt better than my holy-rolling Grandmother.

  The photographer was a pill, but well known. He shot for all the top fashion magazines and would skyrocket Bright right to the top … as long as he was kept calm. That was my job—CEO and babysitter to needy, overconfident snobs. I should take lessons from Ollie. He’d had to deal with me and my crap for years. At least my upbringing gave me the tools needed to deal with men of his caliber and pedigree.

  Without much effort I had the photographer eating out of my hand and following every task needed to complete the shoot in one day instead of two.

  My goal was a bit self-serving. If we completed the shoot, I’d have the next day with Hank. How we would spend the day was open for discussion, but I genuinely wanted to get to know him better. We both needed some time to understand this connection between us. Time to figure out if it was just physical, or something more.

  Once we completed the shoot, I practically flew home. My driver gave me a placating smile and sped through the streets of downtown New York, narrowly missing a messenger that jetted out into traffic along the way. With jittery nerves I finally made it home and set down my briefcase on the side table. That’s when I heard a woman’s high-pitched giggle from down the hall.

  I was eager to see Hank—a truth I would only decipher later—but the sound reminded me of a really bad day eight months ago. I had decided to surprise Grant by canceling a meeting and stopping by his house unexpectedly. I ended up catching Grant with one of his assistants, whom I referred to as whore number two. His hands were wrapped around both sides of her head as he jammed his tiny prick into her mouth.

  It still hurt thinking about his deception, mostly because I allowed him to cheat on me not once, but twice. Hank’s deep throaty laugh floated down the hall breaking the fog of my past. The sound sent chills down my spine.

  I found Hank sitting on the bed, back against the headboard. His shirt was off and the golden skin of his chest shone like a Greek god’s in the amber lighting. A perky brunette in pink scrubs sat next to him holding a bowl of popcorn. They were focused on the TV nestled in the armoire to the side of the bed. Every so often Hank’s long, muscled forearm reached across the space, gripping for some popcorn, his eyes still glued to the screen. He didn’t see the look of admiration on the pretty woman’s face as his hand grazed her thigh.

  I did.

  Her breath caught and her body stilled as her gaze gobbled up Hank’s attributes. I cleared my throat. Two sets of eyes met mine. One dark and dangerous, the other startled and uncertain.

  “Evening,
Stud.” My voice sounded husky even to my ears.

  “Angel,” Hank said in that perfect Texan drawl. The one that made me weak in the knees and lust coil deep within my belly.

  The nurse jumped up, a few kernels of popcorn spilling over the edge of the bowl. She scrambled to pick them up and toss them into the garbage.

  “Um, Miss Reynolds. I was just uh … ”

  “Keeping Hank company?” I offered. Her eyes grew wide. She knotted her fingers nervously.

  “Come here, Darlin’.” His voice begged no argument.

  I sauntered over, cat-like, toward the cowboy. His good arm gripped my hip possessively. I relished his Neanderthal move. Letting the nurse know he belonged to me was exactly my intent even if it was only for show. His hand slid up to my waist and he pulled me into his lap. Our eyes locked. A clattering of items hitting the desk and a shuffling of papers could be heard from behind me signaling that the nurse was packing up her things for the day.

  “How are you?” I licked my lips anticipating what he would do next.

  “Better, now that you’re here.”

  I turned my head and caught the nurse’s red face. “You’re dismissed,” I said.

  “For good? I swear, Miss Reynolds, we didn’t … nothing happened.”

  I turned to Hank, his lips quirked at the edge.

  “No, just for the evening. We’ll see you bright and early tomorrow to change his bandages and prepare his therapy. That is all for tonight.”

  “Thank you,” she said and exited the room lighting fast.

  I turned back to Hank and opened my mouth to say something when his lips covered mine. Hank’s kiss was slow, sensual, exactly what I needed after a rough day. My fingers skittered down his chest, feeling the bunching and tightening of muscled pecks and strong abdominal muscles.

  I pulled away to catch my breath. Hank’s lips went straight to my neck; his teeth grazed the skin sending shocks of lust splintering through me settling deep between my thighs. He swirled his tongue around a particularly tender spot on my clavicle. I shuddered.

  “Did the nurse take care of you?” I asked as his nose nuzzled just behind my ear. I craned my neck to give him plenty of access to the sensitive skin.

  “Yes, I’m healthy as a horse.” His teeth nipped at my collar bone and I closed my eyes. One large palm covered my neck. He made me feel so small and fragile in his arms. His dexterous fingers dug into the tight flesh, massaging the day’s knots away.

  “Have you eaten dinner?”

  He shook his head and nudged his nose into the crevice between my breasts, as much as the dress would allow. “God, you smell so fucking good. I could just eat you for dinner.” His right hand boldly cupped my breast and squeezed. I pushed my aching flesh into his palm, needing more friction.

  “Middag serveras,” Gustav’s heavy Swedish accent echoed down the hall.

  “Dinner’s ready,” I tipped Hank’s face and sealed my lips over his once more.

  Hank gave me a few more wet smacks. No man had ever kissed me the way Hank did. He put everything into each and every pull of his full lips, each swipe of his perfect tongue. He made kissing feel like a new experience, something to savor and relish.

  “Pen! Pen where are you?” Oh Jesus no. Why is everyone and everything preventing me from getting it on with this man? My inner bitch pulled out her boxing gloves and got ready to take down the next intruder.

  “You sure have a lot of people in your personal space. Doesn’t that get annoying?” Hank stroked my breast and let out a low chuckle, his thumb swirling around my nipple in maddeningly accurate circles.

  London strolled through the door and we both turned our heads toward her.

  She pointed a manicured finger at the both of us. “I knew it!” She screamed with glee.

  I closed my eyes and Hank shifted, placing a hand on each hip as she entered. I was never going to live this down. The interrogation wouldn’t end until she got blood.

  She glided into the room smelling of cinnamon and looking like she just walked off a Hawaiian Tropics calendar. Her hand jutted out toward Hank. He smiled and shook hers. “I’m London Kelley. You must be the hunk—I mean Hank.” She grinned at her own slip-up. My intuition told me she did it on purpose.

  Hank looked her up and down. “Damn, good genes in the Reynolds family.”

  I rolled my eyes.

  “You’re the dark version of my angel here.” Hank clasped my neck in a possessive maneuver my sister zeroed in on in two seconds flat.

  “Angel?” London queried with a sly smile, her gaze falling on the hand at my nape.

  “London, what are you doing here?” A deep sigh slipped past my lips.

  “What? I can’t just pop by and see my sister?”

  “No.” My glare was a large block of ice, and she fidgeted under its weight.

  “I wanted to meet your friend,” she announced boldly. “He saved your life. I owe him a great deal.”

  “Sweetie, you don’t owe me nothin’. I’m just glad I was in the right place at the right time.” His hands caressed my hips, either to solidify his point or just to touch me. The man liked to touch me. All the time. I sure as hell wasn’t going to complain.

  My sister melted into a pool of mush at Hank’s proclamation. She was being taken over by the Southern charm. Easy to fall under. I was damn near drowning in it after three days.

  “Middag serveras!” Gustav shouted once more from down the hall, sounding very irritated.

  “Oh! Dinner. I’m starving. Can I stay?” London asked.

  Thou shalt not throttle thy sister was the mantra I repeated over and over internally.

  “Yes, of course you can.”

  Hank pulled back the sheet and stood. His frame was enormous and swallowed up the space. He had on plain black boxer shorts that hugged and accentuated his hips and thighs’ mouthwatering proportions. Both London and I were transfixed at the sight of his mostly naked body.

  “Damn, Sis. You’re one lucky bitch.”

  I stood there, biting my lip and nodding at the perfect specimen that was Hank Jensen. He was all man, and I wanted to lick and suck on every inch.

  Hank grinned. “Why, thank you, I think?” he said as he slipped into a pair of soft gray sweats. “Darlin’, do you think you could help me with this here shirt?” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

  “I’ll just tell Gustav I’m staying. Piss him off a little. See you in the kitchen,” London said and left.

  “Sure.” I squeezed my legs together as the raging lust that diminished with my sister’s intrusion roared back to life. Staring at this perfect man’s bare chest and sexy grin did all kinds of things to my lady bits. Hank presented the shirt to me as I tried to get ahold of my hormones.

  After a few fumbles and laughs we reapplied the sling and got my shirt on. It was fun to watch Aspen try not to touch me during the process. Every time her hands landed on an exposed part of my skin she’d jump as if burned by a hot poker. I got what I wanted in the end, though. Before we entered the kitchen, I had her little body pinned against the wall with my mouth on hers, kissing the daylights out of her.

  She rubbed at her kiss-swollen, reddened lips as we entered the kitchen. I couldn’t wipe the shit-eating grin off my face. I loved making this woman blush and right now she was three shades of pink. Her sister London was a looker and had a matching knowing smile plastered across her face. She looked exactly like Aspen, only with dark hair and skin. Same gray-blue eyes and facial structure, too. Based on the flowing clothes and chipper personality she seemed a lot more easygoing, more free-spirited than Aspen. Didn’t matter.

  There was something special about Aspen that had me in a full-body twist. ‘Sides her beauty, there was a little extra sparkle in her eyes when I looked at her, something that drew me to her, made me ache to be near her. Damn if I wasn’t going to figure it out.

  Dinner was incredible. That gourmet chef of hers definitely had talent in the kitchen. He served us some type
of bird with a fancy glaze I couldn’t pronounce, and an interesting side dish that looked like tiny little balls.

  “What’s this called again?” I pointed at the yellow balls.

  Aspen smiled. “Couscous.”

  “Say what?”

  “It’s a rolled wheat type pasta,” London offered. “Do you like it?”

  “I do. Different.” I managed around a big bite of the stuff.

  “So Hank, I want to thank you for saving my sister. Pen’s important to me. Hell, she’s important to the world. I can’t believe you just jumped in front of her like that. So brave.”

  “Ah, it was nothin’ really. I’d do it again in a heartbeat.” Aspen’s gaze held mine, burning with intensity. Her beauty was unexplainable. Waiting to be with her was as if a ton of bricks was dropping onto my chest, taking away my ability to breathe.

  “Well, I’m glad you were there. So you’ll be staying with Pen then?” She asked.

  “That’s the plan. Seems as though her uptight lawyers are worried I’m going to sue, so she’s holding me hostage.”

  Aspen looked shocked. “That’s not true! I want you to have the best care.” Her tone held a twinge of hurt.

  “So she says,” I tried to joke. London gave a half-laugh but focused her attention back and forth between us. I wasn’t sure what she was doing.

  London set down her fork and clasped her hands at her chin. Her eyes, so similar to her sisters’, turned a shade darker and the edges tightened a hair. “But you’re obviously into one another.” She held my gaze, then focused on Aspen. “The tension in here is so thick I could cut it with a knife.”

  “London! None of your prophecies tonight,” Aspen warned.

  “What? Anyone in a five-mile radius could sense how badly you two need to get it on.”

  I choked on my couscous and laughed. Her sister was as straightforward as they came. “I’m liking you more and more, London. You’re good people.”

  She smiled sweetly. “Thank you.” Then she stood and straightened her dress. “I can’t be in the room with you two anymore. It’s making me hot and bothered. I’m going to go hang out with Tripp. Maybe see a movie.”