by Lilli Feisty
But then she felt his finger pushing at her entrance, and when he pushed inside her, she moaned. “Blaine…”
He continued working her, using his hand and mouth to pleasure her until she couldn’t control her own voice.
“Please, Blaine. Yes…”
A swirl of lust churned in her core as her climax built. But then he pulled back to stand between her legs.
Panting, she met his gaze.
She couldn’t speak. Her stare was riveted on his body, the exquisite tattoo work that covered his taut torso. A fresh wave of lust raged over her.
“Make love to me, Blaine.”
He smiled, and it touched her heart. But even now, lost in his touch, she ignored that feeling. Instead, she opened her legs wider in invitation.
She saw his breath hitch as he stared at her sex. Then he was pulling a condom out of his pocket and kicking aside his khakis. He rolled the condom onto his erection and stepped between her legs. With his fingertips, he lightly grazed the inside of her thighs.
“Please,” she repeated.
He took his cock in his hand and entered her. Pure bliss exploded inside her, spreading everywhere. She closed her eyes as he pulled out and entered again. Over and over until she was crying out, saying his name.
“Yes, Erica. Come for me.”
She did. Her back arched off the table as everything in her constricted in pleasure. She felt him come next, pulsing hotly inside her. “Erica, goddamn.” The words shouldn’t have made her smile, but they did.
After a minute he pulled away, and then he was beside her on the table, pulling her into his arms. His body was so warm, and she cradled against him.
“Erica, you feel so good here with me.”
Silent, she nodded. It did feel good. Too good. She touched the amethyst at her neck, wondering how long the good feeling would last.
“This is nice,” Ash said, pulling Joy closer to him. They were sitting on the tailgate, huddled under the wool blanket, gazing at the San Francisco skyline. The rain seemed to have left all the lights brighter and cleaner in the still air.
“Mmm,” Joy murmured, then looked up at him. “Wet wipe?”
“Pardon me?”
She scooted away and jumped down. “I need to… you know. Freshen up.”
He held up his hand, palm out. “Say no more. You… do what you need to do.”
Smiling, Joy went to the truck’s cab and, presumably, dug out her bag and took care of business.
Ash realized he was grinning. She did that to him, made him feel…
Happy. Yeah, the sex was great, but he just enjoyed being around her. She was quirky and different and had a zest for life Ash knew he was missing. If he’d ever had it at all.
And yet… a part of him was still holding back. Because the last thing he needed was yet one more person to take care of, and Joy definitely needed caring for.
Case in point, he’d had to rescue her tonight.
Of course, if she hadn’t called him, he wouldn’t be here right now. Wouldn’t have made love to Joy outside in the back of his truck.
He shook his head; she had him all messed up.
Frowning, she came back to the truck. Her phone had been charging in the truck, and now she held it to her ear and was silent, as if listening to a message. Finally she flipped her phone shut and bit her lip.
He was beginning to know that look. “What’s wrong?” he asked.
“Um…”
“Joy,” he said warningly.
She laughed nervously. “That was a message from the auto club. It turns out my membership, um, expired.”
“Expired?”
She shifted and looked at the ground. “I guess I forgot to pay the bill.”
Picturing the stacks of unopened mail lying around her apartment, he wasn’t surprised. He shook his head. “How often do you go through your mail?”
“Often.”
“How often?”
“As often as you get your hair cut.”
“I cut my hair.”
“Really? Because that Kurt Cobain look is so 1990s.”
“Good Lord. We’re talking about you and your money management, or nonmanagement.”
“Shut up. Besides, I’ve only had the electricity turned off once.”
“You’ve had your electricity turned off?”
She met his stare with a raised chin. “So?”
He just stared at her and then, “Joy, I… I don’t know what to say.”
She narrowed her gaze. “Don’t go there, Ash.”
Jumping off the truck, he closed in on her until she had to raise her chin to meet his gaze. “Damn, woman.” Suddenly all his worry from earlier came back in a hot rush, and he stooped until they were face-to-face, equal. “Honey, you’re lucky you only suffered a flat tire earlier. You could have gotten into a serious accident with those tires and the road conditions tonight. And then you get into a car with a strange man?” He realized by the end he was shouting, but he couldn’t contain himself.
“Oh, relax, Ash.”
“Joy…”
“It’s just tires! Not the end of the fucking world!”
“It’s not just tires, Joy. It’s your safety at stake! On the side of the freeway, in the middle of the night…” He ran a hand over his head, wondering why he was losing it like this. What should he care if Joy was reckless, put herself at risk, and forgot to pay her bills?
Straightening, he took a deep breath and counted to ten. He was losing it; he never lost it.
They stood there in a glare-off until she finally gave her head a small shake and grinned. “Wow,” she said. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you cared about me or something.”
“Well, of course I care. I—” He shifted his weight a couple of times. “I… like you.”
Her expression faded into one of unease, and a little furrow appeared on her brow, which he annoyingly found adorable.
“I think I like you, too,” she finally said.
His heart was not beating fast at that. It really wasn’t.
“Okay,” he said, as much to her as to himself. “So you don’t have emergency roadside service. We’ll just pay for a tow truck, then.”
“Yeah,” she said, biting her lip. “About that…”
Chapter Twenty-one
This wasn’t going to be good.
Joy shuffled and avoided Ash’s gaze. “Do you know how much it’s going to be?”
“About two hundred dollars. And then you’ll need all new tires, so we’ll have the tow truck take the car straight to my garage.”
“I see,” she said, nodding and trying to look thoughtful, but really what she was thinking was:
Shit, shit, shit!
It seemed like an easy solution, right? Just pay for a tow truck. Problem was, Joy had exactly fifty dollars in her bank account, because she’d used every last penny to buy back a sculpture she’d stolen, that had been sold without her knowledge and was now sitting in her purse, which was in the car of the man she’d stolen it from, who was currently staring at her like he was ready to bend her over his knee.
And not in a good way.
“You know,” she said, walking around Ash toward the passenger side of the truck, “I think I’ll just have you take me home, and I’ll deal with it tomorrow.”
“What? No. The car could be vandalized or ticketed. Just call the tow truck and let’s go.”
Fuck. Stretching her hands over her head, she exaggerated a huge yawn. “I’m really tired, Ash. It’s late, and I just want to go home.”
“Typical,” he muttered.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means,” he said, stalking toward her, “that you’re irresponsible and take the easy way out.”
She started shaking with anger. “That is not true!”
“Really? If it’s not true, then why are we even here having this discussion?”
“Listen,” she said, getting up in his face. “I’m sorry
I’m not an anal, obsessive-compulsive neat-freak who’s overly critical of everyone else!”
“What? That’s not true!”
“Oh,” she said in a low voice meant to be an imitation of him. “Why don’t you charge your phone, Joy? Why don’t you pay your bills, Joy? Why don’t you change your tires, Joy? Why don’t you have any money, Joy?”
Pausing, he met her gaze. “I never asked why you don’t have any money.”
Straightening, she said lightly, “Are you sure?”
“Positive.”
“I must have been imagining it, then.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose and took several deep breaths. Then, “Joy.”
“Yes…”
“Do you have the money to pay for a tow truck?”
“Um…”
“I take that as a no.”
Shame burned her. She hated him having such a bad opinion of her. “You don’t understand,” she whispered.
“That you don’t pay your bills but have no problem going on shopping sprees?”
“It’s not like that! And how did you know about my shopping spree?”
“Because you’ve suddenly been dressing in clothes that get me hard whenever I see you!”
“W-what? Really?”
“And you probably used a credit card. Just charge it, right?”
“I did not!” she protested. “I don’t believe in credit cards, so I don’t have one.”
“You don’t have a credit card?”
“My grandmother taught me that if I can’t pay cash for something, I don’t need it.”
“What about emergencies?”
“I’ve never had one.”
“What do you consider this?” he asked.
“An inconvenience?”
“Good. God. Okay, I’ll pay for the tow truck. You can reimburse me later.”
“No!” She refused to take his money. It would only validate everything he seemed to think about her.
“Joy, you don’t have a choice.”
“Yes, I do.” She stared at him, refusing to back down. “Despite what you think, I can take care of myself. This is my problem, and I’ll deal with it. I really appreciate you picking me up, Ash. And, um, dinner. But I refuse to take your money for this. Would you please just take me home?”
He stared silently at her. But, mixed in with all the frustration she saw there, she could have sworn she saw a flash of something else. Admiration.
“Fine,” he said finally. “Get in the truck.”
By eight the next morning, Joy was cursing her stubbornness. Which was worse? Asking Ash for money or her grandmother? For a second, she considered just leaving the car there and getting it out of hock when she got paid on Friday, but she just couldn’t do that to Bessie.
Sitting at her kitchen counter, she stared at her cell phone. Then, with a big sigh, she dialed.
“Hi, Grandma.”
“Joy! This is a nice surprise, hearing from you so early in the morning. I know you usually like to sleep in.”
She was about to inform her grandmother yet again that she was always up at eight on workdays but refrained. Now was not the time to bicker with her grandmother.
“Um… I need a favor, Grandma.”
“Oh?”
“Yes.” She closed her eyes. “I need to borrow some money.”
She could practically see her grandmother’s mouth tighten. “What’s wrong, Joy?”
She told her the story of the Mercedes, including the fact that she needed new tires. Ash had stubbornly made her swear on her life not to drive the car until she’d replaced all four tires. A quick search on the Internet had told her that little purchase was going to be an extra $400.
“So the car is still on the side of the freeway?” Grandmother asked in an exaggeratedly patient tone that made Joy’s teeth hurt.
“Yes,” Joy said, idly picking up an unopened letter. “Shit.”
“What?” her grandmother said.
“Nothing.” It was the bill for the auto club, postmarked nearly two months ago. She began doodling on the back of the envelope. Think think think.
“I’ll be able to pay you back when I get paid on Friday, Grandmother.”
“Don’t you have any money in savings?” her grandmother asked incredulously. Joy knew that, to her grandmother, the meaning of life was to have a huge savings account.
“No,” Joy said. “I have no money in savings.” And fifty dollars to my name.
“Fine, Joy. I’ll have my mechanic arrange to pick up the car and tow it to the shop. Then I’ll have him bring it here, and you can get it when you come this weekend.”
“Thank you, Grandma,” Joy bit out.
“I’m planning a special dinner on Saturday, Joy. For your birthday.”
“Oh…” She’d completely forgotten her birthday was coming up. “Okay.” Thirty. When had that happened?
Kill me, she scrawled on the envelope.
“Do you want to bring anyone?” Grandmother asked, which was code for: Do you have a boyfriend?
“Um, no. I don’t think so.” But she couldn’t help thinking of Ash. He wasn’t her boyfriend, but what was he?
Distracted. Frustrated. Sexy as hell.
She scribbled hearts all over the words on the envelope. “Nope, I think it will just be me.” She wondered what buses she would need to take to Atherton. There probably were none.
“Fine, but, Joy?”
“Yes, Grandma?”
“Don’t be late.”
Chapter Twenty-two
Sitting at her desk in an empty gallery, Joy popped another Tums. The museum curator had canceled on her this moring, so she’d had to reschedule returning the sculpture. Time was running out, and her stomach burned with nerves. Maybe she was getting an ulcer. She swallowed the antacid tablet and popped another one, her third that morning. And it was barely eleven o’clock.
Why did she always make such a mess of things? Thinking back, she could recall several instances in which her reckless behavior had ended badly. Like that time in Paris. She’d been strolling the tiny streets in Montmartre when the thumping bass of electronic music had lulled her into a crowded but small bar filled with gay men. That was one of the few times she’d ever danced outside of her house, and she’d gotten sucked onto the packed dance floor. All the men were very nice and bought her drinks. Lots of drinks. By the time she’d finally left the bar, it was nearly 3:00 a.m., the metro had stopped running, and she had no idea where she was; all the streets looked the same. She’d finally hailed a taxi after standing on a corner for an hour, but she wasn’t sure where her apartment was so she’d had the driver drop her off at the only place she could pronounce, the Louvre. From there, she knew how to get back to her housing, even though it was another forty-five-minute walk.
She’d had many such incidents while living in France.
Just thinking about it made her skin burn with embarrassment. And to make matters worse, many of the students knew she was saying phrases wrong and had decided it was more entertaining not to fill Joy in on the joke.
Assholes.
As she glanced at her bag, envisioning what was inside, she nearly saw what everyone else saw—a fuckup.
She stared at her purse until her eyes began to burn. Oddly, a tingle of anger started somewhere in her chest and then spread throughout her body, until she realized her hands were shaking from it.
Yeah, she acted impulsively sometimes, but so what? Why did people think that made her stupid? And sometimes it was better not to overthink things. Sometimes going on instinct was for the best.
Sometimes you had to take a risk, and if something went wrong, you just dealt with it, like she dealt with her car situation.
She stood so fast her chair fell behind her in a loud clatter. She didn’t bother to right it. Instead she yanked her bag off the floor and made her way toward the door.
“Where are you going?” Andrew said, looking up from his computer.
�
��I have an important errand to run,” she said. “I may not be back today.”
“Panos is gonna be ma-ad,” he said in a singsong voice.
Before she walked out, she paused with her hand on the door handle. “Tell him it couldn’t be avoided. I have to go take care of some business for the show.”
Joy didn’t stop to think about it; she just went. Clutching her bag tightly to her side, she ran down the street toward the bus stop. Without a car, she had to take the cheapest transport possible until she got paid on Friday. Her fifty dollars had dwindled down a bit too quickly, and now she had only about twenty dollars to make it two more days.
At the corner, she ignored the red light and crossed anyway, nearly getting hit by a speeding taxicab. Jumping onto the opposite sidewalk, she barely noticed him giving her the finger, and anyway, she didn’t care. She was going to talk her way into the museum and return the sculpture. She couldn’t go one more minute like this.
Passing an alley, a flash of colors caught her eye, colors that hadn’t been there just the day before. The colors of the design drew her in a familiar way, and she found herself walking toward it, making her way through the tiny, empty alley.
The buildings on either side of the small street were old and hadn’t been kept up, the exteriors painted a dull, peeling gray. She passed a couple of huge garbage bins as she made her way to the mural, and she couldn’t help but love the contrast of the beautiful art juxtaposed with the dreary surroundings.
When she reached the mural, she stopped before it and stared. “Just brilliant,” she murmured to herself. It was a modern, urban rendition of Monet’s Water Lilies. Joy had never seen anything like it, and she knew if she could just nail down the artist, she could get him into a gallery, maybe even some outdoor commissions.
Yeah, if she could nail him down. He was quick and must work at night; she was never going to catch up with him. With a sigh, she pulled out a business card and taped it into a crack in the wall.
Then, for some reason, the hairs on her neck stood on end. The last time she’d felt such a sensation was that time in Barcelona when she’d been robbed. Like now, she’d been alone, in an alley.
She caught a movement out of the corner of her eye and turned. A tall figure, dressed in baggy jeans and a black jacket, was walking toward her. Her instinct told her to get away—fast—but the alley was a dead end. There was only one way out, and it included passing the man walking her way.