“Thanks.” My voice is soft, shy.
I crank the window open, realizing Joe’s not moving away from me. I’m not sure what to do, so I turn, but that’s an even more intimate pose, since he’s still got one hand on my waist and is now less than six inches from me.
His gray-blue eyes are studying mine. I wonder what he sees.
“Thanks for talking to my mom. And my dad.” He shakes his head. “That had to be uncomfortable.”
I shrug, at a complete loss for words.
“You’re a good friend to my mom.”
I shrug again, because if he could read my mind, he wouldn’t think that. I can’t stop staring at his razor-sharp cheekbones and jawline, his handsome face, his gray-blue eyes. The way his neck is thick, muscly. How broad his shoulders are. His black t-shirt stretched against his powerful chest. The veins that run up his forearm. And his hand on me. His big, rough hand.
“Thanks for taking care of her.”
I nod.
“I can’t believe everyone left like that.”
I glance around, as if that could help this one-sided conversation.
“I’m glad they did, though.”
I bite my lip. His gray gaze focuses on my mouth. His pupils expand.
Oh, this isn’t good.
What’s worse is how much I want to close the distance between us.
“I—I should go.” Thank god I found the courage to say that.
He nods. “I’ll walk you home.”
I shake my head. “I live four doors down. I don’t—”
“I’m walking you home.” His voice is calm but insistent.
Memories play in my mind: Tony telling me how to raise our children without participating. Tony telling me how to drive, even though the man has had more accidents than a stunt driver. Tony telling me how pay my bills and rolling his eyes as if I’m a child.
I purse my lips and am beyond pissed. Flashing through my mind is the odd image of slapping Joe.
Joe’s hand slides to the small of my back, like he belongs there, ushering me forward and out of Eva’s house. I’m walking only thinking of my outrage at being ordered around, stunned I had the thought of violence. I have a no-screaming rule at home. Of course, I’m not okay with slapping. So, why the hell did I think it? Especially of Joe, who I hate to admit how much I’m attracted to.
I’m on the sidewalk, slowly walking, before I know how we left the house.
“Shit, did you want to gather the things you made for my mom’s party?” Joe’s still got his hand on me, but I’m lost with one minute wondering who the hell I am now, the next fuming because he insisted on walking me home.
I shake my head.
“Going to get it tomorrow?”
I nod.
“You usually this quiet?”
I shrug.
“You pissed I told you I was walking you home?”
I stop and turn on him. “Don’t tell me what to do. Please. Just don’t ever tell me what to do.”
Joe’s eyes widen but almost instantly narrow. He takes a long breath and nods. “I won’t.”
I need to apologize. Something inside me has snapped. This is about Tony not Joe. Jesus, I hate how much of a mess I am. And I so didn’t want to show him this broken part of me, my monster.
Instead, I turn and start walking to my house again, chiding myself for not saying I’m sorry.
“I don’t think I told you what to do, though.” Joe’s voice is irritatingly calm.
I do it again where I instantly halt and turn on him. But he’s right, I realize.
I swallow, blinking, feeling, oddly, tears sting my eyes. I need a drink so fucking bad. “I—I don’t like feeling…” I don’t even know what I’m talking about. I don’t know why I’m so emotional. I feel crazy and want to hide from big, beautiful Joe, who makes me feel too much.
“Like you’re not in control?” He looks down at me, tilting his head. “I can understand that.” He nods. “I’d hate that too. And I should have asked more respectfully, to walk you home. But I knew you’d say no. I could see it in your face.”
My next-door neighbor, Patty Simms, turns on her porch light. She doesn’t come out to greet Joe or me. It’s a sign that she sees me, sees us, and I’ll be the subject of gossip the next couple days, what with talking to Joe on the sidewalk. Heaven forbid I talk to a man on a sidewalk.
I’m so irritated, although at that point I’m not sure why, but I need to get away from Patty’s porch light. So I grab Joe’s hand and yank him along, walking briskly to my house.
Looking over my shoulder as I speed walk to my front door, I say, “Why’s it so important to walk me home?”
I hadn’t taken my purse to the party and left the door unlocked. Yes, I live in that kind of neighborhood where I don’t have to worry too much about locks. I’m lucky, but at that second, I’m just pushing Joe into the foyer, not thinking of anything other than nosy Patty.
As I close the door behind me, I note how bleak my house is. My foyer, especially, is dark. But I know Joe’s close. We’re still holding hands. His huge body is so warm, and I feel it even though I think we’re more than a couple feet away from each other. God, his aftershave or whatever it is is driving me to distraction.
“I told you,” Joe starts slowly, “I wanted to talk to you. Can we go somewhere where I can see you? And why are you still so mad at me?”
I sigh, feeling terrible. “I’m not mad at you.”
“Are you sure?” I can tell by his tone he’s teasing me, which makes me feel like I need to explain.
“I—It’s my neighbor—”
“Nosy Patty? She piss you off too?”
I can’t help but giggle. “Yes, she’s nosy, and, yes, she pissed me off with her porch light thing.”
“Remind me never to turn on my porch light when you’re around.”
I growl. “I sound insane.”
“I wasn’t going to say anything.”
Out comes another giggle, and I aim my fist at his shoulder. Instead, in the dark where I can’t see very well, I pop him in the chest. And kind of hard too.
“God, I’m sorry,” I whisper and stand closer to him, feeling with my fingers along his iron-like pec, trying to ascertain if I’d hurt him. Then I realize how crazy that is. “Sorry. I hit you too hard. I can’t see where I’m aiming.”
He takes both my hands and I’m trapped. “I’d ask to turn on a light, but I’m afraid that might make you mad again.”
I giggle once more. That’s three times he’s gotten me to laugh. “I’m not that crazy.” I struggle to get free, but suddenly he’s holding me by wrists and in a tight grip too.
“Well, you do have this light problem.”
I keep chuckling, but I’m really wiggling now, trying to get free. In my struggles, we wind up getting closer and closer. One of my breasts brushes against him. My nipple contracts from the contact. His hands hold my wrists and won’t budge even though I’m trying like Houdini to fight for my freedom, making his arms sweep across me from time to time.
“It’s not a problem,” I grunt with my efforts. “I like the light. If you let me go, I’ll prove it to you.”
He sighs. “But this is too much fun.”
I groan. “Joe…” I say his name in several syllables.
“Yes, Moira? Is there something you want?”
“What did you want to talk about?” I’m still struggling, but I figure maybe I can distract him so I can slip away. As much fun as I am having, I’m also still frustrated, not exactly liking being dominated by him, although I am a red-blooded woman and should like it. But I know too, I can’t have this kind of fun with Joe. He’s very off-limits.
My eyes are adjusting to the dark and I can see him cock his head toward me.
“You’re a clever girl. I think you asked that to sidetrack me.”
“So you’re a mind reader, huh? Just which branch of the Army were you in?”
He barks a loud laugh, surprising me
. “As of today, it’s the first time I can admit I was CI. But not a mind reader. Not exactly.”
I still as I look at him. “Intelligence? That’s counterintelligence, right?”
He nods.
I start to struggle again. “You couldn’t tell anyone?”
“Nope. You’re the first to know.”
“Wow, I’m honored.”
He chuckles again while he somehow keeps me trapped to him. “When are you going to give up, Moira?”
I push against him, chest-to-chest. “Never.”
He softly laughs. “I was hoping you’d say that.”
“When are you going to give up?” I renew my efforts.
“You want to know why I wanted to talk to you?”
“Yes.” I’m starting to huff for air and a sweat glosses my back.
“You really want to know?”
“Yes. And I want my goddamned hands back.”
“Sure about that?”
I groan again.
“What will you give me if I…tell you why I wanted to talk to you?”
“You already have my hands. What more could you want?”
“What’ll you give me for the use of your hands again?”
I moan once more, pretending I’m getting frustrated. I’m not sure if I am any longer. There is a tension building within my body, a lot like frustration. Only, it’s sizzling and crackling and making me feel so damned good.
I forgot what flirting was like. Well, I’ve never flirted like this. Actually, are we flirting? This twisting and struggling around and so close to each other’s bodies—god, it’s making me remember…sex. It’s been five months since Tony and I last made love. Tony’s not a terrible lover, just not all that giving. So, I’ve often wondered what the big deal was about sex. I mean, and I hate to admit this, but I’ve had much bigger and longer-lasting orgasms alone than with Tony. And before him, I had three—count them, three—lovers. All of which were drunken frat boys, so the sex was less than ideal.
But this, this play with Joe, is fantastic. My body is shaking from excitement. I have so much tension inside I’m feeling…wild and carefree. And I love feeling like this. This is way better than sex. This is fun. And I can’t remember the last time I had fun.
I sigh. Or pant. “Anything you want.”
Joe makes a funny happy noise. “Anything I want? You’ll give me anything I want for the use of your hands again?”
“And you have to tell me why you wanted to talk.”
“You’re good with negotiation.”
“Thank you. Now tell me.”
He easily pushes my hands together, overpowering me like I have a child’s strength, which, thanks to his mother, I’m getting pretty tough now. And thinking about her should make me put a stop to this. I know if we cross a line, I’ll be a bad friend. Won’t I?
Why is it I can’t remember how to be a good friend to Eva when I’m so close to Joe?
He slips his fingers from their tight hold, but then wraps my hand around his thick wrist. He does the same for his other hand, so I’m holding him.
“I remember.” His voice has gone an octave lower. “You like control.”
Suddenly, I can’t breathe. My logic was hazy a second ago, but now I have none.
I like holding him this way. Something surges through my body as I think of overpowering him. I’m wet and achy between my legs.
“What do you want to do to me now that you have me?” His voice is coaxing, lulling me to keep playing with him. “Moira?”
I push him against the nearest wall, imprisoning his wrists there, pushing my body against his. I’m not thinking at all. I’m just surged with this powerful feeling. I like playing with Joe. I like it so fucking much.
5
“Are you dying to know why I wanted to talk to you? Why I wasn’t willing to take no for an answer?” Joe’s breathing is fast, his voice a rasp.
I lift up on my tiptoes. Already my shoes make me tall, but I need more height to get closer to his face.
I nod. Through my breasts, I feel every time he inhales and exhales. Even his heart is hammering against me.
“I wanted to tell you…” He licks his lips, which I can barely make out with how little light there is. I can only see the glint of his eyes, his white teeth. But I feel him. He’s already hard against my belly. Oh, god, I haven’t felt that in so long. I ache, wanting to rub my body against his, just to feel his erection even more.
“…how much I want to kiss you.” He swallows. I can see it then. He’s nervous.
I should be. I know I shouldn’t be doing what I am. I know I’m crossing a line. But at this second, I don’t care. I’ve never felt in control with a man. Oh, sure, I always put limits to how far and how fast things would go. But once I had sex, I felt powerless.
This, though, oh…somehow Joe knew me better than I knew myself. I had no idea I wanted to pound a huge man against a wall and hold his wrists in place. This is…naughty. And so good.
God, he must have been brilliant at his job.
“Yeah?” I whisper and sneak my lips so close to his, only to pull away as he leans forward.
“Tease.” His voice rumbles into my body, settling on my nipples and clit.
I laugh then pull his huge arms up by his head. I know, and he knows too, he can easily overpower me. But he’s letting me do this. Oh god, he’s letting me and I’m liquid between my legs.
“Oh, Joe…”
“Moira.”
“You have no idea how much of a tease I am.”
He growls and pushes his hands from the wall, reaching for me. But then he winces and lets me slam him in place again.
He’s breathing heavy. “You’re driving me crazy.”
“Serves you right for saying I get angry when people turn on lights.”
He softly chuckles.
“Joe?”
“Moira. I do like your name.” He leans forward, his lips seeking mine but I lean away just in time. “Moira.” He tries again to kiss me, but I lean even farther back. “God, Moira. Moira.”
“Joe, what will you do if I kiss you?”
He groans and rocks his hard cock against me. “What do you want me to do?”
“Will you do anything?”
He licks his lips and nods.
“Anything I want?”
“Fuck, yes. Jesus, you’re killing me.”
I smile, loving this game so much and at the same time I’m stupefied I’m playing it. I don’t recognize me. But I don’t need to. I just need to keep playing and keep feeling this…whatever it is between Joe and me.
“Get down on your knees, please.”
Joe groans. “Love the please.” He leans forward again. This time, I’m not quite fast enough and he captures my neck with his teeth. I hiss from the sweet sting.
“Naughty boy. Now you’re really going to have to get down on your knees.”
I ease up on his thick wrists so he can move. I also have to step away from him a little, which makes my body whimper. Then his massive form slowly bends. First at the knees, then he descends down. He’s so tall that even with my heels on, his head is even with my breasts.
“Anything you want, Moira.”
As if I wasn’t turned on enough, but add what he said to the fire and I’m not sure what I’ll do next. I’m still shaking and so eager to…I don’t know. I’ve never had a man submit to me, and my vanilla sex life has led me to have very little imagination. Oh, but I’m afraid he’s awakening something inside me that wants to crawl out and find new ways to…god, I can’t even think of what.
Once kneeling, he wraps his hands around my knees, pulling me close. He bows so his forehead is against my stomach.
“Anything you want.”
Honestly, I don’t know what I want now that he’s on his knees in front of me. I just wanted to see if he’d do it.
“Are you shaking, Moira?”
“Yes.”
“Are you scared?”
; “Not of you.”
His hands slowly climb up the back of my legs.
“Too fast.”
He instantly stills.
“Do you know how to overpower me, even though you’re kneeling in front of me?”
“Yes.”
“Do you want to?”
“No. I like it right here.” He nuzzles his forehead against me. “Although—”
“Although…? What?”
“I’m dying to kiss you.” He looks up, smiling at me, that flash of white that’s his teeth making me even more excited. My heart’s pounding so hard, so fast I can feel it against my ribs, like when I was pregnant with Jamie and Liv, all my senses on overdrive.
“I—I want—”
“Tell me what you want, Moira. Pretty Moira.”
“I want you to take it from me.”
He looks shocked. His eyes are wide.
“But stop when I tell you to. Promise you’ll stop when I tell you?”
He blinks. “You want me to steal a kiss from you?”
“Yes.”
“Then stop when you tell me to?”
“Yes.” I turn and run through the foyer, giggling.
I don’t know why I didn’t leave on at least one light. The house is immersed with the night. So dark, even I can’t make things out. But I know the layout. Immediately after the foyer is the living room—formal and we never use it. And around the supporting wall that shields the living room from the rest of the house is my expansive kitchen that opens to my dining area and a spacious sunroom where the kids and I spend most of our days.
I’m racing to my kitchen, thinking of tearing down the hallway to the right that leads to the bathrooms and bedrooms. But that would be…not a good place. Way too tempting if I went that direction. I can hear Joe softly chuckling and moving through the front room.
“Marco?” he calls.
I giggle then cover my mouth. In a hurry, I fling off my shoes, trying to think of where to go next.
“I heard that, Moira.”
I screech, realizing he’d somehow snuck up on me, less than ten feet away. Turning, I race toward the kitchen island, where my kids sit and watch me cook and bake for them. My screaming little banshee of a beautiful daughter is already figuring out fractions and multiplication, which, and I wish it wouldn’t, bothers her big brother a little too much. He hasn’t figured that out yet. I’ve tried to reassure him that he’s perfectly brilliant. But he frowns at his sister all the more.
Awake: Book 3 of the Wild Love Series Page 5