Back to You: Bad Boys of Red Hook (12 page)

“An end to what?”

Was she speaking a foreign language? An end to believing in love. “An end to being the oldest virgin in Red Hook.”

“You were seventeen.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I remember. I learned from the experience of falling for you. There will be no more dangerous men with no staying power who run away and don’t come back. No, the next time I fall in love it’s going to be with someone slightly boring and very safe, someone whose most dangerous act is jaywalking, someone who will show up for dinner every night.” She tried to picture it, but the only person she saw walking through the white picket fence was Storm. She took a mental eraser and ran it over the image. “I’m all grown up now. I’m finished with fantasies. Who would have thought my mother would be right after all? Now I just want to sleep with the bad boy of my dreams before I settle down with a nice, safe accountant.”

“Wait. What?” Storm’s eyes were huge and brightened either with excitement or shock; she wasn’t sure which. “You want to use me?”

She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from telling him in no uncertain terms and explicit detail how she wanted to use him.

“We can use each other.” She stepped closer, not touching him, but just a hairbreadth away, her mouth close to his ear. “It’ll be mutual.” Heat radiated from him, attracting her like a cat to a patch of sunlight. “You’ve made it very clear you’re leaving. I may have loved you way back when, but that’s history. You’ll never be safe and boring. You’re so not that man.”

His mouth dropped open, as if he were going to argue. She placed two fingers over his lips, and he let out a groan instead.

“No,” she said, sliding her hand to his chest, “you’re dangerous, hot, sexy, and guaranteed to leave. You were
then and you are now. Knowing that, I’m safe. And I’m not even going into the whole thing with Pete.”

Storm’s hand came around hers, stopping her progress but not removing it. Instead, he pressed her open palm over his heart. “Breezy, Pop thought of you as his little girl. He would have disowned me if I hurt you.”

“You big dope.” She gave him a push, removing her hand. “I was going to be hurt whether we made love or not. I may have had stars in my eyes back then, but I don’t now. You’re guaranteed to leave, which makes this even better.”

“It does?”

Bree stared into his eyes and saw something she’d never seen before—Storm Decker completely dumbfounded. She hid her smile, moseyed over to the couch, and sat.

Storm followed and sank down beside her.

She turned to face him. “The only way I’d ever sleep with you now is if there is absolutely no way I’d be able to keep you. You’ll make sure of that, because if there is one thing I’ve learned about you, Storm, it’s that you’ll never settle down.”

“Breezy, what do you want from me?” Storm let the question dangle like one of Rocki’s piano notes reverberating through the room.

Bree snuggled up to him on the couch, her breasts pressed against his side as he replayed their conversation in his head on fast-forward, trying to take everything in and waiting for her reply.

Breezy wanted him.

Breezy had loved him.

Breezy didn’t want him for anything more than sex.

Yeah, there was a total disconnect with that last one.

He didn’t know whether to be relieved or hurt. All he knew was that Bree had just given him a get-out-of-jail-free-card with benefits.

“I want the same thing I’ve always wanted.” She kneeled next to him and tossed one leg over his. Facing him. Close enough to kiss. “I want you.” She sank onto his lap, straddling him, and scooted closer.

His breath caught, his temperature shot through the roof, and his dick sprang to life.

Her gaze held his. “I want you for as long as you’re
here.” She kissed the corner of his mouth; her hands slid over his chest. “I want you every way I can have you.”

He grabbed her waist, tugging her closer still. She tilted her hips, pressing his erection against her heat.

“I know you’ll leave.” Her breath was sweet, fresh, minty. “I’m worried about Nicki and Pete. But that’s a whole other issue, one I have no control over. Still, it has nothing to do with us.”

“Us?” He stared into her bright green eyes, searching for any hint of uncertainty. Determination stared back at him.

“Yes, us. You and me. For as long as it lasts.” Her breath raged in his ear. “For as long as you’re here.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m selfish.” A sexy smile curled her lips. “I want you before I settle for that nice, safe, slightly boring guy.”

The thought of Breezy with anyone but him had him tightening his hold. How could she even think of letting someone else touch her?

“Being with you is like going to Coney Island and riding the Cyclone. I want to enjoy the wild ride as long as it lasts, but I don’t want to spend the rest of my life on a roller coaster. I did that with my dad, always waiting for the day he wouldn’t come home. He loved us, but not enough to give up his roller-coaster ride.” The sadness etched on her face was the same one that had haunted him all these years.

“The day my dad died, my whole life fell apart. I don’t want to be in that position ever again, and although you’re not a cop, you’re just as dangerous. You’re far too risky for more than just a quick and hopefully thrilling ride.”

“No pressure there.” Storm couldn’t think straight with Breezy sitting on his lap, her breasts pressed against his chest, her eyes looking straight into his as if she could read his mind. Still, there was a niggling doubt, something was wrong, something big, but for the life of him, he didn’t know what. “You make me sound like a daredevil.” Breezy knew the score, and she still wanted him. Who was he to let her down? “I sit at a desk all day and design boats.” And when Pop recovered, Storm could leave—go back to Auckland and never have to see her with that boring, safe guy she’d settle for. “The only danger I’ve encountered besides you and your frying pan is a paper cut.”

Bree snorted—she was the only woman alive who could make a snort sound sexy. “Get real. I read all about that accident you had a few years ago in the Sydney-to-Hobart race. You and your crew were almost killed. Your boat was lost at sea for two days. They called Pete. We thought you were dead.”

“Shit, that was nothing.” Nothing he’d discuss with her. That stormy night in the Bass Strait, his boat fell off a wave and capsized. For a while he’d thought he was a goner too, and the only woman he thought of while he waited to die was sitting on his lap right now, wanting him.

He wasn’t sure how long they’d been capsized. Thirty seconds, two minutes—it was a blur. When another monster wave hit, the force of it righted the boat and ripped off the mast. He and the crew worked frantically to save the boat, hacking at the rigging that punched holes into the vessel, turning it into a sieve.

A box of chocolate PowerBars burst in the capsize, water filled the hull, and the PowerBars got sucked into
the bilge pumps, clogging them. He and the crew spent two days bailing water, waiting to sink until he was able to get the engines running again so they could limp back to Eden. In the three years since, Storm hadn’t been able to even think about a chocolate bar without wanting to blow chunks.

He’d watched his life flash before his eyes for two days, over and over and over, on a continuous loop. Leaving Breezy was his only regret.

“Storm, what do you want?”

To love her for as long as she’d let him. Sure, he wasn’t convinced he knew the meaning of the word
love
, not really. All he knew was whatever he felt for her was stronger than anything else he’d ever experienced. There was only one other word that covered everything. “More.” He tangled his fist in her hair and tugged her face toward his. “Now.”

He kissed her, letting all the feeling he’d held in check for so long flow into her, like wind into an unfurled sail. The kiss was hot, wild, but just when he thought he was kissing her, she turned the tables and changed the dynamics.

Bree took over. She attacked his mouth, swamping him with sensation, taking all he had and shooting it back at him tenfold. Damn, for a woman who claimed not to allow men to kiss her, she sure knew what she was doing.

She sucked on his tongue, raking her teeth over it, sending a lightning bolt through his entire body.

He slid her T-shirt up her back, learning the feel of her, the nip of her waist, the softness of her skin, the play of her muscles under his roughened fingertips.

She pulled her mouth from his and ripped off her
T-shirt. She’d definitely changed since the last time he’d seen her topless, and with her breasts at eye level, he let his mouth do the communicating while he pulled her boxers as low as he could get them. His hands slid up her thighs to her heat. Her scent was intoxicating. He wanted to lay her out before him and taste every inch of her body. And he didn’t want to do that here on the damn couch. He pulled his mouth away from her breast. “I’m breaking one of your rules. I’m picking you up and taking you to bed.” He flipped her into his arms and stood.

Her boxers slid down to her ankles, and she kicked them off. “Okay, I won’t punish you just as long as you don’t run out naked again. Once in a lifetime was enough.”

“I’m not running, but I’m not averse to punishment either.” He waggled his eyebrows and then kissed the tip of her nose, watching her eyes cross. He bit back a laugh.

“Hurry.”

Storm set her on the bed and took his time running his hands over her, memorizing the texture of her skin, and her reaction to his touch. “Breezy, you’re even more beautiful than you were before. I didn’t think that was possible.”

A blush crept from her chest to her face, her pale skin opalescent in the light that stole through the open door.

He followed the path of her blush to her lips and sank into her mouth, taking his time, teasing her with his tongue, his caress, listening to the sounds she made, the way her skin jumped under his hands.

“Storm, please.”

“I’m trying, Breezy, but pleasing you will take some time. Good thing we’ve got all night.”

“You don’t understand. I need—”

He slid his hand between her legs and filled her with two fingers. She was tight. She was hot. She was wet. She was his.

Bree pushed herself onto her elbows, and the sight of her with the light pooling around her, the tip of her pink tongue wetting her bottom lip, her hair falling around her shoulders, just about knocked the wind out of him. He hadn’t had many special times in his life like this. This, he knew, was a biggie. He stared, memorizing every nuance, every image that made this moment one he would recall until the day he died.

Bree reached for the button fly on his jeans.

“No, not yet.” His hand stilled hers, pressing it against his bulge.

Her tongue peeked out as if she couldn’t wait to taste him. She ran her hand over his erection and squeezed. He held back a groan and sucked in air.

Breezy rose to her knees, scooted to the edge of the bed, and brought her mouth to his stomach—her wicked tongue traced the muscles, her hand pressed against the front of his jeans.

Having her mouth so close to his dick sent all the blood in his body flowing south. “Bree, you’re killing me, babe.”

With a yank, the buttons popped, and his erection sprang free. She took her time looking. “I didn’t get to see you the last time we were together. The only thing I really saw was your bare chest, and your naked, retreating ass.”

She ran the tip of her finger over the sensitive head, and her touch had him locking his knees to keep from falling. He gritted his teeth.

“You were so busy driving me crazy. Your mouth and
hands seemed to be everywhere all at once.” She looked into his eyes and reminded him of a cat cornering a mouse. “At the time, I didn’t know how to please you.”

“God, Bree.”

“But I do now.”

 * * *

In theory.

Okay, so Bree talked a good game, or she thought she did anyway; she just wasn’t sure she could live up to it. She’d had sex a few times, but frankly she didn’t know what all the fuss was about.

Her first time had been miserable. She didn’t even know the guy’s name. After Storm left, her virginity had become a curse she’d wanted to vanquish. At the first opportunity, she’d snuck out her bedroom window, went to a party, and hooked up with the first guy who noticed her.

Bree lost her virginity in a bedroom the size of a walk-in closet that smelled vaguely of dirty socks, but then it could have been the guy—a guy who unfortunately seemed as inexperienced as she. It had been as pleasurable and lasted as long as the polite conversation one might have after dialing a wrong number.

Still, the deed was done, and she’d been hopeful the second time would be incredible—or at least not awful. She’d read her share of romances; she’d heard all about the fireworks, the rush of pleasure, the way the heroine looks into her lover’s eyes and is transported to another dimension.

After the third try, she’d given up on the idea of an orgasm that wasn’t self-induced. Since she was much better at getting herself off than were any of the men she’d dated, she figured dating and sex were a complete and utter waste of time. Still, she dated a little—she didn’t
want to be a nun. She’d gone after the safe, stable men her mom would approve of, but they all left her cold and bored. It was easier to bury herself in work than to face the constant disappointment. No one had ever made her feel half as much as Storm did just by looking at her.

Storm lifted her chin, bringing her back to the present. His eyes dark, his pupils almost blacking out the beautiful blue irises, his breathing as erratic as hers, heat pouring off his body.

“This shouldn’t be so hard.”

He quirked a smile, which shocked her. Smiling had never been part of sex—at least not in her limited experience. “Breezy, if it wasn’t hard, we’d have a real problem, or at least I would.”

She closed her eyes and felt her face flame as she tried to swallow, but her mouth was so dry, it took a few tries. This was just one more in what was becoming a long line of sexual disasters. Could her sex life get any worse? Yeah, but only if he ran away; then again, maybe that would be a blessing.