Impulsive (18 page)

“I’m sorry,” he said.
 

 
“Why?” The apology filled her with dread. Now that she wanted him, maybe he’d changed his mind. She tried to roll away, but he gripped her right buttock with a large hand, stilling her.
 

“It was too fast. I couldn’t help it,” he said.
 

The clock on the dresser ticked away the seconds of silence as she contemplated his statement. They hadn’t made love in almost a month, and he’d been with Sherry in between. “Did you sleep with Sherry?”

“Just because I go out with a girl doesn’t mean I sleep with her. Damn, Tash. What kind of guy do you think I am?”

“She’s not going to be happy about this,” Tasha said.

“I ended things when I dropped her off the other night,” he said as he trailed a finger down her arm. “After I saw you, I couldn’t lead her on any longer. I felt like a real dick.”

Knowing he hadn’t been with anyone else gave her an unexpected thrill of pleasure. The idea of his beautiful body in the arms of another woman elicited sharp pangs of jealousy. She shifted her weight to press her breasts into his bare chest and nuzzled his hair.

“You’re not a dick, Jameson. An ass sometimes, but not a dick.”

If only he knew. He was the most decent, reliable guy she’d ever known. Every time she tried to peg him as an asshole like her father, he surprised her with a reminder of his kindness. With him still buried deep inside her, it was difficult to picture him as anything but the man of her dreams.

He drew a fingertip from wrist to shoulder, over her collarbone, and down to her breast. His eyes blinked upward to meet hers, somber and unwavering. “The first time I met you, you were wearing a mini-skirt and thigh-highs. I remember thinking I’d like to peel those stockings off you with my teeth.” He turned his cheek into her palm and kissed it. “Does that sound stupid?”

“Not stupid,” she said, still breathless. “It’s sweet.”

“Humph.” He gently rolled her to the side, pulling out of her, to dispose of the condom. The bed shook when he turned back to face her, head propped on an elbow and one hand resting on her hip. “In case you weren’t aware, no guy wants to be told he’s sweet in bed.”

She tried not to laugh but failed. “Sorry. But it is sweet. You’re sweet, Luke.”

Silence stretched between them. She avoided his gaze, choosing instead to stare at the rippling expanse of his chest. She trailed a finger down the groove of his sternum. He caught her hand in his and pressed it flat to his abdomen.
 

“That tickles.”
 

“I was just thinking about the kind of tattoo I’d put on you.” He released her hand and rolled onto his back, arms tucked behind his head. She traced a pattern over his left breast, wiry hairs tickling her fingertips. The nipple sprang to attention. “Maybe something Celtic or tribal. You ever think about getting inked?”

“No, not really. If I did, I’d have you do it. You’re talented.” He grabbed her finger and kissed the tip. His eyes flicked over the colorful ink on her arms. “Who did yours?”

“Gary did some of them.” The idea of inking Luke’s smooth, tanned skin sent butterflies into her stomach. In her mind, she heard the whir of the needle and felt the vibration on her hand as she held his skin taut. She shivered. “It can be very personal, you know. Inking someone. Sexual even.” The muscles beneath her hand tensed.

“Did you and Gary ever…?” The way his voice trailed off brought her thoughts to a halt.

“No. Are you kidding me? Gary’s, like, ten years older than me.” She shook her head, and Luke relaxed. “You didn’t really think I hooked up with him, did you? Gary and I are just friends.”

His shrug seemed nonchalant but his answer held an edge to it. “We’re just friends.”

The euphoria of sex faded with his question.
Friends.
The word kept circling around to bite her in the ass. It was time for her to re-evaluate her definition of friendship. He meant so much more to her.

“Yes. We are. I mean, no. I don’t know what we are.” At his downcast expression, she covered his hand with hers. “Why do we have to put a label on it?” Having discovered the thrill of his skin against hers, there was no way she could ever forget the way he made her feel. Lying beside him sent tingles of desire into the depths of her core. She already wanted more. “Can’t we just be us?”

“I don’t know,” he said. The muscles of his throat worked as he pondered her words. “I’m not sure I can be friends anymore.”

Her heart dropped. She wanted to give him more, to be what he needed, but she’d be living a lie. She didn’t believe in soul mates or forever, and it would be wrong to pretend she did. In the end, he would resent her for it, and they’d both be hurt.

Luke trailed a finger up the smooth groove of Tasha’s spine. She lay on her stomach in bed next to him, naked and damp with sweat from a marathon session of sex. With her eyes closed, her lashes made lacy half-moons on her cheeks. He traced the swirling tendrils of the tattoo on her shoulder.

“Are you asleep?” he asked.

“I would be if you’d stop bugging me,” she grumbled.
 

He smiled and slid down the bed to lie beside her, pressing the length of his body against hers. Her skin felt like velvet beneath his palms. She kept herself in great shape. The muscles in her legs were long and lean, her bottom round and firm with just enough bounce to keep him entertained for hours. He swirled his hand over the twin rounds, resisting the urge to give her a playful spank.

“Jameson?” She cracked an eyelid to glare at him. “Go. To. Sleep.”
 

“Fine.” He pulled the sheets around them and wrapped an arm about her waist, snuggling her into him. He buried his nose in her hair, drawing in the scent of her shampoo. Sated and drowsy from good sex, his eyes grew heavy and fell closed within minutes. He teetered on the edge of oblivion but was drawn back by a voice.
 

“Did you date Caroline?” Tasha asked.

It took a few seconds for his sleepy brain to catch up, but when it did, he felt the tension of the day return. The last person he wanted to invite into their bed was his ex-girlfriend. Whatever he’d had with Caroline had ended years earlier.

“Yes,” he said. He drew her ass up tight against his hips. She fit perfectly in the curve of his body. Like she belonged there. Safe. Warm. Sated. If he had his way, they’d never leave this bed.

“I don’t know what we’re doing,” she whispered, so softly he almost missed the confession. “I’m not good at this, Luke.”

He pressed his hardening cock into the cleft of her legs and wiggled his hips. “My dick disagrees.”

Her chest shook with laughter beneath his arm. “I’m serious.”

“So am I.” He brushed his lips against her temple. “We’ll work it out. I promise.”

In the morning, Tasha stumbled into the kitchen grumpy, out-of-sorts, and in desperate need of coffee. Luke leaned against the counter, dressed in his white shirt and black trousers from the previous day. A hint of stubble darkened his cheeks, and his hair stood in disarray. His amber gaze followed her around the kitchen, a smirk on his lips.

“It’s not funny,” she said with a scowl. She banged through the cabinets in search of a coffee cup.
 

He raised an eyebrow. “You’re not a morning person, are you?” He refilled his coffee and handed the cup to her.
 

“No, I’m not. What gave me away?” The first sip of coffee heated her taste buds. She moaned in approval, savoring the flavor behind closed eyes. “It’s too damn early, and you kept me up all night.”

One of his fingers traced the love bite above her collarbone. “I didn’t hear you complaining when I made you come four times.”

It was hard to believe he was standing in front of her, smiling. She smiled back, a thrill of excitement coursing through her at the heat in his gaze. It seemed right to have him there, in her kitchen, drinking coffee after a night of sinful sex.

“It was five times,” she said, unable to stop radiating. “Not that I counted.”

He took the cup from her. She responded with a weak, protesting growl, but changed her mind when he put his hands on her hips and drew her against him. After a long and thorough kiss, he returned the cup to her and patted her on the ass. “I’m off to work. I’ll see you tonight, right?”

It was Friday night, and they both had to work at Felony. She looked forward to it with unusual excitement. She nodded and smoothed the front of his shirt with her free hand.
 

“Yes. I’ll meet you there.”

Chapter 28

Luke had been gone a few hours when she finally got showered and dressed for the day. Her body ached and throbbed in all sorts of delicious places. He’d worked her over well.
 

With a free day stretching before her, she decided to give her mother a visit. They’d spoken on the phone, but she hadn’t been to see her since her father cleaned out the house. She was in the process of putting on her shoes when the doorman buzzed.

“You’ve got a delivery down here,” he said.

She tossed her leather backpack over her shoulder and floated downstairs, still euphoric. Good sex could change a person’s outlook on life. Great sex could change a person’s personality. She beamed at the doorman, and he gave her a sidelong look of distrust, accustomed to her morning scowl. He pressed a set of keys into her hand and pointed outside.

A shiny new motorcycle was parked in front of the building. Black and sleek with a skull airbrushed on the gas tank, it was perfect. The words Tattoo Girl were stitched into the leather seat. Next to her dinged-up Honda, the Harley Davidson Sportster gleamed and beckoned for her to ride it. She stared at the keys in her hand and back at the motorcycle.

“That motherfucker.”

Elijah didn’t seem at all surprised to see her. He met her at the door of his penthouse suite barefoot, shirtless, wearing a pair of black silk boxers and a cocky grin. One of his hands stroked across his belly as he greeted her.

 
“Hey,” he said, and turned to pad across the cold marble floor to the breakfast laid out in the dining room. “Are you hungry? I’ve got a lot of food in here.” He moved from one silver chafing dish to another, lifting the lids and smelling the steaming food inside.
 

“You want to tell me what this is?” She stopped inside the door and held the keys in the air. He turned, one eyebrow cocked, and surveyed her from head to toe.

“Well, those would be keys,” he replied, “to a very expensive motorcycle.”

“Why would you do this?” she asked, filled with frustration when he turned back to the food.

“I don’t think you can drive it without them,” he said. Two fingers dipped into a chafing dish and pulled out a strip of bacon.

“I can’t accept this,” she said. He continued on his lazy parade around the dining room. “I don’t want it.”

With a dramatic sigh, he turned around again. His forehead puckered. “It’s a gift. You have to accept.”

She growled, frustration mounting, and dropped the keys on the table. “Elijah, here are the keys. I’m leaving.”

“It’s yours. Take it.”
 

“No.”
 

“No one says no to me,” he said, his voice growing louder. “Just take the fucking gift, Tasha!” he shouted. It was the first time she’d ever heard him be anything but apathetic. The expression on his face wrung her heart. Genuine distress clouded his features.

“What are trying to prove with this? I don’t want your fucking motorcycle or your money or anything else. You can’t buy me, Elijah.”
 

“I just want you to be my friend,” he said, eyes downcast.
 

“You are such a dumbass.” She shook her head. “I’m already your friend.”

***

The day couldn’t pass fast enough for Luke. After an hour of interminable torture by Mr. Belden, he fingered Caroline’s card and gave her a call. They set up a lunch meeting for the next week. He spent the rest of the hours updating spreadsheets and thinking about Tasha, wondering what she would wear to Felony, if she was sore from their marathon lovemaking. He hoped so. He hoped she ached in all the right places every time she moved and thought of him, where he’d touched her, and what he’d done to her.

She was already there when he arrived, wearing thigh-high vinyl boots with thick platform heels and tiny black lace shorts. From across the room, her smile warmed him and her eyes beckoned to him. She winked, sending his pulse into overdrive, before returning to work.

Heath sat at one of her tables. She bent down to speak to him, and he put his hand on her hip. Jealousy blurred Luke’s vision until he saw her take Heath’s hand and toss it back in his lap. The gesture spurred a sense of optimism unlike any he’d ever known.

“What kind of panties are you wearing tonight?” he asked her during their first break.
 

She leaned against the counter and stared into his eyes. Her hands were damp from washing glasses. She dried them with a towel. He watched, drawn to the slender shape of her forearms and the swirl of colorful lines over her fair skin. “Do you have some kind of lingerie fetish? You worry about my panties an awful lot.” She flicked him with her towel. It caught him on the thigh below his groin.
 

He flinched, grabbed the towel, and jerked her to him. “Yeah, I do,” he replied. Her eyes glowed soft and hazy green. “Your panties are the only thing that got me through work today.”

“How’s that?”

“Well…” He drew in a deep breath, checking to make sure no one was listening to the conversation. “I thought about the color and the style. Thongs are nice. I like the short things you wore the other night.”

“Boy shorts?”

“Yeah. Those.” The corner of her mouth ticked upward in the tiniest smile. “Sometimes I think of all the ways I want to take them off you.”

A few beats ticked by in wordless conversation. The way she licked her lips, her gaze flicking from his mouth to his eyes and back again, sent his pulse rocketing skyward. He smiled back, thinking his heart had never beat before this very second.