Impulsive (6 page)

“And then what?” She tugged on the laces of her fly, releasing the knot with intentional slowness. His breath caught as she spread it open to reveal the butterfly tattoo above her waxed pubis. “See?” she said. “Nothing.” He lifted his gaze to meet hers and swallowed hard.

“I know we said only once, but …” His voice trailed off as he closed the gap between them in one long step.
 

She didn’t answer. Instead, she fisted her hand into his shirt and tugged him toward her. He slid his hands inside the tight stretch material of her pants and took a handful of her ass, squeezing each cheek. The ridge of his cock pressed against her belly. God, he felt good. Strong. Masculine. Wanting.

The tip of his nose skimmed along the curve of her neck, scenting her, punctuated by little nips of teeth. The smell of him, clean cotton mingled with soap, and the heat of his body drew her in. All she thought about was getting closer to him, curling into his solid body, and losing herself in him. She ran her hands beneath his shirt, up the ripples of his abs, and over the swell of his pecs. Curling chest hair pricked her palms. They would feel incredible against her bare breasts.
   

“I don’t want things to be weird between us,” she said, “but I liked the way you fucked me.” She nibbled along his ear, and he shivered. “It’s not a big deal. We can do this, right?” Maybe if she kept saying it, she’d start believing it.

“If that’s what you want, then I’m game,” he said. His eyes grew darker, watching her fingers stumble over the snap and zipper of his fly. “Do we need ground rules?”

“No rules,” she said, pulling him down onto the couch with her. She’d never been one for introspection or debating the possible outcomes of her actions. She knew what she wanted, how she wanted it, and she took it without regret or apology. She wouldn’t regret this, and she’d make sure he didn’t either.

“I knew there was a reason I liked you, Gretzky.”

He nudged his knees between her thighs, spreading her open for him. One of his fingers eased inside her where she was already wet from wanting him. He added a second finger to the first and smiled when she trembled from the delicious fullness.
 

She groaned, overcome by the pressure of his thumb on her clit and the friction of his fingers sliding in and out. He paused long enough to roll on a condom then sunk his cock deep into her. The weight of his body crushed her into the cushions, pinning her beneath him. His thumb continued to stroke between them, building the anticipation.
 

When he touched her, she couldn’t think. All she wanted was more of his skin against hers, more of his lips on her neck, more of his cock. He seemed to understand, preferring to murmur scandalous things while he pounded her. Sweet Luke was a dirty talker.

“So wet…tight pussy…fuck you all night…” His voice rumbled the words, making no sense and perfect sense all at the same time. “I want you to come all over my dick. Don’t hold back.”

The couch thudded against the wall with each of his strokes. Thank goodness the pulsating music of the bar camouflaged the sounds of their coupling. She dug her fingers into his hair and arched backward, meeting him halfway. He knew where to put it, the exact way to angle her hips, and he did it like a master.
 

She wrapped her legs tighter around his waist and sucked on his earlobe. A groan vibrated through his chest, and he redoubled his efforts. His obvious enjoyment turned her on even more. The way his hand slid over her breast and squeezed, his thumb flicking the piercing there and sending tiny electric shocks through her body. She’d never really shared a mental connection with a sex partner. Even after two years, Heath was a stranger, a booty call for lonely Saturday nights or a distraction when boredom sank in. Luke, on the other hand, felt familiar in the best possible way, like he knew what she needed before she asked for it.
 

 
“Do I feel good inside you, Tash?” Luke asked, bringing her thoughts back to him. “Do you like me fucking you?”

“Yes. I want you deeper,” she managed to say. He shifted his hips, angling her pelvis up. It felt so good, so deep, like he was claiming her, consuming her.
 

“Like this?” he asked. “Tell me how you like it. Tell me what you want.”

“Yes. Like that,” she whispered. “More. Harder.”

The tiny circles of his thumb sent her over the edge. He watched her let go then chased his own release. The way his eyes held on to hers when he came added a new layer of intimacy between them. This guy, her best friend, knew all of her secrets. He’d laid her bare with his hands and cock, leaving her raw and vulnerable. Tears pricked behind her eyelids at the torrent of emotions. Rough fingertips smoothed the hair back from her face. The tenderness in his touch raised flags of warning.

Oh, no.
Her heart fluttered, and the best kind of soreness throbbed between her legs where he was still inside her. It had been more than a meaningless fuck between friends. It had been a dirty, sexy, flirtatious fuck, and those were much more dangerous.
   

“We’d better get back out there,” Tasha said. She gave a small shove to Luke’s chest, missing his weight the second he rolled away, yet anxious to put distance between them.
 

“What’s your hurry?” he asked. A frown furrowed the space between his brows. “No one’s going to come looking for us.”

“I just don’t want anyone to find out,” she said, unable to look at him. She began to lace up her pants with shaking fingers.
 

“Why? Nobody cares if we’re sleeping together or not.” He hiked his jeans up over his delectable hips. “We’re not in high school.”

She studied her reflection over the small mirror near the coffee maker and smoothed away the smudges in her makeup. “I don’t want people to think we’re a couple.”

“And what if they did?” His fingers closed around her elbow and turned her to face him. “Since when do you care what people think?”

“I don’t,” she said with a little shrug. “Anyway, this isn’t going to happen again. It’s the last time.”
 

“Bullshit.” Mischief glimmered in his eyes.
 

“I mean it, Luke. We’ve got to stop.” Despite her confidence, her voice shook as she straightened the waistband of her pants. “You saw my mom and dad. They’re a fucked-up mess. I’m not going to be like them. You agreed on once.”

“Whatever you say,” he replied. A broad smirk curled the corners of his mouth. When she brushed by him, he smacked her on the ass, hard enough to sting and elicit a startled squeak. “I’ll remember that when you’re begging me for it later.”

She rolled her eyes but smiled back at him. Arrogant ass. And, as it turned out, a psychic ass as well. Before the night was over, they did it two more times. Once in the broom closet and again in the back hallway beneath the red exit light. After the last time, she clung to his shirt, forehead resting against his chest, with her heart hammering at warp speed. One of his hands traced the curve of her spine and came to a stop on the swell of her ass. Drowsy from exertion and release, she sighed and mumbled into his shirt.

“This is the last time,” she told him.
 

He kissed her forehead. “I know, baby. I know.”

Chapter 7

Tasha met her mother and sisters the next day for lunch while her father moved out his things. Everyone spoke at once, competing to talk over each other. Their manicured hands waved in the air, voices carrying across the dining room. They were loud, chaotic, and completely hers. Afterward, they went shopping at the local mall. Tasha’s head ached from all the chatter. By the time they returned to her mother’s house, pain seized her temples. Her sisters scattered, eager to get back to their own lives, and left her to deal with her mother alone.

“Aren’t you coming inside?” Felicia asked. “I’ll get you an aspirin and you can lie down on the couch for a minute before you drive back home.”

“I’ll be fine, Ma,” Tasha said. Luke had loaned his car to her for the drive, and she needed to return it, but the ache in her head begged for some rest.

After a brief internal debate, she followed her mom inside and stopped short. Her mother sucked in a horrified breath. The house was empty. Scraps of paper and a few dust bunnies littered the floor. Bright squares shadowed the walls where the pictures had been removed.
 

“He even took the toilet paper,” Tasha said after a quick search of the house.
 

“Some of my clothes are gone, too,” her mother said. Tears glimmered in her eyes. “My grandmother’s necklace. The diamond earrings he gave me for our anniversary. The bed.” A violent sob wracked her body. “Where am I going to sleep?”
 

Tasha wrapped her arms around her mother, holding her close, feeling helpless. The sight of her mother, broken and alone, tore at her heart. After a few minutes, her mother straightened and wiped away her tears.
 

Anger simmered underneath Tasha’s calm. What kind of bastard took the toilet paper? The house seemed shabby and unfamiliar without decoration. While her mother wandered through the ground floor, lost and bereft, Tasha rounded up a couple of lawn chairs from the garage. They sat in the kitchen and drank water from the paper cups left behind.

“That wasn’t the agreement,” Felicia said, voice shaking with hurt. “He was supposed to take his clothes and half the furniture.”

When her mother had calmed down, Tasha arranged for her to stay with one of her sisters until something could be worked out. She tried to call her father but he didn’t answer. She left him a scathing voicemail then drove home in a fury. By the time she reached her apartment, the anger had dissipated into bitter disillusionment.
 

How could he do something it? No matter how the relationship had ended, they had children together and ties binding them beyond marriage. Was he so shallow and uncaring? She dropped her aching head into her hands and cried until there were no tears left. Her family was broken, and there was nothing she could do to fix it.

Chapter 8

Luke signed off his work computer and said goodbye to his boss the second his shift ended. It was a shitty, dead-end job paying minimum wage without benefits. Although running errands and updating the company website seemed like a waste of his graphic arts degree, he was grateful to have a job in a city rife with unemployment. Working at Felony provided enough extra income to keep him afloat while he looked for something else. He’d moved from Chicago last summer to help Jack with the bar and had never intended to stay more than a few weeks. Now, he couldn’t imagine leaving the bar or his new friends or Tasha.
 

Thoughts of her consumed his day. The way she bit her lower lip before she came. How her skin smelled and the way her laugh stole his breath. All the different ways he was going to make her come when he got his hands on her. And those lips…

He’d never kissed her.
 

The realization struck him with a jolt. They’d fucked. His hands had been all over and inside her body, but the two of them had never kissed on the mouth. The need to claim this piece of her became a matter of utmost urgency. He hailed a cab and tapped out a quick text to tell her he was en route.
 

When she didn’t answer right away, his chest constricted. Where was she and whom was she with? Did she still have lovers? Every time one of them came into Felony, he had to leave the bar to keep from punching them. He’d seen the way their eyes followed her, the occasional brush of their fingertips over her waist, and the shared secretive smiles. Especially Heath with his tribal tattoos and long, flowing brown hair. Tasha had let it slip once that he had an apadravya in his dick. Luke had seen them kiss a few times. Jealousy burned in his veins.
Fucker.
God, how he hated that guy.

He found her on the roof, sitting beside the pool. Wisps of steam hovered above the water. She wore a tank top and bikini bottoms, legs and hair still damp from her swim. A small furrow formed between her brows when she saw him. She stood, avoiding eye contact, and grabbed a towel to dry off.
 

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you,” he said. Her gaze flicked up to his. Those hazel eyes slayed him every time, like a sucker punch to the gut. “Come here."

“No,” she said. “You come here.”

The wet fabric of her tank top clung to the small swells of her breasts. The chilly air raised her nipples to tight peaks, revealing nipple rings. He knew they were there, had felt them during their hookups, but this time there was a chain stretched between them.

“Is this for me?” He slid his hand over her taut belly until the chain grazed his fingertips and gave it a little tug. Her breath hissed out.

“It’s for me,” she said. Rebellion glowed in the depths of her irises.

“I like it. A lot,” he replied and tugged again. She groaned, her lips parting in a pant. His cock stiffened at the sound. He pressed against her. “See what it does to me?”

Another whimper escaped her, drawing his attention to her mouth. Her lower lip was absurdly full, like a ripe plum about to burst. He leaned forward, took it between his teeth, and gently pulled. Her skin warmed beneath his hands. He cupped her breasts, thumbing the nipples, rewarded by their tight peaks. Watching her face, he slid his hand between her legs and fingered the piercing there. A needy groan erupted from her throat, low and seductive.

“You said you’d show me this. I want to see it,” he said. He’d never seen her fully undressed, and he could only imagine how beautiful she was beneath her sexy clothing.

Everything below his waist engorged with need. He thirsted for her kiss, for the taste of her on his tongue and the heat of her body against his skin. Her hands skimmed up his torso, stopping at his chest, fingers spread wide. He took her mouth with his in a deep, primitive kiss. The taste of beer lingered on her tongue and something sweeter like honey. They dissolved in a tangle of moans and clutching hands. He bent her backward in an attempt to draw her nearer, unable to be gentle, consumed by his need to have her.