Just Her Luck (65 page)

He paused, the clock chiming in the other room to emphasize the late hour.

He cursed under his breath and continued.

“Damn my dumb-assed hide,” he let me go and backed up, scrubbing at his face tiredly. “We were both hurtin’ for Ruthie, I love her too and I just… I thought… I was just tryin’ to comfort you.”

He was half way out of the kitchen before I stopped him.

“But why, Reeve? What’s in it for you?”

“Fuck if I know,” he grumbled, not stopping, not looking back, shaking his head in complete exasperation, “Fuck if I know.”

I picked up my things off the floor, unsettled by it all, and checked the house phone, calling back all of the guys.

Apparently they’d been calling, incessantly, while Reeve and I had been playing house.

I called Bo back first, smiling wistfully when his gruff voice came on and wanted to know which part of Reeve I wanted him to remove first, demanding to know what he had done.

I love my guys
, I thought gratefully, letting them help me forget for a little while, pretend nothing was amiss in my world.

I didn’t tell them about Ruthie, not wanting to spoil their trip.

I’ll tell them when they get back
, I promised myself.

*****

It was late or super early, however you choose to look at it, when I heard a loud thump.

I popped up and stumbled out of bed, on alert.

Another loud thump sounded off from somewhere inside the house and I crept to the door, grabbing up Thatcher’s old baseball bat out of my closet.

I remembered my cell phone and grabbed it too, dialing the house phone.

It rang three times before Reeve picked up.

“Hello?”

“Reeve, listen, I know it’s…”

“Did you leave me, gremlin?” he asked slowly, a clinking sound in the background.

Clip, clip, thump.

“Reeve? There’s a…”

I heard the ‘clip’ ‘clip’ on his line and the ensuing ‘thump’ both on the line and in the house.

“Reeve?
What are you doing?”

“Hmmm…” he asked distractedly, the sound of liquid sloshing around coming over the line. “I’m fixin’ it.”

“Fixing what?”

He didn’t answer.

I took note of how his voice seemed kind of off.

Frowning, I hung up on him and set the bat down, walking out of my room to ease down the hall.

Well, he isn’t in his office and I don’t hear any noise coming from upstairs…

The ‘clip’ ‘clip’ ‘thump’ came again.

Ah.

Following the odd sounds, I hurried in their direction, not quite ready, exactly, for what I found.

I found Reeve in the kitchen, shirtless, his impressive chest out on display, his muscles tensing and flexing as he sloppily mopped the floor.

I noticed, off handedly, that the jar from the flowers was on the top of the trash bin and the counters were covered in soapy suds.

The mop bucket looked like it had been knocked over several times, soapy water all around him in a puddle.

Unaware of my presence, he kept clip clippin’ away as he hit the bucket with the mop repeatedly, sloshing water and suds everywhere, his shirt in the floor, soaking up some of the water.

“Reeve?” I gawked at him, wondering when exactly he’d lost his friggin’ mind.

It’s like three in the morning!

And, oh, god, is he a terrible cleaner.

Spotting me, he grinned and dropped the mop with a loud clank, abandoning it to make his way over to me.

His eyes were large and slightly glazed, his body loose and relaxed, a genuinely happy smile gracing those firm, sexy lips.

A total contrast to my uptight, tight assed, perpetually scowling grump.

Looks like ol’ Reeviekins is clearly a little happy with the sauce.

I glanced around.

A bottle of whiskey was on the island counter and I kept glancing back and forth from it to him.

“You didn’t leave me,” he sighed happily, almost walking into me, gripping my waist to pick me up, despite my initial protests, his lips closing firmly over mine, making my lips tingle and my flesh sizzle as his tongue slipped in and stroked mine.

“Mmm…” he murmured, his hands sliding down to my ass, gripping it firmly, massaging the rounded cheeks through my panties.

He ground himself into me, his thick, jean clad erection smacking my clit, and then it really dawned on me that I was only wearing a pair of panties and Bo’s favorite button up.

“I like you like this,” he groaned, turning us so he could slide my ass on the soapy counter top.

The cold water doused any flames he might have kindled, a dose of wet, soapy cold water to put me back where I needed to be.

What the hell am I doing making out with him when he’s obviously not in the right frame of mind at the moment?

What the hell am I doing making out with him at all?

Have I lost my marbles?

“Nope,” Reeve answered, growling against my lips, his hands slipping inside my panties now, trying to scoot me closer the edge. “We’ve just finally come to our senses, that’s all, gremlin. God, I want you.”

Shit! I must have said that out loud!

“Reeve?”

Releasing my ass, he gripped my shirt and yanked, sending buttons scattering everywhere, plinking and pinging as they skittered about, moving swiftly to part my shirt and cup my breasts, sucking one rounded nipple right into his hot, welcoming mouth.

“Reeve!” I squeaked, gripping his head, trying not to arch into his greedy, lust inducing drags on my breast.

“We… we… we… need to talk… you’re not…
Reeve…”
I moaned his name, squirming under his touch when his hands slid back to my ass and tried to remove my panties.

“No more talking. I hate talking. Less talking. More fucking,” he mumbled around my breast, flicking my ringed nipple with his tongue, his eyes half-lidded and swimming with that dark, slumberous expression he gets when he’s ready for a rough, hard ride.

I shivered involuntarily, taken in by the hungering promise in those smoky hazel depths.

My wet panties sliding down my legs registered at the same time as he set me back down and my bare ass hit the cold tiles of the counter top.

I shook my head and stilled his hands when he reached for the fly of his jeans.

“Mmmm, that’s even better. You undress me,” he panted, pushing my hair off my shoulder to lean in and bite and suck at my neck.

He thrust into my hand, and I gasped out.

“Wait! No!” I shouted.

He stopped and pulled back, looking at me, puzzled.

“That’s okay, I can take my own pants off,” he said easily.

Before I could say anything else, he dropped his pants, boxer briefs and all, and stood before me, swaying just a smidgeon, hands on his hips as he very proudly displayed himself.

And what a display…

His cock bobbed happily in front of him, jerking when he caught me gaping at it, at him.

Anything I was about to say was lost to me, my mouth drying up, right along with my voice.

I wanted to whimper out loud.

Then lick him all over.

And then fuck his ever loving brains out-but definitely licking first.

My eyes did another sweep, a slow once over, unbidden, unable to help myself.

I slapped my hand over my mouth, just in case I’d said that out loud.

From the frown on his face, from what he probably thought was an unimpressed expression on my part, I knew I hadn’t babble out loud again.

I never thought I’d say this… but that farmer’s tan on him is so fuckin’ sexy.

It helps frame all the good bits

What am I saying? Every bit on this man is a good bit.

And I’ve totally lost it if I’m contemplating taking advantage of a drunk man in the kitchen!

Genevieve! Wake the fuck up!

I mentally gave myself a slap.

Clearing my throat hard, ashamed of myself and the bullshit I was actually considering going through with, I slapped the two halves of my shirt shut and slid off the counter.

“We should get this cleaned up and, uh, get you to bed,” I mumbled awkwardly, motioning for Reeve to put his pants back on.

“You don’t want me?” Reeve asked gruffly, not moving an inch.

The slide off the counter had brought me closer to him, almost touching, his cock brushing my shirt as he held his ground.

Erm, this isn’t awkward. Nope, not at all.

It’s so close I could almost touch it, feel it. Grasp it and…

NO! He’s inebriated, you dumb ass! Get ahold of yourself!

If you go through with it he’ll hate you tomorrow!

He gripped my chin and studied my face, bringing me closer, almost to my tip toes in front of him.

“You want me. Don’t deny it,” he purred, raining soft kisses all over my face, his other hand stroking my jaw and neck suggestively, massaging at my collar bones before he pinched a nipple between his forefinger and thumb.

He reeled me in, his hand running along the seam of my ass before he gripped it to lift me up.

“You’ve been drinking, Reeve. I won’t have sex with you like this.”

Cursing viciously, he set me down and glowered down at me.

“Then when, woman? I’ve been missing you somethin’ awful and I don’t see why I have to wait any longer to claim your sweet ass.”

My eyes widened at his blunt statement, licking my lips a little.

He’s so sexy when he gets all grumbly and his accent thickens, husky and inviting to me- besides the gruff rumbling.

“You don’t believe me? Well, I don’t care. I’ll just have to prove it,” he grunted.

He would have pulled me back in, tried to rope me into having crazy, dirty, monkey sex with him right here in the kitchen, but I had enough composure to hold back.

Barely.

I put a staying hand on his chest and looked up at him.

“You don’t know what you’re saying, Reeve. You won’t mean any of this when you wake up in the morning. I refuse to believe you’re saying what you really mean right now. You’re too…” I waved my hand at him helplessly.

“Too drunk?” He grinned, chuckling, trying to steal a kiss.

His erection rubbed enticingly against my belly, and I gasped, my sex clenching as it branded my flesh.

“I aint
that
drunk,” he muttered.

“You’re too drunk for me,” I told him firmly, stepping back.

He sighed heavily and looked down at his erection.

“Sorry, fella. Looks like she aint puttin’ out.”

“Reeve!”

“What?” he asked, yawning, picking up his pants.

He clutched them in his hand and would have picked up his bottle of booze if I hadn’t snatched it up off the counter first.

“You’re not playin’ fair, darlin’. At least give me
somethin’
.” His well put upon sigh reminded me of Thatcher, making me laugh.

“I’ll give you somethin’, alright,” I muttered, a half grin on my face as I walked to the sink and poured the rest of his happy sauce down the drain. “A swift kick in the pants.”

He sidled up behind me and wrapped his arm around my waist, the other still holding up his britches, nibbling at my neck as I rinsed out the bottle and put it in the strainer to dry.

I batted him away and looked at him meaningfully from over my shoulder.

“Are you always this touchy feely when you’re drunk? Or am I just lucky?” I shook my head at him, snorting.

Nudging him out of the way, I moved past him and pulled out a chair, pointing for him to sit down.

“Changed your mind? Come hop on up.” He spread his legs and patted his knees, motioning for me to just jump him standing up.

The hopeful note in his voice wasn’t lost on me.

I rolled my eyes.

Men.

He grunted when I slapped his gut and motioned at him again.

He sat down in it and watched, disappointed when I proceeded to clean up his mess instead of ‘hopping up’ for a ride.

“Not even a little dance, prison bait?” he taunted.

He chuckled at the black look I gave him.

That’s it! I’m hiding all of the fucking alcohol, just as soon as I put his ass to bed!

I’m afraid to walk him up there before I clean up this mess if
this
is what he does unattended.

“You have a beautiful bottom, Vieve. Did you know that? All soft and round and
mmm.”

I turned, bending over the mop bucket, wringing out the sponge I was using to find him staring at my bum, his eyes glued there.