Necessary Restorations (The Walsh Series) (A) (22 page)

I started stroking, slow at first, but then he covered my hand with his and showed me what he needed. It was strange and filthy to watch both hands moving over him, but it was perfect, as if it was intended to be this way and everyone had been doing it wrong all this time. The little noises he made—the hums and sighs, and pants and moans—they wove through my nerves, stitching themselves into my skin.

His fingers dug hard into my shoulder, demanding that I feel his sweet agony, and when he groaned “Oh
fuck,
Tiel,” I was finished. This boy was mine, and I’d never stop being his.

He came with a shout, growling my name against my neck and dragging his teeth over my skin. He leaned into me, pressing me against the hard edges of the shelf as he spilled into my hand, through my fingers, onto the skirt of my dress. “You’re trying to make my mind explode,” he said. “You’ve never done a single thing that I expected.”

“Let’s not change that,” I said. “You need a little chaos.”

Dropping his head to my shoulder, he said, “I think that shook some brain cells loose,” he said.

I rubbed his fluid between my fingers, and along his shaft until he swore and hissed. “Something tells me you’ll be just fine without them.”

He produced a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped my hand clean in a quick movement, but this dress was paying a visit to the dry cleaner. The lace patterns meant the stain wasn’t egregious, but anyone who looked closely would notice. After gingerly folding the fabric—he didn’t say it, but I knew he needed a fix of hand sanitizer—he tucked it in his pocket. “Did you . . . ?” he asked.

“I didn’t think you cared.”

He fisted the shreds of panties, drew them down my legs, and stuffed them into his suit coat. As promised. “I do, because if you didn’t come,” he growled, “I’m shoving these panties in your mouth to keep you quiet and fucking you right here. Now
tell me.
”

Suddenly shy yet insanely aroused, I nodded against his chest.

“Good. I promise to pay more attention next time.”

“Will that be soon?”

Sam laughed and smoothed my skirt into place. “We’re leaving
now.
”

I couldn’t control the fiery blush as Sam guided me downstairs and through the crowd. It seemed like there was a giant sign over my head, announcing to the world that my underwear was in this man’s pocket and it was there because he fucking
ripped
it off me while he ordered me around.

And I liked it. God, I couldn’t explain
why
I liked it, and a fraction of me didn’t want to like it, but fuck . . . I wanted to obey his every command.

We were almost to the door when I heard a voice call to him. “Hey, Sam!”

Turning, I was confronted with one of the most beautiful women I’d ever seen. Tall, slim, more hair than I’d ever know what to do with, and she was walking straight toward us.

Sam turned to me, his eyes wide and a little panicked, and he squeezed my hip. “Allow me to apologize for this in advance.”

PANTIES WERE POWERFUL. Seeing them, touching them, ripping them. But none of that quite met the level of knowing they were nestled inside my pocket and Tiel was bare under that skirt. The skirt I came all over.

Almost powerful enough for me to tell Andy I’d talk to her on Monday and take my girl home for the night.

She smiled at Tiel, and flashed a confused glance in my direction. “Hi,” she said. “I’m Andy Asani.”

Tiel shook her hand, and I saw all the questions and doubt behind her eyes. In that instant, I wanted to start over with her, and never mention any of my whorish history because now it was living and breathing between us like a goddamn parasite. I couldn’t even try to evolve because I’d sold her on the asshole version of me, and shoved it in her face every chance I got.

I made it this way, and I knew that. I was the one drooling over every pair of tits that entered my line of sight even though Tiel’s were the only that interested me.

I was the one who insisted on all the comments about casual sex, as if I needed her to know I was hot shit in my stupid little universe.

I was the one who didn’t mention I hadn’t thought about anything casual sex since she dragged me into an alley and breathed new life into me with her kiss.

“Andy, this is Tiel Desai.” To Andy’s credit, she didn’t show an ounce of shock over seeing me with a date. If there was one thing I could count on Andy for, it was equanimity. “Andy is an architect. She works at the firm with me and she’s with . . .” When Patrick rounded the corner with a bottle of beer in one hand and a martini glass in the other, he skittered to a stop and stared at us. He wasn’t as reliable with the equanimity. “Patrick.”

He smiled at Tiel, his eyes darting between her face and where my hand was wrapped around her hip. If she mutated into Mystique right then and there, it probably wouldn’t have surprised him more than seeing me with a woman.

“Patrick,” Andy said, collecting her drink from his hand. “This is Tiel. She’s here
with Sam.
”

I scratched the back of my neck and sighed. My dick was still wet from coming in her hand, and my body still wanted to consume her, but I also wanted to show her off. I needed to prove that someone as intelligent and stunning as Tiel would want me, even if me and my bucketful of crazy weren’t close to worthy of her.

“Tiel. Hi,” he said. He turned to Andy. “Am I supposed to know what’s going on here?”

Shaking her head, she sipped her drink and jabbed her elbow into his ribs. “No, honey, you’re fine,” she laughed.

Patrick and I stared at each other, his brow furrowed, and I counted the seconds in my head, just waiting for the right moment to get the fuck out of here. But he wasn’t having it. “Is there anyone I should talk to?”

There were fucking
panties
in my pocket. These were not the conditions for a business discussion.

I waved down the hall, impatient. “Larson and DeCosta are under the impression they own the Andover planning and zoning boards, and Ciccannessi suggested he’s tearing down some abandoned Cape Annes in Newton next year and building condos. Seems like a tragic idea to me, but that’s Shannon’s domain, and she’s busy with her disappearing act every other weekend.”

“Shannon doesn’t have to be the only person who handles shit, and this is the only time she’s been away since Labor Day weekend. And we’re here,” he said, nodding toward Andy. “We can handle it.”

“Right, because the two of you are so fucking chatty,” I said.

“Do you have time to restore some Queen Annes? We can take them off Ciccannessi’s hands right now,” Patrick said. “I’m the last person who wants to see another condo built, but as far as I can tell, you have enough projects for the next forty-seven years.”

“Matt might have some time coming up,” Andy said.

Tiel’s fingers moved down my back and under my suit coat, closing around my shirt. That was when I realized she hadn’t said a word since I had her backed against those bookshelves. She had no clue what was going on.

“Tiel’s a conservatory-trained violinist,” I said. “And a professor at Berklee.”

“Adjunct,” she said.

Patrick frowned, not understanding the sudden shift in topic, but Andy—thank God for Andy, because Patrick was a socially inept wildebeest—knew where I was going. “What do you teach?”

“Music therapy.” I wanted her to elaborate, to talk about the kids she worked with and places she’d performed and her online viewership, but then I caught the icy glare she was shooting at Andy. She held it another moment, then glanced at me and said, “You’re busy here. I’m going to head home.”

“No, you’re not,” I said. “If you’re going anywhere, I’m going with you.”

Her eyes darted to my chest, knowing her panties were stowed in my interior pocket. “Don’t worry,” she said. “You can catch up with me later.”

She waved to Patrick and Andy, and hurried through the vestibule. There was no way in hell I was letting this turn into a repeat of last weekend. “I don’t care what you do about Ciccannessi,” I said. “I’m with Tiel tonight.”

“Just you wait a second,” Andy said, holding up her palm. “What the hell does that mean? What the hell is going on? Who
is
that and why does she hate me?”

“I’ll explain on Monday,” I said, and jogged through the door and down the gravel driveway to where she was weaving through cars and small snow banks. I caught up to her, but she didn’t seem interested in acknowledging me. “I clearly recall telling you not to go anywhere. Get your sweet ass in the car so I can take you home.”

She shook her head and continued down the path. “Go back inside. Do your thing. Buy your houses or whatever.”

“I didn’t fuck her,” I said, and Tiel froze. “I know you’re thinking it, but you’re wrong. She’s with my brother.”

“But you’ve thought about it,” she said.

“No, actually, I haven’t once thought about it. My brother is in sick, crazy love with her,” I said. “I know you think I’m a depraved dog and I’ll fuck anything that moves, but I’m not. You’re the only woman I’ve touched since the elevator.”

She hooked a glance over her shoulder. “Really?”

It was mostly true. All this fucking honesty was more difficult than I anticipated. “Okay, this girl grabbed my dick when I was out last Monday, but nothing happened.”

“Oh my God,” she groaned, and continued down the driveway. “I knew it. Why do you have to be such a damn whore?”

I followed, and caught her around the waist before she reached the main road. “I don’t want any of that to matter anymore.” I kissed her neck and earlobe, and she slowly relaxed into me. “I want to take you home. I want to undress you. I want to kiss every inch of you. Twice. I want you in
my bed,
and I want to be inside you.”

She covered my hands with hers and nodded. “So, what? You’re finished with hook-ups? You’re just over it?”

“You’re too hilarious and gorgeous for me to want anything else,” I said, and I meant it.

“Stop it with the smooth lines,” she laughed. “I don’t buy it. That shit doesn’t work on me, player.”

“Then don’t buy it, but know this—I have a pocketful of my own jizz right now, but since I’m fucking obsessed with you, it didn’t even cross my mind to make you handle that situation. If I wanted a hook-up, I’d have you on your knees licking it off.”

“Aww,” she cooed, and shifted in my arms. “There’s the perv I know and love.”

“Never left,” I said, and kissed her. “Can I take you home now?”

“To watch
Pitch Perfect,
right?”

There was a time in my life when I understood women, and that period ended when I met Tiel. I didn’t know whether this was a trick question or a new form of foreplay, so I nodded and guided her up the driveway. I’d untangle this when I had her behind closed doors. “Of course, Sunshine.”

I started talking the minute the car started, and didn’t stop the entire ride to her apartment. There was a furious energy burning inside me, and unloading every random thought was the only way to keep from sliding my hand under her skirt or dragging hers to my crotch.

I recounted my frustration with several architects, bemoaning their guideline-driven rigidity and refusal to consider the possibility that old techniques might not be the best techniques. I commented on everything from the host’s bowtie to the excessively large cheese spread, and passed some judgment on the early use of poinsettias and holly as decoration at the mansion.

If she only knew the power wielded by those panties.

The best parking spot was more than half a block from her apartment, but she insisted she didn’t want me dropping her off at the door. As we walked in silence, our hands linked, heavy, wet snow started falling. I held out my palm and watched the flakes dissolve against my skin.

“It isn’t quite the same as rain,” Tiel said. “But maybe you can kiss me in it anyway.”

Part of me wished she’d forget everything I’d said that sweaty night in September, but another part of me was thrilled I was the one checking off that list. I stopped and she pirouetted—she was so fucking cute when she did that—right into my arms. When my lips met hers, it was a moment that seemed to stretch on and on.