One in a Million (12 page)

When she only shook her head and muttered something he couldn’t quite catch, he shoved his fingers in his hair.

“Frustrated?” she asked mildly.

“Getting there, yeah. This makes me nuts. You make me nuts, and I don’t even know why.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I know,” she said, turning away. “It’s because I have that effect on men.”

Shit. He was truly the world’s biggest fuckup. “Callie, look at me.”

“No.”

Too bad. Hands on her hips, he turned her to face him. “I meant that you drive me nuts in the very best way.”

She narrowed her eyes. “There’s a best way for that?”

“Apparently. And you’re it.” Sliding his hands up her arms, he cupped her face, needing to make sure she heard what he was going to say. “I’m sorry I hurt you. It’s important to me that you know that. Hurting you is the very last thing I would ever want to do.”

She looked at him for a long beat—she didn’t have much choice as he was holding her head—but then she slowly shook her head. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

He opened his mouth and she made a sound of complete and utter annoyance, like he was driving her nuts as well, which was something to think about. “Okay, no talking,” he agreed. Finally something he could get on board with.

“Good,” she said.

“Good,” he said. Like the dog grateful for the slightest bit of attention, he stilled, not wanting to scare her off.

She was staring into his eyes and then her fingers were tight in his hair. “Not a single word,” she breathed against his mouth.

“Not one.”

She nodded and licked her lips, and then it was game over. Wrapping his hand around the back of her neck, he pulled her to him and covered her mouth with his in what started out as a soft exploration and ended up in two point zero seconds as a hard, demanding kiss that she met with equal fervor.

T
anner heard the sweet sound of Callie’s moan as she wrapped her arms around him and kissed him back. Music to his ears. They were both breathing raggedly when he pressed his forehead to hers.

“Not here,” he said.

“No,” she murmured, and grabbed her unicorn before heading off the pier at warp speed.

He followed. Not that she looked back at him. He knew that she had no doubt he’d follow her to the moon and back.

When they hit the street, he took her hand and the lead, pulling her along with him.

Still no talking.

Just heat.

So much heat he could barely think straight.

“Where?” she gasped half a block later.

Her apartment was closer but his was more private by far. “My place,” he said.

“Too far.”

They practically ran the last block to the warehouse. In the hallway, he waited, half expecting for her to go inside alone. In fact, if she was smart, that’s exactly what she would do.

And she did slam the door. But she yanked him inside first. She hit the lock and then turned to him.

“Callie—”

“Still not talking,” she said, and shoved him up against the door, her sweet, soft, curvy bod pressed up against his. He could feel her breasts, her thighs, and wanted to think he could feel the heat between them. “Callie—”

“Not one word.”

Since her mouth was now at his throat, her busy little hands at his shirt working the buttons as fast as she could, he couldn’t have talked if his life depended on it. He huffed out a low laugh and the little minx bit him. “Jesus.”

“You’re not paying attention,” she said.

“Trust me, you have one hundred and fifty percent of my attention.”

Had he ever been so hard? He couldn’t remember. Hell, at the moment he couldn’t remember his own name. Fisting his hands in her hair, he pulled her back to him and kissed her until he was damn sure she couldn’t possibly remember her name either.

When they surfaced for air he had one hand under her sweater cupping a perfect breast, the other gliding up the back of her thigh, bunching up her skirt as it went. And then he was beneath it, palming her very sweet ass. Her panties didn’t cover much and he squeezed an ass cheek, letting his fingers slip beneath the cotton.

“Wait,” she gasped. “Stop.”

He went utterly still, not even breathing. He’d known it was too good to be true, that she would change her mind. He was going to take it like a man. He was absolutely not going to cry—

She pushed him away and then ran around the room. She yanked open a drawer, pulled out an armload of…socks?

Yeah, socks.

He watched in disbelief as she continued racing around, shoving a pair or two of socks into each heat vent. There were four.

“There,” she said, straightening after blocking off the last vent. She dusted off her hands and came back to him. “Now.”

“Now what?”

“Now I don’t have to remember to be quiet.”

He stared at her.

“The vents,” she said. “There’s no insulation in this place. Becca, Olivia, and I can hear each other breathing. Or…” She grimaced. “You know.”

He felt himself grin. “You’re afraid you’ll be noisy.”

“No.” She went red. “Well, maybe. It’s been a while. I mean, I don’t want to be concentrating and forget to be quiet.”

He yanked her into him and nuzzled at the soft spot just beneath her ear. “Callie?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re not going to have to worry about concentrating.”

“I’m not?”

“No,” he promised.

With another sexy-as-hell breathy moan, she finished unbuttoning his shirt and shoved it off his shoulders. She took a very satisfying long look at his chest and abs and actually licked her lips as she reached for the button on his jeans.

“I still don’t want a relationship with you,” she said, and unzipped him. Before he could suck in some desperately needed air, her hand slid inside and took a hold of him.

“Works for me,” he managed to say. “Me either. Take off your clothes, Callie.”

“I mean it, Tanner. This changes nothing.”

“I hear you. I get you. In fact…” He tugged off her sweater and found a white tank top beneath it that revealed her nipples pressing hard against the thin fabric. Picking her up, he dropped her onto her bed and followed her down. “I not only get you, I got you.”

She squirmed and struggled, but only a little, and it was more like jockeying for the top position. He allowed her to have it for a moment, let her roll him to his back and hold him down and kiss him.

He couldn’t get enough of that. Her hair was in his face and he loved the scent of it, of her. He listened to her ragged breathing as her breasts pressed into his chest, her thighs snug to the outside of his. Tightening his hold on her, he pulled her in even closer.

Her body soft and eager, she whispered his name. With a groan he rolled, tucking her beneath him before he could lose his head again. “Still too many clothes,” he said, and began to strip her. It was like unwrapping the last, big, best present left under the Christmas tree. In a beat the tank was gone and so was her skirt, leaving her in just a plain white bra and panties, both skimpy on fabric, leaving his mouth dry, his body hard and aching.

“Pretty,” he said, and stroked the pad of his thumb over the tip of a breast. Lowering his head, he kissed her neck, then made his way to her shoulder, her collarbone, then dipped beneath the cotton to flick his tongue over a puckered nipple.

She gasped and arched up into him. He rocked his hips into hers, pressing her back down into the bed. Writhing beneath him, she made soft, sweet sounds that wreaked havoc on his tenuous control.

Stopping, he looked down at her. Her face was upturned, her lips parted, her eyes closed. She was a man’s greatest fantasy.

She was his greatest fantasy.

With Tanner’s mouth and hands on her, Callie couldn’t breathe—she simply couldn’t get enough air into her lungs—and she made a sound that must have resembled the one she made when choking on a doughnut because he lifted his head.

“Okay?” he asked.

She tightened her fingers in his hair. “Don’t stop!”

Flashing her a heated, wicked smile, he braced up on one forearm as he unhooked and slowly pulled her bra free, tossing it over his shoulder.

“So pretty,” he whispered again, and lowered his head.

Her fingernails dug into his shoulders now, sliding their way down his back to grip his very fine butt as she made a sound of dissatisfaction, pushing at his jeans.

When he didn’t stop kissing her to assist, she attempted to use her toes to shove his pants down.

Laughing at her, he kicked them aside and kept his mouth on her like he couldn’t get enough either.

She opened her eyes and looked at him. Lifting his head, he met her gaze and her heart clenched at the emotion there, raw and stark and unspoken but as apparent as the beat of her heart.

She started to say something, she had no idea what, but instead she touched. She had to. She rocked up to spread kisses over his broad shoulders, his throat, needing to get closer still, wanting to eat him up. But he was holding her down to do the same to her. Unable to get enough, she growled in frustration.

“You first,” he said. He brushed his lips across hers and though she tried to hold him close, he evaded her.

“Tanner—”

“I know. Christ, I know, but I’ve been dreaming of this. You’re not going to rush me, babe, not tonight—” His hands slid down her body, igniting fires along the way. Her head arched back as his fingers traced the edge of her panties, teasing, slipping between her legs. Then his thumbs hooked into the sides and he dragged the cotton slowly down.

She met his gaze, his eyes dark and heavy lidded with desire. She was riding a fine line here between wanting him to hurry and letting him make the most of the moment. But again he took the matter out of her hands by lowering his head.

Making the most of the moment then.

And that was the last thought she had for a good long time because he replaced his fingers with his tongue. She cried out and shamelessly ground her hips up toward his mouth.

Stilling her movements with his hands, he used his lips and tongue to whip her into submission.

And into coming.

Which she did, faster and harder than she could remember ever happening before. When she could breathe again, she tackled and straddled him like a rodeo star.

He grinned up at her. “You liked that,” he said.

“I did. And now you’re going to like this.”

“Whatcha got?” He broke off with a hiss of breath through his teeth when she nipped at his lower lip and ran her hands down his chest, savoring the feel and taste and scent of him.

Heady stuff.

Her heart was pounding so hard she could feel it echo in every part of her body as she trailed kisses on his skin. His collarbone. A pec. Ribs…His stomach. Oh, how she loved his abs. They quivered as she dragged her lips over them, continuing southbound until finally she was at eye level with the part of him she’d been craving.

“Callie—”

She took him into her mouth.

He gripped the bedding in fists and groaned. Lifting his head, he watched her from dark, heated eyes, his fingers sliding into her hair to hold it back for her. He let her have her way with him for a few minutes, until his hips were moving with her every stroke. Then without warning he pushed her back on the bed and covered her. She could feel him, hard and heavy between her legs, and she’d never wanted anything more. “Now, Tanner. Oh, please, now.”

But he didn’t move. In fact, he remained so carefully still that she forced her eyes open and stared up at him, hungry and desperate. “Why aren’t you oh-please-nowing me?” she murmured.

“No condom.” He said this from between his teeth, as if he couldn’t quite believe it himself.

She blinked and then, as the words sank in, shuddered in disappointment. “Damn it!”

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, and brushed his mouth along her temple.

“Don’t guys carry them in their wallets just in case?” she asked.

He let out a low laugh. “Not this guy. I haven’t had a just-in-case situation in a while.”

“But this is so unfair! I wanted a one-night stand! I—” She broke off and brightened as she remembered she had a small box of condoms in the bathroom among the stuff she’d brought with her from San Francisco. “Don’t move,” she said, and pushed him off of her to run to the bathroom. Naked and not caring, she dug through the drawers. “Here!” In triumph, she raced back to the bed wielding the box. “Don’t ask,” she said, and jumped back on the bed.

A quick study, Tanner snatched a condom, protected them both, and then, kneeling on the bed, pulled her to him so that she was straddling his thighs.

Guiding her hips, he slid in. Deep. Deliciously deep. “Oh,” she said in wondrous surprise, clutching his shoulders. He felt good, so good.

He rocked into her so that she was taking all of him now, his gaze never leaving hers as both their worlds came apart and then back together again, face to face, skin to skin, heart to heart.

When he could move, Tanner rolled to his side and pulled Callie in tight, stroking her still-trembling, damp body. “You still with me?”

“Mm-hmm.” She was practically purring, her face pressed into his throat, her breathing still erratic. “Loved that,” she murmured.

“Good. Because we’re going to do it again.”

“Was hoping you would say that,” she said.

S
omewhere in those dark, erotic hours, Callie fell back on the bed, gasping for air.

Next to her Tanner did the same.

“Holy cow,” she whispered. “We’re going to kill each other.”

Laughing low in his throat, he entwined their fingers and brought hers to his mouth. “Not a bad way to go.”

Agreed, she thought, and her smile faded in the dark. “And I meant it before. This changes nothing.”

“I’m not worried,” he said.

“Good.” She was no longer upset about what he’d said at the bar. She got it. She really did. After all, she didn’t want this to mean anything either.

But she knew better. And even though she really had meant it—that this changed nothing—she knew better there too.

A worry for the morning, she decided. And luckily morning was still hours away. With great effort and a moan she sat up and pulled on the first piece of clothing she came to—Tanner’s shirt—and together they hit her kitchen for sustenance.

In the harsh fluorescent lighting she ran a hand down her hair, fully aware that she must look like a complete train wreck.

Tanner caught her hand. “You’re beautiful.”

She let out a soft, self-conscious laugh.

“I mean it,” he said. “I like you like this.” He lightly tugged at a strand of her hair. “Hair wild.” He ran his fingers along her jaw. “Relaxed…” He met her gaze. “When your walls are down,” he said, “that’s when I can’t take my eyes off you.”

She shook her head but he cupped her face, held her gaze, and said her name in that voice that would’ve melted her panties off—if she’d been wearing any. “Callie.”

“Still don’t want to talk,” she whispered, and then she made them a snack of apple slices, cheese, and crackers.

And warm chocolate milk.

Tanner looked at the milk. “TyingTheKnot.com says a romantic late-night snack should include liquor.”

She sighed. “What did I tell you about reading my site?”

He flashed a grin that made her want him again. “You’re not practicing what you preach,” he said. “I find that fascinating.”

“It all leads to heartache and annoyance,” she said, and then winced when his smile faded. “Don’t listen to me,” she said. “I always end up saying things to you that I don’t mean to.”

He stopped her when she would’ve walked by him. Taking the plate from her hands, he set it down and then drew her in, eyes dark and serious. “I’m sorry I didn’t pay you the attention you deserved in high school,” he said. “I was an asshole.”

“No, you weren’t.” She moved to grab the plate again but he stopped her.

Stroking a finger along her temple, her ear, and then her jaw, watching the movement of his touch, he said, “You have a lot to offer, Callie. I don’t like thinking you aren’t going to ever try again to find the right guy.”

She shook her head, even as something deep inside her quivered. She didn’t know if it was because he clearly meant every word or because she understood he wasn’t talking about himself. Or maybe she was just hungry. “Why does it matter to you?”

He was quiet a moment. “You matter to me.”

The words were a little thrill, but they came with some of that pain he’d not wanted to cause her. “Let me get this straight,” she said slowly. “You want me to find a guy. The right guy.”

“Yeah.”

“Now?” she asked. “Because I should probably change out of your shirt first.”

He took her in from head to toe, slowly. “At the risk of sending mixed messages,” he finally said, yanking her into him, “you’re not going anywhere.” He slid his hands beneath the shirt, cupped a cheek in each hand, and hoisted her up until she wrapped her arms and legs around him. He carried her to the bed, which was now minus most of its bedding thanks to their extracurricular activities.

And oh, holy cow, they’d had some serious extracurricular activities. Like the most amazing extracurricular activities she’d ever had. The night was a bright one, a million stars and a near-full moon bathed them in a light blue glow.

Tanner went back for the snack plate. When he sat at her side, he set the plate down and pulled the shirt over her head, tossing it to the floor so that they were both once again naked.

“Hey,” she said, and lifted a hand to cover herself.

He took that hand in his and brought it to his mouth, his eyes dark as he studied her. “Snacks consumed after midnight have to be consumed naked. It’s a rule.”

“Where?” she asked. “Where is that a rule?”

“In the rule book. Damn, Callie,” he said softly, reaching out to feed her a bite of cheese, “you look good in nothing but moonlight.”

He ran a finger along a red spot at her throat, where he’d buried his face as he’d come. “I marked you.”

“Oh.” She covered the spot. “It’s okay, I—”

“You what?”

“You know exactly how much I liked what we did,” she said, picking up a piece of apple and cheese and stuffing it in her mouth. “I didn’t think I needed to stroke your ego by saying it out loud.”

He laughed and when he did, his eyes lit, his mouth curved, and he let her see everything he was feeling in that moment. It was even more intimate than being naked. As she stared at him, soaking him up, she…choked.

Still laughing, he pulled her closer and gently patted her on the back. “Sorry,” he said.

“Not your fault,” she said. “You look good laughing.”

She picked up the plate and busied herself making a selection. She’d never eaten naked before. It felt incredibly revealing and yet somehow freeing at the same time. Still, she was pretty sure she wasn’t ever going to be a nudist. How did one cook nude anyway? She’d have to give up bacon. And fried chicken. She really liked bacon and fried chicken—

“You’re talking to yourself because?” Tanner asked, relaxed and sprawled out for her viewing pleasure like he’d forgotten he was butt-ass naked. And why shouldn’t he? He looked amazing.

“I’m not talking to myself,” she said.

Looking amused, he grabbed the plate and returned it to the kitchen. Coming back to the edge of the bed, he was limping more than he had earlier in the night. She waited, holding her breath. Was he going to stay? Go? “Your leg’s bothering you,” she said softly.

He didn’t answer. Which was the same thing in testosterone-guy-speak as yeah, his leg was bothering him. And then she realized that he was waiting for her to make a decision on the rest of the night. Holding his gaze, she lifted up the covers in an open invitation.

He slid in and pulled her in close, his big body warm and solid against her.

“Can I get you something?” she asked, shivering in delight when he buried his face in her neck. “Advil? A hot pack? A massage?”

She felt him smile against her skin. “You want to give me a rubdown?” he asked, voice husky.

“Would it make you feel better?”

“Yes,” he said without hesitation. “A beautiful woman touching my body would make me feel a lot better.”

“Do you always make everything dirty?”

“Yes—” He broke off with a groan when she went for the tight muscles of his thigh and began to dig in, finding a lot of knots.

He didn’t say a word, just gripped the sheets in his fists, and unlike before, this clearly wasn’t in pleasure.

“Try to relax,” she murmured, and kept at the torture, doing her best to find every single millimeter of his leg that hurt.

“Jesus Christ,” he gasped as she kneaded a particularly hard knot until it seemed to finally ease somewhat.

Once it did, she lightened her touch and finally he began to relax. Her hands got sore but she kept at it, feeling her heart squeeze at the pain he must feel all the time. “Is it always this bad?” she asked.

“It’s good now, at least compared to how it was.”

She was quiet a moment, hating how he’d suffered. “The story goes that you nearly died.”

“Nearly doesn’t count except for in horseshoes and hand grenades,” he said. “And I was the lucky one, remember.”

She stroked his leg again, running her finger along the scar. “He was a good friend?”

“Gil? Yeah. Really good.”

“Can you tell me what happened?”

“A tank caught fire,” he said. “There was an explosion. We both landed in the water and I got pulled out first. By the time they went back for Gil, it was too late.”

His eyes were hooded from her now. She couldn’t imagine the pain of what he’d been through. “I’m so sorry.”

He reached for her hand, brought it up to his mouth, and kissed her palm.

“Is that why you came back to Lucky Harbor?” she asked. “To recover?”

He scrubbed a hand over his face and sighed. “The four of us were always going to come here sooner or later. We were saving up for a boat to start the charter business. But that night after I hit the water, pretty sure I’d just bought the farm, all I could think was that I’d be leaving my mom to fend for herself in her old age and Troy would have to grow up without knowing his dad. So we came sooner rather than later. Of course he’s not always thrilled now that he is getting to know me.” He smiled wryly. “He’s been a tough nut to crack. Apparently he’s also a whole lot like me.”

Callie let out a low laugh. “Yeah, he is.” She cocked her head and smiled. “I like him, though.”

He met her gaze, his own heating again. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she said.

“You like me too?”

She smiled. “Maybe.” Her smile faded. “But I’m trying really hard not to.”

He nodded. “You should stick with that,” he said softly.

Right. Because neither of them wanted this. “Don’t worry,” she said just as softly. “I plan to.”

Tanner woke to a soft, warm woman pressed up to his side like a second skin as she tried to slide out of the bed.

The woman who’d not blinked or flinched when, after tearing up the sheets, they’d reminded each other that this wasn’t going to become a real relationship.

He cracked an eye and watched as Callie moved with exaggerated care, attempting to separate their entangled limbs and—at least going off her expression—sneak away.

It wasn’t an easy escape. She had a leg between his, her arm tucked up into his armpit, and her breasts pressed inside his side.

She started with her leg.

He simply tightened his.

Her gaze flew up to his face and she squeaked when she saw him eyeing her.

“Oh,” she said, all casual-like, in complete opposition to the look of panic on her face. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

“Where you going?”

“Um…” She tried to free her hand that she had tucked in his pit but he tightened his arm on it. “Yeah, see, I need that to…”

He waited, but she just bit her lower lip and stared at his mouth.

This made him grin.

“Stop that,” she said, pushing at him. “Stop distracting me. Let me go.”

“This first.” He leaned in to kiss her but she slapped a hand on his chest.

“I have to…you know,” she said. “Do stuff.
Morning
stuff.”

He blew out a sigh, rolled to his back, and let her go.

She scrambled out of the bed before she seemed to realize she was naked. To his great enjoyment, she whirled around, clearly looking for clothes. Apparently nothing came to her immediate vision because she gave up and ran totally, gloriously nude for the bathroom, slamming the door on his laugh.

Damn.

That was a sight he could get used to waking up to. All those sweet, hot curves bouncing around. He’d be dreaming about it for a good long time to come. Then his gaze landed on the ugly purple stuffed unicorn on her dresser and his smile faded. He thought of the fragile, vulnerable look she’d had on her face standing in front of that game, wanting the prize.

And the reason behind her wanting the prize.

He’d wanted to make things better, wanted to make her smile, and he’d done that.

But he’d done more too, and he couldn’t help but think that even with her reassurances about what this was and what it wasn’t between them, he’d done the wrong thing by her yet again.

When she came out a moment later, he was sorely disappointed to find her wrapped in a towel.

Still the hottest thing he’d ever seen. He watched every move she made, wanting to fully take in this moment. Just in case he never got another moment like it with her.

Carefully not meeting his gaze, she strode to her dresser and pulled out some undies. Then she made his day even better by attempting to pull them on without revealing herself to him.

Sitting up to better see the show, he shoved a pillow behind his head and made himself comfortable.

When the towel dropped for the second time, he grinned from ear to ear. “So is there any fancy lingerie at all?” he asked. “That stuff you claim is such a crucial part of keeping the romance alive between the sheets—and out of them.”

“What did I tell you about reading my site?” she demanded.

He grinned.

“I mean it,” she said, pointing at him. “It’s all crap. Don’t read my crap.”

Laughing, he reached out and tugged her back down onto the bed, pinning her beneath him. When she struggled and sputtered, he grabbed her wrists and pulled them above her head.

She blew a strand of hair from her face. “What’s with all the
Fifty Shades
moves?”

He made himself at home between her thighs. “Did you do your…morning stuff?”

She blushed. “Yes.”

“All good?”

“Yes. But you’re cuffing my hands.”

“It’s so you won’t distract me from doing my stuff,” he said.

And then he proceeded to show her exactly what that stuff was.

In slow, great detail.

Twice.