Tap (Lovibond #1) (11 page)

“Only once. But it was amazing.” Truly.

“Why only once?”

“Because I was an idiot. I said things I didn’t mean, and now I’m afraid I may have messed up with her.”

Wren scoots forward to place her cup of tea on the coffee table. “Maybe you should try kissing her again so you can see what happens. She could be waiting for you to steal her breath.”

I slide across the middle cushion of the couch so I’m closer. When I reach her, I rub my thumb over her bottom lip. “You think this beautiful girl would let me take her breath away?”

I hear her breath moving coarsely in and out of her chest. “I think you already are.”

She needs to know where I stand. “If I start, I won’t stop this time.”

Wren licks her lips and rubs them together. “Don’t make promises you don’t plan to keep.”

I lean in and suck her bottom lip. I’ve wanted to do it since I watched that dribble of beer fall from the corner of her mouth last night.

I taste a patch of sweetness leftover from her tea. This kind of chai tea, I like. “So sweet.”

I move my mouth over hers and our tongues fall into a rhythmic wave. It’s a seductive swirl of soft, wet velvet.
My God. I don’t know how I had the strength to pull away from her last night. In this moment, I’m powerless to stop.

The rhythm of our kiss is no longer slow and smooth. It’s erratic. Demanding. Unforgiving.

Wren pulls away from me, panting. “Breath successfully stolen.”

“I’m not done yet.” I drag my mouth along her jawline toward her ear, leaving kisses in its path.

Wren squirms when I kiss the sensitive spot below her earlobe. “Oh, that gives me chills all over.”

I love physical reactions beyond a woman’s control.
Such a turn-on; those can’t be faked.

I move my mouth down her neck and kiss her shoulder.
She’s such a squirmer. She’s nearly worked her way beneath me. Did she mean to do that?

I want to go further but I don’t know where her head is. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No.” She places her hands on each side of my face and drags her fingers through my beard. “Keep going.”

She doesn’t tell me the lines I can’t cross, yet I suspect she has some in place. Every woman does. “I need you to tell me what we’re doing, Wren.”

“You’re taking my breath away . . . in whatever form that may present itself.”
I think she’s giving me free rein. Maybe.

“Tell me to stop at anytime and I will.”

“You promised you wouldn’t stop this time.”
Holy. Shit.

“I did, didn’t I?”

She laces her fingers through the back of my hair and pulls me down. “I can pretend last night’s kiss didn’t happen. And I can also pretend
a morning fuck before I leave
didn’t happen either.” Wren just confirmed everything I need to know.
She’s giving herself to me.

I grasp the back of her thighs and pull her all the way beneath me on the couch. “Any boundaries I can’t cross?”

“None.” Ah . . . the beauty of fucking a bohemian. They don’t have rules.

“I like that a lot.”

“It’s been a while. Despite what most people believe about people like me, I don’t make a habit of freely giving my body away.” Something else I like.
I’m glad she doesn’t go around sleeping with just anyone. Maybe that’s sexist but I proudly own my feelings regarding it.

Wren is unlike any woman I’ve ever met. And certainly not like the ones I’m usually with.
This is going to be good. Damn good.

“How long has it been?”

“More than a year.” Shit. That’s a long time. It’s added pressure to make this spectacular for her. “You look shocked. Or scared. I can’t decide which.”

“It’s a little surprising.”

“I told you I didn’t need a man to feel complete. I meant that.”
I’m going to make her come so hard she’s going to know what she’s been missing.

I stroke the back of my hand down her cheek.
Soft. Smooth. Delicate.
“You’re beautiful, Wren.”

Most of the women I’ve been with are too skinny, and they hide behind masks of cosmetics. But not Wren. She’s an all-natural woman.

She’s very different from Bridgette, yet alike in many ways.

Both make me laugh.

Both put me at ease.

Both are so genuine.

I rub her hip and there’s actually something there to grab instead of skin-covered bone. Skinny isn’t attractive to me. I like curves and shape. Wren is everything I like in a woman.

She strokes my face again, running the tips of her fingers through my facial hair. “I love this, Brou. It’s my idea of manly beauty.” I’m used to being called Boudreaux. But I can get used to Brou if it’s coming from her.

“Manly beauty.” This is the second time she’s made a reference about me being manly. Makes me wonder if she’s ever been with a man she considers masculine.
Well, I’m going to show her how much of a man I am. And not just once.

I lower myself until I’m hovering over her. I press my lips to the side of her neck as I grasp the back of her thigh and bend it at the knee.
That’s it, baby. Wrap it around me.

I glide my hand up the back of her smooth leg until it’s inside her shorts. And panties.
Same song from last night. Second verse. But it’s palm against bare ass this time.

I wonder what she’d do if my fingers left the safety of her ass cheek and moved to that sensitive place between her legs.
Let’s find out.

It’s been a long time for Wren. I don’t want to rush this so I move slowly, gliding my hand up to her waist before moving it lower. She jolts when I touch her groin. “Sorry. I’m terribly ticklish there.”
Duly noted. I’ll use that to my advantage later.

I move my hand away from the bend of her leg closer to her center. “What about that? Better?”

“Yes.” The single word comes out in a soft whisper.
Time to take her breath away, as promised.

She pants as the tips of my fingers stroke her through the wet crotch of her panties.
I’ve barely touched her and she’s drenched. Physical proof of her arousal and desire for me. Fucking beautiful.

I push her panties aside and drag my finger up her wet center. She jolts when I graze her clit.
Given it’s been a long time, she’ll be more sensitive than ever. That’s going to make this even hotter.

I take my hand out of her panties and suck her slick moisture from my fingers. “Mmm . . . you are delicious. I can’t wait to taste you fully.”

She reaches up and rubs my bottom lip. “You have a dirty mouth.”

“I have a
greedy
mouth. Lucky you.”

I return my hand to its former place.
There it is. The hot spot.
“I want to make you come like this first. Because I want to see your face. Then we’ll move on to the other many ways.”

She slides her hand into the elastic-waisted pants and wraps her hand around my cock. Her fist moves up and down, stroking me from balls to tip. “I want the pleasure of watching your face when you come.” I see now Wren isn’t a greedy lover. She gives as good as she gets.

“I support that idea one hundred percent.”

I glide my fingers up and down her center, slow at first, but increasing as her breath becomes faster. Her moving fist mimics my rhythm exactly. Perfect synchronization. Until I change maneuvers.
You’re gonna love this, baby.

I press the tips of my fingers to the top of her slit, applying pressure to her clit, and move them from side to side. She’s slick so they glide back and forth with ease.
That’s it, Wren. Move your hips. Ride my hand.

Can’t say I’m not pretty much doing the same. I’m thrusting my cock pretty hard into her hand. “Damn, I’m already close.”

“Me too. Almost there.”

I move my fingers faster because I want her to catch me. And I know she has when she arches her back and stiffens. “Ohh . . . ohh . . . ohh.” I love the sound of those three words. But it’s not her screaming my name so my job isn’t done yet.

I move my hand faster. Harder. Quick jerks from side to side. I want her to know no one has ever made her come so hard.

“Ohh. Brou.”
She’s using her name for me. I love that.

I don’t know what it is about hearing a woman scream your name when she comes but nothing is a bigger turn-on. Even better when it’s the special one she’s chosen for you. “Say my name again. Louder.”

She grips my bicep hard with her free hand and moves the other up and down my cock faster. “Brou.”

“Say it louder, and I’ll take you over the edge.”

“Brou!”
Good girl.
That’s what I’ve wanted to hear from her.

She goes stiff, except for the involuntary jerks of her body as she convulses with pleasure. Very much the same reaction I’m having as I shoot off in her hand.

The only sound in the room is panting and moaning.
Proof of satisfaction.
“You took my breath away.” Breathless, and I haven’t even gotten inside her yet. But you wouldn’t know that by the twinkle in her eyes and smile on her face. It’s fucking hot to know I did that to her with my fingers.
I can’t wait to see what happens when I get my dick inside her.

“As promised.” I can’t remember a time I’ve been so vested in making sure a woman comes as hard as me. No . . . harder.

Wren in her sliced and diced Lovibond shirt yesterday was beautiful. Wren in her skimpy cami and shorts last night was sexy. But Wren post orgasm, wearing a smile so tender and sated, is stunning. Magnificent.
She
makes me breathless. And . . . hard again already.

I take my hand out of her panties and frame her head with my arms as I support my weight on my forearms against the couch. Loose strands of hair have escaped her braid so I work to smooth them back in place. “I’m afraid your hair is going to need a little work.”

She pulls the band from the end and lifts her hair, shaking it until if flows freely. “Better?”

“Gorgeous.”

We aren’t done yet. Not even close. “Let’s take this to the bedroom.” I want Wren naked and in bed beneath me. These clothes—especially the wet pants—and couch aren’t working for me. I need to be unrestrained for everything I want to do to her. “Are you okay with that?”

She nods. “Very okay.”

I get up from the couch and take her hands, helping her to her feet. We’re eye to eye. So close I can’t stop myself from cradling her face and planting a slow, deep kiss against her mouth.
I don’t know what this is I’m doing with Wren. She’s Stout’s sister. Forbidden fruit. He told me so. I said I wouldn’t touch her but I did anyway. My promise became a lie—another fucking lie. Deceit has never been in my nature but I couldn’t help myself. And now I don’t want to stop.

Wren jolts, and I do too, when we hear sounds at the front door. “Someone’s here.”

Well, fuck.

We break apart like guilty teenagers caught doing dirty things. At least five feet of distance separates us. Maybe six.
Too much.

It’s probably Porter coming by to issue a cockblock. He was pretty pissed off about the time I spent with Wren yesterday. I wouldn’t put it past him. Bastard.

I only have a few seconds to mentally prepare for whatever he is going to say.
Porter, she’s going home. I told you I was picking her up and taking her to her car this morning. Remember?

My mental preparation is all in vain when I see who opens the door.
What the hell is he doing here?

“Ollie,” Wren yells as she runs to him and throws herself into his arms, “I’m so happy you’re back.”

He looks at me with wide eyes over Wren’s shoulder and mouths, “What?”

I’ve had no communication with Stout in a week. He had no idea his sister was here. He’s completely in the dark concerning what I’ve told her about his alibi.
This could mean trouble for him. And me. I don’t think Wren is the kind of woman who tolerates lies.

“Look at you. Back from Memphis so soon?”

He looks like a deer in headlights. “Yes, but only briefly.”

“I guess your friend must be doing better? No longer threatening to do anything stupid after the divorce?”

Stout clears his voice. “He’s stable, but I’m going back. I just drove down so I could be at the festival for a little while today.” Shit. I guess he took a cab from the rehab. I hope she doesn’t decide to ask questions or snoop in regards to the company car, which doesn't exist.

“We’re glad to see you. Especially Lawrence. She was pretty disappointed when she showed up Friday to surprise you but found out you’d left town to see Raleigh.” I think I’ve given him a basic rundown of what Wren believes is happening.

She hugs Stout one-armed, holding the one she used to jerk me off behind her back. “You are such a good friend to give up being at the festival for your friend’s welfare.”

Fuck. The scent of her juices is on my hand. Maybe even my mouth since I licked my fingers after touching her. It’s
all
I can smell. Or does the room smell like sex? I can’t tell.

“Are those my pants?” Fuck.

Wren spins around. “Lucas spilled tea on his so I gave him those to wear while his jeans are in your dryer. I hope that’s okay.”

“I guess.”

Wren cues me with her hands to cover my crotch.
Shit. I register the enormous wet spot beneath my hands when I touch it. Fuck, hope Stout didn’t notice. He’s not stupid.

Whether he knows it or not, he doesn’t want these pants back.

Stout has two duffle bags on his shoulder. “You have dirty clothes in those?” Wren asks.

“Yeah. A lot.”

“Why so much?”

He looks at me and then back to Lawrence.
Sorry. Can’t help you with that one, dude.
“I just threw a bunch of shit in there. Some clean, some dirty. I wasn’t sure how long I’d be gone.”

“Ugh, Ollie. You’re such a guy. The dirty is going to make the clean stink. All of it will need washing now.” She holds out her hands. “Here. Pass those to me and I’ll get a load started for you.”

Stout kisses the side of Wren’s face. Right where I just kissed her but in a much different manner. “Thanks, sis.”

I sit on the couch and try to remember all the things I need to tell him.
Already covered his alibi. Now I need to cover mine. And check the couch for wet spots.