Body of Work (15 page)

“Totally worth it.” She peeked back at him, her shy smile a complete contrast to the woman who’d dug her nails into his butt and begged him to fuck her harder only minutes earlier. “What kinds of trees do you have in your yard—maybe we should, um, do some comparisons.”

Might as well put a bow around his heart and hand it over to her right now. “No yard, I live in an apartment building. But I know a trail with some ancient black walnut and chestnut trees. Not one of those civilized paths with the level asphalt and conveniently spaced garbage cans. This place has real terrain and not much human traffic.”

“A hardcore hiking trail?” She beamed, and it lit up the entire room. “I’d love that, with or without the bark burn.”

“So would I. Guess we have a date for next Sunday—a hike and possibly some wilderness sex. After I’ve run you through boot camp in the morning.”

“Sounds perfect.”

Shit, and he thought he couldn’t fall any further in one day. Wrong. “But that’s next week’s plan. Tonight, I’m going to finish taking care of your pretty little ass, then I’m going to take care of the rest of you. I hope you don’t mind being serviced all night long.”

“It’ll be a hardship, but I’ll tough it out.”

“That’s my girl.” Presumptuous—maybe. If she wasn’t his after the way they’d connected out back, he’d keep working until she was. He shifted slightly, holding the compress on her bark-burned backside while reaching around to prep a second, freshly cooled cloth. “Long arms for the win,” he said as her eyes tracked his movement.

“I like that you’re big.” A pink blush flooded her cheeks. “I didn’t mean your—you know.”

Both of them looked down at his
you know
.

“Not big enough?” As if commanded, his cock stood a little taller. Good boy.

“Oh god, yes. It’s fine. Better than fine. I love it.” So long, pink cheeks, hello, red.

He couldn’t have held back his smile if he tried. “I don’t think I need to tell you the feeling is mutual.” He hung the damp cloths over the faucet, caging her while he leaned in, temptingly close. “I’m going to get some food ready for us, because if I stay here one more minute, I won’t be able to resist showing you exactly how mutual that feeling is.”

Alone in the bathroom, Cassie turned her back to the mirror and looked over her shoulder. Brian hadn’t exaggerated when he said she had bark burn. Her butt went from bright pink to red at the tops of her cheeks, with a few souvenir scrapes to show for their backyard adventure. She touched one of the scuffed areas gently. Ooh, tender. The redness wouldn’t last, but the memory would. Always. Maybe she’d get lucky and their relationship would stick too.

The skintight jeans weren’t going back on, that much was certain. She peeled off her last remaining article of clothing, did some freshening up, then slipped into her short robe. The satiny fabric soothed her hot spots. No regular clothing would feel this good against her sensitive skin. Besides, this robe had served her well that first night.

She cracked the bathroom door and listened, then followed the noise to its source—the kitchen. Brian’s back greeted her. If he heard her approach, he didn’t let on. Her bowl of salad was on the counter to his left. The end of her wooden chopping board was visible under his arm, but not whatever he was slicing and dicing. He scooped a handful of something pale from the surface and tossed it into the salad.

Crumpled butcher paper sat on the counter. Must’ve been from the bag he’d brought, because she never bought anything that came wrapped that way. Too pricey. He didn’t seem like a man with expensive taste, but really, she had no clue. For all their conversations over the past couple months, he hadn’t given up much information. Mostly, he’d asked questions about
her
. In hindsight, they’d both avoided spilling a lot of personal details. She’d certainly had her reasons, but what were his?

She wanted to know everything. Time to give up lying to herself where Brian was concerned. She’d take a
strictly for fun
relationship with him, but she longed for much more. A couple minutes of watching him in her kitchen, looking as if he belonged there, and that longing swerved into the dangerous territory of wanting to share her life with him. Too quick to trust—that’s how Nana had described her on more than one occasion. Nana was right.

She shook her head. Her heart was a goner, that was a given. If he crushed it, she’d recover eventually. But that’d be all she’d lose. Anytime she had the urge to hand over her spare key, she needed to remind herself of the devastation Lance had caused with his betrayal. Brian had stumbled upon her secret the other day, but until she knew him a lot better, she had to be cautious. Panties down, sure, but with her guard up.

“Hungry?” he asked without turning.

“Always.”

He laughed, obviously catching the insinuation she’d intended. Emboldened, she tipped her chin up. Donned her best authoritative voice.

“Shirt off, please. I’d like to ogle my beef while he cooks for me.” There, she’d done it. Verbally claimed him. Sure, her heart might jackhammer out of her chest and splat onto the white-tiled floor, but what the heck.

Another laugh, and still he didn’t turn. Just set the knife aside and peeled off his t-shirt, tossed it over his shoulder at her and went back to work.

Oh god, what an incredible back. Beautifully broad across the shoulders, tapering to a trim yet manly V at his waist. Rippling muscles left to right, top to bottom. And his tattoo. She’d only gotten glimpses of it by candlelight. Done entirely in black with dozens of twisting, intertwined lines, it spanned most of his left shoulder blade. The Celtic tree of life, he’d told her when she asked. Now that he’d given her a tiny glimpse into his upbringing, it fit perfectly.

She drifted over and stood behind him, traced the looping lines that both circled and became the tree. “How old were you when you got the tattoo?”

“Thirty.”

“Just last year?” She leaned on the counter beside him, as close as she could get without hindering his food preparations. “I expected you to say eighteen or twenty—after you realized how awesome your Scottish heritage was, or something.”

“The tattoo is more…personal.” He continued chopping cheese into small cubes. Didn’t smile, didn’t frown. Didn’t expand on his answer.

“Okay, gotcha. Next question. What’re you doing to my salad?”

The knife went down again. He wiped his hands on a dishcloth and angled his body toward her. “Adding stuff. What do you mean, gotcha?”

“You’d rather not tell me about the tattoo. Message received, moving right along.”

“I’ll tell you anything you want to know, but there are some things you may wish you didn’t know, once they’re out.”

“Sounds ominous.”

Those massive shoulders shrugged. “I’ve made mistakes.”

“Who hasn’t?”

“What’s your biggest mistake?”

“You always do this—turn the questions back on me.”

“Do I?”

“Your sexy beard doesn’t hide your smile, so you know.”

“Maybe I should grow it bushier.”

“Don’t you dare, it’s perfect the way it is.” She reached out and stroked the short dark-ginger hairs, running her thumb over his full bottom lip in the process. The beard, his mouth, every other part—all exactly right. She plucked a cube of cheese from the cutting board and popped it in her mouth, buying a smidgeon of time to organize her thoughts. “My biggest mistake was trusting my fiancé with something I should have kept private.”

“Private from the person you planned to spend your life with? I wouldn’t get serious, let alone married, if the relationship couldn’t handle full disclosure.”

“I found out the hard way that it couldn’t. I won’t put myself in that position again.”

He crossed his arms over his bare chest, making muscles pop out all over the place. “Commitment and marriage are off the table for you now?”

“God, I hope not. But I plan to be a lot more careful before I put on a ring again.”

“I feel the same way.” His stance relaxed and he reached into the shopping bag for more packages. “Though I’ve never gotten to the ring stage with anybody. Thought I was close once,” he tilted his head toward his back, “but I ended up with the tattoo instead of wedding plans.”

“I’m sorry…but I’m not.” She smiled at his chuckle and pilfered a slice of cucumber from the salad, savoring its refreshing coolness on her tongue while she watched him prep baguette slices with a creamy cheese mixture, spices and smoked salmon. “Tell me about it?”

“The tattoo, or the almost-fiancée?”

“Either. Both. I’ll take whatever you’re willing to give.”

He abandoned the lemon he was zesting and faced her. “That’s what scares me about being with you. You make me want to give you—fuck, all of me. The good, the bad and the worse than bad. I have to force myself to hold back.”

“Don’t.” She released the tie on her robe. Her nipples tightened to hard peaks as his eyes swept over her exposed breasts, then lower. She stepped closer, slid her arms around his waist, her entire body coming alive when their skin connected. “I want all of you. No holding back.”

He tucked a piece of hair that’d escaped her barrette behind her ear, then stroked her cheek. “I might hurt you.”

“If so, I’ll cry myself dry, then pick myself up and move on. I’m small but resilient.”

“Of that I have no doubt. But that’s not how I meant. I might
hurt
you, physically.”

God, the apprehension in his eyes. “We talked about this. Is it the bark burn on my butt—is that what has you worried?”

“That’s nothing compared to what I could do. What I have done…to the almost-fiancée.”

She didn’t want to know, but had to. “What did you do to her?”

“Strained her rotator cuff. Tore the long head of her biceps. Caused her to miss the most important competition of the year.”

“How?” Her voice had been reduced to a squeaky whisper.

He let her go and stepped back, curling his palms over the edge of the counter. But he never took his eyes off her face. “You sure you want to hear this, the details?”

“No. Tell me anyway.”

“It was my birthday. She’d had a few drinks at dinner and they’d made her extremely tipsy. Leanne rarely drank, and never while she was training for a pageant. Her next competition was only two weeks out at that point, so she was pretty fucking lean.”

Instinct compelled Cassie to close her robe. She’d seen pictures of Leanne online. Leanne was a national fitness champion. Tall, beautiful in a classic, European way with a ten-out-of-ten body. Hearing Brian remember how amazing it was made the bottom drop out of Cassie’s stomach.

“Leanne and I had the health and fitness stuff in common, but our preferences in the bedroom were very different. I’d accepted things as they were, but she knew my appetite was still there. So that was her birthday present to me—a night of sex, my way.”

That was a visual she didn’t need—Brian and his ex, naked and full-throttle fucking. She hugged herself. Swallowed a mouthful of bile that’d snuck up her throat. She’d heard this much, might as well get the rest over with.

“How did you—damage her?”

“Cassie…”

“Tell me.”

“Bound her arms behind her back. I must’ve put too much strain on them. On the right one, anyway.”

Yes, Brian liked things a little rough, but Cassie couldn’t imagine him actually hurting his partner in the act. It didn’t fit with what she’d experienced. How many times had he asked if she was okay, if his actions were too much? There had to be more to the story.

“Were you drunk too?”

“Fuck no. I’ve had a no-sex-while-under-the-influence rule since I broke a guy’s wrist while arm wrestling after a bunch of pints, years ago. Realized then how easy it is to forget my strength.”

Strong and determined, but controlled—exactly the kind of man she thought he was. Something definitely didn’t jibe. “I don’t believe you hurt her.”

“The police report would convince you.”

“What?” No way could she have heard him correctly.

“Two days later, the cops showed up at my work. Not Iron Works, another gym. Quite the scene, being handcuffed in front of a club full of members and my boss. I was arrested for domestic violence.”

“Oh my god,
what
?”

He shrugged, the casual gesture in conflict with the stress on his face and the tight grip he maintained on her countertop. “Nothing in Leanne’s statement was a lie, it was just…skewed. I took advantage of her while she was under the influence, coerced her into a scenario where she couldn’t defend herself.”

“But you didn’t coerce her—she initiated it!”

“But I did take advantage of her. I should’ve known better than to accept her proposition. Leanne isn’t like you…she didn’t
want
what we did that night, the way you do. Fuck,” he pounded a fist against the laminate countertop, “that didn’t come out right.”

She wanted to go to him, hug him, calm him down. But her feet didn’t move an inch. “I understand. And you’re right—when we’re together, I want everything we do as much as you. Maybe more.”

His snort was laced with self-loathing. “Not possible.”