Flip This Love (12 page)

The grin she flashed was patently unapologetic. She ran her hands over his glorious chest, delighting in every hill and valley, and taking careful note of the spots that made the big man squirm. “I believe I was twenty-seven.”

“Spoiled brat.”

“I was a lucky girl,” she corrected. “For the most part.”

Her palms slid over his ribcage to mold the hard ridges of his back. She trailed her fingernails along the valley of his spine, then twined her fingers in the unruly curls at his nape. His hands rested lightly on her hips. He crowded her a little, but that was typical. Truthfully, she had to give him credit. The man was the poster boy for self-control.

“I’ll let you in on a secret, Mr. Cade,” she whispered.

Ducking his head slightly, he matched her tone. “What secret?”

“I let you catch me.”

He paused for a second, then nodded. “I know you did. And you know it scared the living hell outta me.”

Shocked by the blunt declaration, she reared back to look him in the eye. “It really did?”

A rueful laugh escaped him. Somehow, he managed to pull her snug against him with nothing more than a flex of his fingers. “I was so hell-bent on chasing you, I never gave one thought to what I’d do when I got hold of you.”

He dipped his head and caught her lips. The kiss was a confession and request for absolution all wrapped up in lingering sweetness. He brushed her hair back from her face with his knuckles and tilted his head, drawing the moment out until she thought she might burst if he didn’t take it deeper. And, of course, he didn’t. Perverse bastard. Instead, he pulled back and let his slow, seductive smile unfold like he was bestowing a gift. And he was, damn him to hell and gone. There wasn’t a woman alive who wouldn’t want to capture his smile and bottle it up for herself.

Laney was about to take him down a notch or two for daring to smile at her like that, but then she remembered what he’d said earlier. What he’d said all along. She was the one. She was the woman who could claim the smile and the man who came with it. If she was brave enough to risk her heart again.

“Do you now?” she asked, needing to know at least one of them had a clue how to deal with the sparks they struck off one another. Both good and bad. “If I let you catch me now, will you know what to do?”

His pirate’s grin widened a fraction. “Sugar, I don’t know if you’ve noticed or not, but I’ve already caught you.”

She opened her mouth to retort, but he silenced her with a single finger pressed to her lips.

“Yes, I know what to do. Trust me, Delaney, I’m going to make everything right for us. I’m going to give you everything you could possibly need.”

And he did. Lips, teeth, hands, and tongue. So much action all at once should have been hard to process, but each of her senses went straight into hyper-drive the second his mouth touched hers. Lips, soft. Teeth, dangerous. Hands—oh, those big, bold hands. He had her shirt off before she could even draw a breath. The sharp edge of his teeth sank into her bottom lip. He soothed the hurt away with a languid sweep of his tongue. Her boxers pooled at her feet, leaving her in nothing more than a pair of plain white bikini panties.

If she had known he was coming—and she should have known he’d be coming for her—she would have slipped into the skimpy red lace bra and panty set she’d bought as her Merry Christmas to Me gift. She was nearly thirty years old. Shouldn’t she be making her bed every day by now? Oh God, had she shaved? Heedless of her bare breasts and boring underpants, she pinned her arms to her sides, frantically searching her memory for the exact steps she’d taken in her morning shower.

“Delaney.”

Her head popped up as if he held the string. With the barest of grunts, Harley nodded to the faded boxers at her feet. She stepped out of them, ninety-seven percent certain she’d taken the razor to her underarms the moment she finished with her legs. The state of her bikini line was something she couldn’t, wouldn’t remedy on her own. She had confidence in her abilities, but not enough to take delicate matters into her own hands.

Hot palms molded to her ass, issuing a command of their own. She didn’t think, she leaped. She wrapped her legs tight around his waist, pressing the most demanding part of her against those work-wrought abs of his, and rubbing like a cat in heat.

“Jesus, you’ll kill me yet.”

He dropped her onto the bed and took a step back, yanking at the back of his shirt even as he disentangled himself from the tangle of her legs. It was hard to say exactly what the steamy open-mouthed kiss to the inside of her knee was supposed to be...Apology? Reward? Punishment? By the time she looked up again, the God of Thunder was gone. Harley’s belt buckle clinked as he yanked the leather free, and she smiled, lounging on her elbows, more than ready to enjoy the unveiling of this infinitely more accessible god.

And Lord, he was a sight to behold.

He might have been poured from base metal, but now his toughness was gilded by success. He was built solid and strong, both physically and morally. Connie Cade was responsible for shaping this man from his unshakable foundation on up. Having gotten to know his mama through various charity committees, Laney also knew there were few women in this world so well suited to the task. Connie could marshal a cafeteria catering to silver spoon-fed kids ranging in age from six to eighteen. She was undoubtedly up to keeping her only child in line.

He popped the buttons on his fly, jerking her thoughts away from the woman who’d gifted the world with him. She wet her lips in anticipation as he hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his boxer briefs. Needing to draw the tease out a bit longer, she waited until she caught his eye to trail her fingers between her breasts. They weren’t big, but at least she had something there. Her nipples were sensitive, and most of the time an important part of her self-pleasure, but she didn’t indulge.

She wanted his hands on her. The slick, hot mouth she remembered all too well. His tongue played a starring role in almost every fantasy she entertained. Spreading her hand flat over her stomach, she let it slide lower at glacial speed. Like steel shavings drawn to a magnet, his gaze followed. She dipped the tip of her index finger under the elastic, then cocked her head. “Did your train of thought derail, big guy?”

“I didn’t want to miss the floor show.”

The statement was supposed to come off cool and cocky, but the slight croak in his voice gave him away. He was no saint, but a far cry from the sinner he pretended to be. Getting straight down to business, he shoved his jeans and briefs down over those powerful thighs. The clink of his belt buckle hitting the floor almost made her want to hoot her approval. Despite the Mount Olympus physique, he was deliciously human. He cussed as he bent to attack the laces of his boots. One hand groped the rumpled quilt for balance as the most delightful color tinged the back of his neck. Lifting herself up for a better view, she realized the man she was hoping would screw her silly was, in fact, blushing the deep red of an heirloom peony.

A blade of remorse twisted in her gut. She reached for him, wanting to stroke the flush heating his skin as she had the velvety petals of the flowers he’d sent. And she’d rejected. “The flowers really were beautiful.” She spoke softly, shame and regret coloring the words. “I’m sorry I gave them away.”

He straightened slowly and stood bare as the day he was born right in front of her—nearly six and a half feet of formidable, and unmistakably aroused, male. He looked her right in the eye. “I’ll send you dozens more.”

“Don’t. It’s too much.”

A small, almost rueful smile twisted his gorgeous lips. He stepped to the edge of the bed and pushed her knees apart to make room for him to stand between them. Then he tipped forward, forcing her to fall flat on her back. Of course, he caught his weight on his hands. She should have known he would. But there was something of a wild card in Harley’s make up. It made him damn irresistible.

“Would you be happier if I swiped them from someone’s yard?”

Amused by the mental image of big, bad Harley Cade sneaking into some old lady’s garden to snap her precious peonies off by the stem, she smiled as she curled up, planted a tender kiss to his parted lips, then fell back again. “You won’t have much luck getting peonies around here. They do better up north.”

He nodded. “So I’ve heard. Tell you what, sugar,” he began in a drawl that grew thicker with each word. “You tell me when it’s time, and I’ll take you up to the land of the Yankees, and we’ll steal every dadgum
pe-o-ny
they’ve got up there.”

His lips hovered mere millimeters above hers. She could smell mint on his breath. Heat rolled off him in waves. Her vision blurred a bit. For a moment, she worried he might be some sort of mirage brought on by sex-deprivation. She caught her bottom lip between her teeth and bit down. She wanted to be sure she wasn’t cooking him up. When everything snapped back into focus, she could see nothing but him. “C'mere.”

He lowered some of his weight onto her. The most important parts, at least. Hair-rough thighs pushed hers farther apart. The ridges notching his stomach sank into the softness of her belly. His cock pressed against the thin cotton of her panties, long, hard, hot, and every bit as glorious as she remembered it being. Unable to resist, she tilted her bottom up, settling him into the sweet spot and instinctively beginning to rock. He gave an eye roll she might have called dramatic if she couldn’t hear the hitch in his breathing.

“Silly flower-hoarding Yankees,” she whispered, picking up the thread of conversation once more. She circled her hips in blatant invitation. “Serve them right if we did.”

“Christ, Delaney, I can feel you through those panties.”

“I bet it’d feel even better without them.”

His answering groan ripped loose from its moorings and turned into a full-out growl. “This is going too fast.”

He lowered a hand to her hip in what she took as a half-hearted attempt to ease the pace. The blunt tips of his fingers sunk into the curve of her ass and she matched him groan for moan as their herky-jerky movements melted into a sensuous slow dance.

“You make me feel like a boy,” he grumbled, nipping at her mouth. “It’d serve
you
right if I came on your leg like one.”

The mere suggestion she might be able to drive this mountain of a man beyond the brink was almost too much to bear. Almost, but not quite. She was tempted. So sorely tempted. But, oh, she wanted more from him. So much more. “Is it wrong if the thought of that happening gets me hot?”

“Okay, so this is going to go faster than I intended.”

“I’m not worried. The South will rise again.”

The question of fast or slow dangled in the air, ripped loose from its anchor when he tore himself up and away from her. He rocked back on his heels, a triumphant grin spreading across his handsome face and the panties she’d been wearing now hung suspended from his fingertips.

“Whoa. Neat trick.” She batted her eyelashes and scooted back to center herself on the bed. She might have lost a little of the sexy factor when she bicycled her legs to push the tangled sheet and comforter to the foot of the bed, but the heat in his gaze was turned up high. If the progression of the evening was any indication, they were going to need plenty of room to run. “You learn that out in Hollywood, Mr. Houdini?”

He didn’t respond to her baiting. Instead, he let her panties flutter to the floor, swooped down to pick up his jeans, and extracted a condom from the front pocket. The foil packet scissored between two fingers, he held it up for inspection as he claimed the spot beside her. “Now you know the extent of my bag of tricks.”

Biting the inside of her cheek, Laney tried not to think about the night he lay in the very same spot, in the very same bed, but nothing at all was the same. This wasn’t the sweet little carriage house apartment she’d decorated with treasures from the attics at Tarrington House. She was no longer the cosseted daughter of Mobile society. Despite the fact her father drew breath, she was now essentially an orphan. A broke orphan with a drawer full of unpaid debts. The girl who’d slept with Harley Cade last fall believed her heart to be bullet-proof. And the man beside her had proved her to be flat-out wrong.

“Were you with many people while you were out there?” The question popped out, and she hated herself for letting her insecurities loose. How needy could a woman get? Since he’d been the one to make a production out of procuring the condom, maybe she could play it off as a health concern. “I mean, it’s the land of opportunity, right? No doubt you had your fair share. No need to get detailed. I’m wondering if I need to ask you to double-bag it.”

He blinked, clearly astounded by her assumptions. For once, she could read the man as clear as day, and what she saw didn’t exactly make her happy. She was a fool. A stupid fool who spoke first and thought second. And in doing so, she’d hurt him.

“Who would I be with?” he demanded in a husky rush. “Don’t you know by now there’s no one else? Haven’t I proved myself?”

“Harley, I’m sorry—”

“Damn straight you’d better be sorry.” His voice was soft but menacing. “I want a real apology, not an ‘I’m sorry.’”

“I apologize,” she said quickly. Too quickly. When he started to sit up, she planted a hand on his chest and pushed him back down. “Truly, I do. What I said was stupid and insensitive. You know I can be kind of mean when I feel cornered.”

His eyes narrowed. “Yeah, I know.”

“Then you also know it’s because I’m...” She paused to take a breath. Swallowing a lifetime full of pride wasn’t exactly easy to do. “I tend to...lash out.”

The gentle hand caressing her cheek helped keep all those embarrassing emotions she had swirling inside her in check. Seconds passed and he didn’t say a word, though she was sure he had some choice ones he could dole out. She was forgiven. It was evident in his tender caress. And when he did speak, the husky timbre of his voice cut straight through to her heart like a buzz saw.

“Who in the world could I want after you, Delaney? Tell me, who?”