More Than Meets the Ink (21 page)

If not for Tate’s ability to defuse situations, he’d have rearranged their faces. She admonished the guys at the table with a smile and then dragged James away to the counter, sternly looking at him as he’d sat and fumed and mumbled under his breath about how those guys were going to meet an untimely death if they didn’t remove their gazes from her. He was sure she was going to chew his ass, but she hadn’t; the vixen gave him a wicked smile, came closer, and had whispered into his ear.

“Behave now. Those guys are just a bit rowdy. They won’t lay a hand on me because I won’t let them. If it were your hand, then it would be another story. I’d let it wander anywhere it wanted. And not only your hand, but other parts of your body too. You just behave now, and I’ll prove it to you after we close.”

Then she’d kissed him and walked away, leaving him out of breath and with the biggest hard-on in recorded human history.

Closing time didn’t come for ages, or so it felt, but when finally they got all the patrons out and the last of the personnel left, James was already walking a tightrope.

“I want you now,” he said as he’d walked toward her. “Here. Bent over that table.”

It was the same table where those assholes had been sitting. He hadn’t got to beat them up, but in a wounded maleness sort of way, he’d needed retribution.

She looked at him as he approached and smiled one of her sultry, sexy smiles. “Oh hail James the Barbarian. Macho power tripping again?”

He reached her, brought her to his chest, and kissed her, hard and deep, ravaging her mouth like he’d been dying to do all night, while she’d encircled his neck and held on tight. When he’d broken the kiss, she was short of breath too, her eyes glistening, her lips swollen.

She’d looked mischievously at him and taken a step back toward the table. She rolled her black skirt up enough for him to realize she wasn’t wearing any panties.

“Fuck, you’re killing me here!” he’d cursed as he began unbuckling himself. “You’ve been twitching your gorgeous ass all night long without wearing any underwear?” Thank God he hadn’t known at the time, or it would have given him an aneurysm.

“No, silly. I recognized the way you were staring at me from the counter after those guys flirted with me. I could feel the lust coming in waves from you, so a while back, I took them off, I wanted to be ready. I’m starting to know my man.”

She might have said something more, but his ears were so badly roaring he hadn’t caught it. All that he heard again and again was her calling him “her man.” Hers. His chest swelled, and his cock throbbed in urgency.

Then she’d turned around, bent slightly over the table, and offered him a view that almost stopped his heart. “You like it?” she’d asked, parting her legs a bit.

Did he like it? His eyes were fixed on her luscious behind and her bare folds, puffing out from arousal, glistening, waiting for him. Without bothering to ask, he’d checked his pockets for condoms, got one, and rolled it on. Nowadays he was worse than a teenager, carrying condoms all over himself—his wallet, his pockets, his car—hoping to get lucky anywhere and everywhere.

He should have probed her with his fingers, checked out if she was slick enough for his penetration, but he couldn’t wait. He’d needed to claim her, to mark her as his own, so he pushed his way in. Her pussy was hot and wet and so damn tight it almost blew his head off. She whimpered, and he stilled, afraid he’d hurt her. Reaching back, her hand grabbed his ass and pushed him all the way in.

“Don’t go easy on my account. I’ve been thinking about this too for the last hour.”

That did him in. He couldn’t have gone easy even if his life depended on it. She’d broken the last of his restraints by forcing him in to the hilt. He fucked her deep and hard, watching the spectacle in the mirror in front of them while she’d taken all of him, moaning and urging him to give her more. She had her eyes closed, her mouth slightly parted, her cheeks flushed, the pleasure he was giving her written all over her face. She was so damn beautiful he could hardly breathe.

Without slowing the rhythm down, he’d glided his hand up and under her blouse. He opened his hand on her stomach, reveled in her smoothness; then he’d reached up to her breasts. Her nipples were puckered and hard, begging to be touched. As one hand gripped her waist, he rolled and pinched the pearled beads with the other, getting Tate to jerk and moan louder. She arched her back, urging him on, her pussy clamping around him.

“Yes, James, like this. Please. Harder. Please.”

He’d smiled. Her nipples were very sensitive and very demanding, requiring constant attention. He knew how much she enjoyed him being a bit rough with them, so he pinched them harder, and a ragged moan rushed out of her.

He pumped her hard, the tip of his cock slamming at her womb with each plunge, her pussy pulsing in need. “I love fucking you. I can’t get enough. Your pussy is so sweet, clenching so nicely around my dick.”

She’d reacted to his talk, like she always did, and her body had tensed, her tender flesh fluttering around him. She was close, and so was he. He’d bent down, kissed her neck, and whispered into her ear, “Touch yourself, princess. I’m short of hands. Take your hand to your pussy and touch your clit. I’ll take care of the rest.”

She’d whimpered but obeyed, and the view of her in the mirror reaching for her pleasure almost undid him.

She came right away after barely grazing her clit, her pussy had convulsed so strongly it instantly milked all the cum out of him.

James was still panting hard when she’d chuckled between breaths. “Yeah, I do really love your Barbarian side.”

That had been the closest he’d gotten to telling her about his feelings. He’d had to grit his teeth to stop himself from spilling his guts. He knew by now that he wanted more than a casual involvement. He wanted her, all of it, quirks and bad moods included. Forever. The trick was getting her to accept that. She’d already accepted they were sexually involved, even reconciled to the idea that no matter what she said or did, or how difficult she was about it all, he was stubbornly sticking around, before and after the fucking. She liked to pretend she didn’t like it, but he knew better, could see through her, and she wasn’t fooling him; he was getting to her. He could still sense, though, how sometimes she kept herself at a distance as if a huge secret was eating at her, could almost see the distress in her eyes when she caught herself relying on him and hating it. In spite of how much closer he’d gotten to her, Tate still didn’t trust him fully, and her determination not to give him an inch was driving him crazy. He wanted to give her time, but the whole situation didn’t sit well with him; he ached to protect her, dammit, didn’t appreciate being left outside like he didn’t matter or worse, like he was the enemy.

He fell asleep hugging and nuzzling her head. He would get Tate to trust him and open up, to give their relationship a chance. Hell, the bed, no matter how shallow a gesture, was a huge step forward already.

* * *

She was floating, aroused, having the nicest dream. Her nipples were aching, her pussy felt on fire, and her clit was throbbing. Surprisingly enough, the feeling didn’t go away as she drifted into awareness. When she finally opened her eyes and found James on top of her with his mouth working her nipples, her breath caught in her throat. And that was not all he was doing; his cock was halfway in her and his fingers were rubbing her clit. No wonder she was sopping wet.

“Good morning, princess.”

“James?”

“What do you mean ‘James’? Is there anyone else that wakes you up in this manner?” he asked, trying to sound outraged. “Because if so, then we need to have a chat, baby.”

She laughed. “No, James, you’re the only one that wakes me up by molesting me.”

“The only one that wakes you up, princess. In any way,” he corrected her, slipping another inch deeper.

“The only one,” she repeated, unable to think as he slowly worked another inch of his cock inside her. He was almost fully seated in her, stretching her tender flesh to the limit.

“I see you bought a bed for me.”

She shrugged casually, but he wouldn’t let her play it down—he caressed her clit a bit harder, getting a throaty gasp out of her, and rained kisses over her: her eyes, her nose, and finally her lips. He ate at those, licking and kissing until she was breathing hard. “Thank you, babe. Nobody has bought me a bed before. I’m so taken by your gesture.”

“Don’t get cocky. I’m quite partial to your body, and I don’t want it to crumple into arthritis before its time. That’s the only reason for this concession.”

James pushed that last inch inside her, now fully invading her. “Yeah, that and that you love me,” he said so naturally that it stopped Tate’s heart. It amazed her how giving James was. He didn’t seem afraid of anything; he was so sure of her it scared the living shit out of her. “But don’t worry, you’re stealing my heart away too, princess.”

“I didn’t know your kind had a heart.”

“Yes, I do, even if you’re set on stomping all over it.”

“James…” She looked at his eyes and didn’t know what to say. She did have feelings for him, of course she did. It was impossible not to have feelings for the guy, but she wasn’t ready to admit it to him yet, or herself, let alone say it out loud. James probably knew she wasn’t ready yet because he didn’t press the issue, he just smiled at her and kept working her clit, tugging at her piercing as his mouth trailed over her throat, taking small bites, his tongue flickering here and there. Soon she found herself bucking at him, desperate for him to move.

“James?”

“Mmm?”

“Don’t make me hurt you. Move,” she said demandingly, wrapping her legs around his waist and squeezing him tight. “Fuck me already.”

“You’re so romantic.” He laughed. “But you’ll tell me those words, princess. Sooner or later you will.”

“Whatever,” she muttered, but she was glad when he began moving and occupied his mouth with hers. She wasn’t ready for this conversation. Besides, she still doubted a guy like James was relationship material. Who was to say he wasn’t going to leave the second this got old for him? She had to protect her heart.

James propped himself on both his elbows and didn’t break eye contact during their lovemaking. He kissed her all the time, all over her face, her throat, murmuring to her how beautiful she was, how much he wanted her. Damn him. With his tender words, he’d long ago transformed their sex into lovemaking, and despite knowing better, she was getting addicted to it.

Her clit was so sensitive, every time he nudged at it after the plunge, she felt like exploding. James was also in bad shape, tense and sweaty, trembling from the need to stay under control. Every time he pushed in, she lifted her hips to him, welcoming him, while her nails dug into his shoulders, urging him on. Soon they found their release together, breathing into each other’s mouths.

They stayed in that position long after their hearts had stopped racing. She couldn’t breathe but didn’t care.

“What do you think if we stay in all day, testing the bed?”

She laughed. “Don’t you have to go to work? It’s Monday, you know…” Rosita’s was closed on Mondays. She was free, but James wasn’t.

“I’ve arranged it with Zack and Sean. I’m free for you to command all day long,” he said, rolling onto his back and taking her with him.

“I was thinking about going to the mall to get some clothes, but if you don’t want to spend your free day shopping, we could…”

“Are you kidding? Running after you all day, bringing you tiny clothes into the dressing room, checking how they fit you? That’s another of my fantasies.”

“You’re mental.”

“Fucking you up against the wall, surrounded by mirrors, an almost transparent curtain separating us from the world, damn quiet so that the people in the other dressing cubicles won’t hear us. I’m ready. Bring it on.”

“Oh no, you can forget about me enacting any more of your raunchy fantasies.”

He didn’t listen. Hell, he never did. “Are you thinking about shopping for lingerie? Because those should be tried in the store…”

She laughed, and as she tried to jump out of bed, her cell rang. She reached out to her nightstand, where the phone was, and James, taking advantage of it, tackled her down, wrapping her in his arms.

Squirming and giggling, Tate checked out the caller. Elle.

“Shh, it’s my sister. Behave and be quiet.”

He barked out a laugh and nuzzled her throat. “Who am I, your dirty secret?”

She rolled her eyes at him. Yeah right, dirty secret her ass. Like the way he’d behaved in Florida left any room for their relationship to be a secret. Or the way he’d behaved in the restaurant from day one. Hell, half her regular clientele were already treating him like he was family—there to stay.

Ignoring him, she answered the phone. “Hi, Elle, aren’t you supposed to be in class?”

“Hi, Sis, good morning to you too,” Elle said mockingly. “And yes, I’m going to class, just running a bit late. Mondays aren’t my forte; you know that.”

She hadn’t talked to Elle since the day after her arrival back in Boston. When Elle had visited their mom, she’d heard about the whole James affair from her and several in-house informants, so she’d of course called Tate right away wanting all the details. By then, there hadn’t been much to tell, just that she’d had a one-nighter of earth-shattering sex with the tattooed bad boy next door, and that there wasn’t going to be any follow-up. Now, however, the story had gotten a bit more complicated; that tattooed bad boy was still in her bed, presently driving her crazy with his touch.

She threw him a glare, even slapped his hand, but it didn’t do any good. She steeled herself, trying to concentrate on the conversation. “How are things going?” That was code language for
has Mom snapped yet
? James must have sensed her distress, for he tensed too.

“Actually, things are quite good. Mom seems…less sad. Less mental. And the kittens have improved dramatically. We have people asking to adopt them.”

Tate laughed. That was good. Last time she spoke with her mom, several weeks ago, she’d effusively accused Mr. Bowen of Amy’s new condition. Apparently the cat had begun overeating and throwing up afterward. According to her mom, emotional distress had thrown Amy into the clutches of bulimia. Tate hadn’t known whether to laugh or cry.