More Than Meets the Ink (8 page)

“Oh come on!” he grumbled, his voice full of exasperation. “Of course I planned to fuck you for longer than that.”

Her shoulders lifted. “Just checking.”

“It’s going to take me just that long to gather the strength to pull away from you. Shit, I am not going to survive this. I can’t pull away from you now, babe.” He exhaled as he tried to control himself.

“You have to,” she whispered, afraid they’d be heard. In spite of her words and her fear of getting caught, her hands still clutched at his shoulders, not ready to let go.

“Just a second more.” He took her mouth and pushed himself in half an inch. He was big; her muscles trembled and clasped around him, trying to accommodate him. The more her insides spasmed around the head of his cock, the more his body shook with barely restrained tension.

He pulled out a little and surged in another half an inch while she threw her head back and stifled a groan of pleasure.

“James?” She heard his father yell from the bottom of the stairs. “What’s taking you so long? Come on!”

“Oh God.” Tate giggled.

“Fuckcrapshit! This is not happening! I want you so much, princess, I’m dying here. If I start moving now, I won’t be able to stop again.” He hissed as he slowly pulled out of her. He was sweating, his muscles straining from the effort.

Tate was flushed, her core swollen. She needed him inside her, pounding at her, making her scream in pleasure, but one look at James made her realize she had nothing on him—if he’d looked in pain before, now he looked in pure agony. Two baby steps from hell.

He got rid of the condom and, still cursing under his breath, began hastily dressing while she sat on the bed and stared at him. His dick looked so painfully hard and so angrily red, bobbing in front of her, silently demanding retribution, she reached for it, encircling it with her hand.

He hissed, placing his hand over hers and squeezing so hard she felt his cock throbbing, blood madly pulsing through it. He stroked himself harshly, his head falling back.

“Let me take care of you,” she whispered.

His warm eyes looked at her with such mixture of gentleness and hunger it startled her. “Baby, I’d love to, believe me, but we don’t have the time,” he said, letting her hand go, wincing as he tucked himself in, the zipper almost not making it all the way up. “Wait here until we leave. When you’re sure the coast is clear, sneak out.”

She laughed at the image her mind instantly conjured—her sneaking out his bedroom window. “Jesus, we’ve regressed to high school level.”

“Tell me about it.” He came down on her, forcing her to lay back. He planted his arms at the sides of her head and looked into her eyes. “As soon as I finish with the golf, I’ll come for you,” he said against her lips. Then he kissed her hard and left.

Once alone, Tate looked around and sighed. She’d known from the get-go James was trouble. It was written all over his gorgeous body and in his cocky grin. What she hadn’t expected was to have so much fun unraveling that trouble. It seemed she’d misjudged him a bit; it took a great deal of discipline to run one’s own business, especially to run it successfully, no time for being irresponsible. And to his benefit, she had to recognize he sounded nothing like Elle’s losers. Not that she’d spent that much time talking to them—she’d always been quite hostile, but anyways, she’d never gotten more than a couple of grunts out of them, once a sleazy remark about landing the sister with the bigger boobs. Assholes. On the upside, Elle had heard that remark and broken up with him, after kicking him in the balls. Tate held that memory dear.

Maybe James was the exception that confirmed the rule. Maybe. She wouldn’t hold her breath. That she’d been a bit off about him didn’t mean he was a harmless pussycat, or relationship material, for that matter. There were intense vibes coming off the guy, definitely trouble. She could feel it deep inside, a certain awareness that rattled her every time he smiled at her, like he was casting an unseen web of traps around her and she was just too damn eager and stupid to realize it was insane to jump into them headfirst.

Or maybe that rattling feeling inside her was nothing more than her throbbing pussy begging for action. Too damn bad he wasn’t getting any today, before or after the golf—she had to accompany her mom to the vet, and they’d agreed to stay in town for supper afterward, a girls’ afternoon out. Tate didn’t want to risk letting her go alone to the vet’s appointment; someone might have to restrain her if the vet got cocky. Although her mom seemed better, more relaxed. Unfortunately now that she was less hysterical about Amy, her attention was turning to her. Tate sighed and reached for her dress; better start rolling. Sooner or later, she’d have to go and explain to her mom why her six-foot-four tattooed neighbor was fluttering around her daughter and she was letting him.

* * *

“I’m going to take a wild guess here and say the hard-on you’ve been sporting all afternoon is not on account of Mr. Nicholson continually bending over to pick up the golf balls, right?”

“For fuck’s sake, Dad!” James cursed, looking horrified at his father, who just shrugged his shoulders at his son’s shocked expression.

“Whaaat? Just making sure,” he added, hardly hiding his amusement. “It’s because of that cute spitfire, the Cooper girl, isn’t?”

At the thought of Tate sprawled on his bed, her eyes drowsy, her arms held out to him, beckoning him, her core glistening from her release, ready to be taken, James’s erection grew even harder. He shifted uncomfortably in his jeans. Damn, those denims were strangling his shaft.

“A hard-on girl.” His father chuckled after a quick glance at James’s lap. “How interesting.”

“What?”

“A hard-on girl,” he repeated. “The mere thought of her has you painfully standing in full salute.”

James chose to look straight ahead, avoiding his father’s scrutiny, awkwardly aware of his straining erection. They were sitting on a bench in the open air, waiting for Mr. Nicholson to come back from his bathroom break, the seaside breeze filling his nostrils, and all he could smell was her and the sex they’d almost had. His dick swelled some more. Damn, he was fucked; his father was going to use this to make fun of him until his very dying day.

“I love you, Dad, but let’s change the subject; I’m not comfortable discussing this shit with you.”

Laughter rumbled through the old guy. “Please, I had hard-ons long before you were even conceived; don’t get prudish on me now.”

“Hand me a beer, will you?” James held his hand out and drank half of it in one go. “A hard-on girl, Dad? Are we reading
Cosmo
now?”

He ignored his son and took a swig of his own beer. “I believe you only get one of those girls in your lifetime, so you better make the best of it.”

I was making the best of it when you came knocking at my door
, he was itching to say, but he bit his tongue. There was no fooling Dad though. He stared at him in surprise and then laughed. Loud.

“Oh God, that was what you were doing up in your room, right? Before I interrupted? I thought Tate had gone home. Now I understand your painful look. And stride.”

“Drop it, Dad,” James warned. His…whatever it was he had—or didn’t have—with Tate wasn’t up for discussion.

“You drop it,” he said, snorting and pointing at his son’s crotch. “Oh wait, you can’t, can you?”

James growled in annoyance. Damn, the old man was having too much fun at his expenses. “A hard-on girl, remember? Nothing I can do about it.”

“Yeah, I remember. Mine was your mother. We—”

“Oh no no. I’m so not listening to that. I’m too young for this—I don’t want to end up in therapy, thank you very much. Besides, we all know how that ended with Mom. Not the best of comparisons to make.”

“True,” his father said pensively. “Still, I just meant it’s not every day you meet a girl who can keep you on your toes, literally and figuratively speaking. And she’s good for you. I’ve seen you looking at her, laughing with her.”

James chuckled. “Yeah, well, she seems to know how to press all my buttons.” And he had the hard-on of the century to prove it.

His father shook his head and threw him a suspicious look. “It looks like more, son. For the past two days, she’s been dragged to all the activities here at the resort, and you’ve tagged along. Happily, I might add. What’s going on?”

“Nothing, believe me.” And how true that statement was. He was ready to burst from lust at any second.

“Listen to me, Jimmy boy; after that bitch Elaine, that’s all you allowed yourself to have: a fat lot of nothingness. You’ve fucked your share of women, but that’s all you do, fuck and run. That’s not good for you. You need to start thinking about your future; you need a wife. At your age, I had three sons, a wife, and a mortgage.”

“Oh Jesus.” Here it was again. “Why don’t you do me a favor and concentrate on Cole? He’s the oldest and still single. I tried that scene, remember? I’m divorced, didn’t work well for me.”

“I’ll get to Cole, you don’t need to worry about that, but for the moment I’ll concentrate on you.”

Just my luck, James thought. He lifted his eyes in time to see Mr. Nicholson approaching, huffing, golf club in one hand, more beer in the other. Man, this was going to be a long afternoon.

Chapter Four

Tate was drifting off to sleep when her cell phone rang. With her heart in her throat, she groped around in the dark. Please Lord, let it not be the police or anyone from the restaurant; she couldn’t cope with any problems right now, she was too…unplugged for that.

Thank heavens, it was James.

He didn’t waste any time with formalities. “Why do you think it is that you always get off and I don’t? I’m going to spontaneously combust any moment now.”

She stifled a laugh, relieved to hear his voice. Happy actually. “Maybe because you always start with me?”

“Well, those are the house rules, babe. Girls always get to come first, five or six times, as a matter of fact, so they’re shiny and juicy and ready.”

Show-off. “Is that so?”

“Yep. Girls’ Happy Hour nonstop, that’s me.”

She snorted. “Well, then you’ve been cheating me, mister, orgasmwise, I mean.”

His laughter rumbled through the phone. “Sorry, baby. The circumstances aren’t the best; they keep interrupting us.”

“True,” she answered with a sigh. There was no way to have a hot vacation fling with half the continental US senior population running interference. At this rate, she had more chance of catching contagious dementia than getting laid anytime this century.

“Your phone call scared me,” she admonished him. “Calls in the middle of the night aren’t a good sign.” The last two phone calls in the wee hours had come from the police; one informing her the restaurant was on fire, the other telling her Dad and Jonah were gone. Yep, phone calls in the middle of the night scared her. Badly.

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly. “Who did you think it was?”

She cleared her throat. “Well, I don’t know,” she lied. “Probably Elle calling from San Francisco. She went there to visit some friends while I came to stay with Mom. With Elle on the loose, you never know.”

Silence.

“I see.” By his tone, he hadn’t believed a word. “Were you sleeping?”

“I was trying to, but Mom’s downstairs with two of her new friends, and they’re too loud. What time is it, by the way?”

“Close to one a.m.,” James answered unapologetically. “Can’t sleep. I thought you could keep me company so I wouldn’t feel so miserable. After all, it’s your fault I can’t sleep.”

“My fault? How do you figure that?”

“Do you have any idea how long it takes to go through a nine-hole golf course with your dick so hard you could use it as a golf club?”

She laughed. “No, I can’t say I do.”

“It’s torture. And all I could think of was you. It didn’t help the situation at all. And then I come back, and you’re gone.”

“I had to go to the vet with my mom. Amy’s nursing, so we had to go with the kittens. The golf might have been bad, but believe me, holding my mom while the stupid vet made the mistake of commenting on the kittens was no walk in the park either.”

“That bad, uh?”

“Yeah, that bad.” She sighed and left a long pause, not sure whether she wanted to talk about this or not. “You know, my mom had plans for her life; she was going to study archeology, uncover lost cities, pagan temples, forgotten kings’ tombs. Hell, she had a map of all the dig sites in the world she was going to organize; my aunt showed it to me. But she met my dad and got derailed. Got married, started a family, and in a way gave up her dreams. They had the restaurant to run and three kids and a household to care for—not too much spare time. I don’t think she regretted her choices; she was happy. But now she’s alone. Half her family is gone, and she’s running. That’s what all this moving to Florida is; she can’t stand to set a foot in Rosita’s.”

“What exactly happened to your dad and brother?”

She was giving him the short version. Details made her sick. “Drunk driver.”

“I’m so sorry, princess.”

Yeah, so was she, not that it changed a damned thing. “Thanks. Anyways, it was fun to spend time with my mom. It’s been too long since we did that, with me working my ass off in the restaurant all the time.”

“Is everything okay with the restaurant? You systematically avoid talking about it; I get a vibe something’s wrong.”

Ha, like she was going to unload her crappy life to her summer fling before getting properly laid. No way; it would be such a downer he might run away. Although lying there in the dark, talking to him, it felt so…intimate. It’d be such a relief to share her problems with him. That was what friends were for, right? But of course, that wasn’t what was going on here.

An ironic chuckle bubbled up. “No, things are by far not okay at Rosita’s, but I really don’t want to talk about it. Or about my mother either. Please, let’s talk about something else.”

He was silent for a pregnant moment, then caved in. “What do you want to talk about?”

That was a no-brainer. “You. Let’s talk about you, your life.”

“Too broad a topic. Could you narrow it down a bit for me?”