Pierced: Pierced Trilogy Boxed Set (22 page)

He studies me with a very sexy gaze, a slight smile playing at the corners of his perfect mouth. His tongue lightly grazes his bottom lip and I think I begin to salivate. “Is that so, Miss Colby?” His voice is low and sexy and full of promise. “You find me wild and exciting?” he asks. His eyes burn into mine and his voice is laced with sensual humor.

“I find you fascinating, Josh,” I say softly, my eyes locked onto his. We are silent for a long moment as we stare into one another’s eyes intently. “So,” I say softly, breaking the spell. “Fun?”

He smiles slowly at me and finally looks away. He takes a last swig of his beer and sets the bottle down. “Well, whenever I get a little free time, I can usually be found in my garage at home,” he offers, “tinkering with my baby.”

“Your baby?” I can hear the surprise in my voice and I give him a matching look: eyebrows raised, puzzled smile.

“Yep,” he nods to emphasize his point. “My completely restored, triple black 1968 Dodge Charger R/T.”

He’s wearing a smile as big as Texas and I am lost. “Okay,” I say slowly, “I’m going to assume that’s a car?”

“Oh!” He grimaces as if he’s in pain. “Ouch,” he reiterates, clutching his chest. But he is clearly having fun at my expense. “That hurt,” he says in mock distress. “The ’68 Dodge Charger R/T is
not
just a car! She is a thing of beauty,” he smiles at me and I can’t help giggling at him. He is so adorable. “She’s a classic piece of Americana; a work of industrial art! Numbers matching, 4 speed on the floor, with a 426 Hemi, with two 4 Barrel carbs under the hood.”

I am still unable to control my giggling; he’s having so much fun right now and I love it. “Okay, stop!” I hold up my hands as if in surrender. “You lost me back at ‘triple black,’” I say with huge grin. “What the heck does that mean?”

“Okay,” he says laughing. “Triple black is a car term. It just means the car has a black body color as well as a black roof and black interior. That’s all,” he shrugs, still smiling. “But she is my baby and I am unapologetically obsessive about her. I’ve been actively restoring her for years now. Sometimes I take her to car shows and show her off.”

“Okay,” I say with a nod and a smile. This is nice. I’ve finally got him talking. “What else do you do for fun, Josh?”

He’s quiet for a moment, still smiling at me. Then he appears to have some sort of internal argument with himself, as if he’s not sure he wants to divulge the information. Finally, he shrugs and says, somewhat bashfully, “I play guitar a little.”

“Really?” This news surprises me, and he nods in response. “Are you any good?” I ask excitedly. He shrugs again and I get the feeling he’s either a little self-conscious about his playing or he’s trying to be modest about it. Now I really am intrigued. “What sort of guitar do you play?” I ask, trying to flesh him out.

“Well,” he begins with a sigh, “when I play with the band, I…”

“A
band!
Really?” I am floored, and he looks at me with a shy smile.
Oh, boy.

“Yeah,” he says quietly. “A few buddies on the force, we uh … we like to play together sometimes,” he shrugs. “When I play with them, I usually play lead guitar. But I also like to mess around with an acoustic.”

I am speechless. I never expected this turn of events; I have so many questions and no clue where to begin. “What sort of music do you play with the band?”

He chuckles and I think he’s laughing at the frank surprise in my voice. “We just play covers,” he says with a smile. “Mostly rock.”

“Do you sing?” I ask with a smile. Our empty dinner plates are long forgotten.

“Only backup,” he shakes his head, chuckling. I think he’s embarrassed but I refuse to stop my interrogation, I’m learning so much!

“Do you guys play in public?” I ask.

“Sometimes,” he smiles, but offers no further information. Oh, this is so frustrating!

“Like where?” I ask with an exasperated grin.

He laughs at me again. Then he sighs and says, “Tank, a cop buddy of mine … he bought this bar downtown after he retired about five years ago. It’s called The Slammer. Well, since he took it over, most of the patrons that go there are also on the job so, it’s kinda become known as a ‘cop bar.’ Anyway, on Saturday nights they used to have an open mic night. And one night, me and the guys decided to get up and do our thing.” He shrugs again and continues, “Next thing we knew, Tank was asking us to play a couple Saturdays a month. So … every other Saturday night, that’s usually where you’ll find me. It’s great for Tank ’cause the place is usually packed on those nights. People like live music. Even if it sucks,” he says with a self-deprecating smile.

“Wow,” I say, clearly impressed. “You actually have a paying gig?”

He laughs again and shakes his head. “I wouldn’t go that far. Tank tried to pay us at first but, we just kept throwing the cash back into his tip jar. Now he just pays us in drinks. We do it for the fun of it,” he shrugs. “We’ve played other functions though where we were compensated. D.A.R.E. Programs and high school dances, that sort of thing.”

“What’s the band called?”

“Off Duty Blue,” he answers quietly, and I catch a small hint of aplomb in his voice. He’s obviously proud of this.

“So, what sort of music do play on the acoustic?”

He shrugs yet again, and now I can tell he is just being modest about his playing. “Whatever,” he says quietly, “rock, Spanish, classical … anything really. Just depends on my mood.”

He sounds more confident now and I think his earlier hesitation was modesty. I am still shocked at this news and I can’t help hoping that I get the chance to hear him play sometime. This is the most information he’s ever divulged about himself and I sort of don’t know where to put it all. My mind is reeling a little bit. But since he finally seems to be in a talking mood, I wonder if I can get a little more personal. I take a deep breath and go for broke.

“I’m really impressed,” I say softly. He smiles at me and shakes his head slightly, saying nothing. Now is my chance. “Can I ask you a personal question?”

He fixes me with his bright blue eyes. “Isn’t that what you’ve been doing?” He smiles and I bite my lower lip, blushing slightly. “Sure,” he says still smiling.

“Last night when you told me that you were only interested in one-night stands,” I begin softly. “Can I ask why exactly? Why you’ve never wanted a relationship?”

As soon as the words leave my mouth, I wish they hadn’t. I watch as the shutters come slamming down, his bright blue eyes clouding over like the darkest night. He morphs before my very eyes, his whole body tenses up and his fists clench, his jaw tightens.
Holy shit
. What did I say? He is looking at me but, I’m not sure he’s actually seeing me. He seems lost in some deep inner turmoil that I have no access to. He says nothing for the longest time and I get the feeling he is trying to control his emotions, almost as if he’s counting to ten. Or maybe a hundred. Shit. What have I done? I have to make this stop.

“Um … I’m … I’m sorry,” I stammer. “You don’t have to answer that, if you don’t want to. I was just … curious. I’m really sorry.” Could my voice get any smaller?

I don’t understand; what did I say that was so wrong? Why is he so upset? Shit. Shit.
Shit!
Things were going so well. We were having such a nice conversation. What happened?
Way to go, Samantha!
He still hasn’t said a word and now he won’t even look at me. Oh, what is he thinking? Is he angry with me? Have I messed this all up? Silently, I stand up and begin clearing our places.

“I have some fresh strawberries and cream for dessert if you’d like,” I say dejectedly. I take the plates over to the sink and discard the scraps into the trash, mentally kicking myself as I do. Then I turn on the water to rinse them off before placing them and the flatware in the dishwasher.

I am closing the door of the dishwasher when I suddenly feel Josh’s hand in my hair. Standing behind me, he sweeps my hair off to the side and over my right shoulder, exposing my neck to him as his hand grazes over my breast. Then his arm snakes around my waist and gently pulls me back towards him. I gasp softly at the hardness of his chest against my back. He nuzzles my hair, inhaling deeply. His arm holds me fast while his other hand roams slowly down my hip over the skirt of my satin slip dress.

“Have I told you how good you look tonight, Samantha?” he whispers softly into my ear as his hand slowly slips beneath my dress and begins to massage my ass. My breath hitches. I shake my head slightly as he lightly kisses and nips at my ear.

“No.” It is a breathy whisper and all I can manage at the moment. He kisses a spot behind my ear and I shiver. Then he slowly leaves a trail of soft wet kisses from there down my neck.

“You look so sexy in this little dress, Samantha,” he whispers between kisses. “Almost good enough to eat.” His hand ventures slowly down the back of my thigh and back up again. I moan softly. “Did you choose this dress just for me, Sam?” he asks seductively. Unable to speak, I nod mutely. “Answer me.” His command is soft but demanding and he bites my earlobe gently.

“Ah,” I groan at the unexpected attack and he suckles my earlobe softly, soothing it. His hand moves from my behind to that secret pleasure spot he liberated last night and he lightly runs one finger over the lace of my already soaked panties, along my damp opening.

“Oh, Samantha,” he whispers hypnotically, “you are so wet, baby.” Slowly, he maneuvers past my panties and slips his finger inside me.
Holy cow.
He groans and kisses my neck and ear as his finger begins to move slowly, in and out, in and out. I go weak and sag against him, feeling his strong arm tighten around my waist. He keeps up his slow sensual torture – in and out, in and out – and resumes his earlier line of questioning.

“Tell me why you chose this dress, Samantha,” he whispers into my ear between kisses. I am whimpering now, barely able to keep standing, grateful for his tight hold around my waist. “Tell me,” he commands softly.

“Because of … what you said … this morning,” I manage with great difficulty, each word coming out as a breathy pant. And I feel him smile against my skin.

“What I said about that night gown you were wearing this morning?” he asks softly, still pleasuring me with his finger.

“Yes.” It’s a strangled moan.

“Oh, Samantha, I like that you want to please me,” he says seductively. “I like that a lot. I want to please you too, baby.” Abruptly, he removes his finger, leaving me bereft and wanting. No! “Mmm,” he moans in appreciation and I look up to see that the tip of his finger is in his mouth and he is sucking it eagerly.
Holy shit. Did he really just do that?
And how could something so wrong be so freaking hot? Oh, my God. “Fresh strawberries and cream have nothing on you, sweet Sam,” he whispers into my ear. “You taste so good, baby.”

I am reeling, my wits thoroughly scattered all over the floor of my kitchen. Just a few moments ago I watched him grow so angry it almost frightened me, and now I am a dripping, quivering mess. How can he switch gears so quickly? I don’t have time to ponder the question as he says the one thing I want to hear most right now.

“Can I make love to you, Sweet Sam?” he whispers.

“Oh, yes please,” I beg, and he smiles wickedly at me. Turning me to face him, he kisses me hungrily, his hands fisting in my hair before traveling slowly down my back. I reach up, running my hands over his solid chest. His hands find the hem of my dress and venture beneath it, gently kneading my behind before his fingers find my panties and begin pulling them down.

“I don’t think we’re going to make it to the bedroom, baby,” he says gruffly, letting go of my panties and grasping my waist with his big hands, lifting me. “Wrap your legs around me,” he says. I do as I’m told and he walks me backward toward the counter and sits me down. Standing between my legs, he kisses me again as one hand works furiously on his belt buckle and the other finds my panties somewhere around my knees and struggles to remove them. I decide to help him out and reach for his pants and he groans in gratitude. He dispenses with my underwear as I unclasp his jeans and lower his zipper. But before I can push them down over his hips, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a foil packet.

He moves with urgency then, pushing down his pants and briefs, freeing his erection and kissing me fiercely while his fingers work to open the condom. I run my fingers through his hair, knotting them in the silky softness of it and holding his lips to mine as he rolls the latex on. He maneuvers my behind to the edge of the counter and pushes my legs wider apart. In an instant, he is inside me, filling me completely and moving furiously as I call out in pleasure. He hammers into me again and again, pushing me higher and higher and I am already building, my body still on fire from his earlier ministrations. My insides start to quiver and I moan loudly as he increases his speed. In no time at all, pleasure builds and pierces my very core, spiraling out from deep within me, radiating throughout my entire body.

“Come on, Sam,” he growls at my ear and his strangled voice pushes me over the edge. I am lost as my body takes over, exploding around him, trembling uncontrollably. I shatter into a million tiny pieces, clinging to him and calling out his name.

“Ah, thank fuck,” he snarls, slamming into me and stilling as he explodes with me, his arms tightening around my waist. I slump forward, my head falling to his chest. We stay this way for several minutes as we struggle to catch our breath and I feel his fingers in my hair. As our breathing slows he kisses the top of my head. “You okay?” he asks me softly, still panting slightly.

I nod slowly, sitting up to look him in the eye. “Yes,” I whisper.

“I didn’t hurt you?” he asks with concern, taking my head in both his hands.

“No,” I whisper again.

He softly kisses my forehead and then he gently kisses my lips and smiles slightly at me.

“Thank you for dinner,” he says quietly.

Shyly, I return his smile. “Thank you for the rose.”

He gives me that heart-stopping smile of his and I melt. “Come. Let’s get you to bed.” He pulls out of me and removes the spent condom, discarding it in the trash as he pulls up his briefs and pants. Then he reaches for me, lifting me from the counter and taking me into his arms, and carries me from the kitchen toward my bedroom.