Sting (12 page)

“I don’t know how to thank you.” Maybe I could offer to kiss him stupid?
Gabs would be most pleased
. It certainly wouldn’t be a chore, in fact I’m sure it’d do both of us the world of good.

He squeezes my hand and tugs me closer to him, just like he did at the beach the other day. I press my other hand to his chest and look up at him. His pec muscle jumps beneath my hand.
Sweet holy cupcakes.
I imagine running my hands up and down and all over this gentle giant.

“I think with that smile you’re wearing, we can call it even.” The dimple returns.

Gulp.

“I’m serious, Ryan. It must have cost hundreds of dollars, not to mention your time when you could have been at work. At least let me make it up to you with coffee and cookies?”

“Have you eaten?” he asks, ignoring my offer of caffeine and sweetness.

“No … I was just going to rustle up something easy.”

“I’ve got something on in the slow cooker at home. Why don’t you come back with me to my place, and we can eat? I’ve made more than enough.”

He cooks? Seriously? Next thing he’ll be telling me he’s got superhero powers and fights crime in his spare time. Hmm. A vision of Captain America comes to mind. Really, Ryan and him don’t look that dissimilar.
Big mussies.

I shake off the thought. I really have to stop watching so many movies.

“What’s on the menu?”

“Beef stew.”

“How do you know I’m not vegetarian?”

He frowns, as if he’s disappointed, and that it’s something he should know about me. “Are you?” he quizzes.

“No.”

He chuckles low in his throat. “Then what the hell are you worried about, then?”

I shrug. I’m running out of excuses. Dinner with Ryan. My
friend
, Ryan.

“Okay. I’ll follow you in my car.”

He frowns. “It’s easier to go in my car. I’m happy to drive,” he offers.

“I have an early start again tomorrow. Thanks, but I’ll drive.”

He huffs out a forced breath through his nose. “Whatever makes you happy, Blondie.”

You make me happy, Ryan.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

RYAN

The aroma of a home-cooked meal hits me head-on when I open the apartment door.
Success.

“Holy sharks, that smells incredible,” Willow says, when she walks into the kitchen.

I chuckle. “Sharks?”

She purses her lips in some kind of warning. “Have you got a problem with sharks?” Her hands move to her hips.

I like that I’m getting to see this side of her. A bit more fight. I’m beginning to see that maybe she’s not as fragile as I’d first thought, particularly after she ran out of the café that day. The whole ‘sharks’ thing is cute as hell. It’s not every day you meet a girl that doesn’t swear. It’s refreshing. She’s the kind of girl you’d take home to meet the …
yeah, parents
. My mother would find her adorable. They could talk about their gardens and cooking and then Mum would slam her with questions like ‘Is your uterus ready to house my grandchild?’. Cass would likely take her under her wing, and treat her like a long-lost sister.
What kind of bribe will it take to keep Cass quiet about my not-so-angelic past?

“Well, do you?” she prompts, pulling me from my thoughts.

“Only the unholy ones,” I offer.

She laughs and walks into the kitchen beside me. I pause with my hand on top of the slow-cooker lid. If this dish has turned to shit, then this night might just head in that direction too.

“Come on. Show us what you’ve got, Brown-Eyes.”

I lift the lid and she moves in close to inspect. I poke the meat with the wooden spoon and it melts apart like slicing a hot knife through butter.
Great success.

“Mmm. Where are the plates?” she asks. Her beautiful eyes light up and she licks her lips.
What I’d do to be eating her instead of stew.

I clear my head of thoughts of going down on her, spreading those legs wide and lapping at her wet …
fuck
. I need to focus. I need food. I’m about ready to pass out from hunger.

I clear my throat and point Willow in the direction of the corner cupboard.

She takes a few plates and some cutlery from the drawer and assembles them on the bench. I spoon some stew onto a plate.

“Say when,” I say after two large spoonfuls. I load up the spoon again and motion towards the plate. Surely she wouldn’t eat more than that? How much do chicks eat?

“I didn’t say when yet,” she chastises. I’m pleased to know she’ll eat a decent-sized meal.

I unload the third spoonful and then return to the cooker for more.

She leans in close, placing her small hand to my bicep. Her simple touch makes my muscle flinch. Damn it, when this girl touches me it gets my body in a tailspin. Like in her garden, when she threw herself at me like that—Christ fucking almighty, it took all kinds of restraint not to wrap those legs around my waist and pin her to the nearest vertical surface.

“When,” she whispers.

“Ah, yeah. Got it,” I mumble.

I add the same amount to the remaining plate and put the lid back on the cooker.
Keep my second serve warm.

I take our meals over to the dining table, and Willow takes a seat opposite me. Then I realise that I don’t have any wine or beer.
A glass of red would be the shit right now.
Didn’t really plan that part of tonight, did I?

“Water?” I offer.

“Please,” she says.

I take a couple of glasses from the cupboard and a cold bottle of water from the fridge. Willow waits patiently as I pour us each a glass.

“Don’t wait for me, Blondie. Dig in.”

She picks up her fork and has a taste. I load up my fork and shovel it in. The rich meat melts and the sauce teases my tastebuds with the intense tomato and herb-flavoured sauce. The carrots and potatoes are soft and squishy too. Just the way I like them.

“Sweet cupcakes, this is incredible. I haven’t had anything like this since—” She stops short, and closes her mouth.

I raise an eyebrow. “Since?”

The smile that darts across her face is clearly forced. Her eyes don’t crinkle at the sides, and her shoulders stiffen.

“Since I lived at home,” she finishes.

“Yeah, been a while for me, too. So your parents aren’t local?”

“No.”

“You see them often?”

“No.” Another curt, one-word response. Hmm.

“They still together?”

“Yes. They’ve been married for more than thirty years.”

“Sweet, mine too.”

Willow takes in a deep breath, and leans her fork on the side of her plate. “Can I ask you something?”

“Course.”

“When you were making this meal earlier today, did you think you’d have company?”

I can’t resist winking at her, so I do. “I had every hope.”

She chuckles softly to herself. “You know, I wasn’t entirely happy when I got home today.”

“How come?” Is she not happy with what I did? That wasn’t the impression I got when she jumped me earlier.

“It didn’t help things that I was already in a bit of a mood.”

“Tough day?”

“Yeah, it was, but … it’s silly, really. Never mind.”

“Come on. You can trust this pretty face, can’t you? Why were you in a mood?” I ask, and then realise that maybe it’s that time of the month or something, and she doesn’t wanna share those details. That’d kind of be awkward.

Her cheeks flush. Whatever it is, it’s got her flustered. “I was expecting another visit from you … in the café.”

Fist pump.

“Ohhhh, I see,” I say. “So you were cranky with me, huh?”

She shrugs, and smirks.

“I never said I’d be back in the café, did I?”

“No, I guess you didn’t,” she says and rolls her eyes.

I dig in for another mouthful and so does Willow. For a minute or two we both eat in silence, sharing the occasional smirk, eye roll, and wink. Well, I’m the only one doing the winking. I can’t help it. Every time I do, her blush deepens again. It’s like I’ve got a new toy to play with. If I can affect her like that with a simple wink, imagine what state she’ll be in when I finally work her with my mouth.

Willow places her fork down on her empty plate and takes a sip of water. “So, you met Sharon, huh?” she asks.

“Um, yeah, well if you mean I got manhandled and she rubbed herself on me like she was marking her territory, then yeah. We met.”

She frowns. “Oh, really?”

Hmm. Do I detect a hint of jealousy?
Interesting
. “Relax. She’s harmless, but if you hear a rumour that I’m married with triplets and another one on the way, it’s come from her. She asked me if I was single, and well, I figured if I fed her that line it might be my only chance to get out of there alive.”

Willow laughs out loud. “You know you’ve given the ultimate ammo to the town gossip queen.”

I scoop up the last of my meal, and scoff it down. “Ah well, give her something to talk about.”

She shakes her head. “Triplets,” she whispers.

“Why not? I’d love a brood of kids one day. I just found out my sister’s having one,” I blurt out.
Ah, slow down on the personal information, buddy.
“Anyway, can’t say I’m not a little jealous.”

“Yeah,” she says, and looks down at her plate, pushing her fork around her empty plate. Yeah. Kids is definitely a sensitive topic.

I get up from the table, and tuck in my chair. “I guess I’d better take a shower. Probably should have had one before dinner, but I was starved.”

“Go ahead. I’ll wash up.” She stands and stretches her arm in front of me and stacks our plates and cutlery.

“I’ll be quick, so don’t go anywhere.”

“Okay. Thanks for dinner, by the way. It was really nice to have someone cook for me.” She smiles, and I feel like I’m king of the world.

I have to pull myself back from leaning in and kissing the soft skin of her neck. The way her hair is piled on top of her head is allowing full access. Although I’ve just eaten, I’m hungry for something else.
A side of Willow.

“Anytime.”

I shower quickly and wrap a white towel low around my waist.

Time to step things up a notch.

When I creep into the kitchen Willow’s back is to me and her hands are splashing about in a sink full of soapy water. She’s singing what seems to be an old Creedence song, “Bad Moon Rising”, but she’s got the words all wrong. I’m pretty sure the lyrics don’t go
In the back room on the right
.

It’s fucking adorable.

It’s also the last straw.

I can’t take it anymore. I have to have her.

I move behind her and pin her body to the sink, with one hand gripping the bench either side of her hips. I lean in and let her feel my hot breath against her neck. She drops a dinner plate on the edge of the sink and it smashes.

“I’m pretty sure you’ve got the words wrong, Blondie,” I whisper.

Willow splays her hands on the bench, either side of the water. “Oh,” she says, her voice gravelly. Her breath catches in her throat as I roll my hip, positioning my hard-on against her back. With prime view of the valley of her perky tits, I admire how her chest now labours for air.

I dot restrained kisses down the nape of her neck. Her skin prickles beneath my lips with a shiver that moves through her petite body.

“You smell like those cookies,” I say.
Good enough to eat.
Given the chance, I’ll feast on her.

“I thought we were going to be friends,” she whispers.

“We are.” I run my tongue over her earlobe and then graze my teeth over the soft flesh.

Willow turns and places her warm, wet hands on my bare chest. She baulks, like she’s trying to retreat, but she’s got nowhere to go. I’m all over her like lint on a cheap suit.

“Sweet cupcakes, where are your clothes?”

This woman and her sweet sayings.
“On my bathroom floor. Not important right now.”

“But—”

I hold a finger to her sweet lips before she can continue. “Don’t need them for what I’ve got in mind, Blondie.”

“Oh,” she says under her breath. She lets out an exasperated sigh and runs her soapy hands over my nipples, causing them to harden. As she explores down my torso, her touch is soft and gentle as if she’s fascinated with the ridges of my stomach.

“I’m gonna ask you this one time, and one time only,” I ask her. My tone is as serious as my cock is hard.

“Uh-huh,” she mumbles, her eyes not leaving my happy trail.

“Willow,” I say louder, demanding her attention. Her eyes dart up and for a second I get lost in her sparkling blues. “I’m not the kind of man to deny a friend anything.”

“Okay,” she says, holding my gaze. Her hands sweep around my sides. My dick twitches.

I don’t miss the sexy moan that escapes her lips when I roll my hips, rubbing my hardened cock against her stomach. I sweep my palms over her shoulders and weave my fingers into the loose strands of hair at the nape of her neck and hold her firm.

“Do you want me to kiss you?”

She blinks a few times in quick succession and her mouth opens. For a split second, I have a feeling in my gut she’s going to say no. That she’ll tell me she just wants to be friends. If she does, I’ll respect that. I’ll do the gentlemanly thing and get the fuck over it. But, I don’t think I’m misreading the signals.

I glide her bra strap and her tank top down both her shoulders, and trail my fingers down the length of her arms and back up. Her lips part. She exhales out of her mouth as she shivers.

“Before you answer that, you need to know that if I do, I won’t stop until I’ve had you.” I shake my head from side to side. “I won’t stop until I’ve had your naked body wrapped around me, trembling, and you’ve screamed out my—”

She lurches forward, crushing her mouth to mine. Her sweet tongue probes my mouth as she hooks her hands behind my neck, her nails clawing at my skin. Like some kind of wild man I suck and bite at her bottom lip, and flick her tongue with mine. My kiss is hard enough to bruise, my need to have her fuelled by her strong hold on me.