Flip This Love (21 page)

Rubbing her damp palms over her jeans, she wondered if he had a hard hat as well. Realizing her thoughts had taken a decidedly male stripper turn, she thunked her head against the wall. “Get a grip. Get a grip. Get a grip,” she chanted in time with her present form of self-abuse.

Annoyed, agitated, and the tiniest bit aroused by the way the dirty rat bastard had the balls to turn the tables on her, she yanked her cell from her pocket and pulled up her call history. His number filled her screen. Call after call, day after day. Every day but today. The day she’d walked away from him again.

True to his word, he hadn’t followed. So, here she was, making a fool out of herself.

Jabbing one of the entries with her thumb, she waited until the call connected. Endless seconds passed before the phone rang in her ear. At the same time, the opening verse of AC/DC’s “You Shook Me All Night Long” drifted out from the elevator shaft. The singer was extolling the virtues of a woman who kept her motor clean when Harley’s raspy baritone cut in.

“Delaney?”

Inching closer to the polished nickel doors, she strained to hear over the hum of the elevator rising. “Are you here?”

“Am I where?”

The bell dinged and the doors slid open, revealing one tired, dirty construction guy with a super-fancy phone pressed to his ear. “Home,” she clarified, then ended the call. “Hi.”

Those clear green eyes narrowed warily as he stepped out of the car. She glanced down at the steel-toed boots he wore. Today, he’d climbed over every inch of her life. Part of her wanted to slap him for the intrusion. But more, she wanted to bury her face in his chest and ask exactly what he planned to do. About everything. The house. Them. If there even was a them. But she couldn’t think those kinds of thoughts. She wouldn’t let herself. She was here. She’d come to him. Those were his terms. Now it was his turn to do...something.

“Laney, sugar, I don’t think tonight is a good night to talk.”

“But I—”

He held up a hand to stall her. “I don’t want to fight.”

“I don’t, either.”

She tried not to be insulted by how fast his eyebrows flew up. He liked to tease her about being high maintenance, but she wasn’t really. Not anymore.

“You sure seemed to be spoiling for one earlier,” he said in a deceptively mild tone. Lord, didn’t the man know how aggravating he was? “If you’ve come by to go another round or two, let’s get it over with. They’re rerunning Voyager episodes on the Earth Channel this week, and I think tonight’s the night old Brian goes for a dip with the Polynesian pearl diver chick.”

His flippant attitude startled her, but she recovered quickly. “Don’t be an ass.”

“I figure it’s my turn, sugar.” Keys jangling in his palm, he stepped past her to his door. “So unless you’re here to show me yours, I suggest we go to our separate corners. We can come out swinging tomorrow.”

“Are you kidding me?” She gaped at him as he twisted the key and the deadbolt retreated with a snick. “You’re going to act like you’re the injured party here?”

A corner of his mouth ticked up in a smirk. “Well, you did slap me pretty hard.”

She did. And he deserved it, damn it. She’d come back to say what she thought would be a quiet goodbye and found him and his hammer jockeys crawling all over the place like ants. He had to have known how hard it would be to say goodbye to her family home, and still he’d betrayed her. Sauced or not, maybe her daddy’d been right about him all along. Men like Harley were the lowest of the low. Bottom feeders. A catfish. He was certainly too big to be called a shrimp, no matter how much scorn one put behind it.

He stepped across the threshold without sparing her another glance, so she launched her last missile. “I hate you.”

Her words wiped the smirk right off his face, but Harley remained calm and composed as he turned to face her. “Liar.”

Damn, she hated the way he could do the cool, detached thing with his tone. But this wasn’t her first time in the ring with this man, and the heat flaring gold in his eyes told her it wouldn’t be their last. Tipping her chin up a notch, she held his gaze. “You’re right, I don’t hate you.” Not nearly ready to throw in the towel, she stepped into the open doorway, crowding him the way he liked to trap her. “But I wish I did.”

“Sugar, I feel exactly the same way about you.”

“And you’re wrong about tonight’s episode. It’s the boring one about the sea birds.”

“Laney—”

She laid a finger across his lips and took a half-step closer. If she wasn’t watching him so closely, she might have missed the flutter of gold-tipped eyelashes or the slight pursing of those full, soft lips against her fingertip. But she was watching. She caught every one of his tells and was willing to bet she could put her finger on at least a half-dozen more. They both needed to shut up for a while. Stop bickering and baiting, and start...biting. Thought firmly in mind, she lowered her hand and rose up on her toes. One strong hand landed heavy on her hip. The other slid up her back at the very moment she caught his lower lip between her teeth and tugged not-so-gently. He rocked back on his heels when she released him. Taking full advantage, she planted a hand in the center of his chest and propelled him back into his condo.

“You’re absolutely right. Tonight is not a good night to fight.”

“We need to sort some stuff out.” He hooked an arm around her waist, hauled her to him, and kicked the door shut. “But I think I’d rather give you a good tongue-lashing.”

She blinked, letting her lashes swoop down and pausing for effect before opening her eyes again. “Big talk.”

“You said no talk.” Then, he backed up the reminder by fusing himself to her—mouth, chest, hips, and thighs.

Their shoes bumped. So did their noses. But he didn’t back off a millimeter. Laney remedied the awkward angle by stepping up onto the reinforced toes of his boots and parting her lips ever-so-slightly. In her experience that men like Harley rarely waited for invitations, but when one came their way, they grabbed it.

Sure enough, he grabbed her. His hands wrapped around her thighs, he plucked her off his boots as if she weighed no more than a feather. But she knew she did, and she wasn’t stupid enough to let the play of rippling muscles beneath his work shirt escape her clutches. Letting her head fall back so he could get to her neck, she ran greedy hands over biceps, shoulders and pecs. He sucked on the pulse throbbing beneath her ear and she moaned.

“So there’s no misunderstanding,” he murmured as he trailed hot, wet kisses down the side of her neck. “You want this. You came here for this, right?”

Threading her fingers through his too-long hair, she pressed against him in a manner which left little doubt as to her intentions, but answered, knowing he wouldn’t continue until he had the confirmation he needed. “I came here for you.”

Satisfied, Harley pivoted and started crossing the loft with long, purposeful strides. She caught glimpses of exposed ductwork and recessed lighting. Sleek, modern surfaces with clean lines and a modern aesthetic. Not at all what she expected. She was about to say something about the decor when she went sailing through the air. The next thing she knew, she landed in a puff of downy softness. Alone.

Stunned by the swift change in scenery, she stared open-mouthed at the skylights set into the slanted roof. A blanket of stars studded the moonless night sky. She turned to find Harley standing beside the enormous bed, simply watching her acclimate to her surroundings. His stiff-jawed expression was such a mixture of wariness, challenge, and pure, naked longing, she almost laughed aloud. But something made her hold back. A surprising rush of tenderness engulfed her when she caught the flash of vulnerability in his eyes.

“This is lovely,” she said, running her hand over the soft-brushed cotton of the duvet cover. “Not at all what I imagined,” she admitted with a rueful laugh, “But then again, you seldom do what I think you’re gonna do.” She wrinkled her nose as if toying with a thought, and held out a hand to him. “I suppose I should expect the unexpected by now, but that would ruin the fun, wouldn’t it?”

Planting a knee on the edge of the bed, he took her hand and drew it to his mouth. First, he kissed the back of it. Soft and polite, like the most courtly of gentlemen. Then he lifted his gaze to meet hers and turned her hand over. There was nothing genteel or gentlemanly about the hot, open-mouth kiss he placed in her palm. The tip of his tongue traced her lifeline. She shivered when he scraped the base of her thumb with his teeth.

“I like surprising you,” he said, his voice gravelly as a back country road.

Her own came as breathy as a B-movie starlet’s. “I know you do.”

“I plan to keep doing it.”

He took both her hands and pulled her upright. Before she could catch on, her shirt was up over her head and his free hand was working the clasp on her bra.

“Some you’ll like...” he continued as if he hadn’t pulled an abracadabra on her entire upper half.

She had to give credit where credit was due. The man was a magician with women’s clothing, but she refused to think too hard on how he’d acquired such skills. He pushed her down again and started attacking the button and fly of her jeans.

“...Some you won’t,” he added grimly.

In a whoosh, the denim, the pretty pink panties she’d worn because they almost matched the push-up bra he’d barely glanced at, and her shoes were gone. She was completely naked and exposed to him. And he still wore every stitch.

“And some are going to take a little getting used to.”

Laney shook her head, having lost the thread of the conversation along with all her clothing. “What’ll take getting used to?” She started to sit up, fully prepared to rectify the inequity in their situations.

Harley caught her shoulder and gently propelled her back again. “Stop talking.”

Lord, bless a talented man. Boots, shirt, jeans, briefs—he worked from top and bottom to the middle—and when he was done, he stood looking down at her as if she were a buffet laid out for his pleasure. There was no hesitation. No moment of uncertainty. There never was with Harley. He was a man who knew what he wanted and usually got it. It was one of the things she loved most about him.

Love.

The word grabbed her by the throat and squeezed as Harley took her by the ankles and dragged her to the edge of the bed. He didn’t bother with any more kisses, nor did he dole out any of those maddening caresses. He simply dropped to his knees beside the bed, spread her legs wide enough to make her wish she’d gone to one of those stupid yoga classes Brooke was always blathering about, wedged his shoulders between her thighs and buried his face between her legs.

He ran his hot, wet tongue over her, lapping at the smooth lips of her pussy like the cat who got the cream. Tucking her chin to her chest, she stole a peek. Because there was nothing sexier than a man at work.

Long lashes shadowed high cheekbones, but as she suspected, the corners of his wild, wicked mouth turned up. The slight smile combined with the shiver the tip of his talented tongue sent racing through her made her grateful she’d found time to go in for a cleanup.

“Christ, this is hot,” he murmured between long, deliberately lazy licks. “You’re the only woman I’ve ever known who does this. Bare down here.” He used the tip of one finger to trace a delicate line along her slit. “Nearly came in my pants the first time I saw you, but you like gettin’ a rise out of a man, don’t ya? Probably why you do this.”

Her breath hissed from between her teeth when he laid the flat of his tongue against her clit. His words weren’t the sweet talk some women liked to hear, but usually they worked fine for her. But there was an edge to him tonight. One she wasn’t entirely sure she could handle. He hummed his approval into her slick folds, and she pressed her palm to the back of his head, holding him exactly where she wanted him. “I’m not completely bare,” she said, her voice husky.

Much to her chagrin, he took the correction as an invitation to nuzzle the thin strip of dark hair she had the aesthetician leave. “No, not completely,” he conceded. “So fucking hot.”

She almost wept with relief when he shifted his attention back to her clit. She was wet already. Wet and aching and desperate for Harley to fill her. Maybe a little too desperate if she was thinking she was in love...

One hard swipe of his tongue obliterated her ability to string two words together. Blunt fingertips dug into the tender skin of her inner thighs. He held her open, wholly exposed and utterly at his mercy as he set about driving her straight out of her mind. Lips, teeth, and, oh, his tongue. Licking. Sucking. Circling and thrusting. He drove her up, his lips closed snug around the most sensitive bit of her and a pair of long fingers buried deep inside her.

She gasped his name, her fingers wound tight in his hair as she strained to take more of the delicious onslaught. Every brush of his tongue blew her mind. Those relentlessly thrusting fingers edged her closer to the brink. He curled them inside her, almost as if he could command an orgasm at the crook of his finger. The tightening in her belly told her he might be able to do exactly that. But something was off. She couldn’t quite get there. Which seemed ridiculous, considering the mojo the man had working.

He feasted on her. Devoured her. Consumed her with such single-minded purpose it never occurred to her to miss his usual playfulness. But she did. She wanted more than skill and technique. She wanted Harley. The sweet, if slightly off-color, words. His laughter. He never even tried to hide the unbridled joy he felt when he found himself in her bed.

But this wasn’t her bed. It was his. And the day hadn’t been long on joy in general. Closing her eyes, she surrendered to reality. It wasn’t going to happen for her. At least, not like this. Hooking her hands around his quivering biceps, she gave an insistent tug. Harley grunted a protest, but when she didn’t let go, lifted his head.

“Hey,” she whispered. “Come here.”

A vertical line appeared between his brows, marking his clear disapproval of the change in plan. “You didn’t come yet.”

“Not yet,” she allowed. Hey, hope sprang eternal and all. Maybe once they were eye-to-eye, she could find their connection again. “I want you inside me.”