Headed for Trouble (The McKay Family #1) (36 page)

*   *   *

Ian could, without a doubt, seduce her. Even with something as simple as dirty Scrabble and pizza by candlelight.

He could also destroy her.

Her hands gripped the edge of the table, and she sucked in a breath as he pushed her thighs wider and licked her.

The table was cool under her back—cool and slippery—and when she tried to arch closer, her shirt slid over the smooth surface. Ian’s hands caught her hips and held her steady.

Those hands might be the only thing keeping her from flying into a thousand pieces as he started to toy with her clitoris, using his tongue in a rhythm that set her to gasping and whimpering all over again.

She came with hard, near savage intensity and when he levered his weight up over her, she stared at him, panting.

“That was dessert,” he said.

“Dessert?” It took two tries to get the word out.

“Aye. It’s time for the main course, though. I’m so hungry for you.” Ian nuzzled her breasts through her T-shirt and she wished she’d thought to take it off. Clothes had never been so annoying as they were around him. If they could both just spend their time together naked …

The loud rasp of a zipper had her heart hammering harder against her ribs.

“We … um.”

He came down over her and she used her hands as a buffer, holding him at bay as she looked around.

“Ian, we’re on your table.”

“I know.” He rolled his eyes. “The next time I sit down here to eat, I’ll end up with an erection and blue balls.”

“But…”

His lips lightly pressed against the corner of her mouth. “Neve, can I tell you a fantasy of mine?”

He didn’t wait for her to answer, just forged right on ahead. “I want to see you naked in every room of my house and have you on every flat surface that will hold our weight.”

A laugh bubbled out of her, a mix of excitement and embarrassment. “The back of your couch wasn’t flat.”

“Well, then. I’ll have to amend my fantasy.”

He brushed against her and the discomfort she felt, the vague embarrassment, faded at the feel of his cock, so hard and thick, stroking against the folds of her sex.

“I…”

He sank inside her.

“I think I could get on board with this fantasy,” she squeezed out as he withdrew and surged forward again.

“I knew you’d see it my way.”

His mouth came down on hers and rational thought spun away, lost in a haze of bliss.

*   *   *

William idly stroked his thumb against his forefinger, a habit he seemed to have picked up almost overnight. The scarf.

He shouldn’t have left the scarf.

As much as he would have liked to have watched the whole spectacle play itself out, he’d stayed in his chair, pretending to read the pitiful excuse this town had for a newspaper. He’d been surprised she’d reported it. First one, then a second, police car had arrived and they’d stayed there for close to an hour.

Neve had strode out from between the two buildings at one point. Anticipation had burned in him and he’d laid out enough money to cover the coffee he’d been drinking, but she hadn’t left that spot.

No. Ian fucking Campbell had emerged from the alley behind her and the two of them had been all but joined at the hip.

Then there was the blonde—the women had spoken together for some time and he’d spun yet another scenario in his head. Perhaps she’d leave with the woman. If she left with the other woman, he could follow …

But she hadn’t.

It had been almost a week since he’d left his message for her and he’d yet to see her more than a handful of times and not
once
had he been able to approach her.

When she’d hopped out of a flamboyant car that was the most atrocious shade of red, he’d felt the frustration course through him yet again. She paused to wave at the car behind her and William curled his lip at the sight of Brannon McKay.

Neve had then disappeared into a shop just down the walk. Renovations were going on inside and he knew he wouldn’t have even a whisper of a hope of her being alone.

Men with tool belts came and went in an unending parade and more than once, Campbell had gone in there and the two of them would emerge.

They’d done that, just twenty short minutes ago.

He’d watched, expecting them to go into the pub.

But Campbell had dipped his head toward Neve’s, perhaps to say something. She’d looked up at him, and then they’d kissed.

Neve hadn’t even
pretended
reluctance when she let him lead her into the alley.

They were inside Campbell’s flat. He’d followed and now William could hear them, low grunts and soft moans.

He reached up and traced his finger over the small, round sticker. It was discreet, but its message was clear.

There was an alarm system and he’d already seen how promptly calls to the police were handled. More than a few uniformed men tended to have their lunch in the pub. He doubted he could get in there and get out without being seen by the cops—pursued, even.

As a broken cry echoed through the door, William turned.

He’d go back to the diner.

Sooner or later, she’d slip up.

She always did.

Then she’d pay and if he was lucky, perhaps he could even get his hands on Campbell. Just the thought of him putting his hands on Neve made William’s vision run red.

His.

She was his.

She’d learn how foolish it was to humiliate him like this, just as her brother had learned. Did Ian Campbell know?

Did the sod know that Neve was
his
?

He would, and so would Neve, once and for all.

Nobody humiliated him and just walked away from it.

It had taken time to figure out just how he’d handle it, but he’d done it. That meeting in New York, running into Neve McKay, although it hadn’t been an accidental meeting as she’d always assumed.

No, he’d been watching and waiting for a chance. She thought she was so fucking powerful, all of them did. Fucking McKays with their money and their name. But he knew people, too. He had friends as well and he knew who to talk to, knew how to wait, so he’d done just that.

He’d watched, he’d listened, and when he heard about Neve, he’d known she’d be perfect. Ripe for the plucking.

He’d just planned to have a bit of sport with her, but she’d been so vulnerable. So needy. So
perfect
.

She was
his
. He’d have his chance at her soon. He’d just have to be patient again and watch, wait.

Neve would be his again and he’d teach her the same sort of lesson he was teaching Campbell and her prick of a brother. Nobody humiliated William Clyde. Nobody.

Somebody appeared at the table and he looked up.

The female gaze that pinned him was cool, assessing. William returned her stare with one of his own.

A slow smile stretched across her lips.

*   *   *

“I saw you.” Shayla Hardee said the words coolly, calmly.

The man across from her put his coffee cup down on the table and leaned back, studying her with a faint, amused expression on his face. “You saw me … here? How observant of you.”

“Very funny.” She leaned in. The crowd around them had her lowering her voice. “I
saw
you … last week. Out behind the pub.”

His lids flickered. He said nothing, but when he cocked his head, she smiled. “Joel Fletcher lives in one of the little apartments in the building behind the pub. It’s on High Street. His apartment is in the back. We were … visiting.”

“Visiting.” He laughed shortly. “Is that what it’s called these days?”

She ignored him, reaching out to rest a hand flat on the table. “She went into the police department, you know. I heard what happened, about the bag…” Shayla fluttered a hand vaguely. “Small towns, ya know. People talk.”

“Indeed.”

Unperturbed by his cool demeanor, Shayla leaned back over the table, elbows braced on the candy-apple red surface. Smiling, she added, “All that mess goes down behind the pub, nobody knows anything, saw anything … Ian’s bike get trashed. Neve’s got a backpack back there filled up with drugs. That was stupid, you know. Neve’s got this fear of needles that’s … well. It’s legendary. People might believe she’d
sell
them for the hell of it, but
use
them? Oh, hell, no.”

“Is there a point to this?” He lifted his coffee cup and sipped, staring at her over the brim.

“You had a bag with you. I saw it.”

Impatience started to leap inside her when his eyes remained cool and unreadable.

“What would you like?” he asked easily. “A medal?”

“Well.” She lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “You’re not too far off. Medals are, after all, usually gold.”

She let those words sink in.

“Money.” His lip curled as he said it, the word clearly distasteful. Still, in that crisp accent, he sounded so elegant, so refined. “You want me to pay you.”

Shayla smiled. “That’s the idea.”

He studied her with narrow eyes and then leaned in. “There’s a boat dock a few miles out of town. Landry’s. You know it?”

“Who doesn’t?” Shayla rolled her eyes.

“Be there tonight at ten. We’ll discuss this more … openly.”

“You better be ready to trade.” As he stood up, she slumped more comfortably in the chair and lifted her hand to flag down the server. This called for French fries.

*   *   *

“I’ve been thinking.”

Ian’s chest was warm under her and she could feel his heart beating. It was a soothing, steady cadence and she thought maybe she could be happy to spend the rest of her life like this. Or the rest of the day, at least. Sooner or later, they’d need food.

Then she’d want sex again.

Then they could go back to lying like this.

But he’d said something. Popping one eye open, she studied the room. Soft light fell through the window, painting everything with warm, golden colors.

“Thinking. Why?”

Ian laughed softly. “Because sometimes it saves time and trouble.”

“Sometimes thinking
causes
trouble.” She shifted around and rolled onto her belly to stare at him. “Aren’t you the one who tells me I think too much?”

That face.

Just looking at him like this was enough to make her feel all hot and raw inside. And
greedy
. Not just for sex, although she’d come to appreciate that act far more than she would have thought possible.

But she was greedy for
him
. For everything about him—she wanted more time, she wanted more laughs, she wanted more conversations late in the night while she lay in her bed back at Ferry and he lay in his here in town.

Why couldn’t she have found
him
instead of William?

What would she be like if she hadn’t been so …

“… not a bad idea, is it?”

“Huh?” She blinked at him. Blushing, she sat up. “I’m sorry. My mind was wandering.”

“Just what a man wants to hear when he’s got a lovely woman in his bed.” Ian glowered at her, but she saw the glint in his eyes.

“I was thinking about you, if that helps.” She reached out and touched a finger to his lower lip. The softness of his beard and the warmth of him sent a shiver of pleasure up her spine.

“It helps.” He caught her hand and pressed a kiss to her palm.

Then he sat up, levering his weight back against the headboard. “So…” He drew the word out pointedly, staring at her. “I was
thinking
that maybe you could bring some of your stuff here. That way, if you end up staying the night again, you have clothes.”

Bring some of your stuff …

A wave of cold hit her. Air knocked out of her chest.
Just a few things, Neve darling. It would be so much better that way and really, I can’t stay in your flat. There’s hardly room for you.
William’s voice, so gentle and persuasive, rose out of the depths of her memories to mock her.

“My…” She licked her lips. “My stuff?”

She didn’t know
where
exactly it came from, or why it hit her like that, but suddenly, the lazy, easy warmth was gone. Even those thoughts of
staying like this forever
had faded.

Clambering out of the bed, she grabbed the shirt he’d left on the foot of the bed and jerked it on. “No.”

He made no response and she turned around, jerked up her chin to glare at him. “Aren’t you going to say anything?”

His eyes were closed.

While she stood there shaking on the inside, he sat in the bed, looking relaxed and he had his eyes closed like he wanted to grab another five minutes of sleep.

“What am I to say, Neve?” he asked softly. “If you’re not ready for that, then you’re not ready. I can’t push you.”

“But you are!”

“No.” He opened his eyes and climbed out of the bed, staring at her from across the room. “I asked you. That’s not pushing.”

“But you asked me too soon! I barely know you!”

A muscle pulsed in his jaw, his eyes glinting.

Even saying that felt like a lie, but Neve didn’t take it back. She
didn’t
know him.

“What’s this about, Neve?” Ian asked.

He could see her throat working as she swallowed but she didn’t answer him. Sighing, he turned and grabbed the clothes he’d piled haphazardly on a chair near the door. He’d have time to shower, if he hurried, and get back down to the pub. He’d been an idiot, asking her so soon. Wasn’t like he’d asked her to move in with him, but maybe he had pushed.

He’d
wanted
to. Did it amount to the same thing?

“I knew William for
months
before I slept with him. Dated him for
months
before I moved in with him. And that was
still
a disaster.”

Temper snapped out of him and whirled to face her. “I’m nothing like him.”

Neve blinked hard and he watched one hand curl into a fist, so tight her knuckles went bloodless.

“Neve—”

“I’m sorry.” She spun on her heel and ducked into the other room.

Ian stood there, rubbing his hands up and down his face.
Calm down, lad. Just calm down …