Indelibly Intimate (9 page)

Her legs slid even wider apart. He looked down and wasn’t surprised to see her hand moving between her legs. Her clit had been throbbing before. It had to damn near hurt now. God knows his cock did.

“Touch yourself, sweetheart.” His whispered encouragement made her movements quicker. He smiled as he pounded harder against her. “Let me see how much you like this.”

“Yeah.” She moaned long and low into the pillow as she rubbed her clit and he fucked her. “Oh god, yeah!”

She wouldn’t last long at this rate and neither would he. It was time to give them both what they wanted.

Reaching forward, he cupped both her breasts. The stiff peaks of her nipples dug into his palms. His chest atop her back, he pumped furiously, matching the frantic rhythm of her fingers on her clit.

“Oh god,” she cried. “Fuck me, fuck me, please!”

The scream that accompanied her orgasm was muffled by the pillow as she shoved back against him, thrusting his cock as deep into her ass as it could go. The sweet tightness blew the top off his cock, and he came hard, filling up his condom as a hoarse yell barked from him. It was so good, so fucking good.

As much as he wanted to collapse there, still within her sweet body, he knew he shouldn’t. With a regretful sigh, he pulled free from her. Pressing a kiss to her sweat-dampened back, he stood.

“I’ll be right back, Sparky. Don’t go anywhere.”

His breath was loud in the echoing bathroom. Discarding the condom, he washed his hands and dampened a washcloth with warm water. After cleaning himself, he brought a second washcloth out to where Quinn lay, still facedown and breathing heavily on the bed.

She hissed when he wiped the sweat from her back with the warm cloth. He dipped it low, wiping her all over. She sighed when he was done, snuggling against the pillow.

He tossed the washcloth in the corner of the bathroom, ignoring the fleshy plop it made on the tiles as he came back into the bedroom. He sat on the bed beside her, tracing his fingers over her soft skin. First the sun, the yellow-orange center down to the spindly yellow rays, then up to the sad little leaf with its curling edges. He didn’t say anything.

After several minutes, she lifted her head and smiled at him from beneath bangs that obscured her eyes. “Well, that was fun and different. Can we do it again?”

Hammer’s laugh bounced from the ceiling. There was his Sparky. “Give me an hour or so and we’ll talk.”

She rose on her hands and knees. “Wow. He can draw, he can read minds and he can fuck like a porn star. Is there anything you can’t do?”

“Yes,” he said seriously. “I have completely failed in growing my own set of breasts.”

Her jaw dropped. “What?”

The corner of his lip curled upward. “Well, you asked.”

The joke finally sank in and she pretended to punch him in the arm. “You don’t need your own set. You can borrow mine whenever you want.”

It was a nice thought. A damn nice thought, in fact. He lightly smacked her bum. “Come on. Let’s get dressed and go find some dinner. I’ve got a feeling I’ll need the fuel this weekend.”

She laughed and followed him off the bed. As he bent to scoop up his jeans, he remembered. “So what was that idea of yours? We got distracted before you could say.”

Her sudden silence and the loss of that brilliant smile made him pause.

Chapter Nine

Shit. She’d had sex with him. Again.
What happened to laying it all out there for him, Quinn? Being open and honest about chemistry and nothing else? Seems like you skipped a step there.

After telling her subconscious to shut the hell up, she spoke. “Yeah. About that.” She quickly pulled on her panties then her shorts. Turning her back to him, she fastened her bra. “I was thinking. About us.”

The silence behind her was thick. Tense.

“I told you about my, well, situation. With Guy leaving. This, whatever it is between you and me, has been nice.” She faced him then, anxiety bubbling like acid in her guts. He was dressed, sitting on the end of the other bed, looking at her with a blank expression. She rushed to cover the quiet. “I just don’t want either of us to get hurt. You seem like a great guy.”

His brow furrowed—in confusion or distaste, she couldn’t tell.

“I can’t make any kind of commitment right now. Not that you’re not worth it—it’s not a great time for me. So what do you say we have fun this weekend? Whatever happens can happen with no strings attached?”

He didn’t say anything for a while. Her breath became shallow and she forced herself to draw in more oxygen. Why was she so fucking nervous? She hadn’t offended him, had she? Did she sound like a heartless bitch for even thinking about that?

After what seemed like hours, he nodded. “Okay, Sparky. Fun it is.”

Relief nearly deflated her. He didn’t appear thrilled but he didn’t look pissed or hurt either. Just curiously blank. She could deal with blank.

She kept her voice light. “Great. Fun. Nobody gets hurt that way.”

He nodded and turned away. She adjusted her clothing, worry twining like kudzu around her spine.

“You ready to go?” His keys jingled as he lifted them from his pocket.

“Sure.” She scooped up her purse and followed him out of the room.

The ride in the elevator was quiet. Quinn fretted the whole way down. Why had she said anything? She should have let things ride out, seen where they ended up. She didn’t want to hurt him but her heart was bruised enough thanks to Guy’s disappearing act. She needed that extra layer of insulation. Hopefully he understood and would come around.

“Do you want to take my car? I’m not a big fan of motorcycles,” Quinn said to his back as he led her into the parking lot.

“No need. I’ve got the Jeep here.” He hit the keyless entry fob on his keychain, and a shiny black Jeep to Quinn’s left beep-beeped in response.

“Oh.” She shook her head as she rounded the end of the vehicle to get to the passenger side. Of course he had two vehicles. His parents lived in a house the size of an amusement park. It made sense a guy who came from money would have money too.

The doors slammed, the engine growled and Hammer moved the gearshift into reverse.

“This is a nice car.” Quinn rubbed the arm of the gray leather seat. “It smells new.”

“I don’t drive it a lot during the summer. It’s about a year old.”

“Ah.”

She caught his gaze in the rearview mirror. He may not have liked her suggestion but it didn’t appear to have affected their chemistry.

Thumping drums and a lyrical melody emanated softly from the car speakers. The music was a welcome distraction for Quinn. She could only presume for Hammer as well, because neither of them did any talking until the Jeep rolled onto the interstate.

“Any preferences for food?”

“Anything but a sports bar.” She ran a finger along the armrest. “I’ve had enough of those for a while.”

When the corner of Hammer’s mouth lifted, Quinn nearly melted from the tension release. She hated the strain her idea had caused.

“No sports bars. Got it. But anything else is okay with you?”

She nodded firmly. “Anything.”

When the Jeep pulled up in front of a neon-bedecked building, she began to regret being so accommodating. “A bowling alley?”

Hammer cut the engine and loosened his seat belt. “Yep. You said anything, and you said fun, so this is it. Unless you’d rather find a sports bar? I think the Yankees are playing tonight…”

Quinn shook her head so hard the end of her ponytail thwapped her in the nose. “No, no, this is great.”

She stepped from the car onto the cracked and worn pavement of the parking lot. Following Hammer across empty parking spaces, the white lines that delineated them more than mostly gone, she wondered what the fuck she’d done now.
Bowling? Seriously?

He held the door open for her and she preceded him into the alley. The loud clack of bowling balls crashing into pins competed with bubbly rock coming from a jukebox. The scent of popcorn and fried food hung in the air. Less than half the lanes were occupied.

Hammer led the way to the counter. Quinn didn’t pay attention while he spoke to the big man there. She was too busy mapping escape routes. How long did a game of bowling normally take?

“
Sparky
.
”

She started. “What?”

“I asked you what your shoe size was.”

A prickle of defensiveness ran across her. She crossed her arms. “Little bit of a personal question, isn’t it?”

Hammer rolled his eyes. Bending low, he grabbed at Quinn’s ankle. With a squeak, she clutched his shoulders to keep from falling over. He grasped the heel of her sneaker and pulled it off her foot.

“What the hell are you doing?”

He stood. Quinn kept a death grip on his arm for balance. No way was she stepping her sock-covered foot on a bowling alley floor. Who the fuck knew what nastiness could be stuck there?

Pulling up the tongue of the sneaker, Hammer examined the label. “Size eight.”

The big man behind the counter nodded and yanked a pair of bowling shoes from the shelf behind him.

Oh. Shoes. She’d been so lost in thought that she hadn’t realized.

“Sorry,” Quinn said sheepishly.

Hammer returned her sneaker with a wink. “No harm done.”

She jammed her foot back into her shoe as money changed hands from Hammer to the counter attendant. After giving her a pair of bowling shoes that appeared to have been worn every day for the last twenty years, probably by at least a hundred people a week—
gross
—Hammer led her to an empty lane in the corner of the alley.

“Here. Get us set up while I go order some food.” He set his shoes beside her, yanked her ponytail and with a wink sauntered toward the concession area.

Quinn glared after him. Who did he think he was? She wasn’t the type of girl you could order around. His casual high-handedness was
so
not going to fly. Making up her mind, she nodded as she crossed to the control box for the monitor above the lane. She’d fix him.

Hammer didn’t bother hiding his grin as he stood in line at the concession counter. Sparky was in so far over her head she’d have to swim for a month to see the sun again. She honestly expected she could play with him for a weekend and toss him aside like some kind of half-eaten man candy? Not happening. By the end of this weekend, she was going to realize she had picked the wrong guy to act as her sex toy.

He ordered their food and a couple beers and was back at their lane only a moment later. When he got there, she had her legs crossed and she picked at her fingernails with a bored expression.

“Got you a burger.” He passed her a basket laden with a greasy sandwich and fries. “And a beer. Blue Moon. You seemed to like them a lot at my house.”

“Ha, ha.” Her laugh was anything but genuine as she cut a glare at him. “I told you I don’t usually drink that much.”

“Don’t feel bad, Sparky. You’re pretty damn cute when you’re plastered.” He winked at her again as he took a bite of his burger. “So, who’s up first?”

Leaning back in the plastic seat, he scanned the blue screen almost directly over Quinn. And nearly spit his burger into the lane. Quinn’s name was first. That wasn’t the surprise.

“Who exactly is
Asshat
?”

She smiled tightly, putting her beer and basket aside to go select a ball. “I’ll let you figure that out for yourself, cowboy.”

She twitched her ass as she walked over to the rack. It was even worse when she bent over to examine a ball on the bottom row, her pert ass waving like clean laundry on a line. He could have sworn she was doing it to make him crazy.

He nodded slowly. She could have her fun right now. She’d figure out soon enough that she wouldn’t be able to manipulate him like she thought she could.

Bowling lefty, he took it easy on her for the first few frames. It wasn’t hard to tell she hadn’t done a lot of bowling in her life. Her throws were awkward, curving back toward the left end of the lane every time. She was lucky enough to get a spare on the third frame and she whooped like she’d just won the lottery.

“Top
that
, asshat.” She giggled as she passed him and then flopped into the chair behind him.

He stared down the lane where the pins had been reset. “Hmm. It’s gonna be tough. What do you say to a friendly wager on the outcome of this game?” He didn’t miss the way she glanced up at the scoreboard, nor the little glint in her eye when she realized how far ahead she was now.

Stretching her arm out on the back of the chair beside her, she crossed her legs. The sight of her thigh presented to him so nicely sent a surge of heated blood to his groin. “Sounds reasonable. Terms?”

He coughed slightly before continuing. “If you win, I’ll give you a hundred bucks.”

She wasn’t greedy, he knew that already, but he also knew what a bad financial situation she was in. She wouldn’t turn him down. The light of hope in her expression assured him of that.

“And if you win?”

He didn’t stop the slow curl of his lips. “You sleep in the bed on the right. The one I’m sleeping in. All weekend long.”

She bit her lip and her foot started a nervous twitch. He’d definitely stomped a hole in her comfort zone there. “Make it two hundred and you’ve got a deal.”

He nodded solemnly and shook the hand she held out to him. She didn’t have a chance.

He went easy on her for another two frames. Just long enough for her nervousness to fade and her triumph to return. He almost wished he could throw the game to see her crow when she won. Unfortunately, the prize he stood to gain was too damn important. Having her that close for three nights in a row? Priceless.

“You really shouldn’t have bet me, you know,” Quinn said as he held the ball in his left hand, lining it up with the pins at the end of the lane. He didn’t look over at her. “Especially with the lead I’ve got now. You’ll have to get almost nothing but strikes for the rest of the game.”

“I think I’ll be all right, Sparky. Don’t you worry about a thing.”

He switched the ball from his left side to his right. She squeaked in protest but he was already starting his three-step approach.
Bend, release, follow through, hold and…

“How the hell did you do that? You haven’t hit a strike the whole game! Were you bowling left before? Why?”

He didn’t answer, just nodded back toward the lane. “Your go, Sparky.”

She scowled but jerked her red ball from the return and flounced past him.

He allowed himself a brief pat on her bum as she went. “It’s going to be a nice weekend.”

Her glare was so worth it.

Her throws got worse and worse as he continued to hit strikes. As his grin got wider, her jaw got tighter. By the last two frames, she seemed ready to chuck her bowling ball at him.

“This is completely unfair. You set me up. You’re a damn ringer!” She shook her finger in his face, rage purpling her cheeks. He laughed.

“Would you be as pissed if I bowled the rest of the game with my left hand?”

She stopped. Her tongue darted out before she bit her lip in thought. Damn, he loved that mouth.

“The whole rest of the game? With your left hand only?”

He nodded solemnly. “I’ll do it. Conditionally.”

Blowing her bangs upward, she crossed her arms beneath her breasts. “What condition?”

“Double or nothing.”

Her mouth went slack, her eyes wide. “What do you mean, double or nothing?”

“If you win, I’ll give you four hundred dollars. If I win, you have to sleep in my bed for, let’s see, six nights instead of three.”

“But we’re only here for three nights. I can’t stay here longer than that, I have work.”

He nodded. “I know. That means you’d have to come stay at my place.”

The blood left her cheeks.
Gotcha, Sparky.

“But the deal… No strings attached…”

“Did I mention any strings? Well, let’s get realistic, I’d be crazy not to want to tie you up. Six nights. That’s less than a week. And you saw how I bowled before as a lefty.” She hesitated, shifting her weight and biting her lip. Hammer went in for the kill. “Four hundred dollars. It’s nothing to sneeze at.”

After a heavy sigh, she nodded.