Irreversible Damage (Irreparable) (19 page)

Tug laughs, almost agreeing.

“What?” she says sheepishly.

“Hello, Mr. Preston.” Tug greets my father with a friendly handshake.

My dad’s chest puffs out. I nearly laugh. I don’t think he needs to send silent warnings to Tug. He’s not here to steal his daughter’s virtue. “How are you, son?” Even his voice deepens in warning.

Tug nods. “I’m well, thank you.”

“Are you enjoying Minnesota?” my father asks, his shoulders relaxing slightly.

“It’s all right. I tell you, though, the mosquitoes you have here could carry a small child away.”

My dad chuckles and relaxes completely.  “You got that right.  I wish they’d carry away the damn raccoons. They keep getting into the garbage.”

“I told you to put the barrel in the garage.” My mom smiles at Tug, jabbing a thumb at my father. “Thick, that one.”

Tug laughs politely, although I’m sure he’s not interested in listening to my parents bicker about their wildlife problem.

“Shall we go?” I grab Tug’s arm, yanking him toward the door. “I’m not sure what time I’ll be home.”

“It was nice seeing you both again.” Tug nods to my parents.

“Thank you, Aidan.” My mother actually squeezes his cheeks. “Such a sweet boy.”

Poor Tug flames red. He kisses my mother’s cheek and shakes my father’s hand again before I practically yank him through the door.

***

Tug and I have dinner in the restaurant of his hotel. We laugh and talk about his business dealings. He tells me about his plans to expand Gibson Capital globally. He brags about takeovers and mergers. He’s a shark. There’s darkness behind his eyes when he talks about it. I hate that it’s there. It scares me a little. Some of the things he says shock me. He’s detached from his customers and his clients. I guess he has to be. He can’t be emotionally involved when he’s taking a company out from under someone. He steers clear of any “Brady” conversation, which I’m grateful for. We share a bottle of wine and a divine chocolate cake. I’m stuffed, and my belly hurts from laughing. Thinking on it, the moments in my life when I’ve laughed the most have been with Tug.

He’s different now, more mature, but he’s still capable of brightening up my worst day. Under that gruff businessman façade is my Tuggy. I love that I can bring him out.

After dinner, Tug offers to take me home. I’m not ready to go yet and suggest a few drinks at the bar. Truthfully, I’m not ready to let him go yet. This is the happiest I’ve felt in ages. When we sit at the bar, Tug orders two shots of Blue Sapphire. There’s a sneakiness behind his smile that worries me. “Gin’ll make you sin.”

I feel the flush in my cheeks at his crassness. Does he expect something to happen here? My cheeks burn feverishly. My lips part to say something.

Tug stops me. “Don’t get your panties in a bunch, Tor. It was a joke.”

Oh. I relax with a smile, feeling the relief wash over me. The bartender sets the shots down in front of us. Tug picks his up and holds it in the air. I follow and lift my glass, shooting him a puzzled look. “Here’s to new beginnings for you. I hope you find the happiness you’re looking for.”

I’m at a loss for a proper response. I toss the shot back, screwing up my face as the alcohol burns my throat. Tug orders two more shots and tells the bartender to leave the bottle. I grab one of the shots, hold it in the air, and say, “Here’s to friendship.” I swallow the shot down and wait for Tug. He watches me with amusement before tossing his back. I want know what he’s thinking. I smile awkwardly and turn my head.

Tug throws a hundred bucks on the bar and picks up the bottle of gin. With his free hand, he helps me from the stool. “Come on.”

“Where are we going?” I’m giggling as he drags me behind him. The effects from the alcohol make me feel like I could float away.

“To my room.”

There’s something alarming in his tone that freezes me in place. I nearly fall over as Tug keeps pulling. He spins to face me.

“What?” Is he delusional? I just toasted our friendship.

He smiles mischievously.  Oh, no. He does think there’s more going on here than friendship. Did I mislead him? I’m trying to think of what I might have said or done when Tug says, “I’ve been practicing.” His face lights up like a kid on Christmas morning.

Ew! Practicing? I fight off the pictures of Tug “practicing” that are forcing their way into my brain. My nose scrunches together and I shake my head. God, please make it stop!

Tug burst into a fit of laughter as he releases my hand. “Oh, shit!” He points at me. “You thought I meant sex.” He tries to continue, but he’s laughing so hard the words don’t thread together clearly. This makes me start laughing hysterically. My eyes water as I watch Tug’s red face while he tries to compose himself.

“Poker, pretty girl,” he finally manages to tell me before grabbing my hand and walking toward the elevators. “I think I can finally beat you.”

Oh. God, I feel so stupid. He starts to walk but then turns to face me again. I don’t notice and smack right into his chest. When I look up, I see the darkness in his eyes, like it was when he talked about his work. “When it comes to sex, I’m an expert.”

I shiver runs ups my spine to the nape of my neck. My knees are wobbling so violently, I’m not certain if I can walk. I watch as he strides confidently to the elevator. I can’t believe he said that. I’m not sure I know Tug at all anymore. It’s as though the day his mother shot herself he morphed into a man – a slightly terrifying man – that for some reason, I’m suddenly attracted to. This is so wrong. I can’t feel like that about him. I shake my thoughts away and follow him.

Tug’s suite is enormous, with more crystal and glass than our drunk asses should be around. One wall is nothing but windows overlooking the lake. There’s a full-size dining room table with leather high-back chairs. On the other side of the room is a living area with white streamlined sofas and chairs. A large flat-screen hangs against the wall. I turn to see him watching me with his arms over his chest. 

“Are you staying here with other people?”

He lifts an eyebrow questioningly. “Nope…just me.” He strides over and stands next to me.

“Why do you need such a big room?”

He shrugs. “Tax write-off.”

“Shut up!” I smack him playfully on the arm, feeling a little tipsy.

“Come!” he orders before walking over to the windows.

“You’ve become quite bossy, you know that?” I follow him to an open area in front of the windows.

He spins to face me. His dark gaze sends another shiver through me. I don’t know why. I wish it would quit happening. “You have no idea, pretty girl. Now sit!”

I laugh. For some twisted reason, I kind of like bossy Tug.

We sit down on the floor. Tug sets the bottle of gin and two shot glasses on the floor next to him.

“Okay.” He grins and waggles his eyebrows. I may like bossy Tug, but I adore playful Tug. “Here are the rules.” He lines up the shot glasses and fills each of them with gin. “I lose the hand, I drink. You lose, and you drink.”

“Are you sure?” I poke him in the chest. He grabs my finger and bites it gently before pushing it way. I laugh. “You do remember that you have never beaten me?”

“Oh, I’m sure.” He grins devilishly. It makes me wonder how much he’s been practicing.

Tug and I throw back a “just because” shot. I feel surprisingly relaxed. I haven’t felt this good in so long. I forgot what it feels like to be young and free. It’s been since way before Mona was born that I’ve felt like the nearly twenty-two-year-old I am. Between my thoughts and the cards being dealt, my mind drifts back to the beach, the night everything changed for Brady and me. Brady taught me to play poker. That night, I beat him for the first time. I was elated, and then it all went to shit. Harrison spilled Brady’s secrets, and Brady ran. We got through all of it, though, and up until losing Mona, I thought we could get past anything. I shake away my thoughts when Tug pipes up,

“Oh, pretty girl. You ready to lose your ass?”

I laugh and pick up my cards. Mr. Confident is evidently here to stay. I glance over the top of my cards, looking at Tug. He has all five cards in his hands. “You’re keeping yours?” I ask, watching his face for any signs of a tell. There’s nothing.

“Oh, yeah!” He nods, basking in his hand.

“All right. I am, too.” I wink and stick my tongue out at him. “What do you have?”

“Three queens.” His smile is so full of triumph, I almost consider not laying my hand down.

Almost.

“Four kings.” I gloat as I lay each card down one at time.

“Gah, woman!  How do you do that?”

I shrug with a giggle. “Drink.”

After we exchange a few hands, the affects of the alcohol are really sinking in. I’m feeling no pain. I think it’s time to shake things up a bit. It’s probably a stupid idea, but I love how carefree being with him feels.

“Okay, new game, Tuggy.” My words only slur a little. He raises an eyebrow at my calling him Tuggy. I’m sure it dissolves his newfound masculinity. I don’t care if it bruises his ego. It’s who he’ll always be to me. “To make this interesting, I say loser drinks and removes a piece of clothing.”

His response is instant. “Deal!”

I laugh.

I lose the first hand, toss the drink back and then nearly choke when I realize I only have on four pieces of clothing, two of which are undergarments. I didn’t think this over very well before opening my mouth. I clearly am not thinking at all, since I’m alone in a hotel room playing drunk strip poker with the new Tug. But I’m having a blast. Fuck it! Tug is staring at me with a smug-as-can-be-grin. His eyes roam over my breasts. I hear his heavy breaths. 

“You made up the game, sweet girl.” He motions to my shirt with his index finger. “Off.”

With a smirk, I stand up. I shimmy out of my skirt instead. I’m left in my blouse, bra, and panties. The blouse hangs just above the top of my panties. Tug’s brown eyes scour up and down my legs. His eyes smile with enjoyment as they work their way up, stopping at my mouth. He shifts nervously, adjusting his crotch and looking away.

“Sit,” he barks before dealing the next hand.

I smile and sit. I like that I’m having this effect on him. Nonetheless, I’m going to need to sharpen my focus before I’m stripped bare.

After I win the next three hands, Tug is still completely clothed. Bastard! He definitely inventoried our clothing before he said yes to this little game. He’s removed two socks and his suit jacket.

The next hand, I’m dealt two tens. I hate this hand. It’s more than beatable, but not terrible enough to get rid of. If I ask for three cards, he’ll know I have a low pair. I bluff. “Oh, say goodbye to your shirt, smug Tug.”

He arches a brow. “We’ll see.” He’s too confident.

Shit! He’s got me beat.
I can feel it. He sees right through my bluff.

We lay them down at the same time. As I suspected, he’s beaten me with a pair of jacks.

He laughs devilishly. His index finger slides my cards around in circles on the carpet. He looks up from under his long brown lashes. “Who’s losing their shirt?”

Shit! It’s that or my underwear. I’m starting to remove my shirt when Tug yanks on the hem. His eyes glimmer with a hit of uncertainly. “Not yet. Drink first.”

I shoot him an annoyed look. He smiles. His lips glance at my mouth. I down the shot before ripping my blouse over my head. Tug’s eyes go wide as he sucks in a ragged breath. His brown eyes sweep over my chest. I focus on his parted lips as he swallows hard. I blush as the slow ache of desire stews inside me. It surprises me. I might me on the verge of drunk, but I want him to touch me.

His chest heaves a deep breath before he clears his throat and sits up straight. “I think you should put your clothes on. I’ll call you a cab.”

I crawl over the cards until our faces touch. His lips rest ever so slightly on mine. I don’t know why I’m doing this, but it feels right. “I don’t want to get dressed.” I utter the words in a whispered breath. “And I’m not leaving.” I close my eyes, waiting for him to kiss me. I know he wants to. The kiss never comes.

“Jesus, Tori.” Tug hops up to his feet and offers a hand. “Put your goddamn clothes on.”

I take his hand and stand up. My nearly naked chest presses against his hard body. I haven’t felt this needy in a long time.

Ignoring his request for me to dress, I start unbuttoning Tug’s shirt from the top. My hands slide under the cotton. I smooth my palms over his chest muscles. His breathing becomes shallow. I plant kisses on his exposed chest. I have no idea why being with Tug feels so right, but it does. I’m done questioning it. My fingers work on unbuttoning the rest of his shirt.  “I want you.”

His hands cover mine, stopping me from releasing any more buttons. His dark brown eyes burn with desire as they rake over my features. “Tori. We’re not kids anymore.” One of his hands moves to my lower back. His palm pushes into my back, pulling me closer. I feel his erection through his pants as it presses into my stomach. “Don’t start something you can’t finish.” His voice is a low growl against my cheek.

I lower my hands and undo his belt buckle. His breath hitches when I reach down and cover the length of him with my palm. “You want me. I know you do.” 

He groans. “I do, but this is careless.”

“I don’t care,” I whisper as I drag my tongue over his earlobe. “I feel dead. It should have been me.”

He grips my face firmly in his hands. His deep brown eyes burrow into me as he grits his teeth together. “Don’t say that!” His thumbs stroke gently over my cheekbones. “Don’t you ever fucking say that!”

“Make me feel alive again.” My tongue reaches out to slowly lick his bottom lip. “I want to feel again. Please.”

His hands fall from my face to grip both of my arms just above the elbows. “Tori, you have to stop, because I can’t.” He gives me a gentle shake. “I’m not the guy I used to be.” His nostrils flare as he breathes in deep through his nose. “If you push this, I won’t stop it. I will fuck you.”

“I’m pushing,” I challenge him without hesitation as I continue to stroke his arousal through his slacks.