Mr. Write (Sweetwater) (26 page)

The remorse that had been plain on his face changed into something she associated with male ego.  “You felt sorry for me.”

Oh, that strangled growl was a definite sign of irritation.  “In a nutshell.”

When his eyes locked on her
s with the unerring aim of a Sidewinder missile, she felt a shiver of anticipation climb up her spine.

“Maybe I need to kiss you again.”

Sarah acknowledged the various reasons that was probably a bad idea.  And discarded them.

“Maybe you do.”  She
scooped up the shears, her gift and its trappings.  “Come on, then.  I’ll open a bottle of wine.”

SARAH
tipped more of that wine into Tucker’s glass, shaking her head at the cat stretched belly-up across his lap. 

“You may end up regretting rescuing him from your tree.
”  She leaned over to sit the bottle on the table.  “I think he’s got a healthy case of transference going on.”

“Once again, you’re underestimating my raw charisma.”

“Is that what it’s called,” she said dryly.

“Worked on you.”

“You think so?”

He pushed off with his foot, sent the daybed on which they sat swaying.  “You force me t
o point out that you invited me into your bed.”

“It’s
a
bed, smart guy, although it’s primary function is comfortable seating.  In case you hadn’t noticed, this place isn’t exactly long on space.”

He sipped his wine,
smoky eyes playing a hot riff over her skin.  “It’s hard to complain just at the moment.”

Because she agreed,
Sarah kicked off her sandals, settled more comfortably into the cushions.  “You have a scar.”  She touched the side of her own chin.  “I never noticed it before.  I guess because you’re rarely clean-shaven”

“Most likely
.”

She waited for him to elaborate.
“This must be the ‘raw’ part of your charisma.”

That earned her a slanted
look.  “I got it in a fight.  Is that what you wanted to know?”

“Yes.  And in such rich, vibrant detail.  I almost feel as if I were there.”

He scratched her cat’s belly.  “I was working late, saw a woman pass by the site.  Pretty woman, pretty clothes.  Hobbling along in those thin, spiky heels that look like ice picks.  Another man saw her hobbling along and decided to take advantage.  By the time I arrived on the scene he had her down on the ground, so I waded in.  We fought.  I had the size advantage but he was coked to his eyeballs.  One of her shoes had come off in the attack, and he grabbed it, caught me in the chin.”

When he glanced up, saw her expression, he huffed out a mirthless laugh. “Yeah.  That story jus
t sets the perfect tone, doesn’t it.”

“What happened?”

“The woman managed to call for help.  The police came, hauled the other guy off to the ER and me off to jail.”

“Wait a minute.” 
Outraged, she sat down her wine.  “Why did
you
go to jail?”

“He had a concussion and a broken jaw, and the woman was so hysterical she had a tough time getting her story straight.  But
then she did, I went home, and the asshole got slapped for assault.  Everybody’s happy.” 

“That
was gallant of you.”

“Breaking someone’s jaw is gallant?”

“In this case?”  She picked up her wine, nodded.  “Hell yes.”

The chain creaked, and Useless’s purr buzzed the air like a motor.  “I didn’t want to bring up bad memories for you,” he said
after a beat.

“I got that.
”  And the consideration eased whatever discomfort had wanted to coil in her belly.  “You didn’t.”

“Good.”

When he met her eyes over the rim of her glass, heat coiled low, surprising in its intensity.  She couldn’t remember how long it had been since she’d felt this sort of need, that leap in her pulse that presaged a kind of breathless desire.

Sarah liked to think that she was sensible about sex.

She enjoyed it, certainly, and she was pragmatic enough – despite her fondness for fairy tales – to realize that it didn’t necessarily go hand-in-hand with happily-ever-after.  She’d had relationships, of course.  Nice, comfortable relationships, with nice, comfortable men. 

She’d imagined
that when she was more settled into the business, had more free time, that she’d ease into another of those relationships as casually as one slides into a favored pair of slippers.

But s
he’d taken some risky steps these past few months. Taken chances with her career, her life that had left her nerves jangling.  And she felt better, stronger, for taking them. 

Wasn’t taking charge of her sex
uality again just another kind of step?

If she allowed things to progress along their natural course, she had no doubt they’d follow up the wine, the surprisingly easy conversation, with pleasure of a different sort.

Tucker wasn’t what she’d call nice – though he seemed to have a code of personal integrity that he strove to live by.  What she thought of as Yankee take-no-shit washed faintly with southern gentleman.

And he certainly wasn’t comfortable.

But she liked him, more than she would have guessed.  Aside from the physical attraction, which was potent, she admired his work – even if he had killed off his heroine.  She admired
him
. 

He was witty, intelligent, straightforward. 
And he’d basically given Carlton the finger.  It was hard not to be impressed by that. 

He’d brought her a vintage book in a pretty bag.

There was no reason she couldn’t share the wine, and her bed, without tying it up in heartstrings.

The overhead fan churned the heavy air, as awareness grew in the silence. 
Tucker picked up Useless, shooing him to the floor.  And then sat his glass on the table.  “I want you.”

“Well.”  Sarah clutched her own glass
, slightly taken aback at hearing her more convoluted sentiments so succinctly expressed.  “That’s blunt.” 

“
That’s honest.  And it’s not telling you anything you didn’t already know. You want me.”  His eyes were steady on hers.  “Or else you would have told me to take that book and go to hell.”

He was right.  She’d invited him in, eyes wide open.  “I don’t like games
, so I’m going to tell you that you’re right.  And that I’ll take honesty over charm, any time.”

“Right now, then.”  He leaned forward, his hand brushing hers as he took her wine.  “Take me.” 

He’d kissed her before, but not like this. 

No one had kissed her like this. 

The heat of it seeped into her as Sarah tasted him.  Spicy wine and sweet breath and a kind of possessiveness that seemed inherently male.  Her eyes slid closed as he leaned into her to sit the wine on the table.  

His lips were soft, his chin scratchy
, the sweep of his tongue absolutely sure.

He didn’t hesitate, didn’t tentatively lick at her lips to part them.  He simply came in and established dominance. 

It should have annoyed her, but it was tough to be annoyed when your brain was shorting out.

He
nibbled on her lip, sucking on her tongue, while his big hands cradled her head and threaded into her hair, igniting little fires. 

He plucked out the pins, tossed them carelessly to the floor. 

“Your hair drives me crazy.”  He ran his fingers through the mass of it, toying with a lock that tumbled down to curl just above her breast.

“Me, too.” She drew an unsteady breath.  “Although I think you might mean that differently.”

“I never know how you’re going to be wearing it.  Up, down.  A riot of curls, or board straight.  I knew, when I started noticing it, that I was going to have to have you.”

“Is that right?”

“Got you in my system, Red.  Now I’m going to get into yours.”

The
daybed swayed gently as he shifted his weight, taking her down into the pillows. Several of them hit the floor and a protesting Useless.

“Go awa
y, cat.” 

H
is hand slid around her hip, up her stomach, lifting the edge of her Snoopy tank.  He traced the edge of her bra, rasped his thumb over her nipple.

H
e pushed the lacy cup aside, then simply sat back and looked his fill.  “You know the great thing about breasts?”

“That women have them?”

“That goes without saying.  But then,” he flicked his fingers to undo her bra’s front clasp “there are all the really pretty things you put them into.  It’s like opening a gift.”

He lowered his head, and
amusement fled as he sent her senses reeling. 

Oh, his mouth was skilled.  And his hands – big, and just a little rough.

When he pulled back, blowing across the sensitized tip, Sarah’s toe’s curled into the mattress. 

“God,” she breathed, the need coil
ing tighter.  Her hands clutched at his hair, slid desperately toward his shirt.

She needed to touch him.  Somewhere.  Anywhere.

“Off,” she said, unable to manage anything more articulate.
Tucker sat back and dragged at his shirt. 

D
elight pumped through her in greedy spurts.  He pulled her up and against him.

Then she was straddling his lap, her breasts smashed to his chest, the hair there rasping against her so deliciously that she shivered.  “Cold?” he asked and she said “Not a chance” and ran her hands along his shoulders as she kissed him.

His jeans brushed her thighs, the hard ridge of his erection pressing against her. The chains on the bed creaked as she pressed back.  His fingers slid up her leg, dipping beneath her shorts and finally into her, so hot and sure that Sarah’s breath strangled on a gasp.

Her mind – what she could find of it –
simply went blank. 

“That’s it
.” His voice was rough, his hands… God, he hadn’t been kidding when he’d said they were dexterous.  His mouth was wet on her breast as he worked her with his thumb.  Harder inside her and faster outside her until the need coiled tighter and she was lightheaded from the pleasure.

“Tucker.  Oh, God. I’m going to –”

“I know.  Just let go.”   

S
he did, then drifted down, like a feather dropped from a shimmery cloud.  When she pressed her forehead to his, she realized that she wasn’t the only one who was shaking.  “Please tell me you have a condom.”

“I brought three.”  When she pulled back
, blinked at him, he shrugged.  “I figured you’d either send me packing, or invite me in.  No point being unprepared.”

Tucker
sat her aside.  And lowered his zipper. 

Sarah would have liked to be the kind of woman who was above chec
king out the equipment.  But decided to accept her failing with grace.

“At least Mother Nature was kind enough to compensate you for your
sparkling personality.” 

He faltered, but only for a second. 
“It’s a burden.”  And with humor burning bright in his eyes, ripped the condom open with his teeth.  “But I try to live with it.”  He glanced up at the ceiling.  “I hope your brother got those eyebolts into the joists.”

“If it falls
, it’ll still be a bed, just on the floor.”

“Good point.”

Then he was between her legs, parting their not inconsiderable length with his hips. He slid into her with the same swift confidence as he’d taken her mouth. Sarah clutched his shoulders and cried out because he’d filled her so completely.

“God, that’s good,” Tucker breathed as he held himself deep inside her.  Then she pulled her legs up, thighs squeez
ing his hips. He wrapped one hand beneath her knee, leaned down to kiss her.  “Hang on,” he said, and reached over her head.  Then he shoved a pillow beneath her butt.

“Generally, there’s not a question of my ass having enough padding.”

She tried not to lose the desire to have sex with him in the desire to hit him.  Because he chuckled. 

“No.”  He saw he
r expression and toned the laughing thing right down.  “Just… trust me on this.  Okay?”

“You betcha.”  And he chuckled
again anyway as he pulled out and slid back home.  She started to say something smart, but then he shifted his hips, moving a little higher. “Oh my
God
.
”

“So I found it?  Good.
”

Sarah felt like she should be contributing more – she liked to be an equal partner during sex – but she was too stunned to do much more than
whimper. 

Then there was no more talking, just Tucker pulling out and thrusting back, harder, faster, hitting home again and again, the bed rocking on its chains, his skin sliding slick beneath her clutching hands
.