Rough Ride (10 page)

But what did he think? She wasn’t sure she wanted to know. She knew what other people had thought and those people wouldn’t be allowed in her house.

She didn’t let go of the tub. “But I’m the only one naked.”

His grin was so wide, so big, the corners of his eyes crinkled. “I noticed.” He pried her fingers off the edge of the tub and pushed her back. “I found you fascinating for being pocket-sized, but now that I’ve gotten my hands on you and I’ve seen you naked, you’re not so tiny after all.”

“Pocket-sized?” And not so tiny? Um, thanks?

He chuckled and smoothed a thumbed across her cheekbone. “I’ve spent the last few years surrounded by work. The few women there are…not feminine like you. Can’t be or they couldn’t do the job.” He followed the line of the underside of her breast, to her nonexistent cleavage and then circled a tightened nipple. “But your breasts? Just right for you. By the looks of them, just right for my mouth.”

Glowing pretty much summed her up in that moment.

His finger dropped down the center of her stomach to the edge of her waist. “I’m dying to know if I can wrap my hands around your waist. If someone had told me men could actually do that, I would have thought with some pencil skinny, sickly looking teenage runaway model. But look at the lines of your abs, the flare of your hips. You’re all hot woman, just in a compact package.”

“Pocket-sized.”

His gaze lifted and met hers. “Exactly. You’re like a nudey magazine. If only I could roll you up and tuck you in my back pocket.”

“I think I’m supposed to be flattered.”

He shrugged. “I can just tell you what I think. And I’ve been wanting to get my hands on you since I first met you.”

She squeezed her thighs together and wished he was in this bath with her, until the water turned cold for all she cared. But it wasn’t going to happen as he grabbed the cup off the side of the tub and poured water down her hair. She moaned, half from him rubbing shampoo in her hair, half from just having his hands on her. Hearing his breath in the small room. Warm water poured her over her again, and this time he worked in conditioner.

“I could get used to this.” And not just having him bathe her. The way thick swallows kept passing down his throat. How his hands shook as he reached close to touch her. His breathing was heavier, labored. Then there was no missing the outline of interest in his jeans. The catch in his voice as he spoke to her and how now, he’d quit talking completely. His gaze was intent, focused. Eyes had darkened and desire filled the room so thick she had to force a few swallows herself.

It was time to get out of this bathtub and find a bed. Or a floor. Some surface where there wasn’t the side of the tub between them. She rang the water out of her hair. “There’s a clippie on the counter. A big white one.”

He pushed off the tub and stared over her counter. “Are you sure it’s here?”

She chuckled. “A bunch of them, I promise. Look along the mirror.”

Watching his reflection, she knew the moment he found it. His brows rose and he smiled just a split second before reaching for it. “Got it.”

She took it from him and twisted up her hair. His gaze fell down her front and her nipples hardened as he looked. Any smiling over the hairpiece was gone. Gone for her too. She was nothing but trembling and dry mouth.

He turned on his heels and headed for the door without looking back. “I’m gonna turn down the air and close your curtains.”

Before she had a chance to say anything, he all but ran from the room. She lay back against the tub with a sigh, trying to figure him out. Surely he didn’t think she had any plans of sleeping after she got out of this bathtub. Surely. But maybe he did. Time to fix that. She grabbed her rag and washed quickly, then left the tub. She wrapped her robe around her and put her hair up in her towel. Taking just a few minutes, she put on lotion, let her hair down and combed it out. He still wasn’t back in the bathroom yet and she called his name.

“Lane?”

No answer. She stepped in her bedroom and that’s where she found him, sitting on the side of the bed, holding a photograph of her and her late husband.

He angled it toward her. “Is this something I should know about?”

She smiled and eased on the bed next to him. She pointed at Paul in the picture. “My late husband.”

His arms froze. Tension knotted his shoulders. “You’re a widow.”

She dropped her head on his shoulder, wrapped her arms about him and absorbed his warmth and strength. At times it seemed easier to talk about. When she was with Lane right now, it was harder. Scary. She could so easily fall for Lane like she had Paul. And then what? She hugged him a little tighter, wishing if she hugged enough, nothing bad would happen. “Six years now.”

“I didn’t know.” He put the photo back in its spot on her nightstand. “You never mentioned it.”

“It’s not something easy to work into a conversation.”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

“Is something wrong?” She was so far out of her element, she didn’t even know proper protocol. Everyone she knew, knew the history behind what happened. It didn’t have to be discussed. It wasn’t discussed and when it was, no one spoke until she did a subject change.

“No.” He shook his head. “Nothing’s wrong. It was just unexpected.”

She eased off the bed and dug in her top drawer for a tank top and panties. He’d already seen her naked, so she dropped her robe in front of him. His gaze raked down the front of her, his cheeks colored and he looked away. His hands clasped between his knees as he leaned over off the side of the bed.

That gut feeling she didn’t like was getting stronger by the second. She pulled on her tank and undies then walked until she stood in front of him. “Something’s bothering you.”

He opened his hands then clasped them back together. “I feel weird, being in here.”

She frowned. “Why?”

“This is y’all’s space.”

She cupped his cheek and turned his face up to her. At least she didn’t seem to be the only one lost. “This is
my
space and I like having you in it.”

He was still frowning. “What happened?”

“Convenience store shooting.” She sat next to him. “He went in for a six-pack of coke and some chips. Some kid walked in and held the place up. The cops think maybe Paul tried to intervene. The kid got nervous and just started firing. Then the kid shot himself. There were witnesses in the parking lot.”

His arms wrapped around her and he leaned back, pulling her down on the bed then rolled so she was next to him. “Sorry. That couldn’t have been easy. Six years ago? Jesus, you had to have been young.”

“Nineteen. We’d been married about six weeks when it happened.”

His arms tightened and she closed her eyes wanting to again believe in a hug. That the simple move would put everything right. To be honest, the hug felt good. The thumping of his heart against her ear was even better.

“And it left you all alone.”

She cleared her throat and swiped at the familiar itch in her eyes when thinking of him. “Flora and Tonya were with me, so I wasn’t completely alone. It took time, but…I adjusted.”

As well as one can adjust after having their life ripped to shreds. He stroked her back, sides, rubbed her shoulders and fingered through her hair. She just softened and completely relaxed in the security of his arms. His strong hands were steady against her, always moving and touching. She wasn’t sure if she dozed off or just laid there, but when he pulled away, she let him go, feigning sleep.

Tonight was not what she expected. None of this seemed fake or pretend. The way he held her was all so real. For that, she let him slip away.

He moved slow and careful. Untangling from her and lifting her face so he could pull his arm out. His attempt was adorable, but no way could anyone have slept through it. He was just too big and bulky. Lane did not do easy and quiet, but she let him go, continuing to fake sleep and he slipped completely from the bed.

When his footsteps padded down the hall, she peeked to confirm he was gone. She started to sit up, but his steps were back in the hall so she lay still, closing her eyes again. A blanket was tossed over her. The lamp snicked off and he left the room again. A smile found her in the darkness as she pulled the blanket around her shoulders, her front door opened and closed and she settled against her empty mattress, snuggling the blanket close.

Tomorrow night, things would be different. When Lane got home from work, he was going to find an unexpected guest in his bed.

Chapter
Eleven

Lane slowed to a crawl and eased past Gretchen’s trailer. Inside was dark. The closed sign out. Not even a light on the front porch. Her car was still parked where he’d left it last night. Maybe she was still in bed. Or holed up watching a movie. He damn sure would be on this drizzling rainy day if he wasn’t looking to get out of this town so fast. He pulled in toward her house for a moment then thought better of it and drove on.

Last night had been a mistake. Big fucking mistake. He’d undressed her. Touched her. Kissed her. Even washed her hair and all the while, he stole looks at her sweet naked body every chance he got. Memorized the pout of her dusty pink nipples. The flush of her skin. Her flat belly and turn of her hips. The trimmed patch of hair shadowing the part of her thighs.

By the time she got out of that bathtub, he’d decided, screw waiting. Then he walked in her room and that damn photograph caught his attention.

In the picture, Gretchen had her arms wrapped around another man and her lips playfully pressed against the guy’s mouth. They had been laughing in the photo and had likely continued laughing after the photograph was taken. Clearly it wasn’t a brother and he knew it must have been a boyfriend. Gretchen didn’t wear a ring.

He’d gotten so damn pissed off so fast, he’d been forced to sit down on the edge of the bed to keep from flinging the photograph across the room. He’d cursed every word and combination he could think of on that man’s head and Gretchen’s too. Then she’d walked in, sat next to him, put her chin on his shoulder and announced the poor bastard was her late-husband.

Her late husband.

Guy tried to buy a six-pack of Coke, attempted to be a hero and got himself killed for it. And Lane had sat there and called the man everything under the sun. And then Gretchen with her arms wrapped around him and…shit—it was all just too much.

It’d been on his mind all damn day, no matter how he tried forgetting it. He knew what was happening. He wanted more and more it was just too dangerous. He parked in his lot and took his porch steps two at a time. Tonight, just him and the TV and probably a cold beer or two. Hell, Gretchen had the right of it. Shades down, lights off.

He kicked his boots off at the door, dropped his keys on the side table and stopped at smelling something fruity or flowery. He couldn’t be certain, but knew for a fact it was all girly. Like light blonde hair and soft curves. Blue eyes to fall into and a warm body to lay against.

Lord, Gretchen had walked in his house yesterday afternoon and now the smell was in here. Everywhere. He stopped, grabbed a meal from the freezer and tossed it in the oven. The chicken fried steak would take care of any lingering perfume. Or maybe it was some of her lotion. With a curse, he stripped off his wet and filthy clothes and tossed them in the wash on the way to the shower.

He walked through his bedroom and stopped. Gretchen was in the middle of his bed. Curled under his covers. Fast asleep.

He blinked and rubbed his eyes, but she remained. Hair fanned across his pillows. Trim, slender arms against his dark sheets. He took a step and something caught on his toes. Her pants were on his floor. What the….

The house had been locked. But she had a master key. He stood at the foot of the bed. A smile curved his lips. Complete abuse of power, but it wasn’t like he was going to be saying anything. Not with her completely
naked
shoulders and back peeking up from his covers, looking so soft and warm. Just waiting for him.

He eased from his room, cut the oven off and stepped back through, into the bathroom and jumped in the shower. Hot water poured over him and he bathed fast under the stream, his cock getting thicker and harder by the moment. Seeing her in his bed like that was something he’d been imagining since the first time her saw her.

Screw better judgment. Lane was done being good and was going to take what was offered. Gretchen knew the score between them. He knew it too. As soon as work was finished, they were over with and he was out of here, no changing minds, no going back.

He dried off and hurried to his bedroom where she was still in the same spot, in the middle. She lay on her belly, her face to him. Her arms had readjusted to be tucked under the pillow. He tilted his head a bit and there was the outer curve of her breast just barely showing against the sheet.

He slipped in the bed, trying to be as careful getting in as when he’d left hers yesterday. She stirred a bit, but made this little purr of contentment and he moved alongside, put his hands on her waist and felt down to discover all her sweet, naked curves.

The bolt of pleasure that stiffened through his cock was damn near painful. Using his fingertips, he traced the lines of her ass. Around her side, her hips and lower back and up her spine. He kissed her shoulder, neck, tasting her as she awakened in his arms. A satisfied moan rolled off her tongue. Of all the words she’d said, the sounds she’d made, that one barely heard sigh touched every nerve ending along his body.

Her back arched, her naked ass pressed to his lap as she stretched. “Welcome home.”

“And what a welcome.”

She rolled to face him and he pushed her to her back. The afternoon light poured through his bedroom window. Her hair was blonde, but in sunlight it nearly glowed. Her cheeks too. Or maybe that was just her. She was just so pretty. He raked sleep from the corners of her eyes and still just, so pretty.

He leaned down and sealed his mouth over hers. Again, kissing Gretchen was unlike kissing anyone. Her whole body stretched and arched under him. She pulled him against her. Her mouth insistent, all from a kiss. She was needing and begging but also taking. She tasted of sweetness and woman. Smelled of those flowers and girl scents from when he’d first walked into the house.