Sugar

by Lauren Dane

“You gonna be a problem, miss?”

  “Do I need to be a problem? I can be, if that’s necessary, like say you trying to charge us based on some made up story about noise complaints we both know you never received.”

  Gregori came into the office at her back and Lorie’s gaze tracked to him. Wren knew what her husband looked like without even turning. He would be wearing a frown edged with judgment. Haughty and most likely slightly aggressive.

  Like a sexy badass with an accent.

  “What is happening?” Gregori asked her. In Russian. It made her want to laugh, but she kept any amusement from her features.

  She replied in English. “Lorie was just about to tell me he was mistaken about the noise complaints he previously believed came from our room. Apparently they have a rule about tacking on a surcharge for such a thing.”

  He grunted in that way she saw repeated in all the men of his family. It could mean four things at once and right then it was meant to convey they were willing to give Lorie an out of what would be an unpleasant conclusion if he continued his plan to charge them a trumped-up fee.

  It said, I can be carrot or I can be a big giant stick. Your choice.

  * * *

  As they pulled onto I 90 heading west, he laughed. A big belly laugh so few ever got to hear.

  “What?” Wren asked, laughing along with him.

  “You had him blushing and stuttering. He had no idea what to say. You’re scary, my love.”

  “It was the Russian grunt of threat way more than anything I did.”

  “Russian grunt of threat?”

  “Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about. You have an entire buffet of grunts to imply things. Usually displeasure. It’s so cute I can’t stand it sometimes. I just want to boop your nose and smooch you while cooing and petting your beard.”

  “That seems very specific. I take it you’ve given it some thought. I’m always grateful for smooching and petting. You can leave off the nose booping.”

  “Say boop again,” she begged, trying not to laugh.

  “Stop objectifying my accent,” he said.

  “Never.” She reached out to take his hand, kissing it quickly.

  “Now that you’ve indulged yourself at my expense. Tell me the rest of the story you started back at the motel.”

  “Long story short, I left the lipstick for the ghost because she seemed to like it. That first night it went missing and ended up in a place I never would have put it. Then when we were packing up to leave it had gone missing again and it was in the same drawer. I just...okay it’s weird I know, but it felt like a gift from me to her. So I left it.”

  “It’s not weird at all.”

  He did have a love of folklore and could be ridiculously superstitious about things, which was another thing she wanted to boop his nose over.

  She wisely kept that to herself.

  * * *

  “I’m sort of bummed we’re not driving through here at night. That loaf of bread is apparently illuminated after dark,” Wren told him as they drove through Spokane.

  They’d made some excellent time—possibly because his wife drove like the devil was on her heels—and they were on track to be at the house they’d be staying in by early afternoon.

  Even with some stops she’d promised him. “We’re still going to stop at the yard art place, yes?” Gregori asked.

  “Hell yeah! Way Out West the book said it’s called and if we see anything we like it’s most likely for sale.”

  He had never been to a garage sale before Wren and now he wasn’t sure how he’d ever lived without them. He quite often found little bits and pieces that inspired future work and this place she’d described sounded amazing.

  “You’re very good at this road trip thing.” He wanted her to understand he was having fun. That she had put together something that he’d truly enjoyed. Even the strange parts.

  “I know it’s not five star accommodations and Michelin star chefs but I do hope you’re having fun. Because I really am. I’ve had you all to myself and loved every moment of it.”

  “Kotyonok.” How could he not be touched by her wanting him all to herself? This fucking miracle he’d been so lucky to find. “Being with you is always a pleasure. Especially when your brain is working on creating fun for the both of us. I never had fun like this before you. Whimsy and delight are the gifts you give me every day.”

  “You don’t say a lot, but what you do say makes me all gooey.”

  He chuckled while watching her profile, loving the details of her features. The curve of her cheeks, the tilt of her mouth—capable of inventive swearing as well as fantastically filthy sex talk—her eyes covered by sunglasses, but he knew so many sides to her. The light of pleasure, the slumberous, half lidded fuck drunk expression she wore after he made her come. The dancing light of amusement as she laughed from deep in her gut.

  She pulled up at what he realized was the biggest field full of junk that might be treasures he’d ever seen in person. And she’d done it for him.

  He allowed a grin when they got out of the car and she held her hand out to take his. “Let’s go see what we can find,” he said.

  Two big dogs trotted over and she crouched with a coo. Unbelievably both animals saw her for a friend and gave lots of slobbery kisses, which she accepted with a laugh.

  He totally understood that reaction. He wanted to kiss all over her on a regular basis.

  “We’ve got friends who’ll give us a tour of the good stuff, Grisha,” she said, standing and brushing her hands off on her shorts.

  * * *

  A few hours later she’d talked him out of a giant blade from a farm machine but come away with a few vintage barber shop ads he’d restore and give to his cousin Alexsei for Whiskey Sharp along with a piece of stained glass he planned to use in their bathroom.

  All the while those dogs and a few barn cats followed them, vying for Wren’s attention. He wasn’t a dog person really, but he had to admit it was pretty amazing to see her, the summer sky bright blue overhead, the breeze tousling her ponytail as she tipped her head back, laughter on her lips. Even the guy who ran the place had been charmed.

  “Tonight we should go to a bar and maybe dance. Don’t you think?” she asked as they got about half an hour away from their stop for the night.

  He groaned. “I like the first part. How about we go to a bar and you dance while I stand there and let you make me look good?”

  “We can negotiate the latter,” she said in a tone that told him he’d be dancing that night either way.

  Traffic slowed down considerably as they neared the Columbia River Gorge. “I think there must be a show at the amphitheater,” she said, navigating through the snarl without any real impatience. Which was why she drove more often than he did.

  “I’m hungry and do not tell me to eat one of those greasy meat sticks you bought two states ago because my stomach does not approve.”

  “Don’t hate on meat sticks. It’s one of your most charming possessions.”

  It took him a second of confused silence before he realized what she’d just said. “You made a dick joke.”

  “Clever boy,” she told him with a laugh. “I know you’re used to me being super-duper ladylike and shit but I like to crack wise now and again.”

  “I adore it when you sound like a black and white movie after a few shots of vodka,” he said, meaning every word.

  “I looked up some local places to eat so once we get to the house and unload our stuff, we can go have something to eat. There are several wineries with tastings and late lunch within a few miles of the house.”

  * * *

  An hour later, they sat at a table on a deck overlooking vineyards and the river just beyond. A wine flight had just been delivered and their food would soon follow.

  Wren w
restled with her desire to stare at Gregori and the gorgeous scenery all around them. “I love the heat in Eastern Washington. We should get over here more.”

  He leaned back in his chair, long and lean, the late afternoon sunlight making him glow and she knew his skin would smell really good, like summer, if she pressed her face into his neck. He wore black sunglasses that went with the black T-shirt and jeans and was so handsome it was hard not to lean in and take a lick.

  “So again, let me underline how much you need to give Kelsey a raise,” Wren told him. “That house, huh?”

  “As much as I love the home we’ve made of our loft, I admit I see the benefits of a house away from the city with a view. Since you like the heat and we’ve enjoyed the times we’ve gone to Lake Chelan, let’s look into a vacation home over here somewhere. Keep it within three or four hours from Seattle so we can easily jump into the car and escape the city and our families whenever we like. Why not? Our jobs are portable. We can get a place with a studio for me and an office for you.” He shrugged, clearly warming to the idea. “And if it’s hot and we have a pool you can wear a bathing suit, which I naturally approve of.”

  “Naturally. I’d need SPF two million but yeah, that sounds nice. Speaking of nice.” She lifted one of the glasses of wine in the flight she’d ordered. “We need to bring a bottle or two of this cabernet back so we can drink it and watch the stars tonight,” she said, totally happy.

  House was a weak word for the beautiful contemporary at the end of a curved drive. Inside it was all about the view through a wall of windows facing the Columbia River and the deck overlooking it.

  “Fine with me. We can use the fire pit if it gets cool enough,” he said.

  “Oh! There were supplies for s’mores in the kitchen. I noticed when I was poking around in the things they’d left for us on the counter.”

  “I’ve never had s’mores.”

  “What?” She sat up straighter, surprised. “But you’re sweet tooth personified. It’s gooey chocolate and marshmallow smooshed between graham crackers. The ultimate summer campfire treat.”

  Wren kept hearing a clicking sound in the background until she finally turned to see the man at the next table over clipping his fingernails. At his table.

  Without a lot of thought she leaned over and touched his wrist. “Dude. No. That’s inside your house or in a bathroom type stuff. People are eating here.”

  He opened his mouth to argue and she just shook her head sharply, forestalling him. Instead he gathered up his clippers and his plate and moved to a different table.

  Gregori shook his head before taking a bite of his newly arrived sandwich.

  “What? Who does that? Nail clipping isn’t a restaurant activity.” She shuddered.

  “Of course it isn’t. And you’re so delightfully direct about that.”

  “Someone has to have standards. The world is a dark enough place as it is. There are lines we just shouldn’t cross,” Wren told him, waggling a rather delightful waffle fry in his direction.

  “Wren’s guide to etiquette?”

  “The world could improve a lot if people just used their manners. Merge when you’re supposed to. Don’t pick your nose in public. Don’t clip your nails at dinner. Or at the post office. Don’t take off your shoes on an airplane and put your feet up on the back of the seat in front of you. Don’t clog up the gate when your part of the plane won’t be called to board for another twenty minutes. Say please and thank you, especially to those people who are doing a service for you. A little civility never hurt anyone.”

  “You’re absolutely correct,” he told her indulgently.

  “Gregori?”

  They turned to catch sight of the guy who’d spoken. Gregori’s wary look melted into genuine pleasure as he stood to greet the couple Wren recognized as Brody and Elise Brown. Brody was an amazing tattoo artist. A real force to be reckoned with. He owned a successful shop not too far from Woodland Park Zoo. Some of Gregori’s ink had been done there, which is how she knew them.

  “And Wren too,” Elise said. “Always nice to see you both. Strange to run into you two all the way over here.”

  “Come sit with us if you have the time,” Gregori indicated their table. “Wren and I just got married. Three days ago now.”

  “Wonderful news. Congratulations!” Brody said. Soon enough they were drinking a local sparkling wine to celebrate.

  “What brings you two over here?” Wren asked.

  “Mud Bay had a show at the Gorge last night. A relief concert to benefit hurricane victims on a shared bill with Sweet Hollow Ranch,” Brody said. His siblings, Erin and Adrian Brown had formed a super successful alt rock band and while Erin had moved to behind the scenes more often than on stage, Adrian kept selling out concert tours and making music. Sweet Hollow Ranch was another family based rock and roll band—the Hurley brothers started it when they were just teenagers—with close friends and extended family of the Browns.

  “A whole family affair,” Wren said.

  “Exactly. Our nephews played with Adrian and one of our nieces sang as well. It was a blast. So we stayed over an extra night so we could hit the winery today and go back to Seattle tomorrow. Our oldest has been studying in Rome and she’ll be home early next week so I need to get everything in order. Have her favorite things in the fridge,” Elise said with a sunny smile that made Wren think having kids with Gregori could be a pretty awesome thing.

  Wren and Brody ended up talking ink and graphic art while Elise and Gregori talked art because their daughter Irene was pursuing an art career—the reason for her time in Rome.

  After another few hours of chatting and eating, they promised to get in contact once they returned home. Brody promised to grill and let them try some home brew he’d made and Elise had a new painting she wanted to show off to Gregori.

  “We just had a double date,” Wren said as they kicked off their shoes in the entry of their rental.

  “We do things with my cousins all the time.”

  True. His cousins and their partners were their closest friends. Wren’s best friend and old roommate had moved to London five years before so his friends and family had opened up and accepted her, and she them, pretty much from the start.

  “We have a very good life,” she told him.

  “You’re happy then, kotyonok?” he asked, sidling close and pulling her against his body.

  “I am. I have you and our friends and family. I have a successful career and so do you. I’m with the most gorgeous man on the planet and I know what he looks like naked. We have a beautiful home and we just got married. What possible thing could I complain over when I have those things in my world?”

  “Shower, let’s check your sunburn and then go out on the deck. The sun is setting and then we can have fire and s’mores.” Gregori patted her ass to get her moving.

  “Have you seen the size of that shower? Come on with me and I’ll show you some stuff,” Wren called over her shoulder.

  Chapter Ten

  He had to admit the bathroom was as impressive as she’d made it seem. The bathtub was the size of a hot tub but it was the shower that was the star of the space. He counted six different showerheads in a stall the size of his first apartment in New York City with probably more seating options than he’d had back then.

  “This is a very sexy bathroom and I’m very glad I don’t know the owners of this house,” he told her as he pulled his T-shirt off.

  “We’ll send them a thank-you basket. Keep taking those clothes off,” she said, pointing at him.

  “You too.”

  She whipped her tank up and her bra followed quickly after. And by the time he was totally naked, she’d turned the shower on and, similarly undressed, stepped under the spray with a carnal groan of pleasure that had his cock very interested.

  Lazily, he climbed in after her as he t
ook in the sight of all those soap bubbles running down the curve of her back and down over her ass and thighs. A living breathing piece of art.

  “So I guess the one day sex drought is over, huh?” she asked, a smile on her face.

  “I suppose I can still muster an erection where you’re concerned. Even now that we’re married.”

  She reached out with a soapy hand to grab his cock at the root, pumping her fist a few times up and down. “Yes, everything seems to be in working order.”

  “If anyone could break it from overuse, you certainly could have. I appreciate your care.”

  That made her laugh.

  “I bet you tested that theory pretty hard though when you were younger.”

  “A buildup of semen is toxic. It was necessary to avoid that and a boy’s best friend is his dominant hand.”

  Her laughter went a little husky so he followed that up with a kiss to the side of her neck as he backed her against the tiles. Something primal deep inside always ignited at moments like this when she gave over to him the way she did.

  Gregori kissed down her body, pausing at each nipple to nibble and swirl his tongue around the way he knew drove her crazy. Which in turn only drove him crazy for her reactions.

  Like the low hum of pleasure she made as he dropped to his knees, the water creating a steamy curtain around them the sound seemed to echo off. Or the gasped cry when he spread her open to his mouth and took a deep, long kiss.

  Need to bring her pleasure beat against him as strong as the water.

  Her hands slipped into his hair as he kept licking and nuzzling, the heat of her against his lips and mouth. He knew she was getting close to climax as her fingers tightened, directing him to her favorite spot. Which not coincidentally was his favorite spot too.

  The fine tremble in her thigh muscles ushered in the rush of sweetness on his tongue as she came and her taste filled him.

  * * *

  Wren was still a little orgasm drunk when he turned her to face the wall and caged her body with his. He put his hands over hers a moment as she caught her breath, her eyes still closed, inner muscles still jumping slightly.