[Tulsa Thunderbirds 01.0] Bury the Hatchet

by Catherine Gayle

  His touch was firm but gentle, as I was coming to expect, but it was also starting to feel familiar. He hadn’t kissed me since that moment in the church nursery during the immediate aftermath of our wedding. Here, without anyone to perform for, I supposed there was no reason for him to keep up the show. But that hadn’t stopped him from touching me in other ways.

  When we sat beside each other at dinner, talking about our friends or our childhoods—but never about Kade—often his fingers would casually brush against the back of my hand. When we walked along the tideline, the pulsing of the waves washing over our bare feet, his palm remained securely in place where the dip of my waist met the swell of my hip.

  Maybe it was for the best that we touched occasionally, even when no one was looking. That sort of casual contact could only help us to be convincing when we needed to be.

  Regardless, I couldn’t complain about it. I liked it more than I should. I was beginning to crave his touch, a lot more than was good for me. I wasn’t doing a very good job of keeping my heart out of our relationship. Soon, I would need to redouble my efforts, but I supposed that could wait until we returned to Oklahoma. It was at least going to have to wait until I sobered up. For now, I would just allow myself to enjoy his touch. To enjoy him.

  Each night, when we said good night before going to our separate rooms in the resort suite, he gave me a look. It was one I wasn’t sure how to interpret but which made it seem as though he wanted to reach out and caress my cheek or maybe even something more. All of those touches, those looks, left my belly doing flip-flops and my pulse racing like a NASCAR engine, but I never got up the gumption to do anything about it. I never asked him to stop so I could better gird myself against it, and I never searched for something more.

  The same things were happening now, and this time I needed to draw a line in the sand. I either needed less or more, one of the two, and I honestly wasn’t sure which direction I was going to go. It would probably be better if I waited until my cocktails wore off, but I kind of doubted that would happen.

  Hunter wasn’t just rubbing the sunscreen into my skin; his thumbs and fingers pressed in, massaging my neck and shoulders, kneading the muscles and making me want to go limp and lean back into him. I focused on taking slow, deep breaths, concentrating on the strength of his hands and the warmth of his body behind me.

  He smelled good, like sun and air and the ocean, making me wish I could burrow up against him. I wanted to nestle my head in the space between his neck and shoulder, breathing him in. Every connection between us only seemed to make me long for more of his touch.

  He worked his way down from my shoulders to my biceps, an inch at a time. He reached my fading bruises, and I winced, hoping he wouldn’t notice. They didn’t hurt—not like they had in the beginning, at least—but there was still some tenderness I couldn’t ignore, particularly in my slightly inebriated state.

  Apparently, he couldn’t ignore it either. Almost at once, he moved his hands to work on my back instead. “I’m sorry. I should have been more gentle.” The way he was touching me had changed, though, growing more clinical and less intimate, focusing more of his efforts on actually rubbing the sunscreen into my skin and less on the things that made me wish I could crawl up alongside him and hold on tight.

  “Don’t be sorry,” I said. “You’re always gentle with me.” Too gentle. Those hands were strong enough to do all sorts of things with them. Delicious things. Sexy things. Naughty things. His hands gave me all sorts of inappropriate thoughts, but I supposed they weren’t exactly inappropriate if he was my husband.

  “Not gentle enough.” His voice was gruff, having lost the hint of humor. I wished we could go back in time so I could brace myself better for when he touched my arms. If I hadn’t winced, I wouldn’t have reminded him of Lance and all the things that took Hunter from sarcastic and laughing to sullen and grumpy.

  It was a shock to discover that his mood could change so quickly based on things to do with me. Not only did it appear that I mattered to him, maybe more than he would like, but I was far more concerned with the things going on in his head than I should be if our union was truly going to be in name only, as it had been laid out. We were only a few days into this marriage. I needed to do a better job of protecting my heart, because that was all on me. This wasn’t a good sign of things to come. Even though I knew it wasn’t a good idea, I found myself turning toward him, letting my legs fall off the side of the beach chair so my toes could play in the hot sand.

  He must not have been prepared for me to turn, because his hand grazed my boob, which felt amazing. I bumped into him more and giggled.

  Hunter dropped his hands to his sides.

  I didn’t want them at his sides. I wanted them on me. I picked up the tube of sunscreen and took one of his hands, turning it over so I could squeeze some into his palm. His eyes were on the swell of my breasts, the place where my bikini top ended and my skin began.

  My hand circled his wrist, and I held it there until his eyes flitted up to meet mine. Breathing harder than I should be considering I was sitting still, I drew his hand in toward my chest. I pressed his palm flat over my heart, holding it in place, still laughing a little. My laughter died off pretty fast because of the look in his eyes. It was hot. Needy, like me. “You don’t always have to be gentle with me, you know. I’m not going to break too easily. You’re not going to hurt me.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “I do.” I wasn’t sure why I was so certain of that other than the fact that Hunter was so concerned about the possibility that I trusted he would never do anything to deliberately harm me. Even though I barely knew him, there was a part of me that trusted him not only with my body but possibly even with the deeper parts of me. My heart thundered in my chest, pounding against his palm, but he maintained the connection.

  “He hurt you.”

  “Yes.” There wasn’t any point denying it. Not when there was visible proof. I leaned in closer, breathing in the scent of him. The malty scent of his beer floated in the air between us, making me feel even tipsier than I was.

  “You let him hurt you. You didn’t do anything to stop him.”

  “I…” I didn’t have the first clue how to respond to that. I shrugged, and Hunter’s palm slid downward slightly. Closer to where I wanted it. I couldn’t catch my breath. “I walked away. Isn’t that enough?”

  He brought his other hand up to join the first, slowly spreading the sunscreen over my exposed skin. Every tiny bit of contact made my nerves zing. His hands moved dangerously low over my breasts, but I couldn’t complain. I’d been the one to initiate this. He was only going where I’d taken him, and if I was being honest with myself, I wanted to take him further.

  “But you tried to act like it wasn’t a big deal,” he said. “When a man leaves bruises on you, it’s a big fucking deal.”

  “I know that, but—”

  “I don’t care what else was going on at the time. It’s not all right. Don’t ever try to make out as though someone hurting you is all right.”

  “Okay. I won’t.” I felt another pout coming on. This wasn’t what I wanted. I wanted him touching me. I wanted him kissing me. I wasn’t sure what to do with this protective streak coming out of him, and the way he was massaging lotion into my chest left me feeling heady. I needed more. I needed his hands to drop lower, his fingers to dip beneath my bikini top. I needed him to touch me in ways few men had ever touched me before, like how he was already touching my heart.

  He put more sunscreen in his palm and applied it to my belly, and I wondered if he could feel the bumblebees buzzing around in there. His touch made me wish we were alone and in private instead of out on a beach where someone could walk up and interrupt us at any moment.

  “Are you agreeing because that’s just what you do? Or do you really mean it?”

  “I mean it,” I said, my voice cracking with my sincerity. Or maybe it was all the liquor.

  The tips of hi
s fingers rested on my ribs, just beneath my breasts. If he moved them up slightly, he’d be cupping me. I fought the temptation to contort my body to make it happen.

  “Has he ever hurt you before?”

  I shook my swimming head, unable to move my gaze from his even though that left me swaying.

  “You swear it? Because if he has…” Hunter let his voice trail off, leaving me to fill in the blanks of his threat.

  “He’s never hurt me before.” Not physically, at least. Sometimes I thought that the things he’d said to me were ten times more hurtful than any sort of physical harm he could have caused. Bruises healed. Scars faded. But all the ways he’d made me feel inadequate over the years, all the times he’d told me that I didn’t measure up had taken their toll. I didn’t want to feel the ways Lance had made me feel anymore, like I wasn’t ever going to be good enough, like everything I did fell short. With Hunter, I didn’t feel that way. Being with him gave me a confidence I couldn’t explain any more than I could explain my suddenly insatiable desire to have more of his touch. “Hunter?” I said after a moment.

  “Hmm?” His fingertips traced patterns on my skin and tickled me.

  “Will you kiss me again? I really want you to kiss me right now.”

  Hunter searched my eyes for so long he must have been looking for a sign. That I’d lied about Lance? That I was telling the truth? That I really wanted what I’d asked him for? I couldn’t be sure, but then he moved one of his hands up to cup the back of my head, and his mouth was on mine.

  It was a greedy kiss—not even remotely gentle—his tongue demanding entrance against the seam of my lips until I opened for him. He delved inside, our tongues tangling until I could do nothing more than hold on for the ride. I wrapped my arms around his neck, bracing myself against his assault even as I drew him closer. My nipples peaked, hardened nubs pressing into his muscled chest, and I could feel wetness accumulating in my bikini bottoms.

  I let out a sigh, much like the ones I’d released as I’d read earlier. I couldn’t help it. That only seemed to goad him further. He growled from somewhere deep in his chest, drawing me off the beach chair until I was on my knees in the sand in front of him, our bodies pressed tightly together.

  He nipped my lower lip, and I gasped at the sharp sensation. It was more surprising than painful, just a slight sting that turned to a deprived throb a second later. I could feel his male grin against my skin as he kissed the line of my jaw and down my neck, nibbling just often enough to keep me on my toes.

  I splayed my hands over his shoulders, marveling at the corded strength under my touch. Everything about him was hard. Everything. Especially his cock. It was hot, pressing into my belly. I stretched up as far as I could, instinctively grinding my hips into him, trying to get my heat lined up with his.

  And just like that, he broke it off, separating himself from me like I’d struck him.

  Still in a daze, I stared at him while I tried to steady myself. His chest was rising and falling, his breathing as harsh and ragged as mine. His pupils were dilated, more black than green visible in his eyes. He wanted me. He wanted me as much as I wanted him, but he didn’t want to. That much was obvious.

  I pushed up from the sand, wobbling slightly as I brushed it from my legs before I sat on the beach chair again.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice full of gravel.

  Not nearly as sorry as I was.

  I FUCKING LOVE eating pussy.

  There are few things in life I enjoy more than going down on a chick and hearing her sounds of pleasure, feeling her hands fisting in my hair as she directs me where she wants me, and tasting the fruits of my labor. Watching a woman come? Feeling her sex clench around my fingers, my tongue, my cock? It’s fucking heaven. There are times I’d rather take a woman to orgasm than find my own.

  And right now? Tallie was aroused as all hell. I could tell. She was hot and ready, so much so that I could feel her heat and smell the evidence. If I wanted to take her back to our suite, strip her down, and lick her pussy until she experienced climax after mind-blowing climax, I had no doubt she would let me. She wouldn’t stop me if I wanted to fuck her afterward, either. I had no doubt I could pound into her as long as I could keep it up, and considering I was harder than steel right now, I knew I could go a long fucking time.

  I was ready. She was ready. More than that, she was willing. I’d done that to her.

  She was also drunk as all hell.

  I’d done that to her, too.

  We’d been sitting by the bar on the beach for hours, and I’d brought her cocktail after cocktail even though she’d long since had more than enough. I couldn’t seem to help myself. After I’d brought her the first one, and she’d acted like I’d just handed her the keys to the castle, I’d just wanted to do whatever would make her happy. Her face had lit up like a fucking fireworks display the second she’d taken a sip of that fruity drink, brighter than the sun overhead. It was like she’d never had a cocktail before.

  And once I thought about that, I realized that might very well be the case. She might not have ever had a cocktail in her life, or if she had it had likely only been on extremely rare occasions. Lance probably didn’t let her drink because alcohol had too many calories or some other shit like that.

  Thinking about him had only pissed me off. I was even more pissed off because I’d finally had the opportunity to talk to Carrie since the wedding. Just as I’d expected, she’d thought it was for the best to stay home with Kaylee once she’d found out that Kade would be there. I couldn’t disagree with that. Keeping Kaylee away from her father needed to be the number one thing any of the responsible adults in her life would do.

  The fact that, once again, my brother had put himself and what he wanted before everyone else—at Mom’s urging, no less—made me see red, so I’d tried to drown my anger in my beer. Then I wanted another, and every time I’d gone back to get myself a beer, I’d brought her another umbrella drink. She’d downed each and every one of them with the same sweet glee, but she was well past her limit right now, and that meant I should have kept my fucking hands and mouth to myself, no matter what she asked me to do.

  It didn’t matter that she was technically my wife; consent from a drunk didn’t count as consent. If I took her back to the hotel and fucked her now, I would be no better than Kade with the way he’d treated Chantel. I’d be damned if I was going to stoop to his fucking level. Not going to happen.

  Tallie’s sexy pout was going to kill me, though. I wanted to kiss it right off her lips. “Come on,” I said, reaching out a hand for her to take. “We should go inside.” She needed to sleep her drunk off, and I needed a cold shower.

  “But you just put more sunscreen on me.”

  That had been part of the problem. Once I’d gotten my hands on her skin, I hadn’t wanted to stop. It was like silk beneath my touch. I didn’t know how someone could get to be a teenager, even, with skin as perfect as hers, let alone someone who spent so much time caked with makeup and all sorts of other shit that she didn’t need at all. It was smooth to the touch, though, and hot. Not just from being out in the sun, either. Apparently, Tallie’s libido liked booze.

  And mine liked Tallie.

  I helped her to her feet, putting my arm around her waist to keep her upright. That only caused her scent to waft up to my nostrils and taunt me. She smelled like fruity drinks and sex, a potent combination.

  I gathered up my phone and her iPad, tossed them in the beach bag with our towels and sandals, and slung the bag over my shoulder. Then I started hauling her back toward the hotel.

  “You’re no fun,” she said, coming along beside me.

  “Too bad you’re stuck with me for the next year.”

  She took a deep, sighing breath. “I’m going to need a lot more mai tais to get through a whole year of you being so cranky all the time.”

  Was I cranky? She probably wasn’t too far off the mark, and the fact that I wanted to toss her on the bed and
relieve all the sexual tension between us likely only intensified the effect, since that wasn’t going to happen. Not any time soon. Particularly not while she was so toasted.

  I dug the key card out of the pocket in my swim trunks and swiped the door handle, pushing it open. Our suite had a door that opened out right onto the beach, so we never had to go too far for some fun and sun. Tallie nearly tripped on her way across the threshold, so I picked her up to carry her inside.

  She put an arm around my shoulder, her face mere inches from mine. The look in her amber eyes was just as heated and needy as before, and her lips were parted. Ready. Waiting.

  Fucking hell, she was going to kill me.

  I kicked the door closed behind us and tossed the bag on the closest chair before carrying her to her room. Then I set her down on the edge of the bed.

  She’d tangled her hand in my hair, apparently, and she tried to tug me down with her, lying flat on her back and drawing her legs up around my waist.

  “Touch me,” she said, her voice all sultry and husky and slurred.

  “I can’t tell you how bad I want to do exactly that,” I muttered.

  “So do it. I want to feel your hands on me.”

  She was using hers to great effect, one gripping my hair and keeping me trapped, the other trailing down my chest and exploring my pecs. She kept moving lower with it, too, and I had to grab her wrist to stop her before she reached my cock. She pouted, trying to free herself, but I held on tight. If I gave in, if I let her touch me like that, I’d be a goner, no matter how fucking noble my intentions might be.

  “Hunter,” she whined. “I want you to fuck me. I want to feel you inside me.”

  Methodically, I worked myself free from her grasp, one determined limb at a time. “I bet you say that to all the boys.”

  She shook her head, eyes serious as a heart attack. “Mama would kill me. She wouldn’t let me date. Said my reputation was too important for pageants, and pageants were everything. And Lance kept me busy with all my training so there wasn’t time for it, anyway. I didn’t even go to prom.”