As it warmed up, she shot a glance to her right and bit her lip against the contrast. She, frustrated and irked, leaning on the gas pedal to keep the beast running; he, composed and serene, her backpack resting between his feet and her jacket folded neatly over the center armrest.
He caught her looking and winked. Heat filled her cheeks.
"Ready?" she asked, somewhat lamely.
"I'm good," he replied.
Her gaze traveled across the brawny shoulders, wide chest, what she could see of his sun-bronzed skin, the wide hands that had caressed her, and the mouth she had kissed. Oh, yeah, he's good all right.
He chuckled. She felt herself redden further.
Facing forward, she piloted the crotchety car toward the exit. The gate rattled open, then closed behind them as they moved onto the driveway. Probably because of a control plate buried in the cement.
Idling on the driveway cutout, she checked both sides for incoming cross traffic. Not many. A few taxis, but that was all. Now the business day had ended, the neighborhood had gone quiet, except for nearby restaurants. A few pedestrians headed toward the nearby light rail terminal.
It occurred to her she had no idea where he slept. "Uh, where to?"
He turned his head to look at her. Something darkly hot liquefied the brown of his eyes.
"I'm staying at the Larson hous--with Spazz," he corrected. "At his house in Forest Grove."
Whereas she had a cheap one-bedroom apartment in Aloha. Yeah, totally different lives. She took her foot off the brake and let the car roll into the street. She knew the way, even though she'd never had reason to visit the area.
"Nice place, Forest Grove." She offered up a conversational topic.
"I'd rather go home with you."
Startled, she jerked. Her foot gunned the accelerator. The car responded with a cough and a loud backfire, as it always did when she tried for speed. She spun the wheel and directed them down the street toward the nearest westward freeway onramp.
Embarrassed, she shot him a glance. He'd taken a grip on the peeling door handle. She could see the whites of his fingers from the strength of the hold. So humiliating.
"It's overdue for a tune-up. I forgot last semester." It needed more than a tune-up, she admitted to herself, but hoped he didn't realize how badly she'd just lied.
As if refusing to let her outright lie rest, the car bucked and kicked as it grumbled down the street.
"No worries," said Joey, placidly.
His head nodded from the momentum, seemingly in agreement with the automobile's choice to throw a tantrum. After a while, the ride evened out and he relaxed in his seat. A comfortable silence stretched as she navigated the rain-slicked streets.
He spoke first. "How's your family?"
She bit her lip against the rising tide of remembered shock, pain, and terror. "The Grands died two years after your move. First Grandma. Grandpa followed about eight months later."
He looked startled. "I'm sorry."
"It was rough." She nodded.
A frown furrowed his forehead. "You would've still been in high school. With your mom gone and now your grandparents, who cared for you?"
"Stewart. We got married soon after the burial."
"Ahh."
He sounded as though full understanding had hit, as if her desperate choices had clarified.
Impossible. Must deflect. "How's your family?"
Joey chuckled. "Ma's well. Da's deaf as a stone, but he won't wear an aid. She screams herself hoarse daily."
It was bad form to laugh, but her lips twitched nonetheless. "Good, good. I'm glad."
She winced at the lame reply, but it was the best she could think of at the moment. He hadn't mentioned a wife and children. Belatedly, she checked his left hand. No ring. No white band telling of a recently removed one either.
Good or bad news?
She directed the grumpy car onto the freeway and tapped the accelerator pedal to coax it faster. She'd learned long ago not to push it. It pushed back.
As usual, it responded grudgingly. Other cars zoomed past her on the freeway as hers labored to gather speed. Some of the drivers offered rude hand gestures as they skirted her. A few blaring horns dopplered past as offended drivers leaned on the button.
She cleared her throat and muttered, "Impatient jerks."
"No need to ignore the view," he agreed.
She pressed her lips together. Gratitude drew a sudden pool of tears into her eyes. She'd forgotten what it was like to have someone in her corner.
The car managed a reasonable speed, but she kept to the slow lane, freeway legal being the best the temperamental car would do. She didn't worry much about speeding tickets these days.
He gazed outside his dirt-spattered window, watching as they approached, then traversed the Marquam Bridge that spanned the wide Willamette River. Once they came off the bridge, he pulled himself from his thoughts.
"I need to call in and let Spazz know my plans," he said. "What do I tell him? That I'm on my way and to keep the drinks chilling? That I'll be late, so don't wait up? Or"--a weighty pause--"that I won't be sleeping there tonight?"
She stared at the road in front of her. It stretched into a distant, unrecognized end, just like her future. The crushing weight of responsibilities and expectations pressed into her, but then, within a heartbeat, awareness of her freedom arrived.
Her soul leapt from the cage like a flock of doves released into the warm summer sun. She answered to no one. No one sat in the living room--or in the sick bed--watching the clock tick away.
Hell, this was Joey. Her Joey!
She would enjoy him for as long as she was allowed and damn the uncertain future.
"Tell him not to wait up."
"There's my girl," he enthused.
He pulled out his phone. One of those expensive types, small and thin enough to fit in a pocket, and pricey to boot. The kind she couldn't afford. He worked the device for a moment, then put it to his ear. After a few seconds of listening, he spoke.
"Don't wait up," he said. "What? Yeah, Kelly." A listening silence, then he flicked a glance her way. "Right. 'Bye."
He'd given her such an odd look. Why? "What did he say?"
"He told me to get a box of condoms from the corner store."
Good Lord! "Manly words for 'good hunting'?"
"And a warning. No need for another unexpected arrival in my life." Joey tapped a tempo on his legs with his fingers. "Not that we didn't--" He hesitated. Frowned. "No need to compound the omission."
She almost swallowed her tongue. Another arrival? Kids?
Of course, he has kids, she snorted to herself. What did she expect? Like her, he'd had fifteen years of life before these moments. No wedding ring. No longer married, but with kids? Unplanned pregnancies in a failed marriage?
The Joey she knew would make an excellent father--for children time zones away from her.
Chapter 8
* * *
Had the neighbors peeked through the spy holes in their doors, they would've had something to Facebook about. Dick-determined caveman that he was, Joey was all over Kelly with his body, hands and lips outside her front door, and to hell with witnesses.
She struggled with the door keys and lock, while giggling, squealing, and laughing.
The difficulty stemmed from the fact she was backward against the door. He'd pushed her there and linked her legs around his waist.
Finally, the lock clicked. She gave the knob a twist. The barrier gave way, almost dumping them onto the foyer floor. He caught them in time to thwart a nasty tumble with a hand slapped against the hallway wall. Still wrapped around him, Kelly's laughter rang through the apartment hallway.
Information tugged at him from all sides. A small dog barked a distance away. Young laughter sounded from next door. Kids, probably. A car's engine started in the car park outside the building with a cough and a purr. Inside the apartment, the glow of a fish tank spilled from off the main room. The door
keys dangled from the lock.
He pulled them free and lobbed them inside. They landed on the carpet with a bright jingle. Her laugh danced across his awareness like butterfly wings on a warm summer day. Somehow, he'd managed to separate backpack and jacket from her person and they now lay on the threshold.
He shoved them inside with his foot, then palmed the door shut. It wasn't easy to work the deadbolt while her kisses covered his face and her hands traveled over his body, tugging at his arms and shoulders, his back and buttocks, but he managed.
Sporting a boner that could hammer nails, he started down the hallway. Two doors lay on his right. One opened up to the bathroom. The other led to the bedroom. He chose door number two.
She stiffened.
Wait," she said, but with another delightful giggle. "The food."
Ah, hell. Reluctant, he eased his grip and let her escape his arms. She returned to the front door, caught up the to-go boxes, and carried them to the kitchen. He played knuckle-dragging Neanderthal man and shadowed her every move, stealing kisses, placing small nips on the exposed skin of her neck, his hands in constant motion against the luscious curves of her body.
She continued to laugh at him, but he couldn't help himself. Too many years he'd had nothing but fantasies of this woman and a raging hard-on, but she was here--now--at hand, and he wasn't gonna miss a moment of it.
Christ on the cross, he was a goddamn drooling dog.
She leaned over to place the packages of food into a lower shelf of the fridge. The sweet globes of her ass beckoned. He grabbed and caressed, a particularly hot midnight fantasy burning through his memory.
Not yet time for that, but he would have it.
He'd sell his soul to the devil for that fantasy to become a reality.
She closed the door and turned back into his embrace. He didn't hesitate to close his arms around her again and find her mouth with his. She murmured and opened up for him. Her fingers speared through his hair as she pressed up into his embrace.
Okay, now back to door number two.
He urged her down the short hallway, past framed pictures of drugstore art, past the brilliantly peach and green bathroom, and into a bedroom draped in soft tones of blue and brown.
Would she consider him an uncouth rube if he picked her up and threw her onto the bed?
"Wait...your supplies," she said.
The corner store bag containing a new toothbrush and razor, comb, and deodorant, lay alongside her backpack and jacket in the foyer, but he speculated the question was about the box of condoms. In an attempt to show he was a responsible lover, not just a horny stallion, he pulled the crushed box of condoms from his back pocket where he'd stuffed them and tossed it onto the bedspread.
Issue resolved.
He took her mouth again. Her kisses were heaven. He couldn't get enough of them. Never breaking the lip-lock they'd established, he crowded her over to the bed. There, he submitted to the unquenchable urge and swept her off her feet and onto the bed...beside the flattened box of condoms.
Way cool, O'Connor.
He parked himself on his knees beside her on the coverlet and went to work on her clothing. Shoes went thump-thump across the room. Socks followed. He had no patience with the jeans or the hooded sweater, but the sight of her in that bra and panty set--all that pale perfect skin highlighted by the kitchen's light and the soft green satin and lace--brought a halt to his rush.
So beautiful. Green. St. Patrick's Day magic. This Irishman was spellbound.
He worshiped every inch of her revealed skin with tiny, soft kisses.
Kelly shivered and sighed...and grumbled, "Why am I always the naked one?"
"Because" --soft kiss-- "you are" --nibble and lick-- "beautiful."
"Let me see you, Joey. Let me feel you. All of you." She reinforced her request with tugs on his sweater that bunched the wool at his shoulders and bared his back.
He rolled off the bed and shed his clothes. He climbed back into the bed and pulled her into his arms, bare-ass naked and as cock-hard as a tent pole. She purred and cuddled and arched against him like a cat in heat. Hopefully, she wouldn't-- Then her foot brushed his leg, right where a long, vicious scar painted his long-healed thigh muscle and bone.
She jumped and gasped. "What the hell?"
"Forget about it," he said and adjusted himself over her body. Warm. Soft. Glorious.
"No." She dodged his mouth and pushed his shoulders. "Let me see."
Gaaah! Yeah, intimacy shattered the moment she'd found his scar.
Joey heaved a sigh of defeat and rolled onto his left side. She propped herself on an elbow, went exploring, and found the results of a really bad personal choice. She gaped and gasped, horrified and indignant. They both knew the scar hadn't been there fifteen years ago.
"My God! What happened? A car accident?"
He may as well admit it all and get it behind them. "I was drunk and sent my motorcycle over a rocky embankment."
The fire in her hair seemed to brighten. He could have sworn sparks shot from the tips of each strand. "You did what?"
"I was young, drunk, and stupid. It's done. Only now matters."
Now was not the time to confess why he'd self-destructed. Why he hadn't wanted to wake up again.
"Son, come in here. I just received some news."
"What is it, Da?"
"I just got an email from Elliott's father in the US. Your old girlfriend, Kelly? She was married last month."
The pain broke through him. He'd run from the house, ran to the pub, and escaped the agony in a very bad way.
But what he'd said had come from his heart. Only now mattered.
"Kelly...I need this...I need you...tell me if you need me, too."
Once, there'd been a series of joyous, fumbling enthusiasm in his backseat. Once, there'd been a rushed frenzy in hers. This time, he would make it clear it was everything he felt for her.
He would make it holy.
* * * *
Something hidden inside him made Joey's request raw and painful sounding. She shuddered. Those fifteen years apart had been hell for her, yes, but what had they done to him? Compassion swelled and broke, flooding her soul with the need to ease his pain. She traced the weatherworn patterns that grooved his face with a gentle touch and tried somehow to bring him healing though her love.
"Oh, Joey," she murmured, "of course I need you. I've always needed you."
He came over her like a summer storm. Lifting one of her legs, he bent it at the knee and laid it over his lower back and butt. His penis pressed into her cleft, a heated rod of velvet-covered steel. He rocked his hips and stroked her with that bliss-inducing cock until he'd stoked the fire again and she was wet and wanting.
The fingers of one hand moved between their bodies. He aligned his cocktip and spread her pussy lips open with the same clever move. His thumb played with her clit and set her flying. Sparkles, joy, beauty were all in his touch.
She gripped back, dug her nails into the sleek muscles and tightened her legs around his tight, firm ass.
He pushed into her, a long slide of heat, pressure, and rapture.
She purred and tightened...tightened.
He groaned, shuddered and set a flowing yet unrelenting pace, like the rush of an ancient river. Their mutual gasping filled the room. The scent of passion spun her mind. His cock shuttled into her. Each stroke and withdrawal stirred her body and soul to height of ecstasy. Their bodies came together with vehement demand. She burned with an exquisite heat...burning...burning...driven to a place where only Joey existed.
Where only she existed for Joey.
An orgasm of unexpected force bore down on her. Above her, Joey's body went taut. Locked, frozen, like carved marble. A quiet scream filled the room. She dimly recognized her own voice.
Beauty descended and stole them both away.
Chapter 9
* * *
Warmth. Wetness. A glittering shimmer of colors. Surging waves of pleasure
that retreated, returned, flicked, licked, suckled, danced, lapped... Rapture. Bliss. Colors. Touches. Delights.
When had she ever known such pleasure? Spots danced through her vision as the veil of sleep thinned...vanished. The blanket had been pulled up from the bottom of the bed to allow the evening chill to nip at her toes.
Joey crouched between her legs. His mouth moved through the lush moisture that limed her pussy lips. His hands supported her bent knees and widened thighs. The tanned skin of his hands contrasted the Portland pale of her legs. The gray morning light streamed through the window's closed blinds to paint his hair and shoulders.
"Joey," she moaned his name.
He rose up from his position to crouch over her. Hunger, feral and unrestrained, etched his expression and darkened his gaze. The animal intensity of his desire filled the bedroom with a sizzling energy.
"Kelly," he murmured and kissed her.
She tasted herself on his lips. She tasted him, mint toothpaste and Joey. His tongue...he used it to push between her lips and fuck her mouth. The moist invader plundered her mouth, leaving her to whimper and surrender her mind, her will, to his hunger.
He fitted himself to her. The blunt knob of his cock pressed past her labia and bridged the lush, plumped inner recesses of her body. He worked his dick with unrelenting determination, forging into her body with short, hard strokes that took her breath and sent star fire dancing in her vision.
She sank her nails into the sweat-slicked slide of his back.
He twitched. His body hardened around her and inside her. A low growl rumbled from his chest and something inside him seemed to snap. He pulled his mouth from hers, caught her gaze, and set a demanding pace. Like a wild storm surge, he poured into her body with heaving strength and stunning passion.
His gaze never left hers.
She rode the storm, gasping and twisting and pleading.
"Aye," he rasped. "Show me how you much you like it."
It wasn't soft and sweet. Neither of them was there. He was animal hungry, dominant and demanding, and pushed her way outside her comfort zone. She willingly went with him, her voice raised in shrill cries and shameless coaxing.
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