Touch Me

by Christie Ridgway

  “‘Whinging on’?”

  “He talks that way,” she said, waving a hand. “All those years I followed the rules, checked and rechecked my figures, dressed in the conservative fashion that he favored in order to get my father’s approval—and Blake’s—when neither one of them…”

  “Deserved a minute of your regard.”

  “Right.” She swiped at her nose with the back of her hand.

  Shit, was she crying? “Rose…”

  “Just ignore me.”

  As if he ever could. Sliding down the cushions, he took the tea from her hand and set it on the ground. Then he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and drew her close, not allowing her to wiggle free. “Tell Uncle Payne everything.”

  She let out a watery laugh and set her mug aside. “That’s it. That’s all of it. I gave my heart to a couple of frauds. Two shirts stuffed with anything but fidelity.”

  He stroked her hair. “Yep.”

  “A pair of philanders with no fine points.”

  “I like that one,” he said.

  “Losers who are loyalty-impaired.”

  “You’re on a roll, cupcake.”

  She laughed again, but it didn’t sound any more happy. “I just felt so stupid, you know?”

  “You’ll get your mojo back.”

  “I’m not sure. It shook me up.”

  “All men aren’t cheaters. Some will make a commitment and keep their promise.” Not him, but he knew it happened. Ren would never do anything to make Cilla doubt him. Neither would Bing hurt Alexa or Reed jeopardize the good thing he had with Cleo.”

  “I’m worried I won’t ever trust myself to tell which are the good ones and which are the lousy ones.”

  It killed him to mention the man’s name, but it had to be said. “Dustin…he seems the dependable sort.”

  “Dustin…”

  He couldn’t interpret a thing from those two syllables. Had she enjoyed her dinner with him? Did she think he was the good kind of guy she could count on? Or was she serious about finding fling-fodder? Dustin would probably be on-board for that, at least as a start.

  Payne frowned at a sudden, new thought. “How did Cami meet him? What does he do?”

  Rose’s mouth lifted in her signature crooked smile, though this time it looked like a girly kind of smirk. “He’s her accountant.”

  So she and the guy had that in common. Weird how he felt so…let down by that fact. “Did you like him?” he asked, then cursed himself. There was only one question he wanted to hear himself utter less.

  Her shoulders moved up and down in a tiny shrug. “He’s Cami’s friend. Very likeable. I’m not ready to jump into anything, though.”

  “Not even jump into bed?” Shit! Hell! Fuck! What had made him say that?

  Rose straightened, putting distance between them. “I may have looked into your medicine cabinet, Payne, but that doesn’t give you permission to get in my—” She broke off, eyes widening. “Wait a minute, that’s coming out wrong.”

  “Rose.” He had to grin. “Is it all right if I say I think you’re the cutest thing I’ve ever seen?”

  Her eyes narrowed. “I don’t know. You called me cupcake a few minutes ago.”

  He nodded. “Sweet. Fluffy. A treat. What’s not to like?”

  “I’d rather be considered capable. Intelligent. Detail-oriented.”

  “I thought you weren’t an accountant anymore,” he teased.

  Her eyes narrowed. “How about sexy, then? Unforgettable. Irresistible.”

  God, she so was. No one could attest to that better than his fist and his cock, the former which had been working over the latter once, twice, sometimes three times a day, with just the thought of her walking through his house. Well, walking through his house without a stitch of clothes on.

  Maybe she saw some of that on his face. She blinked and even in the dim light he could see pink color creeping up her cheeks. “Payne…?”

  Then it was out of his mouth, the words he’d been smothering since she’d returned to his place that night. “Did he kiss you, Rose?”

  The air felt heavy in the small office, and the walls seemed to be shifting as well, closing in so that Rose could barely draw breath. She drew up her legs, curling them onto the cushions between herself and Payne.

  Did he kiss you, Rose?

  Such a simple question, but Dustin didn’t have a place in this room right now. Right now it was only Payne and Rose and the sexual awareness running between them, warm and sticky as taffy.

  It couldn’t be her imagination.

  That would be too cruel.

  But she’d dreamed up a sexual connection between them before. At fifteen, when she’d walked from Amalie Irwin’s house in a pair of Lily’s too-big high heels, determined to show Payne her devotion. Her fingers had quivered as she’d called him, telling him she was on her way. He’d tried questioning her, but she’d ended the call and continued on, navigating the winding road and the narrow path beside it that was as rocky as her breathing.

  The gates of the Velvet Lemons compound had been open and she’d heard music and laughter as she approached them. Cars were parked haphazardly just inside.

  She’d hesitated, then gathered her courage. Payne was her knight, her soul mate, the love of her life!

  Fifteen feet in, he’d come running up, breathless, blond hair disheveled, a look of concern on his face. “Rose? What is it? What’s the problem?”

  And silly Rose had shown them both the problem was her, because she’d launched himself against him, pressing her chest to this, wrapping her arms around his neck, attacking his mouth with hers.

  His clean smell, his body heat, the warmth of his lips would be imprinted on her memory forever. Lifting onto tiptoes to get closer, she’d wobbled in the too-big shoes, and Payne’s arms had clamped around her hips to provide support.

  Of course, in her befuddled state she’d taken it as encouragement. When he said “Rose” against her lips, she’d slid her tongue into his mouth.

  He’d frozen then, shocked, she could see clearly now, but at the time she’d thought he was electrified by her French kiss…not her audacity.

  “Rose,” he’d said again, and she’d slid her fingers into his hair, crushing her lips against his. Their teeth had clacked and she’d not been the least bit embarrassed by the gracelessness of the kiss she’d planted on the poor guy.

  “Rose,” he’d said a third time, his arms tightening once before he put her firmly away from him.

  They’d stared at each other, both chests heaving. In the moonlight she saw that his mouth was wet. For the second time in her life, so were her panties.

  That response had never been covered in sex ed classes.

  “What the hell?” he’d finally demanded, lifting his arms then letting them fall to his sides. His expression appeared a combination of angry and dumbfounded. “What was that about?”

  At that moment a person ran up to them on a raucous shriek of laughter. Rose hadn’t told Lily about the naked woman, big breasts bouncing, long blonde hair flowing behind her and absolutely no hair at all between her legs who had latched onto Payne. “Payne, baby,” she’d said. “It’s time for nude hide-and-seek and we need more players. Bean’s looking for the girls and Patsy’s going to give special favors to every guy she discovers.”

  The blonde glanced over at Rose then, her gaze considering. “You can come too, honey,” she’d said. “Ditch the clothes and join us.”

  At that point Payne had gone ballistic. He’d shaken off the woman and stomped over to Rose, grabbing her elbow to drag her past the gates. “You are going home right now.”

  When she’d stumbled and stuttered about staying at Amalie’s, he’d jerked her upright then propelled her forward. “Get there then,” he’d fumed.

  Humiliated by the rejection yet still reeling from the aborted kiss followed by the startling encounter with the unclothed woman, Rose had started to run as best she could in the too-big shoes. Payne’
s angry presence behind her, stalking her step-for-step, had made her wish to die.

  Fifteen was a fine age for her world to end, she’d thought then.

  After all, Romeo’s Juliet hadn’t made it past thirteen.

  Considering the besotted and naïve young girl she’d been then, Rose shook her head.

  “He didn’t kiss you?” Payne said now, reaching out a hand to circle her ankle.

  And the immediate catch of her breath and the near-violent twitch of her skin made clear the old memory from the past wasn’t any kind of caution in the present.

  She stared at his fingers, her pulse pounding at the heated sense of being bound to him. Then she lifted her head, wondering if he’d see the consuming desire on her face. “Why does it matter,” she answered, her voice low, “when you won’t?”

  His hand traveled up her shin, a sensuous shackle.

  “There are all kinds of kisses, Rose. All kinds of places I could put my mouth.”

  She squirmed. “Payne, should you—”

  “I just want to taste you, Rose. Maybe then I can get a good night’s sleep.”

  Oh, God! Acknowledging that she wasn’t the only one suffering from unrequited want made her flush everywhere. His hand caressed her bare leg and she felt the goose bumps crawl over her body…just like she wanted him to do.

  He scooted closer, pulling her legs across his lap. Then he slipped a hand inside the neckline of her dress. His forefinger curled around her bra strap, and he used that to tug her nearer. “Rose,” he whispered, then he rubbed his cheek along hers, the combination of his rough evening stubble and the softer hair of his goatee causing her breasts to swell and the tips of them to tingle, then harden.

  She slid a hand along his nape. The other clutched the back cushion of the couch as she tilted her head so he could trace the underside of her jaw with his mouth. He nipped the skin beneath her chin and she jumped.

  “Shh,” he soothed, rubbing his free palm along her thigh. His tongue lapped at the tiny sting.

  The combination of small pain and sweet care sent her heartbeat into overdrive. She crowded closer to him and he helped, drawing her onto his lap.

  “I’m not hurting you?” she murmured.

  He flexed his hips and his erection pressed against her bottom. “Oh, yeah. In the very best way.”

  It made her giggle, and she buried her head against his neck. “You can kiss me, too, cupcake,” he said.

  Cupcake! In retaliation, she sank her teeth into the strong column of muscle.

  He grunted, and his hand squeezed her waist. “Do that again,” he whispered.

  But this time she didn’t bite, she just tasted him with the flat of her tongue, running it upward to then feather her lips over his evening whiskers.

  He turned his head toward hers, nuzzling behind her ear. “You make me crazy,” he said, and stroked her arm from shoulder to wrist. “Every day.”

  She breathed in the clean scent of his soap and tangled her fingers with his. He brought their joined hands toward her breasts, lightly brushing their knuckles over one of her upstanding nipples. Back and forth. Back and forth.

  The teasing sensation made her squirm on his lap.

  He grunted again, his hips pushing upward. “Like that?” he murmured, then dropped her hand to slide his to the back of her dress. “I’ve been studying how this works,” he said.

  The garment was cut wide enough to pull over her head, but then a fabric string was wound through matching parallel loops to cinch it against her body. A bow fastened the lacing at her waist and he didn’t hesitate to pull it free.

  His fingers plucked at the string and the thin fabric of the dress loosened, sliding at the neckline to reveal one shoulder. He bent to kiss the bared slope, his lips hot and his tongue wet. Rose shivered.

  And again, when he pulled on a sleeve, causing the dress to pool at her waist.

  She’d worn some of her good underwear, thank goodness, a little confidence booster for her potential blind date. But Payne wasn’t blind and he was looking at her transparent bra in pale green and pink lace. The sound of his heavy, indrawn breath was loud in the small room.

  Glancing down, she saw the tops of her breasts were quivering.

  His palm came up to mold her, and Rose tensed. Instant groping and kneading always turned her off. Payne glanced from her chest to her face and his hand dropped to her hip. “Move, cupcake. Straddle me.”

  She didn’t resist. Spreading her legs, she pressed each knee into the cushions on either side of him. The skirt of her dress covered her thighs, but underneath the fabric, her cleft was positioned right over the placket of his jeans. He widened her legs with his hands, silently encouraging her to press her soft and wet place to his hardness.

  “Nice,” he hissed out at the contact. Then he bent his head and gently licked her nipple, over her bra.

  Rose moaned and she shifted, a small pulse against his erection.

  It didn’t divert Payne’s attention. His tongue continued to play with the peak of her breast, until he’d wet a circle on the material and she was gripping his shoulders to prevent herself from rubbing against him like a cat. When he moved to the other breast, he toyed with the nipple he’d abandoned, tweaking and pulling until Rose was moving her hips in more little pulses.

  His lashes were at half-mast and there was a flush of color across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. Rose ran her hands through his thick hair, allowing her nails to scrape over his scalp and he lifted into the apex of her thighs, shallow thrusts that were torture.

  Then he lifted his head and caught her gaze. Rose’s instinct was to bolt, to hide so he wouldn’t see how nearly undone she was. But he put one hand at the small of her back, keeping her right where she was as he used his other fingers to tuck the cup of each bra beneath her swelling breast.

  “Oh, my,” she whispered. “I don’t think—”

  “Exactly,” he said, in the dark voice of a golden idol, accustomed to having flowers and food and thousands of women’s panties left at his feet. “Don’t think.”

  Then Payne, the baddest and blondest of the Rock Royalty princes, brought his hand up to plump her breast. Then he fed it into his mouth, his tongue wrapping the nipple in a thorough caress before his cheeks hollowed and he began to suck in rhythmic, maddening tugs.

  A rush of moisture slipped from Rose and she couldn’t help but grind her wet panties onto the hard ridge beneath his jeans. He moved into her, and she jerked against that delicious male muscle, feeling her center clamping down, desperate to be filled.

  Arousal booted her inhibitions out of the way and she was rocking on Payne’s lap, shuddering as she strained for the completion that was gathering in her belly. He switched to her other nipple, sucking with even more heady abandon and she was moaning low in her throat as he slid his palm beneath her dress at the small of her back and massaged there, splintering her attention between the pull of his mouth and the growing tightness in her groin.

  She wasn’t going to get there, she thought, in sudden panic. As good as this was, she needed more, and like every man before him, Payne wasn’t going to be able to help her detonate. Sixteen times nine was scribbled across the whiteboard in her brain, but before the answer appeared, he bit down on her nipple, pushed his hips up to meet hers, and slid two fingers beneath her panties and along the cleft of her bottom, grazing over nerve-rich flesh once, twice.

  Pleasure was gathering.

  Almost there. Almost there!

  “Oh, G—”

  The second syllable was lost in her urp of surprise as pulled his hand from her panties, then lifted her off him and dropped her back down onto the sofa. “Shh,” he said, getting to his feet. “Stay here.”

  “What?” Rose blinked and blinked again as he strode from the room.

  Awareness immediately set in and she quickly jerked up the cups of her bra, grimacing at the clammy wetness in their center. Then she shoved her arms through the sleeves of her dress and put h
er hands behind her, trying cinch the string there.

  She did a half-ass job, but at least she was decently covered as she ran from the room in Payne’s wake.

  Chapter Eight

  Payne swiftly made his way to the front entry of the building, his head reeling. He’d been immersed in the headiness of Rose in his arms when the sound of a car braking outside the yard had made its way to his consciousness. When he heard the engine turn off, he knew he had to check it out, despite still being horny as hell.

  It wasn’t the right moment to leave Rose, but it wasn’t the right time of night for visitors, either.

  He’d left the front room was darkened. A window, covered by old and dusty Venetian blinds, overlooked the street. The slats were closed, so he tweaked one at eye-level in order to peer through. Sure enough, a car was parked at the end of the broken cement walkway that led from the asphalt to the entry door. There was no sign of the driver.

  Was someone right now skulking at the entrance? Or were they perhaps prowling the cyclone fencing surrounding the yard, looking for a way in?

  Rose. The image of her half-dressed on the couch in the next room galvanized him. Like hell was he letting anyone get near her.

  In two steps he was at the front door. With a twist of the lock, he flung it open.

  Two figures stood on the step, the security light washing their faces to an eerie greenish-white. One screamed and they both jolted backward.

  “What the hell?” he muttered.

  The two visitors were already retreating to their car, stumbling in their haste.

  “Stop,” he yelled. “It’s just me.”

  Behind him, garish brightness flooded the room, the neon tubes buzzing to life. He glanced over his shoulder. “You were supposed to stay put,” he told Rose.

  Her wrinkled dress hung crookedly on her shoulders. Her gray eyes had never looked bigger and he could see a pink mark on her throat that had surely been made by him. Thoughts of the unexpected company fled his mind.

  “Go back to the sofa, baby,” he said, his voice soft. He was desperate to strip her bare and begin where they’d left off.