by Shirl Anders
“You always park back here?” His voice sounded as though it were an accusation.
She moved, letting the door swing shut behind her, then she cocked her hip because her hands were full and she couldn’t smack her hands on her hips with the gesture showing just how pissed off she was.
“Yes,” she stated, then she used an even snottier voice asking, while turning just her upper body to lock the door. “Why?”
She’d looked back noticing Vincent had some hangers with clothes in plastic, dry cleaning bags slung over his shoulder. The way he held them was bunching his upper arm into a hard and prominent show of muscle. Reluctantly she switched to watching his mouth, knowing it was the most expressive part of his face.
His mouth was grim, then tight, as he looked up and down the alley slowly, finally landing on a big industrial dumpster against the back of her store. His frown pulled lower, then he looked up. Was he looking up in the freaking sky?
She couldn’t help it, she looked up too, saw nothing and felt stupid as she heard his low measured voice, “Woman alone. Comes out into an empty alley. At night. No security cameras. No fucking overhead lights. Did I mention a woman alone comes out? At. Night.”
Tess’ head dropped, she barely caught her mouth from flying open. “My cars right there!” she exclaimed, pointing with her boot heavy hand. “If you weren’t blocking it, which I find threatening by the way, I’d be gone.” She didn’t exactly find it threatening, but she so wanted to crack his hardass demeanor.
Whatever was in the dry cleaning bag hit the top of his pickup, where he threw it, and then he began to stalk toward her. His firm lips shaped into determination and frustration, while his black eyes sparked with a look that shivered through her from her nipples to her toes, zinging back up through her legs to her …
She backed up, as he uttered, “You look behind that dumpster?”
He stopped close enough she could have pressed her hand to his chest... flat. Heat, energy, and intensity just swept over her from his closeness. The remembrance of his mouth between her legs flashed through her mind. A little gasp escaped her.
His eyes narrowed on her.
To escape the inappropriate and totally errant thought, she blurted, “Why the heck would I look back there?”
He leaned from his position, closing the distance of their faces with his voice a tight growl. “Fucking transient back there right now.”
Tess’ eyes widened, almost nose to nose with Vincent. He’d had to bend down to accomplish this. She fought not to turn and look, then she lied, whispering, “I knew that.”
His gaze moved across her face as though he was assessing, then he said in his low, toe-curling voice, “Bad liar. But cute.”
It was as if receiving the best news and the worse news all in one swallow. “Um …” Her gaze dropped to his lips, then she jerked it back to his eyes, which got deeper with something she’d definitely seen before. Arising interest.
No, no, no, she silently fumed in her mind. He. Was. Using. Her.
His hand lifted and cupped her elbow. “Come on.”
She was so surprised, he pulled her halfway to his truck before she thought to protest. Then she tugged her elbow from his hand, stopping.
“Come on, where?” she demanded. When she should have said, “No! Not going anywhere with you. Got to go!”
“Talk.” That was it ... all he said, grabbing her arm this time and pulling her to the passenger side of his truck.
By then, brilliantly, she finally thought to ask, “How did you find me? Why did you find me?” God he was just so … hot. He had her mesmerized. Surely.
His striking gaze cut to her, even as he lifted her up into his truck by her waist. Of course she couldn’t stop him because her hands were full.
“I get you are pissed at what you thought you heard, baby. But we have to talk.”
Tess wanted to protest him calling her “baby,” but she didn’t know how to go about it with his rumble of words sending signals to all the right places on her body, his intimate deep gaze so close into hers, and his hands still holding her waist.
She gulped, saying the most intelligent thing she could come up with. “Okay.”
Then he smiled slightly, just a small, barely there slide of his lips, and she felt the flutters inside her go straight toward completely turned on. She was in trouble. Big trouble.
He released her waist, backed up and slammed the truck door shut. His gaze never left her wide eyes, as he rounded the truck snagged the dry cleaning and went to open the driver’s side door. He’d said talk, and she was curious, but there was no way she was going anywhere with him, even though a taunting and tantalizing thought kept nagging her.
What you thought you heard.
As soon as Vincent hit the seat throwing the dry cleaning between them, she blurted. “Not going anywhere with you.”
Vincent stalled with his hand pointing his key toward the ignition. He lifted his hand slowly, then turned his gaze to her. Oh boy, he looked badass and determined.
“Can’t let you go home.” But even as he said those bossy words, that blew her mind, he settled back in his seat not making any aggressive moves to leave.
She could have said many things. Why? And why so bossy? But instead she told him. “I’m not going home, cowboy, so you don't have to hold me hostage.”
His gaze looked over her face, and then it got softer. “Where you going, baby?”
There was no way she should have told him. There were a lot of crazy things working between them such as him finding her, him coming there, and then him saying she couldn’t go home. The fact they’d done it all night, many positions, and he’d been so into her he’d touched, licked, and caressed every inch of her body. While she’d tasted him back. And Tess remembered him very well. The smell of him, the taste of his skin on her tongue, and the feel of his mounded sinew against her mouth.
But when Vincent Whitehorse looked at a woman — when he looked at her with softer more intimate black eyes, she just expelled, “Not sure, Rowdie’s maybe.”
The softness left his eyes as he dropped his gaze to her mouth, then lifted back to her eyes. His look sharpened as if he knew she’d been thinking of licking his body. Of his cock filling her...
“No fucking way,” he uttered.
God she wanted to climb over him, grab him, and she trembled trying not to, even as he bossed her. “Way,” she stated firmly.
He shook his head. “No. Fucking. Way.”
He turned and whipped the key into the ignition, starting the truck. She yelp, dropped the clothes and purse she was holding to try to grab her door handle, but his hand closed around her upper arm and he tugged. She and the dry cleaning bunched across the seat, until she hit his side. Hard to do because her legs were still on the other side. His arm raised and curled over her shoulder, down her side, then tightened, holding her body against his.
She finally dropped her boots, turning toward him to try to push. “Let me go,” she exclaimed.
“Wish I could,” he muttered. Then the truck was moving forward. She was trying to push her hand steadily against his bunched muscles, which she wouldn’t think felt incredible. But it wasn’t getting her anywhere, he was too strong, holding her tight to his side.
“You’re scaring me,” she tried, and he turned his face to her. They were very close to each other and the truck stopped, leading out of the back alley behind her store.
She knew her gaze was pleading looking into his.
“Never hurt you,” he whispered, then he turned and continued to drive.
She wanted to whisper back, “But you already did.” However, she bit her lip.
"What is it you want from me?" she exclaimed, and she knew her voice sounded anguished.
"Was not talking about you on that fucking call. Case I'm working. Don't like the client, called him fucker. Really don't like her, a cheater. Caught her screwing the masseuse. Now I can get rid of both of them." Vincent growled this amazing,
lengthy, answer into her hair and she was so struck he'd spoken so many word put together, she nearly missed their meaning.
It still hurt.
But...
FOUR / CAN’T LET YOU LEAVE
Vincent couldn’t let Tess tell her husband, Navarro, that she knew about the affair because then Navarro would tell Luna and he wasn’t ready for that. There was no way he could let Tess stay at Rowdie’s — it was too dangerous for a woman alone. So screw him, he had her now even though he’d just meant to talk to her, and then get out of her life. Better for both of them. He was no fucking good for her. He’d proved that by picking manic-assed Luna.
His track record with women was screwed and he should have never toppled into bed with Tess. Damn the fact he couldn’t stop thinking about it, and damn the fact that she felt all curves and softness against his side. And really damn the fact she was so sweet that she made him ache for…
“Where are we going?” Tess whispered against his chin. She’d stopped trying to fight him after his explanation, and she’d softened into him. He could feel the fullness of her breast under his armpit. Hell. A woman like she was walked into a man’s life, what the hell was he supposed to do with that? He couldn't believe she'd just accepted his explanation, easy as that — no bitching.
“Have a place Luna doesn’t know about," he told her.
She pressed closer into him and he liked it so much he held her there, keeping his eye on the road, as he turned his truck up into the low hills.
“Luna is your wife?” she asked softly, her breath warming his jaw.
He nodded, then added in a voice intended to warn her. “You do not want Luna fucking with you.” Tess stiffened against him with her hand curling into his chest. “I got you,” he assured her, finding himself not willing to scare her too much.
Her temple touched his jaw as if she looked down where they were pressed together. “You do not want Steven Navarro fucking with you,” she whispered. She clutched his shirt, tugging on it. His gaze caught hers as she lifted her head. “Really, Vincent.”
What was this? He’d not gotten a read on Luna’s newest conquest. He’d had one of the teams at WTSF working a file on Navarro, but all he knew was only a couple hours old. He’d been kind of busy after finally tracking Luna to the man she was screwing. All he knew about Navarro was that he was a talent agent and Luna thought she was fucking flying high with him. Vincent knew she thought Navarro would get her the attention she craved like an addict.
Vincent looked at the road, tightening his arm around Tess. “We’ll talk. You’ll tell me.” He felt her nod, then damn him if she didn’t lay her head on his shoulder and sigh.
By the time he got to the place he’d carved out without Luna knowing about it — it was a small ranch with a smaller two story house, all his intentions of talking and not fucking were flown on the wings of a hawk. All he had left was thinking about getting into all the softness Tess had ... and never getting out again.
It rode him so hard, by the time he pulled up to his place in the dark and stopped his truck, he’d turned into Tess and had her mouth tilted up to kiss. At first she was startled, then seconds later she was moaning into his mouth.
Then she was crawling up his chest. Then straddling his lap where he’d pulled her. “What the hell you got on,” he growled against her mouth.
“It clasps in the front,” she informed him, and he switched from trying to unhook her bra in the back, under her silky top … to the front. Front was better. Way better. Plump, soft.
“Vincent, we shouldn’t,” she whispered against his mouth. Then he had her breasts free and his thumbs brushed over the taut points of her nipples. “Oh,” she gasped, breathily. “God,” she moaned.
He lashed his tongue inside her mouth, then retreated, while cupping and squeezing her full breasts. “Too sweet. Got to have you,” he muttered.
“Too hard. Got to have you,” she moaned, doing a twist of her hips and riding all her sweetness over his erection beneath his jeans. “But we still shouldn’t.”
“Tess,” he growled. Meaning, shut up.
“Vincent,” she whispered. Meaning, talk.
“I’m talking with these in my hands,” he told her, then before she could stop him, he lifted her shirt off and tossed her bra aside.
She leaned back against the steering wheel as he grabbed up her round breasts, fondling them slowly. They looked like fucking erotic art in the moonlight. “Talk,” he challenged.
“We can’t talk like this!”
He did something tight and tugging, making her moan. “Only way,” he told her.
“God, Vincent.” Her hands reached for his shoulders and her soft center humped his erection again.
“We’re both married,” she finally gasped.
He stopped … while holding her breasts in his hands and her hard nipples under his thumb. “So?” he muttered, trying to see her gaze in the moonlight, but all he could see were pinpoints in her irises.
She heaved a breath, filling his hands more with her pillowy flesh. “I just knew I’d never be the one to cheat on my marriage,” she whispered.
He could point out that she already did. “I get you,” he replied, then he let go of her perfect breasts and clasped the satin across her back, pulling her against him, their noses almost touching. He knew jack about pretty, delicate, soft women. Well strike that, he knew about them from his charity work, but never intimately. He guessed he should do everything the opposite, as say, he’d done with Luna. “I never cheated,” he told her.
He had to say if they were going to talk, this was the way to do it. So close. Her arms came around his neck and he played with the ends of her silky hair, alternating with strokes of her back. Each little stroke of his fingers made her do a small catch of breath that he liked.
“I’d have bet you didn’t,” she murmured, with her breath warm against his mouth. “Vincent, I’m never going back to him,” she whispered.
“Good, beautiful,” he replied tightening around her, then loosening a bit. “You afraid of him?” he asked quietly.
She nodded slowly, and he felt her temple touch his, then leave. “Some.” She took a breath as if fortifying herself. “He was different, nicer, last time I left him for cheating.” Vincent stilled. They had some ugly marriage messes in common. Like cheating. “But he got in with a tough crowd, somehow through promotions at big venues, and he’s changed in the last couple of years.”
He grabbed her hair bunching it at the back of her head. “How?”
“I think he had a guy that innocently flirted with me beat up badly, as in bad enough to go to the emergency room with a hospital stay after.” Her arms tightened around his neck and her face went past him, until she hugged against the side of his face. “It’s like he doesn't want me, but he doesn't want anyone else to have me. So I can leave him. I think. He won’t get too nasty as long as he gets no hint of …”
“Another man in your bed,” Vincent finished for her, and he felt her nod.
“I think,” she whispered.
Vincent used her hair, until she was looking at him again. “First, no man lets other men flirt with his woman.” She started to interrupt, but he talked over her. “Hospital and bad beating. Extreme. Long as it was one sided flirting? And, not yours. But, baby, my ball and chain acts the same fucked up way.”
“She does?” Tess asked, sounding disbelieving. “Ball and chain is your wife, right?”
“Yeah,” he muttered. “Now, that I’m finally fucking thinking without my dick. I can’t let you get in her headlights.” He let go of Tess’ hair, and reached to the side of him. “You. Her. She’d hurt you.” His hand found soft material, and he said too damn roughly. “Put your shirt on, Tess.”
Tess didn’t argue with Vincent when he used his gravelly, deep voice with command, but a hint of harshness that she wanted to believe was bitter disappointment. She didn’t argue when he shut off, got distant, and set her away from him. Her body screamed for
more of his heat and her mind screamed for more of his forceful passion, but he helped her by cutting it off and she found her strength through him. It wasn’t fair. It was the taste of something more powerful than she’d ever had, but they both had crazy and maybe dangerous soon to be exes.
She didn’t want Vincent to get hurt, and she knew if he felt the same way, she knew how much he felt it. So she got dressed, not looking at him. When he came around his truck and opened the door, she got out and followed him in the dark up to the porch of a small two story house.
He had the dry cleaning again, and it crinkled between them as she stayed close to his back, while he unlocked the door in the dark. She would stay — listen to what Vincent had to say about not telling her husband that she knew about the affair, had seen the bastard cheating — and then she’d go find a place to stay.
Vincent reached in and flipped on a light, then he stepped behind her, letting her go first. Her heartbeat quickened at the gentlemanly gesture and she shoved her reaction down, hearing him ask, “You eat?”
“I’m fine,” she replied, stepping inside as her gaze swept the area. It was totally male and it looked totally comfortable, but not in a man-cave way. It was higher class male comfort.
“Heard your stomach rumble.”
Tess wanted to grab her stomach in defense as she stepped aside letting him walk past her toward the kitchen she could see through the open area.
She nearly muttered, “Did not.”
But he muttered, “Eggs. Sit.”
Tess clutched her purse with the strap over her shoulder as she watched Vincent toss the dry cleaning over a high-backed stool, then he entered the kitchen turning on the light as he went. As soon as he turned the light on she saw the island, separating the kitchen and living room, had a spectacular granite top of bronze and gold with black and white flecks. Her mind went “wow,” luckily her mouth stayed shut.
“Forgot. That’s yours,” Vincent said, across the divide, and he nodded toward the dry cleaning.
