I moved to the left breast. When I nibbled on the hard peak, Aida arched and slid her body down the couch, finding purchase on my leg. She wrestled one hand out of my grip and slapped it hard on the back of my head, digging in, pulling me tighter to her bosom.
I sucked, drawing long, slow pulls of her breast. Aida ground her pussy against my thigh, writhing, riding, getting off. It’d be a lie if I said she wasn’t driving me insane. My dick throbbed, screaming for attention, but the beauty beneath me was once again running the show. Her death grip held me steady physically, her moans held me captive mentally. I toyed with her breast. She worked herself against me.
My angry erection remained untouched, but that didn’t stifle my oncoming orgasm. I had to end our heavy petting before I made a mess of my new suit, or worse, a fool of myself. I pulled the tip of her pebbled flesh between my teeth and flicked my tongue across the top.
Aida’s head flew back into the cushions, her hips tilted, rocking harder against my leg, and she came with a string of gorgeous, ecstasy-tainted profanities, her thighs clenching tight around my leg, her body twisting, her hands fisting my hair, painful and thrilling, and scrambling my brain.
Fucking hell. I’d never experienced anything so carnal. Never had I witnessed a woman come undone with such wild abandon.
I did that.
I had never done that. Holy shit. What just happened? Never had a man made me come just by playing with my breasts. If making out with Tucker was that good, I couldn’t wait to get to the real action.
Mindless bliss, my drug of choice. I sighed and opened my eyes, eager to continue, beyond excited about my new discovery, my new toy.
Tucker hovered over me, shit-eating grin on his face, chest rising and falling in rapid bursts. His tongue appeared in a slow drag across his bottom lip. “You relaxed now?”
I realized I was still gripping the back of his head and let my arm fall to my side. “I am so fucking relaxed,” I said, wiggling my fingers so he would release my other hand.
Before letting me go, he dropped a hard kiss on my lips. Then, much to my dismay, he tugged my dress back over my boobs. “It’s a shame we need to cover those up. Prettiest damn things I’ve ever seen.”
Heard that before. However, until those words fell from his lips, I’d never felt the power they held. The need fueling his gaze, the way he stared into me and not at my breasts, each word pierced me through and through.
I couldn’t wait to reciprocate. “We’re not done,” I said, reaching for his crotch. “It’s your turn.”
A sad smile cracked his face before he leaned down to kiss my nose. “Nah. I’m good.”
“What?” He had to be joking. Men didn’t get women off just to get women off. A man got a woman off so he could bury his dick in one of her holes and feel like a king.
“I said, I’m good.”
“Yeah, right.” I grabbed him anyway. Good Lord, he was hard and huge in my hand. When I squeezed, he jerked back and jumped off the couch like I’d electrocuted him.
“Time to head home,” he mumbled, avoiding my gaze while offering a hand to help me up.
“Are you fucking serious?” I swatted him away and propped my arms behind me. “Did I do something wrong? Is it the baby?” I looked down at my stomach. “I knew it. It’s a turn-off. Jesus, men are so shallow—”
“Aida. Shut up,” he half-shouted, half-growled.
“No. No. It’s okay.” I straightened my shoulders and pushed off the couch, bumping the big lug out of my way in the process. “I get it.” I hadn’t had many conversations with Tucker since coming to Whisper Springs, three maybe, in total, but I had watched him, studied him, and early on, had decided that he was the epitome of small town, American good ol’ boy. Man. Whatever. He was too wholesome for the likes of me.
“It’s not you. I mean. It is you.” He scratched the stubble under his chin before squeezing his eyes closed and shaking his head. “You are perfect. And that mouth? Seriously. Didn’t know it was possible to kiss like that.”
“But I’m trouble,” I interjected.
“What? No.”
“Listen,” I adjusted my breasts, straightened my skirt. “You’re a good guy. I can see that. You need a sweet girl to warm your bed, not a cock-stabbing criminal—”
Tucker attacked, clamping an arm around my waist. He slammed me against his chest, and our mouths collided in a hard, desperate kiss. When he came up for air, I was speechless.
“Let’s get one thing straight, Aida. I want nothing more than to rip off that ridiculous dress and take you in every corner of this room. But you’re right. I’m a good guy. And that’s exactly why I’m shutting this down before it gets out of hand. I don’t have time in my life for a relationship, romantic or otherwise, and I refuse to lead you on just to get my rocks off.”
Tucker reached around me and pulled the door open, pausing before allowing me through. “And the fact that you’re carrying a baby? Not a turn off. Nothing sexier in this world than a woman with child.”
My lips, hell, the whole area surrounding my mouth, burned from the scratch of his stubble. My insides were on fire, perhaps from the heat of his gaze, or maybe it was his words that torched me. Either way, I wasn’t about to let him know he’d singed me with his rebuff.
A sharp sting bit my backside as I passed him. My insides heated another gazillion degrees. I turned on my heel and shoved a palm into his chest. “Don’t ever slap my ass like that again. And, for the record, I don’t want a relationship, romantic or otherwise, either. Especially with some backwoods hick who doesn’t seem to own a razor.”
I turned and stormed toward the back exit before running my mouth more than necessary, before he could read the disappointment on my face, or hear the anguish behind my words. Rejection fucking sucked.
When I passed the wall of knives in the kitchen, I yanked one off the magnetic holder and pitched it across the room, landing it with precision into the wall above the prep sink. Damn, that felt good. At least the pregnancy crap hadn’t messed with my aim.
I pushed through the door and waited for Tucker by his Jeep.
Thankfully, the drive home was less than three minutes, seeing as my new apartment, in the basement of Tango’s new home, was just up the hill from The Truck Stop.
I shoved the door open before he put the vehicle in park. I hopped to the ground and headed straight for my private entrance around the back of the house before realizing I had left my keys and my handbag at the diner. Great. Now I’d have to go bother Tango.
“Looking for this?” Tucker dangled a key over my shoulder.
“Thank you,” I mumbled, snatching it from his hand. His heat warmed my back as I slid the metal teeth into the lock. Not a chance in hell I was going to turn around. The evening had been an epic, embarrassing mess. I was going to keep it, and him, where they belonged, behind me.
Pushing open the door, I steeled my spine, sucked in a breath, and pushed through the threshold into my empty, lonely, temporary home.
“See ya, Bambi.” Tucker chuckled, before smacking my ass, hard, and retreating to the safety of his vehicle.
“AIDA, HI!” SLADE BEAMED, all blonde hair, blue eyes, and angelic glow, from behind the counter. She nodded toward the table in the corner of the dining room. “I’ll be there in a sec.”
I made my way, as instructed, to the corner booth, and shimmied into my favorite seat, at the table boasting the best view of the lake. The dining room was full. It always was, because The Truck Stop had Charlie Lincoln behind the grill, flipping the best damn burgers I’d ever tasted. My mouth watered in anticipation.
Slade set down a strawberry lemonade and fell into the seat across from me. “Hey, chubby. How you feeling?”
Seriously, Slade was the only person on the planet who could get away with calling me chubby. Anyone else tried that, their tongue would be removed, deep fried, and fed to their mother. She used the nickname because of my growing belly, and the fact that I’d come in for
the burger basket every day since The Truck Stop diner had reopened over two weeks ago. To be honest, I kind of loved the endearment. It was far better than Princess, which had been my nickname from birth. I hated Princess.
“I’m feeling good. Hungry. Bored out of my mind.” What an understatement. I’d watched every movie on Netflix, abused Slade’s library card, and even stooped so low as kidnapping Rocky, just to have someone to talk to.
“Hey. We’re having a welcome home dinner for Tuck tonight. Come upstairs and eat with us.”
“Welcome home?” I lifted the lemonade to my lips and took a quick sip. “Was he gone?”
“Yeah. Hitched a ride with one of his drivers to New Mexico, I think. Said something about securing new accounts. He left right after the engagement party.”
“Oh.” And here I thought he’d been avoiding me. I pretended not to care, ignoring the warm, albeit annoying, tingles that graced my body, inside and out. “I hadn’t realized. Does he do that often?”
“He mostly helps our dad manage the company from his home office. Securing accounts, and routes, and whatnot. Hitches rides every couple of months. Gets to know his drivers better, calls it performance audits, or something like that.” Slade leaned closer, elbows on the table, butt off her seat. “Between you and me, I don’t think he likes the trucks. He always seems so sad when he comes back from a run. Looks like he’d survived a trip to hell and back. He never wants to talk about it, though.” She fell back into her seat. “Have you heard the news stories, about the psychopath who’s attacking truckers? God, it makes me a nervous wreck every time Tuck is on a run.”
“Yeah. I’ve seen it on the news. Creepy.” To be honest, I hadn’t paid much attention. Shit like that happened all the time in my world. If the family business wasn’t directly affected, I couldn’t waste my energy worrying about it.
“So? Dinner tonight?” Slade asked, eyes bright and willing me to say yes.
“Oh, I don’t know. Sounds like a family thing. I’ll probably hunker down with a good book and a frozen pizza tonight.”
“Aida,” Slade said with a pout. “Come on. You never leave the apartment except to eat at the diner. Please. Have dinner with us.”
“I’ll think about it.” I was so done with Whisper Springs and its sweet, happy personalities. “Did Tango mention if he’d heard from my father?”
“No. I’m sorry.” She pulled my drink to her side of the table and took a sip. “You miss home, don’t you?”
“A bit.” I missed the luxuries of home. I missed being surrounded by people. Even knowing they were only around me because my father paid them to be. “I miss the noise, most of all. The busyness. The constant buzz of energy.”
“You’re not much good at relaxing, are you?”
No. Because I could never let my guard down. “Is it that obvious?”
Slade’s waitress, Margie, brought our food. “Here you go. Extra pickles for Aida, extra ketchup for the boss lady.” She winked and made her way to the next table.
Slade shoved two fries in her mouth.
“How the hell do you stay so thin?” I asked, half-laughing, but mostly jealous of her lean, long figure. “You eat burgers with me every day, and I swear you’ve lost five pounds since last week.”
“Ha,” she said with a mouthful of potato. “It’s in my genes. Plus, I walk everywhere. Walking makes me happy.”
Back home, I wasn’t allowed in public without a posse. Nope. Drivers and military trained bodyguards escorted me everywhere. Made walking a nuisance. Luciano Voltolini’s daughter traveled in style, safely hidden behind the shield of ballistic nylon, leaded glass, and polycarbonate reinforced vehicles.
“This is the most I’ve ever walked,” I told Slade in-between bites. “Up and down the hill to the diner.”
“Well. It’s a start. You must be going stir crazy. I’m sorry I’ve been working so much and haven’t had time to hang out. Hey. I have an idea. Why don’t you come and work with me? Tango said you have a business degree. We’ve been busier since the remodel, and I’m needed on the floor more, since I’m down a waitress. You could take care of the back end, help me get my finances in order. I’ve fallen behind with all that’s happened the past few months.”
Slade Mason hadn’t fallen behind. Slade worked her ass off for the diner. Always with a spring in her step. She was offering me a lifeline. A way out of the doldrums of my stint in exile. Working at a diner wasn’t what I’d envisioned for myself, but it beat sitting in a dark apartment, watching my stomach grow, waiting for the call that my father was sending his private jet to bring me home. I had spent much of my childhood in the seedy kitchens of my father’s restaurants, so I was familiar with the ins and outs of the industry.
“I know what you’re doing. And thank you. I mean it. I’m going insane with nothing to do. I’d love to come and help, however I can.”
I hadn’t thought it possible, but Slade’s mile-wide grin spread even further. At first I thought it was because I’d accepted her offer, then I realized she was looking over my shoulder.
No need to turn around to see who’d caught her attention. The air shifted, alerting me to his presence.
Tucker slid into the seat next to his sister and planted a kiss on her cheek. “Ladies,” he said, popping a fry into his mouth. He nodded my way and smirked. “Looking lovely as ever.”
Had my gut been given wings, it would’ve been halfway to the moon. I sucked in a sharp breath, surprised by the rush of blood pounding through my ears.
“Didn’t think I’d see you until tonight.” Slade wrapped both arms around his neck and pulled him close. “Successful trip?”
“Sure.” He shot a glance my way, then wrestled free of Slade’s hug. “Secured three new accounts.”
“That’s great, Tuck.” Slade slid her plate in front of her brother and pushed from her seat. “We’ll celebrate tonight. I need to get back to work. Finish this for me?” She came around the table and kissed my cheek. “So, dinner at six. You’ll be there, right?”
Before I could swallow my food and decline her offer, Slade was out of earshot, leaving me alone with Farmer Fred and his delicious dimples.
“Welcome home,” I said, forcing a confidence I didn’t feel at all.
“Did you miss me?” he asked, face full of mischief and charm.
“I hadn’t realized you were gone until Slade mentioned it five minutes ago, so I guess that would be a no.” Why did I feel the need to lie? Self-preservation. Wounded ego, perhaps. Truth was, I hadn’t been able to shake the memory of his lips and the way my body had responded to them.
Dammit. My erratic heartbeat was pissing me off. Heat blasted my cheeks, and I dropped my chin, pretending to study my burger, hoping to hide the blush.
Christ. That blush spread so fast across her cheeks I almost jumped across the table to check her pulse.
“You okay?” I asked, stifling my amusement at her sudden shyness.
“I’m fine, why?” Aida lifted her bun, pulled a pickle from under the lettuce, and popped it between those beautiful, red lips.
Lips I’d been more than eager to see again, despite the blaring sirens in my head warning me away from the sexy, doe-eyed firecracker.
“You’re a little flushed,” I teased.
“Hot flash. Happens all the time. These damn hormones are a killer.” Aida fanned her face with a dessert menu. “Whew. Are you hot? It’s hot in here, isn’t it?”
Hot flash? Right. I bit my lip to keep from laughing.
“Well. I should get going. Got a busy day today,” Aida said, pushing her plate to the edge of the table.
Busy day, my ass. She wanted to avoid me. Smart girl. Too bad I wasn’t ready to say goodbye. “You didn’t finish your lunch.”
“I’m full,” she said, an obvious lie.
“Don’t go.” Fuck. That sounded like begging.
Her big mocha eyes sizzled with amusement. “Are you one of those people who can’t stand to eat alone in a r
estaurant?”
“Yes,” I fibbed. “Please. Stay with me. It would be irresponsible to let this food go to waste. Besides, you need to feed the baby.”
She quirked her brow at me, looking a little confused, but mostly amused.
I had her. “Do it for the baby.”
Aida pulled her burger basket back in front of her. “Who am I doing it for? My baby or the one sitting across the table from me?”
“Good one,” I said, pointing a fry at her. I sat back, sinking into my chair, stretching my legs under the table.
Aida curled her delicate fingers around her glass. Her nails were painted black. Last time I’d seen her, they were red. I liked the black. It suited her.
“Slade told me you were on a run,” Aida said, interrupting my musings.
I nodded. A run, of sorts.
She waited for me to speak. When I didn’t, she asked, “Don’t you go crazy on those long drives?”
“No. I love the open road.” Not the driving, not the trucks, but the hunting. I lived for the hunt.
She picked at her fries, pulled out the largest one, and dragged it through her squirt of mustard, then the blob of ketchup. “That why you don’t have a wife or girlfriend?”
“What?”
She took a bite. Chewed. Stared me down. Swallowed. “Seems like it would be hard to maintain a relationship if you’re taking off for weeks at a time.” She slammed her palms on the table, eyes wide. “Oh my God, please don’t tell me you’re one of those slime-bags who picks up hookers at the truck stops.”
I wasn’t about to answer that question. The vixen was trying to rile me. Probably still pissed that I’d rejected her after our insane make-out session. If she only knew I’d spent the past few weeks trying to shake her from my skin.
Her red lips continued to move, but I didn’t hear a word that came through them. I had thought that leaving would clear my head. Last thing I needed was a fling, no matter how short lived, but I couldn’t stop thinking about how perfect she fit against me, how I craved the sound of her laugh, or the way she destroyed me with those damn lips. I’d spent weeks jerking off in crappy hotel rooms to the memories of Aida writhing and moaning, coming undone beneath me.
Truck Stop Tryst Page 3
