When they came up for air, she idly curled one finger in a lock of his hair, her gaze trained there. “Um…” she said. “You told me you take your partner’s desire seriously.”
He smiled. “Don’t pretend you didn’t get yours, baby.”
She glanced away, then at his face again. “You didn’t get yours.”
Fuck. Oh, fuck. How had he not anticipated this? She’d been uncertain about her attractiveness because her ex hadn’t been making it to the finish line. And now Cooper…
He grabbed her hand, kissed the back of it. “I’m serious too about protecting you, Willow. I don’t have any condoms with me.”
“Oh.” Her brows came together. “Oh. So you’re…”
For answer, he rubbed his hard cock against the soft skin of her flank, aware he left behind a trail of moisture.
“Oh,” she said again, then with a little smile, shoved him to his back.
“What are you doing?” he asked, a little concerned. He rose up on an elbow. “You know we can’t—”
“It’s your turn to be still,” she said, with a flash of her eyes and another replay of that tiny smile. Then she pushed him to the pillows again and went on her own quest.
An expedition of torture.
Her mouth was everywhere, doling out kisses and licks and sucks and tiny bites that had him clenching his fists. It was too good to object and not good enough to take him over, but he twisted on the rack of Willow’s ministrations, weakened by his response to her, strengthened by his desire to let her have her play.
His body throbbed, his pulse drummed, and his cock leaked because she’d touched him everywhere but there, even gently running her fingertips over his balls but avoiding his shaft until he thought he’d come from no contact at all. With his eyes screwed shut, he inhaled rough, jerky breaths until she said, “Cooper.”
His eyelids rose and she was at his side, on an elbow, that sexy little smile curving her lips again. He groaned. “Say goodbye to my dog for me.”
Her brows came together. “You have a dog?”
“Not now. But if I did, I’d want you to tell him that though you tormented me unto death with pleasure, I thought of him at the last.”
Her smile grew fond. “Silly man.” Then she lifted her hand and licked the palm with the flat of her tongue, her gaze joined with his.
“Oh, God,” he said.
She continued wetting her palm with slow deliberation as his heart knocked like a giant’s fist against his ribs. He couldn’t breathe; he couldn’t look away. Finally satisfied, she leaned over to kiss him while her hand sought his cock. Her fingers closed around him, creating a tight, moist seal.
Heaven. Hell.
His hand shot up to clutch the back of her hair as his hips rose too. He pushed into her hold, once, nearly twice, and then—
His entire body bowed and he groaned into her mouth, his seed shooting, his pleasure ricocheting, his thoughts scattered to the four corners of paradise.
Cooper, lying on the mattress like an exhausted sea animal washed up on the tide, was dimly aware that Willow left the bed and then was back again. His eyes half-opened as he felt the warm touch of damp toweling washing his belly, then his cock. If he could have spoken or moved, maybe he would have objected, but no, he wouldn’t refuse the tenderness of her touch.
Even when she leaned down, the ends of her hair tickling his belly, as she placed a tiny kiss on his shaft. Next, she tucked herself against his side, cheek to his chest. His arm automatically rose to curl around her, keeping her close.
She sighed, a contented sound, her breath ruffling the hair on his chest.
“You know…” she began.
He sifted his fingers through her hair. “What?”
“I’m comfortable with you. I didn’t guess it would be so easy.”
Lifting his head, he slanted her a look. “I’m not sure how to take that.”
“With my gratitude.”
But he was the grateful one. Usually, about now, he was working to keep things light and fun, constructing a strategy to get him into his clothes and out to his car. It wasn’t that he’d ever ended even a short-term relationship on a fuck—he wasn’t a cad, for God’s sake—but he’d always been supremely aware that the post-coital period held a certain danger. It might invite an intimacy he didn’t have to offer.
But it seemed safe to rest here now, with Willow beside him.
You need to slow down, young man. Take a breath. Take stock. Pause long enough to see where you are.
So he did that, allowed himself to take this time without allowing worry to creep in.
One of her fingertips began drawing patterns on his skin. “What was your dog’s name?”
“We had two in my growing-up years. First there was Indio and then Franklin—both after the streets we lived on.”
“So they wouldn’t get lost?”
He lifted his head again, just looked at her. “Sweetheart.”
She giggled. “I guess they couldn’t exactly read street signs.”
His head fell back and he drew another slow hand through her hair. “Did you ever have a dog?”
“I always wanted one. I picked out a name and everything.”
“Yeah? What name?”
She shifted against him. “I couldn’t say.”
He smirked. “Spill it. You wanted a dog named Oreo or Tinkerbell.”
“No.”
“Lola. Sassy.”
“No.”
“Waffles. Rhubarb.”
“Stop.”
“Not until I get an answer.” His fingers tightened in her hair and he pulled back her head to look into her face. God, pretty. “It has to be terrible, or you’d share.”
“It’s not terrible.” She pulled her hair free of his hold.
“Cocoa Puffs. Omelet.”
With a laugh, she propped her arm on his chest and rested her chin on the back of her hand. “Are you hungry or something?”
Hungry for her. He was quickly slipping out of satisfaction and into renewed ardor. A grin spread over his face. “You tell me your dog name and I’ll pick something from my extensive sexual menu and serve it to you.”
She laughed again, her eyes lighting with a spark of mischief. His own humor fled as he stared at her, taking in the combination of features—delicate, sweet…dear.
Dear?
What the hell?
She wiggled, and he had to have his hand on her again, his palm registering her heartbeat through the taut muscles of her back. Something basic shifted in him then, some awareness fell over him, an emotion before unknown to him caused his pulse to race and his head to spin. Warmth spilled through his body.
“Cooper,” she said, a dimple digging into her right cheek. “I was going to call my special canine Cooper.”
He didn’t laugh with her. He barely heard the words as he struggled to understand a how and a when. The what and the who were perfectly clear.
He’d fallen in love with Willow Ray.
As nuts as it seemed, even to him, he just knew.
“I just knew,” she said now, startling him.
He blinked, refusing to give in to fear. “Knew? Knew what exactly?”
“You’re perfect.” She lifted up to buss him on the edge of his jaw, a friendly peck. “The perfect one-night stand.”
Yeah. Right. That.
Whatever new feeling coursing through him at her words he decided to call relief. This momentous, unanticipated event didn’t have to actually wreak havoc on his world. Why should it?
The fact that he’d fallen for Willow might be a change, but it hadn’t changed him. Still Mr. Fun & Games.
Señor Perfect One-Night Stand.
He could live with the limits of that, because he knew himself. Who he was. Mr. Fun & Games. Señor Fucking Perfect One-Night Stand.
Chapter Nine
Willow pushed open the heavy door of Fun & Games and found herself barraged with lights, laughter, and a general sense of convi
viality, all accompanied by the low level beat of rock music. She took a quick scan of the vestibule, noting the position of the hostess desk she’d created out of an industrial piece that resembled a giant metal stereo speaker. The mesh face she’d painted with the brew pub’s logo, a trick she’d managed by contacting a friend at a signage business who’d helped her create a stencil.
It looked good, the colors complementing the accent wall she’d completed the day after she’d spent the night with Cooper.
He’d been absent from the pub that day and she hadn’t seen or spoken to him in the days since. Figuring she had a good chance of finding him working on a Friday night, she’d dressed casually but not without care in black jeans with a ragged hem and short-heeled black suede booties. The last time they’d been face-to-face she’d been mussed and morning-drowsy. He’d left the lake house first, saying he had early appointments back at Sawyer Beach. Blinking to orient herself, she’d felt his lips graze the place where her hair and forehead met and she was still processing how well she’d slept by the time she realized he was gone.
The hostess was busy explaining to a pair of newcomers how the system worked—patrons left their credit cards in exchange for temporary tab cards that worked to dispense draft beers and operate the various entertainments. There was also a bar where cocktails and items off a small food menu could be ordered. Willow skirted the others in line because she didn’t intend to stay long —only time enough for a brief word with the sexy proprietor who’d come through as her one-night stand.
But she wasn’t supposed to be thinking of him in those terms, she reminded herself as she threaded the crowded tables and the swarms surrounding the arcade machines. The point of tonight was to ensure their relationship was returned to a strictly professional state.
Maybe you should have scheduled a meeting or selected a less-harried hour then.
She ignored the voice. Waiting wasn’t an option, she’d decided an hour ago. Hadn’t she learned anything from her situation with Brad? Not that she was going to allow herself to fall down the rabbit hole of obsessing about her ex-fiancé right now, but the truth was she’d known for a long while things weren’t right between them.
And she’d let that feeling go on and on, unaddressed, causing future plans and happy memories of a shared past to curdle.
This time, with Cooper, she refused to let any awkwardness or discomfort stop her from tackling an important subject. Tonight she’d look him in the eye and ensure her business relationship with him hadn’t been damaged. As for friendship…and they had that too, right? The beginnings of one anyway, and she valued it, valued him. She refused to let a—no matter how pleasurable—one-night stand affect either.
They could go on from here as if those hours at the lake had never happened.
A break in the pack gathered around a Mario Bros. machine revealed a far corner and there, the back of a tall man in a denim shirt rolled to the elbows. Her heart skipped, thudded, slid to her stomach and then slowly rose back up again. Placing her hand over it, she sucked in a breath and forced herself to calm. Time to talk to him, no matter how her nerves were engaging in a late, pre-emptive protest.
People shifted, concealing him again, so she focused on the spot where he’d been last and ordered her boots to make the necessary move. On a second breath, she plunged forward, only to feel a hand close around her elbow, causing her to halt.
“Hey, Willow.” Maddox Kelly was half-turned on his chair to smile up at her.
“Oh, hi.” She returned her own smile then glanced around his table to note he sat with a couple she’d met at Hart’s barbecue. Eli King, who owned the landscape center in town, and his fiancée, Sloane, a blonde who’d had her young daughter with her that evening. “It’s good to see all of you.”
Maddox dropped her arm but pushed out a free chair with his foot. “Can you join us for a drink?”
“Oh. Well.” Then her traitorous nerves took command of her body and she slipped into the seat indicated. “I’m only staying a minute. I didn’t even check in to get a tab card.”
“No problem.” Eli was already shooting out of his chair, a piece of plastic held between two fingers. “Beer? Wine? A cocktail?”
Again, her nerves grasped for a delay. “Oh, sure. Whatever you choose,” they prompted her to say.
Sloane glanced after him as he left then looked back to Willow. “Four sisters, a fiancée, and an adoptive-daughter-to-be has honed his courtly instincts.”
When a glass appeared before her, she gave a grateful smile to Eli and took a long swallow. “Thanks so much.”
“I hear we have you to compliment for the changes to the entry area,” Maddox said. “It looks good. More…energizing as well as welcoming.”
“I’m glad you think so.” She indicated the discolored cement floor. “This is next.”
Maddox nodded. “And he’ll need to get more tables in here.”
Eli sat back in his chair, sliding an arm around Sloane’s shoulder. “The Daggett touch,” he said. “Cooper puts a finger on something, blows it a kiss, and poof! Success.”
Willow bristled on his behalf. “It can’t be that easy—”
“Laundromats, moving company, winery,” Maddox said. “Winners, all.”
“Surely those took more than a touch and a…a kiss,” Willow protested. Don’t think about Cooper’s kiss. Don’t think about Cooper’s kiss.
“Look at him.” Eli nodded over her shoulder. “In his element.”
Glancing back, she saw him laughing with a group gathered around Pac-Man as he poured a beer—glass tilted perfectly—from one of the many dispensers. The glass changed hands, a busty blonde the lucky recipient.
A skinny guy in a college sweatshirt tapped him on the shoulder and he turned with another easy smile, strolling over to show him and his friend how to operate the pinball machine. Thirty seconds in, and they appeared to be fast friends. A minute later he was demonstrating his expertise and his two new buddies were cheering him on.
“Making nice, making money,” Maddox said. “That casual attitude of his makes him a natural.”
Willow turned her back on Cooper to frown at the man sitting beside her. “Your ‘natural’ makes it sound so effortless for him. I’m sure it’s not easy running a place like this, keeping employees happy, patrons happy, all the while keeping the business side going as well.”
“Sure,” Maddox began, “I get that—”
“There’s payroll and ordering and inventory and taxes and…and a hundred other details he has to keep straight in his head.”
“Hey,” Eli said, leaning across the table, a bemused smile on his handsome face. “Maybe we expressed ourselves wrong. Coop’s our guy. We love him, okay?”
“I’m just saying a person can make something look easy without it actually being easy,” Willow said, still from her high horse. Then she actually heard herself and took in the looks the other three at the table were exchanging. Oh, no.
She’d gone on too long and too hot, hadn’t she? “I’m just saying,” she mumbled, feeling warmth rising on her cheeks.
“You’re just saying what?”
At the sound of Cooper’s voice and the light weight of a hand on her shoulder, she froze.
Maddox lifted his head and grinned. “Oh, your designer’s ensuring we understand your job isn’t only, well, fun and games.”
The fingers squeezed on her shoulder. “That so? She’s sweet that way.”
The scrape of chair legs sounded and then he sat beside her, his thigh wedged against hers. “How are you, beautiful?”
Beautiful. She had to look at him, didn’t she, even though that word brought her right back to that night. His naked body against hers, over hers, pleasuring hers. “I’m great.” Turning her head, she met his gaze.
And battled the totally nonprofessional urge to bury her face in his neck and breathe him in.
In a panic, she cleared her throat. “But I’ve got to go. I popped in to see how the new
reception area design was working on a busy night, that’s all.”
“Sure,” he said easily. “Let me walk you out.”
“I can find my own way.” But when she stood up, so did he, so she suppressed her sigh and told herself to take the next few minutes to forget about her unabated attraction and concentrate instead on pretending she didn’t feel its pull.
As they walked toward the exit, the trilling bells and flashing lights of an unattended pinball machine caught her attention. “It does that when it feels neglected,” Cooper said, then slanted her a glance. “Wanna play?”
She refused to hear the offer as an innuendo. “I’ve never tried.”
“Never?” With a look of mock shock, he took hold of her shoulders and steered her into position. “You’ve got to give it at least one go.”
Shaking her head, she tried backing away, but his big body was behind her, his warmth and the familiar scent of him sapping her will. “I don’t know where to put my hands.”
He laughed in her ear. “You sure did okay the other night.” But before she could respond to that, he went into tutor-mode, showing her how to operate the controls. Of course she bombed on the first two balls, and at her frustration, he laughed again, then placed his hands over hers. His arms caged her body, his breath tickled her scalp, and she concentrated on keeping her knees from turning to jelly as he guided her to a more decent result.
When the game ended, his arms dropped. Willow blew out a long breath and said, “I really should be on my way.”
Cooper stepped back and she forced her feet once more toward the door. Then she paused, gathered her poise, and sent him a steady look. No dodging, Willow. “Are we good?”
His gaze was steady right back. He smiled. “We’re good. I heard what you wanted and what you didn’t want from me.”
Didn’t want from him? Something about that phrasing puzzled her, but before she could make sense of it, Cooper was flagged by a couple who claimed the “Funny Photo” machine wouldn’t produce the advertised product. An escape might have been possible then, but it felt rude to run off when he was dealing with complaining customers. The pair was quickly satisfied, however, and soon walked off, exclaiming over their strip of photos.
ANTE UP (7-Stud Club Book 3) Page 12
