He rolled to his back, closed his eyes, and groaned. His cock flexed and swelled until he was hard and ready. There was no way he had rested comfortably at the hospital, and he must be even more exhausted than she was. The polite thing to do was let him take a nap.
But she didn’t feel like minding her manners at the moment.
She loved the feel of him in her hand, warm and hard and alive. He reacted when she toyed with the drop of fluid on the head of his penis. His chest rose and fell in a deep, shaky breath.
But when she took him in her mouth he cursed.
She sucked him steadily, smiling inwardly when his hands bracketed her skull and squeezed. His fingers massaged her head, played with her hair, toyed with her ears.
She lay half across his thighs, one hand open flat on his heart.
He tried, finally, to shove her away. “Wait, Nola. Not like this.”
But she resisted. She was tired of people knowing what was best for her. She wanted the exhilaration of sending Tanner helplessly over the edge. And knowing she was responsible. She wanted to feel him pulse and come in her throat, wanted to experience every last quiver of his wonderful cock.
It wasn’t a brief orgasm. He shook like he had a fever, and his hips thrust wildly, almost unseating her. She kept him in her mouth, relishing every last pulse of his pleasure. Even when it was over, he was still semihard. The taste of him was addictive.
She flopped to her back and stretched lazily, her arms toward the ceiling. “I think I feel better.” She couldn’t help the smile that crossed her face, nor the smug feeling of satisfaction. Even though she was still in need of attention, she was feeling pretty darn good.
When Tanner’s breathing approached normal, he laid his head on her stomach and licked her navel. “For someone who just got out of the hospital, you sure are perky.”
“Perky?” She wrinkled her nose. “I prefer focused. Horny. In the mood.”
He stroked her intimately, grinning when she helpfully spread her thighs. “I’ve always considered sex to be therapeutic.”
Nola closed her eyes, loving the way he touched her, the gentleness, the naughty teasing, the confident moves of a man who knew what a woman wanted and needed. She had tried a dozen times in her head to pinpoint how Marc and Tanner were different in bed. And today, she finally had it.
Marc approached sex as a contact sport. He was the athlete determined to be the best, to break records, to create new and different variations. He got off on being good at sex. And he loved the role of tutor.
Tanner loved a woman’s body. And for him, sex was an urgent appetite. One that had to be fed, or damn the consequences. He made a girl feel like he absolutely had to have her or else he would die. It was heady stuff. And his intense focus, his utter absorption in the act of lovemaking, told a woman she was everything in his world . . . at least for that moment in time.
Tanner hit a sensitive spot with his wandering fingers, and she lost interest in analyzing his motives. She arched her back and whispered his name. When her eyelashes opened to half-mast, he was smiling down at her.
She gripped his wrist. “What?”
He bent to kiss her, warmly, roughly. “You are a vision. I could fuck you all day.”
She stroked his thigh. “I’m always open to creative ideas for time management. If we never get out of bed, we never have to get dressed. I like it.”
He moved over her and kissed his way from her throat to her breasts. The feel of his slightly rough tongue on her nipples made her shift her hips eagerly. He took her waist in his big hands and used his thumbs to stroke a rib on each side.
She sucked in a breath. “Tanner . . . please.”
Now he kissed his way south from her navel. “Your skin is so damn soft.”
Her hands clenched in his hair. When his mouth settled over her sex, she shivered and closed her eyes again. He’d barely gotten started when the orgasm slammed into her hard and yanked her into a delicious release.
When she managed to look at him again, his cheeks were ruddy, his face taut with need. Their eyes met, his predatory, hers cajoling. She touched his arm. “Make love to me, Tanner. Hurry.” It was the first time she had used the L-word, even obliquely. And she wondered hazily if he noticed.
He turned her over, lifted her to her knees, and tucked the pillows beneath her. She sensed movement as he grabbed a condom from the nightstand and rolled it on. Then he touched her ass, smoothing his hands over her curves, and murmuring praise.
To hell with compliments . . . she wanted action.
She backed against him, urging him on. He spread her thighs a few more inches and moved into position. His big cock probed her sex, found her wet and ready, entered her steadily. She grabbed the sheet and braced to meet his thrusts. He was out of control suddenly, ramming into her repeatedly, fucking her as if he hadn’t come just a short while ago.
She felt filled, possessed, loved. And she knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Tanner Nash was the only man she wanted to share this big old house with. The only man who would make her happy. The only man who could protect her from the danger lurking beyond this warm, safe bedroom.
Their bodies met, wrestled, ground together. The pleasure swelled, crested, broke over her head in a rush of pure joy.
When he jumped with her into the wave, she felt him vibrate deep inside her and groan helplessly as he gave in to the power of what linked them.
Fifteen
She could have dozed for only five minutes or so, but when she opened her eyes, Tanner was gone. In the distance she heard the whine of a power saw. The man had a strong work ethic, for sure, but in this instance, she wouldn’t have minded his lingering in bed for a while.
She paused to inventory her stomach. It wasn’t back to normal, but she might be able to eat later on. In the meantime, she had some thinking to do. Could she find the killer before he or she struck again? If even the police were out of leads, what hope was there for her? Billy’s damaged car was her only clue, but she still couldn’t bring herself to believe the Inmans were involved.
She went to her room and grabbed her camera. It had been a long time since she had walked the property, and now that the rain had stopped, she wanted to photograph Lochhaven in one of its many moods. And often viewing the world through a camera lens helped focus her thoughts.
She went in search of Tanner, intending to let him know her plans so he wouldn’t worry. He’d left his sunglasses in the house or his truck, because he had to hold a hand over his eyes to look at her in the bright late-afternoon glare.
She slung her camera strap over her shoulders. “I’m going for a walk. I’ll be back in an hour or so.”
His expression was tight, but resigned. “You’ll be careful?”
She nodded. “Don’t worry. I’ve got my cell phone.” She paused. “And, Tanner . . .”
“Yeah?”
“We need to talk tonight.”
She meandered across the back of the property, still on edge. She imagined a killer behind every tree and odd shadow. And she was afraid. But she forced herself to keep walking out of sheer stubbornness. She refused to be cowed. She faced the house and shot several frames. From this distance, Lochhaven was a genteel lady, her flaws and age carefully concealed. Why, why, why had her grandmother insisted on marriage? And why so fast? Nola had plenty of questions, and no answers.
But someone wanted Nola out of the picture, and though finding a husband was still the first priority, it wouldn’t do Nola any good to snag a groom if she ended up dead in the process.
Tanner met her in the kitchen just after five. He was wearing jeans, a crisp white cotton long-sleeved shirt, and black boots. The broad gold watch on his suntanned arm looked expensive.
He cupped the back of her neck and pulled her close for a kiss. “Damn, you look hot.”
She’d chosen a pale lavender spaghetti-strap dress in a clingy jersey knit. She smoothed the skirt. “It’s called being all dressed up with no place to go.”<
br />
He kissed her cheek. “I can take care of that.”
Tanner drove her to a roadhouse that boasted a live band and dancing. The food choices were slim, but Nola would have eaten just about anything given the chance to dance with Tanner and forget her problems, even for a little while.
She would never have pegged him as light on his feet, but he surprised her with his mastery of several fun and raucous dance moves. And, better yet, each time the band segued into a slow ballad, Tanner pulled Nola into his arms, tucked her head against his shoulder, and made love to her standing up.
The music faded into the background. She felt the steady beat of his heart, smelled the faint aroma of starch and warm male. His lips brushed her cheek, the shell of her ear, her temple, her hair. His hands roved across her back.
Despite her bruises, she could have stayed in his embrace for hours. But when the band took a break, Tanner led her back to their booth. He ordered two beers and sat across from her, his expression unreadable.
The time had come. Nola took a deep breath and broached the subject she’d been avoiding since the first day he showed up at her door. She balanced a spoon between her fingers, pausing now and again to trace patterns on the vinyl tablecloth. “Here’s the thing, Tanner.”
He leaned back. “I’m all ears.”
No matter how she spun it, the end result was the same, so finally, she decided on the rip-off-the-Band-Aid approach. “In order to inherit my grandmother’s assets, house, land, and cash, I have to get married.”
His eyes narrowed, but he didn’t say anything at first.
“It gets worse,” she went on, slanting him a wry smile. “There’s a timetable. I had exactly thirty days from the moment the lawyer gave me the news.”
“Which means . . .”
“I have a very short time left.”
His eyebrow went up, and he whistled. “No shit . . .”
She sighed. “It’s ridiculous and archaic, but the lawyer tells me the will is airtight.”
“And if you don’t tie the knot in time?”
“It all goes to an as yet unnamed secondary beneficiary.”
His gaze sharpened. “That might be the source of the attempts on your life.”
She shook her head. “Already thought of it. The lawyer swears he is the only person privy to that information. But he says that even if the info were somehow leaked, the other party would in no way be a danger to me. Period. He was quite certain.”
“Hmmm.” Tanner was staring at her as if she were an unusual slide under a microscope. “So who’s the lucky guy? I’m assuming you have a system in place for this marital roulette.”
“The easiest choice would have been Marc.”
“Would have been?”
“He’s not really on my list. Marc is the über city dweller. He’s here in Resnick because he’s worried about me. But he’d never survive in the long run. And if I inherit the house, I plan to live there.”
“Is our dear friend Marc in need of cash?”
“Nice try. He’s loaded. The money is a nonissue.”
Tanner didn’t seem convinced, but he let it slide. “So if not Marc, then who?”
“My main purpose in hightailing it down here was to catch up with Billy Inman.”
“The guy who owns the farm-supply store?”
“Yeah. We were high school sweethearts. I knew he was single, so I was hoping there might be a spark there.”
“And?”
She winced. “Turns out, my grandmother paid him off to stay away from me right before I headed off to college . . . and she told him I knew what she was doing. Told him I was going to go places and I didn’t need a small-town hick boyfriend holding me back.”
“Ouch. Poor bastard.”
“Yeah. Billy believed every word, and apparently has hated my guts for over a decade.”
“Enough to kill you?”
“He had an alibi for the night my car was run off the road. I checked. And honestly, Tanner, I’ve known Billy and his family since kindergarten. I really don’t think he has it in him.” For now, she would keep her doubts about Mrs. Inman to herself. Tanner would explode if she told him about the scrape on Billy’s car. And it really might be innocent. Maybe.
Tanner was frowning now, swirling the last drops of amber liquid in his bottle of beer. “Resentments build and fester over time. You at least need to consider the possibility, even if it seems remote.”
“I know it could be true. I guess I don’t want it to be.”
“So with Marc and Billy out of the picture, dare I hope someone else I know is on your list?”
She rolled her eyes, feeling a jittery pulse in her stomach that had nothing to do with yesterday’s pizza trauma. “You’re going to make me say it, aren’t you?”
He grinned, a flash of white teeth that would have weakened her knees if she were standing. He chuckled softly. “I haven’t a clue what you mean, Nola. I’m just making conversation.”
Her lips twitched. She took one of his hands and held it with both of hers. His dark skin with its dusting of wiry hair was bold and masculine against her smaller, very pale fingers. “Tanner Nash . . . will you consider marrying me?”
Something sparked in his eyes. Something that wasn’t humor at all. More like heat lightning on an August night. “Yes.”
She choked and had to take a gulp of water. “Just like that? No request for details? Explanations?”
He flipped his hand and rubbed his thumb across the back of hers, his gaze hot and intimate, reminding her of how they’d spent the afternoon. “As long as this isn’t a platonic gig or one of those marriages of convenience you read about in romance novels, I’m on board.” He paused and cocked his head. “I’m sure you’ll want a prenup, and that’s no problem.”
She blinked. Well, that was forthright. She nibbled her lower lip. “I intend for this to be the real thing, Tanner, till death do us part. I won’t cheat my grandmother . . . even though she’s gone. For some reason, it was important to her that I be married. So I’m planning on the long haul. Is that a problem? You can be honest.”
He leaned across the table and kissed her on the lips. She was too stunned to respond. He sat back and spread his arms across the edge of the booth. “Should we negotiate things like how many babies, and which side of the bed you want to sleep on?” He spoke with an absolutely straight face, but his eyes were dancing.
She took a sip of her beer, eyeing him warily. “I don’t think that will be necessary.”
“And our timetable?”
“There’s no waiting period in Georgia. And you don’t have to have blood tests anymore. So I was thinking we could pick up the license tomorrow or the next day and get married . . . I don’t know . . . Friday, maybe?”
He was smiling at her in a way that made her panties damp. No one man should be allowed to wield so much sex appeal.
He stood up and held out his hand. “Dance with me, Red.”
She hesitated only a moment. She had danced with him before. This would be very different.
She was right. Anticipation simmered in her veins. She was in the arms of the man who would be her husband.
He held her close, their thighs and legs brushing intimately. His big hand at her back was warm and firm. His lips teased her ear, brushed her cheek. She shivered and clung to him, wanting to believe this feeling would last. She felt like nothing in the world could hurt her as long as she was in his arms. Perhaps it was an illusion, but she chose to believe it just the same.
It was late now. The band shifted from one slow, romantic ballad to the next. Tanner whispered in her ear, “There is only one reason I would consider this, Nola. I want you to know that.”
She frowned against his shoulder, suddenly confused. “And what might that be?”
He took her earlobe between his teeth for a brief nibble. “Because I’m in love with you.”
She stopped suddenly and stepped back, causing both of them to stumble. “You don’t
have to say that.” Her words were sharp. She was angry. “I don’t expect you to play some sort of game.”
He wasn’t fazed by her ire. He cupped her face in his palms, totally ignoring the other dancers. “It’s no game,” he said soberly. “Why else would I work my ass off for a house that’s falling down? And why would I turn my back on a lucrative business deal? I fell hard, lovely Nola. For you. For your disaster of a house. For the idea of a future . . . with you.”
He led her back to where they were seated, and she was glad, because she truly didn’t know what to say. She wanted to believe him, but should she?
He seated her and summoned the waitress. There was no champagne on the menu, but Tanner ordered white wine. “The best you have, please,” he said, never taking his eyes off of Nola’s face.
He took both of her hands in his. “We’ll go to Atlanta in the morning and pick out a ring. And we’ll spend the night at the Ritz-Carlton in Buckhead. It’s not every day a guy gets engaged. I think I deserve some romance.”
Her eyes stung, and her throat tightened. “Oh, Tanner.”
“Oh, Nola,” he mocked her gently.
The waitress returned, uncorked the bottle, and filled two glasses. Then she discreetly disappeared.
Tanner lifted his glass and raised an eyebrow until she picked up her glass as well. “To us,” he said softly. “Not all beginnings are auspicious. But sometimes we make our own luck.”
As the crystal clinked together, Nola found her voice. “And to Grandmother, who was a cantankerous old biddy . . . but I loved her.”
Tanner offered one final toast. “And to finding the bastard who wants you dead. He doesn’t know it yet, but his time is running out.”
Tanner turned out to be the perfect companion for a road trip. They made it to Atlanta the next day in time for lunch. Nola had been a bit sluggish climbing out of bed, because Tanner had taken her a half dozen times during the night, and she was punchy from lack of sleep.
Mating Game Page 20
