“Look at me, Vivienne.” Not a request, but a command, softly wrapped and dripping in sin. He stood close, his hand outstretched. “Give me your hand.”
So steady. No quiver and no hesitation, just an unapologetic confidence that dared her to fall and let him catch her.
She slid her hand in his.
He guided her to her feet, his warm, calloused palm scraping against hers, a world apart from the soft, well-manicured touch of the politician at the event.
Soft, comforting certainty settled over her, no different than spring’s first warmth after a long, cold winter. No one knew what tomorrow would bring, or any day after that, but she had right now. In this moment, all she wanted was Jace and everything that went with him.
Striding to the stoop on shaky legs, she dug her keys from her clutch.
Jace’s hand settled hot and possessive at the small of her back. God, she loved that touch. The mix of protective and possessive that tempted her to let go and trust. Adrenaline coursed through her so strongly she fumbled with the lock three times before the key finally slid home.
The door had opened no more than three inches when Ruger’s cold, wet nose found her sweat-slick palm and nudged her for attention. She tossed her purse to the side table and gave him what he wanted, the strength of his happy greeting and the familiar setting easing her nervousness to breathable levels.
Ruger sat, lowered his ears and whimpered, his gaze trained on the door behind her.
She twisted, expecting to find Jace behind her. Instead he stood on the stoop, hands anchored in his pockets. A deceptively casual pose from a distance, maybe, but the way his chin dipped and his intense stare locked on her painted a pure predator ready to pounce. “Jace?”
“Invite me in.”
A sweet, fluttering pleasure speared straight between her thighs. He might as well have said I’ll fuck you until you can’t breathe anymore if I step inside, but you have to ask for it. God knew, that’s how her body interpreted it.
An idea she’d toyed with through the charity event glimmered back to life. “You said you wanted an equal revelation.”
He lifted an eyebrow.
Oh, damn. Was she really going to do this? Clearly her libido had staged a coup and taken over with priorities. “There’s something I can show you. Something I’ve never shown anyone else. Will you come inside?”
His lips curved in a lascivious grin that made it crystal clear just how literally he’d translated her invitation. He prowled across the threshold and shut the door behind him, never breaking eye contact even as he threw the bolt. “No one?”
Ruger padded beside Jace as he advanced, ready for attention and none too happy he wasn’t getting it.
“Well, Callie and...” Shoot. She wasn’t ready for this just yet. “One other person, but no one else.”
He kept coming until only inches stretched between them. “Show me.”
She licked her lip, her mouth too dry to speak and her mind too focused on his lips so close to kissing distance. She’d never get the admission out at this rate. She swallowed and stepped back, snapping her fingers for Ruger to follow. “Can I get you something to drink? All I have is wine.”
“I’m good.” Behind her, Jace’s easy footsteps clipped against the wood floors.
She snatched a wineglass and the bottle of red she’d started last night, and poured herself way more than anything she’d get in a restaurant. What the hell had she been thinking offering to show him her secret? A guy like him would laugh at such a silly revelation. Of course, if things went as far as they sounded like they were headed, she wouldn’t be able to keep it a secret anyway.
She turned from the back counter in time to catch him tossing his jacket across the arm of her couch.
He ambled toward her and rolled up his shirtsleeves. Not only had he ditched his ponytail, but his tie hung loose around his neck and the first few shirt buttons were opened, displaying the tanned skin beneath. Lifting his chin toward the drink in her hand, he pulled the backless barstool out from underneath her center island, sat and hooked his heel on the lowest rung. “Must be a hell of a secret.”
“Not really. Not for a man like you.”
He cocked his head and rubbed his chin. If someone from GQ saw him in that moment, elbow propped on the black granite countertop with one foot braced on the floor, they’d sign him in a second. Especially with his black hair free and wavy to his shoulders, and the bad boy gleam in his eyes. “A man like me?”
“Don’t even go there again. You’ll see what I mean and think I’m silly.” She sipped her drink and paced toward the open living room, giving a wide berth to where he sat. Pausing beside the couch she trailed her fingers along the lapel of the jacket he’d tossed aside. How funny that he’d dressed up to show her another side of himself, and now she was about to give a glimpse of herself that was entirely the opposite.
She turned, leaned one hip against the couch, and took another fortifying drink. The rich, fruity wine lingered on her tongue and flowed smooth down her throat. Ah, hell, she should just blurt it out and be done with it. The worst that would happen is he’d get a good chuckle and leave. “I have a tattoo.”
One heartbeat. Then two. Then three.
His gaze slide down her body, slow and assessing, then back up. “Where?”
Okay, not laughing, so that was good. “My hip.”
Like a rock, his focus dropped and latched onto her hips. If Superman had swooped in and done the red-eye-laser thing on the same spot, she couldn’t have felt the impact more.
“And who’s seen it?”
“Like I said, Callie and the guy who did it.”
Jace stood. “And it’s how old?”
She gripped the couch cushion beside her, the soft olive chenille not nearly sturdy enough for the support she needed under his penetrating scrutiny. “I got it about two years ago.”
He stalked toward her, a wolfish expression to match each unhurried step. “Then how is it another man’s never seen it before?”
Jesus. She hadn’t even thought to prep for that angle, and the answer showed just how lame her life really was. She took another drink, for all the good it did her Sahara-dry mouth. “I’ve only been with someone once since then. We kept the lights off.”
He stopped in front of her, pried the wineglass from her hand, and set it on the end table. “So, what I just heard is you’ve been with someone once in two years, not with one person several times. That right?”
“Well, I—”
“Simple question, sugar. Yes, or no.” He turned her so her back was to him and carefully worked his fingers through her bound hair, feeling for pins and pulling the first one free.
“Yes.” It was closer to a whisper than a true answer, but his brief hesitation as he worked said he’d caught it.
His fingertips slid against her scalp, confirming he’d found all the pins. Slowly, he worked through the strands until her hair was a wild mess around her shoulders. He pushed the mass aside and bared her neck.
Instinctively, she angled to give him better access, craving the feel of his lips on the vulnerable skin. His warm breath whispered against her neck. “Vivienne?”
“Hmm?”
His hands circled her waist. His thumbs grazed the undersides of her breasts in a teasing, hypnotic stroke. Low and tempting, his voice rumbled through her. “Tonight the lights will be on.”
Chapter 17
Vivienne trailed one step behind Jace on the way to her room. Their steps were hushed and unhurried, but his big hand encompassed hers in the take-charge hold of a man too long denied. Even with the arm span between them, his presence burned and crackled with tension, a hungry, impatient animal.
At the top of the stairs, he twisted the knob to her special room, but Viv tugged him back. “My room’s the other one.”
He opened the door anywa
y and pulled her along with him, flipping the light switch along the way. The sparkle lights and small bedside lamp with its purple shade flickered to life. “I know which room is yours.” He released her hand another few steps in and toed off his dress shoes. “That one’s got a touch of you in it, but this one’s the real deal.”
“I like my room.”
“It’s a pretty room. Lots of girly touches and a whole lot of Better Homes and Gardens, but it’s about as much you as a tux is on me.” Perched on the edge of the bed, he peeled off his socks, tossed them aside, and scooted back on the bed so he reclined against the headboard. His smoldering gaze cruised languid and sultry up and down her body. “The first time I take you, it’ll be in a place that fits the real you, not the one you want me to see.”
A slow, ragged breath slipped past her parted lips, and her skin prickled as though she already stood naked before him. “I have my reasons.”
“I don’t doubt it, and I want to hear every damned one of them. Later. As in, after we’ve both come and you’re naked next to me so I can focus.” He grinned and settled deeper on the bed. “Ready to see that tat, sugar.”
Cocky bastard. The way he was splayed across her bed, one leg up with his strong forearm propped on it, and the other crooked to one side, he looked entirely too sure of himself.
Fine. If he wanted to see her tattoo, she’d show him. Maybe she’d show him how swimming in a flood of pheromones felt in the process. She walked her fingers along one thigh, bunching the soft velvet beneath her fingers and slowly lifting the hem with it.
His grin grew, a panther who’d just realized its prey wanted to play. “What are you doin’?”
The velvet inched past her knee. “Showing you my tattoo like you asked.”
“Stop.”
She froze, her fingers jumping to obey the quiet, but unyielding command before her mind even registered the word’s meaning. “I thought you wanted to see?”
“You invited me through that front door, sugar. You want to change your mind, that’s one thing. But if you’re still in, then I want to see your secret and the canvas that goes with it.”
The velvet slipped from her fingers and her breasts grew heavy behind the tight halter of her dress. Just the idea of standing naked in front of Jace rippled goose bumps in all directions. How she’d manage it in reality she couldn’t fathom, but if it gave her one tenth the thrill coursing through her right now, it would be worth it.
She ducked her chin and felt for the clasp behind her neck. The two simple loops slipped free and she caught the two sides before they cleared her collarbone. Her heartbeat smacked an unmerciful rhythm, and her focus went hazy, everything but the tips of her toes peeking from beneath her gown’s hem falling away.
Shit. Her shoes. She’d forgotten her shoes. She’d never get the strappy heels off gracefully and maintain the grip on her dress.
“Vivienne.” Jace’s voice registered, firm and comforting through the fog. “Look at me, sugar.”
Swallowing around the tight lump in her throat, she lifted her gaze and nearly staggered beneath his sweltering stare. The space between them sparked, charged and potent with a dangerous edge.
“Let go.”
Of everything. Her dress, her inhibitions and her fears. He didn’t say as much, but he didn’t have to. Not with the heated challenge on his face. Her palms grew damp and her body sung with feminine power. So what if she still had on the shoes? They were three inches high and sexy as hell, perfect for stepping into the moment.
Inhaling deep, she lifted her chin higher and let the fabric fall. The silk lining slicked against her heightened skin and clung to her hips a fraction longer than the rest before pooling at her feet.
Jace shifted on the bed, gripping his cock through his pants and growling low and guttural as he leisurely perused every inch of her. His gaze locked onto the tattoo at her hip and the hand on his cock tightened. “A dragon.”
“I’m not sure if that’s a compliment, or you think I’ve got bad taste in artwork.”
“I think my eyesight’s not as good as it used to be. Come a little closer.”
She stepped from the velvet circle around her feet and sidled closer, luxuriating in the feel of her hips as they swayed. The power she’d felt under his gaze before was nothing compared to the absolute dominion she felt now, the pride and lust as he watched her amplifying every sensation without so much as a touch.
He smoothed his hand up and over her hip, his thumb reaching out to touch the dragon’s tail where it circled the outside of her hip bone. “Still not close enough.”
“You’re less than two feet away.”
“You know what they say about jackin’ off making you go blind. I’ve sure as shit done my share the last two weeks waiting for tonight.”
The image of Jace in bed at the compound, naked and stroking his cock, flashed bold and beautiful in her mind, and sent a shudder coursing through her.
Jace chuckled and tightened his grip on her hip. “My naughty girl’s got a good imagination.”
“What makes you think I’m naughty?”
“Caught that shiver, sugar. Not to mention you’ve got some damn nice ink of a wicked dragon with his head aimed straight at your pussy. Now, crawl the fuck up here and let me look, then I’ll show you how I spent my nights thinking about you.”
“He’s not aimed that way.”
Jace grinned, the tilt so hungry and dirty it was a wonder she didn’t come right then. “He’s lookin’ straight at it. Wants it as bad as I do. Now are you gonna straddle me and let me pay homage? Or do I need to pin you on your back to do it?”
Jesus, the man had a mouth on him. If he could get her this wet without touching her, God only knew what he’d do with actual contact. She slipped the back straps off her heels and kicked them to the side.
“Damn shame those had to go. Was looking forward to enjoying those, too.”
She crawled onto the bed and straddled his hips. “You’re greedy.”
“Fuckin’ A.” He gripped her waist and urged her toward his shoulders as he inched lower on the bed, his mouth close enough his beard tickled her skin. “But I give as good as I get.”
Oh. Holy. Hell.
With one hand holding her firm against his mouth, he traced the dragon’s tail with his tongue, nipping and sucking a fiery trail toward the dragon’s head. The other hand ghosted up her inner thigh, his work-roughened thumb working devious circles closer and closer to her core.
“Jace.” She squeezed his shoulders and hung on for dear life.
“Yeah, sugar.” He kept his focus, his voice distracted as he left behind her tattoo and blazed a sensual path low across her belly.
“Shouldn’t we...”
His thumb bypassed her slick folds and moved across the tightly trimmed curls on her mound. “Shouldn’t we what?”
“You’re still dressed.” Her hips flexed, willing him to slide his thumb lower and give her the touch she craved. “Shouldn’t we slow down?”
He hummed against her and lifted his head. “I don’t know.” He slicked a finger through her folds and circled her entrance. “Feels to me like we’re right on schedule.”
His finger slipped inside, and Viv’s head dropped back, her knees parting for more of his wicked touch.
“Christ, that’s hot.” He worked her in a slow, steady rhythm, sliding a second finger inside as he drew decadent circles around her clit. “That’s it, sweetheart. Ride my fingers.”
She lifted her head, her unbound hair tickling her shoulders and back as she opened her eyes to find Jace’s gaze riveted to her undulating hips.
“Gonna take you just like this. Feel your pussy glide up and down my cock until you suck it dry.”
The muscles around his fingers fluttered and her thighs clenched tight.
“Yeah, right on schedule.”
He pulled her against his mouth, replacing his thumb on her clit with the hot press of his mouth. He licked the hard nub once, twice, then sucked it deep.
“Jace!” Her pussy clamped around his fingers, contracting over and over, unrelenting ripples feathering out to the arches of her feet. Dozens of times she’d pleasured herself to some astounding orgasms, but this was huge. A violent storm and easy mist all at once, uncoiling tension she hadn’t even known existed.
His fingers slowed, still moving in a steady rhythm, but guiding her down from the peak in smooth, easy strokes. His tongue circled her clit and lower, his appreciative moans vibrating through her swollen folds as he feasted on her release. His sex-weighted eyelids lifted and his gaze locked on to hers, a devilish gleam burning in the dark depths. Sliding his fingers free, he licked one last pass and pressed a lingering kiss atop her mound. “That’s one.”
Then I’m taking you home and finding at least ten different ways to make you scream my name.
His words from the charity event blasted through her mind. “You can’t be serious.”
He walked himself back on his elbows and started unbuttoning his shirt. “Sugar, I might be rough as hell around the edges, but my follow-through’s just fine.” He dug into his pants pocket and tossed two condoms to the bed. “Now help me get the rest of the way out of this outfit so I can get back to enjoying myself.”
Any lingering arguments died on her tongue, the opportunity to replace her imaginary fantasies with a real-life visual sending her fingers to the fastener at his waist. She splayed the opening wide and tugged his pants down his hips as he shucked his shirt to one side of the bed.
The pendant she’d always felt beneath his shirts rested against his sternum on a wicked platinum chain. Dog tags, though way more high-end than anything service issued, with an edgy H surrounded by a tribal tree and etched atop a black background. Those and his black boxer shorts were all that stood between her and over six feet of tanned, muscled male.
She licked her lips and let out a shaky exhale. She traced a nasty scar that cut across one shoulder, down across the tattoo over his chest. It matched the emblem on his pendant, but had far more details, knotted roots woven and tangled together as though binding it to his heart. Slowly, she worked her way further, reveling in the roped indentions defining every delectable muscle. Beneath the black cotton covering his hips, his fierce erection stretched the fabric taut.
Rough & Tumble (The Haven Brotherhood) Page 15
