He tipped back his head and laughed again, revealing straight white teeth. “She was trying to get me to ask you out.”
Her mouth dropped open. “What?”
“Yeah, she saw how I’d been looking at you when you first came in, and told me I needed to ask you out. That moment you picked up on was her trying to push me into it.”
Only one line had stuck in her head. “How you’d been looking at me?”
He leaned in again, and his gaze flicked down her body, and something inside her sparked. “Yeah, like I wanted to see more of you than just your hip.”
Her breath caught. She wasn’t used to men being openly flirty with her. Mike had always been very British—reserved and even formal—during intimate moments. He never would have told her that he wanted to see her naked or tell her the things he’d want to do with her. Her lack of experience flustered her, and the only way she knew how to handle it was to change the topic.
“So ... how did you end up as a tattoo artist?”
The question sounded too formal, awkward, and she wanted to kick herself. She wished she was one of those naturally flirty people, but it had been too long and she’d forgotten how. She wasn’t sure how to process what was happening. Was this going to end the way she thought he might want it to end, with her sleeping with him? The thought of getting naked in front of this sexy guy paralysed her with fear. What if he expected more than what was actually underneath her clothes? She was far from perfect. What if he was disappointed?
No, no, no. Her brain was trying to push anxiety onto her. She was just having a drink with a gorgeous guy. It was not something she needed to flip out over.
She realised he’d said something and missed it. “Sorry?”
“I said that I was lucky to get the job. The guy who owns the studio, Art, took a chance on me. I owe him one.”
“You’re a fantastic artist. I’m sure he took you on because of that.”
Kane shrugged and moved his bottle of beer around on the table, not looking at her, leaving a wet trail on the wood from the condensation. “I was a bit of a troublemaker when I was a kid. Got myself into some sticky situations. Other employers might have turned me away because of that, but Art took me on. We’ve been working together ever since.”
She wondered what sort of stuff he’d got into trouble with. Was it just the usual underage drinking, or had it been worse than that? Had he done time in jail? She didn’t like to ask, not yet, anyway. They were only just getting to know each other, and they all had a past. He seemed like a good guy now—the kind of guy who would travel halfway across the city to return a lost phone.
They’d finished their drinks, and Kane got up to get another round.
“I’ll get these,” she insisted, but he wouldn’t let her stand, his hand pressing on her shoulder, keeping her in her seat.
“No, I’m buying. I already told you that. Now stop fighting with me.” He threw her a wink before vanishing back inside the bar, and her stomach flipped with happy nerves.
She was feeling nicely relaxed from the wine, and a little bubble of happiness and excitement ballooned inside her. She never did this kind of thing. She couldn’t just blame the tattoo; after all, it had been this extra bit of courage inside her that had made her get the tattoo in the first place. She’d spent so long living for other people that she’d almost forgotten what it was like to live for herself.
Chapter Eight
Kane carried the second round of drinks outside. He paused for a moment, taking in the sight of the beautiful woman sitting in the sun, watching the crowds of people as they milled around. She looked stunning in her navy-blue summer dress with little flowers dotted over it, nipping in at that tiny waist, her cleavage deep and creamy, peeping out from over the sweetheart neckline. Her legs were crossed, so the dress rode up high over those curvy thighs, and a pulse of lust like a physical force punched him in the chest. He wondered what that silky blonde hair would feel like knotted in his fingers.
She was classy. She wasn’t the type of woman who would fall into bed with him on the first night, and, while he wouldn’t deny that he’d jump at the chance if she offered, he wanted this to be more about that, too.
He placed the fresh glass of wine in front of her, and she looked up at him with smile, a flush creeping across her chest and up to her cheeks.
“Makes you want to dance, too, doesn’t it?” she said, nodding toward the band.
They were playing remixes of modern songs, but done in a country style, and even though it wasn’t his kind of music at all, he had to admit that it definitely got the toes tapping.
He took a gulp from his beer bottle, and then got to his feet and put his hand out to her. “Come on, then.”
She gazed up at him with those wide blue eyes. “What?” His intentions must have dawned on her, and she shook her head. “Oh, no. I couldn’t.”
He jerked his head toward the crowd. “Yes, you could. Come on.”
He reached down and caught up her hand, and before she was able to protest any more, they were pushing through the crowds. He kept hold of her hand and then took up the other one, and pulled her in to join some kind of impromptu line dancing.
They both laughed until tears streamed down their faces, and he could tell from the way she clutched her chest that her lungs hurt as much as his did. A sheen of perspiration shone from Holly’s skin, but she looked dazzling, mesmerizing, and even though they were surrounded by people, he couldn’t take his eyes off her the whole time.
The song came to an end, and they fell together, still laughing, her fists against his chest. He still had one of her hands in his, their fingers entwined. He caught her up closer, and the rest of the square seemed to fall away. It was just the two of them. His gaze fixed on her mouth, her full lips parted as she caught her breath, glimpses of squared, white teeth, the pink of her tongue just beyond.
Kane didn’t let himself think about it any longer. He yanked her against him and crushed his mouth to hers, kissing her hard, forgetting they were surrounded by people. She resisted him initially, tensing, perhaps just out of surprise, but then she melted against him, and her hand snaked around the back of his neck. Her mouth was as soft as the rest of her, her breath hot and tasting of the wine she’d drunk. Her tongue pushed between his lips, and she kissed him with a hunger that surprised him. He’d been expecting her to be reserved, but she pressed her body hard to his and kissed him as deeply as he was kissing her.
Maybe we should go back,” she said between kisses, her voice breathy. “Back to my place.”
“Yeah, I think that’s a great idea.”
They left their drinks on the table and, hand in hand, pushed their way through the crowds of people. It was starting to get late, the sun vanishing below the skyline of high-rise buildings, a chill setting in. They managed to grab a taxi and fell into the backseat, and immediately they were kissing again, his hand on her thigh, shoving up her skirt. Fuck. His fingers itched to reach higher, to slide up that smooth skin and hook his fingers beneath the elastic of her underwear. Was she wet yet? He’d grown hard just from kissing her in the square, and his erection strained across the front of his jeans. His palms ached, and he wished he could slip his hand down the front of her dress and cup one of those gloriously full breasts, but she wasn’t the type of woman who’d appreciate being groped in the back of a taxi.
They reached the house. Kane threw money at the driver, and they stumbled up the front step, while she rummaged in her bag to find her keys. She kept shooting him looks—crazed, and wild, disbelieving, as though she couldn’t quite believe she was doing this. The moment they were in the front door, he slammed it behind him and pushed up against the wall. He ducked his head and kissed her throat, his lips on her soft skin, making his way down.
“Upstairs,” she groaned as he suckled on her skin and tried to shove down the straps of her dress.
He didn’t see what was wrong with the hallway but did as she’d asked, and they trippe
d up the stairs, her tugging him into the bedroom.
Finally, he was able to pull down her dress, slipping the straps of her bra down with it. Creamy white tits spilled over the now loose, lacy cups of her bra, and Kane groaned at the sight. Jesus Christ. He’d never been one of those men who believed anything more than a handful was a waste. In his mind, the bigger the better, and there was a whole heap of Holly McCarty that he planned to lose himself in.
He yanked off his t-shirt and then took a step forward, forcing her to step back so the backs of her thighs hit the bed behind her. She sank down, just as he’d hoped she would, and he helped to lower her back onto the bed. His hands went straight to her tits, cupping and squeezing, while his mouth found hers again. He caressed her soft curves from the lacy cups of her bra so he was able to squeeze the fullness of her breasts to the hardened nubs of her nipples. He rolled the tight peaks between finger and thumb, loving how she bucked beneath him and moaned. His kisses left her lips and travelled down her throat and across her chest. He cupped her one of her breasts, guiding the nipple towards his mouth. Then he was sucking it deep, rolling the hardened peak around with his tongue, grating his teeth.
Fuck, he was hard, straining against the front of his jeans. He wanted her so badly. Wanted to get her naked and taste every inch of her skin.
But then she pushed his shoulder, half sitting up, pulling her dress up to cover those glorious tits. “Shit, Kane. I’m so sorry, I can’t do this.”
He felt bereft already. “What? Why? What’s wrong?”
She shifted herself up the bed, covering her face with her hand, unable to look at him. “I’m so sorry. I know I’ve given you completely the wrong signals, but I can’t have sex with you tonight. I mean, we just met, and it just wouldn’t be right of me.”
“Hey, it’s okay. I understand.”
He hated to see her looking so torn. Preferred her sexy and wanton and having fun. He didn’t understand why they had to stop, not really, but he respected her wishes.
“Holly, I’m not going to pretend like I don’t want to be deep inside now, listening to all the noises you make as come, but if that’s not what you want right now, I get it. You’ll make me wait, and I will wait, because you seem like the type of woman worth waiting for.”
“Really, you mean that?”
He slid onto the bed with her more fully, and leaned in and kissed her. He wanted the hungry, desperate kisses again, but held himself back, his lips soft, tongues barely there. He broke the kiss. “Hell, I’m happy just to be here with you. We don’t have to do anything else.”
“You mean it?”
She stared into his eyes, and he was swept away in their innocence. Something about her made him want to protect her, to stand guard against any of the bad in the world. He wanted to hear that deep laugh of hers and dance with her on the street.
“Of course I mean it.”
He pulled her into his arms so they were spooning. He had to angle himself so the length of his erection didn’t push into the small of her back—he was trying to be good, but he was still a red-blooded male in bed with a sexy woman. He didn’t want to scare her off, however.
If she wanted to wait, then he’d wait as long as she needed.
Chapter Nine
“Mum? We’re home!”
Holly burst upright in bed, her brain trying to piece together everything that had happened. Oh, shit. She still had Kane beside her in bed, half naked and starting to stir. She’d got carried away with the feeling of having someone holding her while she’d slept, that intimacy she’d missed for so long, and had never quite got around to telling him it was time to leave.
And now Dylan was home. Early.
Shit, shit, shit.
Mike was supposed to have had him until six pm on the Sunday. That was the agreement. She took the briefest moment to glance at the clock. It wasn’t even eight in the morning yet. What the hell was Mike playing at?
“Mum?” The shout came again. She was normally an early riser, but the wine she’d drunk, combined with Kane being here, had made her sleep later than normal.
“Just coming!” she shouted back, and Kane jumped.
He looked over quizzically, and she placed a finger to her lips.
“What’s going on?” he hissed at her.
“I’m so sorry. But just stay quiet, okay? Or go hide in the bathroom or something.” Her voice matched his hiss. “My ex has brought our son home early. They’re here right now.”
His eyebrows lifted. “Your son? You have a son? Was that something you just happened to forget?”
”Please.” She was begging. “I can’t do this right now. Just lay low until I can get this sorted.”
“You want me to hide? Are you ashamed of me being here?”
Frustrated panic filled her. “No, it’s nothing like that. Of course not. But this isn’t how I would plan for this to happen.”
“Holly?” Mike’s voice came booming up the stairs. “You not up yet?”
She stared in horror at the shut bedroom door. Footsteps were approaching, and Kane still hadn’t moved.
“Please,” she begged him again, pointing at the adjoining bathroom door.
“Okay, okay.” He hopped out of bed, heading towards the bathroom.
She didn’t have time to appreciate his body or the patchwork of artwork across his skin. The bedroom door opened, and then her ex-husband and her son were both standing in the gap, gawping at the stranger she’d brought into their home.
Mike straightened, his eyes narrowing. “What the hell is this?”
She cast her gaze to their six-year-old son. “Dylan, honey, why don’t you go wait downstairs for a few minutes. I’ll be down in a sec, okay? Mummy was just ... showing her friend where the bathroom is.”
Dylan looked uncertainly between them all, and then, perhaps sensing this was adult problems, nodded and vanished from the doorway.
Kane was already picking up his clothes and shrugging them on. He looked at her and gave a small shake of the head, as though he was disappointed in her. Her stomach sank. Shit. Fucking Mike. Why wouldn’t he ever stick to their agreements? She should have known better.
Every muscle in her body tensed, her breath catching as Kane pushed past Mike to leave. For a moment, she was worried they’d ended up having a fight, but both men ignored each other, and Mike let Kane go, though he shook his head in much the same way Kane had.
She followed the thump of Kane’s footsteps going down the stairs, and then she jumped as the front door slammed shut. He had left. A wave of sadness swept over her. Yesterday had been one of the best days she’d had for a long time, and now the reason for the best day had walked out of the door and would never want to see her again.
Mike turned his attention to her. “What the fuck is wrong with you, Holly, bringing a man like that into this house.”
She glared at him. “Don’t use language like that while Dylan is in the house.”
“I think the language I use is the least of his concerns right now. What were you thinking? You’re lucky you weren’t robbed while you were sleeping.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Kane is a nice guy.”
His eyebrows shot up. “Nice guy? Have you seen the state of him? Long hair and tattoos. Honestly, Holly, I thought you had better taste than that.”
She arched her eyebrows in return. “What, like you, you mean?”
His lip lifted in a sneer. “Yeah, someone with a steady job and who looks like he’s washed once in a while. The thought of his hands all over you makes me sick to my stomach.”
“He has a steady job,” she snapped back. “And you have no right to think of whose hands going anywhere near me. You lost that right when you cheated, remember?”
“Well, I still don’t like the idea of you bringing strange men into my house.”
She gaped at him. “Your house? This isn’t your house anymore.”
“While my name is still on the mortgage, I think you’ll find it is,
and this kind of behaviour isn’t appropriate with a child around.”
“So that’s convenient. You get to tell me what to do, while you can bring as many floozies as you want into your brand-new apartment! And by the way, I wasn’t supposed to have a child around this weekend. You were supposed to have had Dylan until this evening, but instead you’ve brought him back early for some reason.”
“Something has come up at work,” he said. “I have to go in to the office today.”
Her lip curled. “On a Sunday? Seriously?”
“Yes, on a Sunday. You know I have to work Sundays sometimes.”
“The only times you ever said you were working Sundays was when you were out doing something else entirely.”
“That’s not true.”
She folded her arms across her chest. “Isn’t it?”
Mike’s gaze darted away from hers, and she knew he was lying.
“Anyway, funnily enough,” he continued, “I thought you wouldn’t be bothered if I brought him home early. I thought you might actually be missing your son, but obviously you had other things on your mind.”
Holly shook her head. “That isn’t fair, Mike. Of course I miss him when you have him. But you’re supposed to have him every other weekend, and considering you only picked him up yesterday morning, and now you’re dropping him back less than twenty-four hours later, I don’t think I should be the one being questioned about whether or not I miss our child. I’m the one with him most of the time. I’m the one raising him.”
Mike huffed out a breath of frustration. “I’ll have him one evening during the week instead. Like I said, I have to work.”
“That isn’t how this is supposed to go. You’re supposed to stick to your days.”
“Why, so you can have sex with men half your age?”
“Oh, for goodness sake.” She lowered her voice in a hiss. “We didn’t even have sex, okay. Not that it’s any of your business. And he’s only a couple of years younger than me. How young was Michelle, or was it Karen? Twenty-three, twenty-four? A good fifteen years younger than you are.”
Bound by Ink (London Inked Boys Book 2) Page 4
