by Reese Ryan
Removing her bra, Roth pushed her ample breasts together and pulled both nipples into his mouth at once. He urged Tressa back, until her entire body was stretched out on the pool table. “Bend your knees.” She did. “Now, spread yourself open for me.”
Instead of her hand going directly between her legs, she put on a show for him. She started from her shoulders and slowly glided her finger down, teasing her own nipples along the way. He massaged himself through his pants, a primal sound rumbling in his chest.
Her hands continued their descent. When she spread her glistening lips, she dipped the tip of her finger inside herself, pulled it out and circled her wet index finger around her bead.
Roth intervened. “No. That’s all mine.”
“But I want you to watch me come.”
“I want to make you come.”
With that, he leaned forward, hooked his arms under her thighs and pulled her heat to him. Tressa’s cries tore through the room the second his mouth touched her. He twirled his tongue around her clit, savoring the divine taste of her essence. Tressa held his head in place with her hands and ground against him.
“Roth…”
Her labored breathing told him she was close to exploding. When he suckled her clit, she fell apart. She slapped her hands against the table, her nails dragging across the fabric. Her back arched and her body bucked. He didn’t pull away until Tressa’s body had relaxed. In a flash, he was out of his clothes and into a condom. Joining Tressa, he rested her legs on his shoulders, leaned forward and drove inside her.
“Yes!” she cried out over and over again.
Roth delivered powerful thrusts, one after the other. Tressa screamed, cried, stuttered his name. Her nails dug into the backs of his arms, but the pain didn’t hinder his performance. Hell, she could have ripped out a chunk of his flesh and he wouldn’t have stopped, couldn’t have stopped. Her wetness, her warmth, held him captive.
“I love you,” he said. Why he’d said it at this particular time, he didn’t know. But it felt like it needed to be said at that moment. Tressa tried to say something, but he crushed his mouth to hers. His words were the last ones he wanted her to hear before she plunged into ecstasy.
A beat later Tressa pulsed around him as an orgasm claimed her. Her cries were captured by his mouth. Her body shook under him. The more she pulsated, the closer he came to his own release.
There wasn’t an image on the face of the earth that could keep him from tipping over the edge. He wanted this too badly. But he tried to stave off the impending release, imagining shit like a cuddly koala bear nibbling on a leaf, a giraffe urging its calf on wobbly legs, even an orange-and-white-spotted koi fish eating its meal.
Nothing helped.
The orgasm slammed into him like an out-of-control semitruck. He roared like a lion declaring war on a territory invader. Pumping until he couldn’t muster another damn stroke, he collapsed down next to Tressa and pulled her into his shaky arms.
Once his breathing calmed, and he regained the ability to speak, he said, “I need you to trust me, Tressa. And I need to be able to trust you. This can’t work if either of those major components aren’t in place.”
Tressa came up onto her elbow and eyed him quizzically. He answered before the question escaped.
“You lied straight to my face, baby. I get why you thought you had to, but I need honesty, Tressa. I’ve been lied to my entire life. I need the woman I love to love me enough to always be truthful with me, no matter how much it might hurt. I need that.”
Tressa slowly nodded. “And I’ll give that to you.”
It would be one of the best gifts he’d ever been given.
CHAPTER 16
Tressa lounged on the white leather sofa in the VIP section of The Underground. The place hadn’t changed since the last time she’d been there. She remembered several months back and cringed. Though the night of her engagement party had ended in disaster, something much more beautiful had emerged.
Her gaze sought Roth on the stage. Damn, he was sexy as hell when he played that sax. Obviously, she wasn’t the only one who thought so. Every woman in the place seemed drawn to the mesmerizing sound of his instrument, but Tressa noted one in particular.
Her eyes narrowed on the exotic-looking beauty in the very revealing emerald green cocktail dress. All night the woman had seemed more captivated with Roth personally than his playing abilities.
She’d never been the jealous type, but a ping of resentment prickled her skin. Dismissing the woman as simply an adoring fan, she trained her gaze on Roth again. A rush of heated desire coursed through her. Damn, she couldn’t wait to get him naked. She bit at the corner of her lip. The black fedora could stay.
As if he’d sensed her undressing him with her eyes, he glanced in her direction. Their gazes met and held. Something sparked in his eyes that needed no translation. Longing. Clearly, she wasn’t the only one with sinful things on her mind. The man had turned her into a sex piranha. She nibbled on him any chance she got.
Roth ambled down the stage stairs and cut his way through the sea of two-and four-top tables until he stood directly in front of her. He serenaded her and, boy, did he do his thing.
Every note that escaped from his saxophone danced through the air and crash-landed directly in her heart. Just as if it were his touch, she could feel the passion in his music. A brilliant smile touched her lips. By his actions, he’d told the entire room one thing…she was his. The enormous gesture filled her with pride.
When Roth finished his soulful melody, he took her hand, guided her to her feet and pressed a gentle kiss to her lips. The entire place erupted in applause.
The band continued to play, drawing the crowd’s attention away from them.
“That was beautiful, baby.” A tear she could no longer contain escaped her eye. Roth swiped his thumb across her cheek, causing her skin to tingle.
“Don’t cry,” he said.
“Sorry. Beautiful things make me do that.”
“Huh. I’ve never seen you cry when you look in the mirror.” He kissed her again. “I’ll join you shortly. I love you.”
Tressa smoothed a hand along his cheek. “I know.”
“How?”
“You just played me a love song.”
He smirked, then started away.
“And I love you, too,” she said.
“Forever.” He winked and continued toward the stage, accepting handshakes and compliments.
“Forever,” she mumbled to herself.
Tressa escaped to the bathroom to check her makeup. Not too bad, she thought, removing the tube of ruby-red lipstick from her clutch to freshen her lips. A toilet flushed behind her and she jerked. She’d assumed she was there alone. A young woman walked out. Gayle, if she remembered the woman’s name correctly. She’d been the hostess at the entrance when they’d arrived.
“Hey,” the woman said, pumping several squirts of soap into her palm.
“Hello. Gayle, right?”
The woman nodded. “Oh, my God, Roth’s performance was amazing. You must feel like a queen.”
Actually, she did feel quite regal. “He’s a talented musician. And yes, I do feel majestic.”
Gayle dried her hands. “Girl, if I had a man who serenaded me, I’d probably have twenty kids.”
They shared a laugh.
Tressa and Roth wouldn’t be making any babies tonight, but they would definitely be performing some baby-making actions.
“I know India hates the day she let that one slip away. Even if she was too dumb to recognize what she had, as she put it.”
The words snagged Tressa’s complete attention. India? Who in the hell was… “India?”
“India Breemer. She owns The Underground,” Gayle said as if Tressa should have known this. “I’m surprised t
he two of you haven’t met.”
Not as surprised as she was by these revelations.
Gayle shrugged. “Well, she has been traveling a bit lately.” She checked her watch. “Uh-oh. I better get back on the floor before India notices I’ve been gone more than five minutes.” Gayle laughed. “She may look all gentle in that green dress, but she’s a queen cobra in disguise.”
Tressa forced a bye as Gayle exited the room.
Green dress? A knot looped and tightened in her stomach. The woman who’d taken so much interest in them—him, she corrected—was Roth’s ex. Why hadn’t he mentioned any of this to her? Why hadn’t he told her he played at the exact same club owned by his ex? His ex. An ex who clearly still had a thing for him. He’d had plenty of opportunities, including on the drive here.
She shook her head, never recalling Roth ever uttering India’s name. Her first instinct was to stalk out of that bathroom, stroll right up to India, stick her hand out and introduce herself. “Hi, I’m Tressa Washington, Roth’s girlfriend.” Then stick her tongue out for good measure.
Tressa laughed at her own childishness. There was no need to go that route. Heck, after Roth’s performance, Tressa was sure everyone in attendance knew she and Roth were more than just friends. That put her a bit at ease.
Still, why hadn’t he told her? This kind of information should have come from him, especially when he was all about being completely honest. She scrutinized the red-and-black era-specific decor inside the posh room. This damn club. She shook her head. This damned club is a curse.
* * *
Roth stored his saxophone in the case, then snapped it shut. Now that his set was over, he could concentrate all of his focus and attention on his sexy muse. He stirred below the waist when he summoned an image of Tressa in that off-the-shoulder wine-colored dress. Yeah, he planned to drink her up tonight.
Judging by the expression on her face when he’d played for her, she’d loved every second of his attention. He loved seeing her smile, especially if he was the one putting the smile on her face.
“Now I guess I know why I never received the text containing directions to your cabin.”
Shit. He turned to see India standing behind him. The form-fitting, low-cut dress she wore should have done something to him, but it didn’t. Yeah, Tressa had ruined him. And he was okay with that.
Roth’s spontaneous decision to invite India to his cabin had been a result of desperation. That night—the night of Tressa’s engagement party—he’d needed something to take his mind off the fact that Tressa would never be his. He recalled his foolish words to India. If I text you the address to my cabin, would you show up? Her answer had been a sultry, “I’ll be waiting.” Inwardly, he chastised himself for having been so damn brainless.
“She’s beautiful,” India said. “Is it serious?”
He nodded. “Yeah, it is.”
India’s face lit into a bright smile. “Congratulations.” She draped her arms around his neck. “I’m happy for you.”
When her glittered lips pressed against the side of his neck, he snatched away and held her at arm’s length. “No.”
India smirked. “I’m just making sure.” She winked and sashayed from the room.
Grabbing up a hand towel, Roth scrubbed at the side of his neck, making sure there was no remnant of India’s lipstick remaining. Satisfied with the results, he left the room to join Tressa. As irrelevant as it was, he should probably mention his past with India. He hadn’t before because the past was the past, right? But now, he didn’t want to feel as if he were keeping anything from Tressa.
Before Roth could escape from the back, Gayle stopped him in the hallway.
Gayle bit at the corner of her lip as if she dreaded whatever she needed to say. “I may have got you in hot water. I’m sorry.”
His brows bunched. “Hot water with whom?”
“Tressa,” she said hesitantly. “I was chatting with her in the bathroom and may have mentioned India.” She rested her hands on either side of her face. “I’m sorry, Roth. It never dawned on me that she didn’t know about the two of you.”
“Thank you for letting me know, Gayle.”
She apologized again, then hurried off.
Roth could read Tressa well enough to know what she’d learned about him and India bothered her, because this was not the jovial woman he’d walked away from several minutes ago. Easing down beside her on the leather sofa, he captured her hand and kissed the inside of her wrist. “What’s wrong?” he asked, fishing to see if she’d tell him about her conversation with Gayle.
“Nothing.”
“Dance with me, beautiful.”
“Roth, I don’t really feel—”
“Please.” He kissed her wrist several more times. “Pretty please.”
Tressa sighed. “One song.”
If she was only giving him one song, he’d better make it a good one. On the way to the dance floor, he whispered to Ernest—one of the guys on stage. The man gave him a nod.
“What did you say to him?” Tressa asked.
Enveloping her in his arms, he flashed a half smile. “I told him I needed a special song for a very special woman. I dedicate this song to you.”
A moment later the band performed John Coltrane and Johnny Hartman’s “My One and Only Love.”
They swayed to the soothing melody. When Ernest’s regal baritone voice poured through the room, Tressa relaxed in his arms. Roth had to give it to Ernest; he could melt ice when he crooned. The man could sing his ass off, really sing. Not any of this new age stuff you could barely decipher from shrieking.
Roth and Tressa never broke eye contact.
While he’d been lost in her dancing brown eyes plenty of times before, this time was different. He was swimming in her soul and experiencing all the effects of being there. Giving her the opportunity to come clean with him, he said, “You want to tell me what’s going on?”
“Maybe you should tell me, Roth. I know about you and India. What I don’t know is why I had to hear it from someone else. It feels like you’re trying to hide something.”
“Tressa…” he said coolly, “India and I happened a long time ago. I’m not trying to hide anything from you. I honestly didn’t think my past—which is exactly what it is, the past—with her was all that relevant. Any interaction we have is strictly, strictly,” he repeated, “business.” Except for the part where he’d invited her to his cabin in a moment of despair. But he had sense enough to keep that to himself.
“Is the fact that she’s still in love with you irrelevant, as well?”
Roth threw his head back in a laugh. “Baby, now you’re being ridiculous. India and I haven’t been a couple in, what, five years.”
“Is she the one who hurt you?”
He eyed her but didn’t respond.
“I thought so. I’ve seen the way she looks at you, Roth. You may be blind to the fact, but she still has a thing for you. I’m a woman. I know the signs, and hers is a flashing big-ass green neon light.”
“And I have a thing for you,” he said, hoping to deviate from this topic. If India still had a thing for him, he didn’t care. Nor was it any of his business. Tressa was his business. The only person’s feelings he could control was his own. And all his feelings were wrapped up in Tressa. “Do the signs show you how much I love you?” He nuzzled her neck. “What color is that big-ass neon sign?”
Still stone-faced, Tressa rolled her eyes at him.
Placing a finger under her chin, he turned her head back to him. “Do you trust me, baby?”
“Yes, but I don’t trust her.”
“And you don’t have to. Your trust should be with me, not her.” He captured her hand and placed it over his beating heart. “Do you feel that, woman?” he asked, his expression serious.
“Every beat belongs to you and you alone, Tressa Washington. Every woman in this building could strip naked right now and throw themselves at me, and I would throw them all back. Why? Because I’m not going to do shit to jeopardize what we have. You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me, woman. The very best thing.”
Tressa blinked rapidly, but it didn’t keep the tears from falling. For the second time that night, he swiped a thumb across her cheeks.
“You keep messing up my makeup.”
“If it all ran down your face, you’d still be the most beautiful woman in here.”
“Flirt,” she said with a lazy smile.
“Are we okay? Really okay?”
Tressa studied him for a moment, then nodded. “We’re really okay.”
He tilted her head back and kissed her tenderly. “Good.”
CHAPTER 17
Tressa sat alone at one of the two tables inside the nurses’ lounge, forking at the now-wilted lettuce in the bowl in front of her. Pushing the grilled-chicken salad away, she cursed the thoughts that tortured her. Two weeks had passed since she’d learned about Roth and India’s past, and it’d been all she could think about—obsess over, she corrected.
Though she’d told Roth his continuing to play at The Underground didn’t bother her, it did. It bothered her a lot. When in the hell had she become so damn insecure? The answer came quickly—when her ex’s mistress crashed their engagement party, and at the same club owned by Roth’s ex.
A thousand times she’d reminded herself that Roth was absolutely nothing like Cyrus, and she believed it. Still, she couldn’t stop thinking, What if? Yes, she trusted Roth, but this had nothing to do with trust and everything to do with the idea of history repeating itself. Tressa recalled the things Roth had said to her that night in the club and smiled, the memory lightening her heavy thoughts. Roth was a good man. She had nothing to worry about.
Tressa hadn’t asked for any details about his and India’s history—and he hadn’t offered any—but she remembered their conversation from the cabin. They hadn’t been right for each other and she’d cheated on him. He’d never mentioned they’d remained friends.
