by Nicole Helm
“I’m not going to have sex with you,” he forced himself to say, to believe. “Tonight,” he amended.
She made some noise, a laugh, a scoff, some squeak of outrage, he couldn’t quite tell. Wasn’t sure he wanted to know exactly.
“But I am going to kiss you until we’re both stupid,” he added, tightening his hold on her hair, tipping her mouth exactly where he wanted it, exploring every inch of her mouth until he had a map of it stamped on his brain, and maybe his heart.
* * *
Tori knew she had to get a hand on her whirling brain. She had to think. She had to plan. Hell, she had to protect herself, but he was just . . .
He enveloped her, smothered her, and she couldn’t even begin to care. Had she ever felt like the center of a man’s universe, even during sex? Not likely.
He smelled like pine trees and the scrape of his beard on her cheek or neck echoed deep inside her and then back again till she was nothing but a pulsing need.
You don’t need him. You won’t need him. You need a freaking orgasm.
She arched against his hard body, but he only laughed into her mouth. Like he was Mr. In Charge of Things these days.
The thought of that, him in charge, controlling things, oh so cavalier in how he held her head just how he wanted it to be, it should irritate her, turn her totally off.
All it did was make her that much hotter, and she was here, kissing Will Evans, she damn well needed to follow hot until she burned up. Ashes seemed like a better aftermath than jagged, broken pieces of a girl who had to walk away.
Without so much of a warning, or any supreme effort on his part, he lifted her off her feet, took a few steps, then deposited her on her kitchen counter.
Yeesh, he was tall, and so broad, and his hands covered her knees, guiding her legs apart so he could step inside the space they made. Which was bad enough, but his hands slid over her jeans, up her thighs. Where they stopped. Stopped.
She couldn’t get over the way he kissed, like they had nothing but time stretched out in front of them. Slowly, lingering here and there, his mouth finding every little nook that made her squeak unexpectedly. And damn well yearn inwardly.
“We could have sex, you know,” she said, squeezing his tense shoulders, trying to get his attention off his lazy exploration that was going to make her brain die. “I think I have condoms around here somewhere.” She certainly hoped she had some left over from always having them on hand with Toby, and if she didn’t . . .
Well, hell, he could run to Benson and get some damn condoms. What kind of man came to a woman’s house late at night unprepared?
But Will seemed unfazed by the whole condom comment, because his hands didn’t move, just two iron-hot coals branded on her thighs, his mouth continuing its lazy exploration of any expanse of skin she had bared—neck, collarbone, jaw.
“Would you beg me?” he murmured there on the underside of her jaw.
She had to hold herself tense just so he wouldn’t be able to read the longing shudder that went through her. “I wouldn’t beg . . . I don’t know, insert super-hot actor’s name here.”
“Here?” he asked, mouth curved in that edgy thing that could hardly be counted as a smile. The only descriptor she had was predatory.
Which might have been more threatening if his hand wasn’t finally moving from the top of her thigh to more of her inner thigh, and far closer to where she would very nearly beg someone to touch her just about now.
This time he didn’t stop, his fingers trailed along the center of her, though the jeans she was wearing dulled the touch into not nearly enough. She tried to scoot on the counter so she could press more firmly against him, but he tugged her T-shirt up and off, leaving her in nothing but her bra.
“Aren’t you a picture,” he murmured.
She bristled, because she highly doubted it. She didn’t want his lame playboy words or whatever this was. “You’ve seen me in a bikini, I don’t need the sweet-talking shit.”
“I couldn’t see your nipples through your bikini. Trust me, I tried.” His thumb brushed across one and she realized the fabric was that old and threadbare as to nearly be see-through.
Which was a thought that flew out of her head the minute his thumb circled her nipple. How was she supposed to have thoughts when pleasure arrowed through her, sharp and overwhelming.
She didn’t even realize he’d reached back and unsnapped it until it fell off her shoulders. He gave the sad thing a tug and then tossed it on the floor. She had the fleeting thought of wanting to cover herself up. Ratty bra, tiny breasts. The guy had been married to a lingerie model. He was probably used to lace and an overflowing bounty.
But he palmed her breasts as if they had the answers to the world, and maybe men were really that simple.
She could use that, because she wanted some simple. She undid the buttons on his shirt as he kissed her again, something a little bit wilder and more insistent this time, and she might have felt a pang of satisfaction if his rough hands weren’t moving across her nipples, causing her fingers to fumble.
She groaned, couldn’t help it, and she settled for half-unbuttoned shirt before she shoved her hands inside the fabric, letting her own palms discover the curves and ridges of his too perfectly formed torso.
His hands slid down her abdomen, and she could feel every callus, every scrape, somehow setting brand-new fires of want deep inside her. He undid her button, pulled down the zipper of her jeans and then, eyes on hers, he tugged them right off her, using only his own strength to leverage her up enough to get them out from under her.
She was on her kitchen counter in nothing but her underwear. With Will. Who was looking at her like she was some mystical unicorn he’d captured all for himself.
But, thank God, he’d changed his mind and they were going to have sex if she was nearly naked. They could get that over with and then move on somehow. This might be the hottest foreplay she’d ever had, but it wasn’t like sex was some magical thing she’d ever want to repeat with him.
Maybe it’d be better than Toby and a few other guys who’d come before, but she wasn’t the kind of girl who got super into sex. She could go years without it.
But it would be nice to have it, to know for certain it wasn’t anything special, because then it wouldn’t be this tempting unknown.
He didn’t take her underwear off though, and when his hand settled at the apex of her thighs, it was over the fabric. Which caused her to blink.
“Aren’t you going to touch me?” she asked, breathlessly as his finger stroked her through the fabric.
His gaze swept up her body, then held, the greenish color taking over the brown. “No, I don’t think so,” he said thoughtfully. “Not yet.”
Somehow his skilled fingers stroked through the cotton, drawing her closer and closer to something a whole lot bigger than she’d ever felt. Maybe it was his gaze still on hers, or one hand clamping at her hip, angling her exactly how he wanted.
Maybe it was not being in a bed, or being with a man who was as complicated as she was with a past between them, or . . .
Hell, she didn’t know, but even as a teenager a guy had never made her feel like she was splintering apart over clothes. Or under, for that matter, but Will’s touch was like magic and when the orgasm swept through her, he pulled her to him enveloping the gasp and the aftermath as if it’s what he’d been waiting for.
It took her a few minutes to wrap her head around all that, and to find the strength to pull away. She’d give him high marks for all that, really high marks, but heavy petting was hardly what she was after.
He stepped back from the counter, eyeing her with a self-satisfied smirk. Then he did the most incomprehensible thing. He started buttoning up his shirt.
“What are you doing?”
He bent over and grabbed her discarded shirt and then stepped to her. He pulled it over her head as she stuttered out a protest.
“Will.”
He brushed a kiss over h
er forehead. “Good night, Tori.”
“But . . . What?”
He didn’t answer though, he started walking out of the kitchen, Sarge trotting behind him.
“Will . . . what the hell?” She shoved her arms into the armholes and jumped off the counter, stalking after him.
“Will!”
He glanced over his shoulder at her, an odd smile on his face, his hand poised on the doorknob, and she wasn’t totally nuts because there was the clear outline of a very impressive erection in his jeans.
“You didn’t . . .” She gestured helplessly. What was he doing? Was this some weird . . . game? Was she supposed to beg? Ha! She wouldn’t.
Probably.
“There’ll be time for all that yet,” he said carefully. “Let’s let that one settle.”
She could only blink stupidly at him as he stepped out into the night, her orgasm still pulsing through her and him . . .
Gone.
A game. It was all some warped game. It was the only thing that made sense. Too bad for Will that when it came to games, Tori always made sure to win.
Chapter Nineteen
Will knew that last night had made things complicated. Tori’s texting him that Cora would drop her off this morning was part of that. The uncomfortable erection that followed her entry into Mile High this morning was also complicated.
Taking it step-by-step was a patient man’s job, and while his brain could be patient, his dick was offering a few arguments.
Worth it, he supposed, as Tori’s cheeks went a little pink the minute she made eye contact with him.
He wasn’t a man prone to blushing himself, but he certainly shifted a little bit at the fact his brother was there, staring at them both alternately, like he could read last night’s deeds on their faces.
“Morning,” Brandon offered into what Will realized belatedly was the odd silence of the room.
“Morning,” Tori replied, fiddling with something on Sarge’s collar Will was pretty sure didn’t exist.
“Neither of you have excursions until this afternoon, right?”
“Um, well, I don’t know Will’s schedule. I’ve got the rock climbing group at two, but I wanted to get my car situation figured out.”
“Right. Lilly was actually on the phone with a shop in Benson. I’m sure she’ll come out once she’s got it handled.” Brandon glanced at Will, apparently expecting some explanation for his being here.
Will shrugged. “Yeah, my morning is free, but I basically live here.”
Brandon looked at him, and then at Tori, then back at Will. He seemed to be putting things together, but surely Brandon couldn’t read between the lines that easily.
“Then we can have our meeting. In our off ice,” Brandon said stiffly, gesturing toward the hallway. “Yeah?”
Will did not like the sound of that, or the speculative look Brandon was giving him and Tori, but Will was being paranoid, and what did it matter if Brandon could guess what had happened last night?
Will had woken up not at all sure it was even real. But when he glanced her way, and she jerked her gaze in the opposite direction, it steadied him a little bit.
Real. Happening.
Maybe it was wrong to get a little kick out of making her . . . he didn’t think nervous was the right word. But uncertain. Off-balance. The fact of the matter was, she had always had the upper hand before. She’d always been the one who knew what they were doing and feeling.
Maybe if he’d paid more attention back then, he might have been able to predict her feelings, but mostly he was pretty sure she kept a low profile because she controlled her shit. He’d straight up avoided his.
Now she wasn’t, and he wasn’t. That was something to celebrate. Because if last night had proven anything to him, it was that there was something . . . something worth exploring there. Something worth building to.
Even if he didn’t know how. Even if it was uncomfortable. Build, build, build. Like they’d done with Mile High.
He stepped into the office that had really become more of his bedroom than anything else. He plopped himself on the edge of the bed, waited for Brandon to unload whatever was on his mind.
“What’s going on?” Brandon asked, dark eyebrows drawn together, arms crossed over his chest like the benevolent ruler of the world. Will had always been content to let him take that role. When Evans Mining had existed, when Mile High had started. Brandon was the leader.
Will didn’t want to take over, per se, but it was time to exert some of his own control. It wouldn’t be easy to convince Brandon he’d changed or was at least in the process of changing himself. Quite honestly the prospect of proving his change was daunting.
He wouldn’t turn away from daunting anymore, though. Every daunting thing he was going full throttle for.
“What do you mean, what’s going on?” he asked patiently.
“You and Tori. There’s something weird there. You’re not fighting again, are you?”
“No.” Definitely not fighting. “I told you you can count on me. The past is, well, I’m not sure ‘forgotten’ is the right word, but we’re dealing with it. I’m handling it.”
“I want to believe you,” Brandon said with a sigh.
Will tamped down his initial irritation. All in all, it was fair that Brandon had his doubts. Even if it hurt Will’s feelings.
“We’ve been fine. I don’t really know how to prove it to you other than the fact there was no yelling at dinner last night, and I haven’t sported even one black eye.”
Brandon gave a little chuckle at that. “Fair enough. I don’t want to be skeptical, and I wasn’t last night. But out there just now . . . Weird.” Brandon continued to study him carefully.
“But not antagonistic,” Will pointed out, staring right back at his brother instead of cracking a joke and leaving the room. “Tori and I will always have our issues. But they aren’t all fatal or bad.”
“Yeah, you’re right. It’s just . . .” Brandon drifted off and shifted on his feet. It was odd to see his brother seem uncertain almost. Unsure. Then it dawned on Will.
“Everything is going well and that freaks you out.”
Brandon scoffed. “Of course not. The point is for things to go well.”
But Will wasn’t nearly as blind as he’d always pretended to be. “Sure, but it’s been months of hard shit and change. Lilly, then there was baby, then Hayley, then babies, and bed rest, and et cetera. But it’s been quiet for weeks now. You can’t enjoy it without a problem to troubleshoot.”
“Gracely is still struggling, and as far as I’m concerned, that means nothing is perfect,” Brandon returned piously.
“Sure, but that’s not what you’re worried about. You’ve got a million ideas up your sleeve to deal with that.”
Brandon narrowed his eyes at Will. “Are you trying to be perceptive?”
Will crossed his arms behind his head. “Something I’m trying out.”
“Why?”
“Huh?”
“Why, after a lifetime of choosing to not be perceptive, in fact avoiding anything that might require you to be perceptive, with a few rare exceptions, suddenly you’re being all . . . open. What changed?” Brandon didn’t ask it as if he was confused, he asked it with a damn smug smile.
“I made the decision to change. Isn’t that what you’ve been telling me I had to do to do it?”
“You make a decision after years of not deciding it, there’s got to be a catalyst. And it wasn’t me telling you to do shit. Care to share with the class what it might be?”
He was tempted to play it off, because even though he was trying to be more open and honest, he didn’t really want Brandon’s disapproval or ridicule.
But that was kind of the whole thing about opening up. You had to make yourself open to even the bad shit, or uncomfortable shit. It couldn’t all be Tori almost naked and in his arms. So . . .
“Maybe it has something to do with Tori,” he offered carefully.
&nb
sp; Though Will was pretty sure that was what Brandon expected, he still didn’t speak for a few beats.
“Are you sure you know what you’re getting yourself into there?”
Again, Will tried not to bristle or get his nose out of joint. “I think the point is that I don’t. I’m going to make it work anyway. So what? You’re going to give me some speech about how I can’t complicate Mile High or make things harder for you or Tori?”
Bran was silent for a few more beats. “No. Though I reserve the right to in the future. Thing is, I don’t know what happened back then between you and Tori. So I can’t make any grand proclamations about what you should do. Because I don’t know. So I’ll just say I want you to be careful. For yourself. For her. And . . .” He cleared his throat, shifting again. “You know, I’m here, or whatever.”
“You’re . . . here?”
Brandon sighed heavily. “Here. Like if you need advice or shit. You know. I exist here and could give it, if you’re looking or need it. If you want to talk.”
It finally dawned on Will what Brandon was trying to say, to do. To make these changes not just in themselves, but between each other. To solidify the relationships they’d built, to not just silently stand by each other, but to hold out a hand too.
“Thanks,” Will managed. “I appreciate that.”
Brandon shrugged. “Anyway, I’m going to go chop wood or something. Lilly’s been a little off this morning. Let me know if you notice anything. She’s been more careful since the bed rest, but . . .”
“I’ll keep an eye out.”
Brandon gave a sharp nod, then turned to go, but he stopped before he opened the door. “Is this the kind of shit we have to hug on?”
“Hell, no. Hugs are only required on deathbeds.”
“Well, that settles it,” Brandon said, turning around. “Come here, little brother.”
“Touch me, I’ll kill you,” Will threatened as Brandon walked toward him, arms outstretched.
“Hug it out, bro,” Brandon said, making a lunge that Will dodged.
