Crazy on You

by Rachel Gibson

  When she opened the door to her salon, she had a big grin on her face. There had been a time when she and Daisy hadn’t been very close, and now she was naming her baby girl after her. Little Lily.

  While she’d been outside with Daisy, the rest of the clients had left and only a few employees remained. The sound of female laughter filled the front of the spa and salon as the caterers started to pack up and break tables down—laughter mixed with one deeper chuckle. Lily’s feet skidded to a halt and her gaze took in the back of a familiar dark head, broad shoulders narrowing to a trim waist and nice behind. She didn’t need to see a uniform or ratty sweatshirt to recognize Tucker Matthews.

  “Deputy Matthews.”

  “Hey, Lily.” He turned toward her and his brown eyes took her in with one sweeping glance. “You said to come by and get a facial.”

  She looked at the faces looking back at her. At the inquisitive gazes of her assistant manager, two beauticians, and aesthetician. “Deputy Matthews is my neighbor and I mentioned he should come by and win a facial.” She turned toward him. “I didn’t think you’d take me up on it.”

  “Yeah. I noticed there aren’t any men here tonight.”

  A few women had dragged their husbands or boyfriends, but they’d left as soon as the final prize had been won. She glanced at the clock on the wall above a manicure station. “The party is over in fifteen minutes. If you wanted to win a facial you’re too late.”

  His grin told her he knew that. “You should show me around your salon. In case I need”—he glanced around—“a haircut or something.”

  No, she shouldn’t. The caterer caught her attention and gave her a nod. “I have a few checks to write,” she said. “Maybe one of the girls will show you.”

  “I will,” young, perky Melinda Hartley volunteered.

  Tucker lifted one brow and wrinkled the scar on his forehead.

  “Excuse me.” Lily moved through the salon to her office. The caterer followed her. She sat down at a desk covered in paperwork and a big open appointment book; her computer sat at one end of the desk, and behind it hung a massive ornate mirror that had once decorated a brothel in Tascosa. The caterer sat opposite, slid a red velvet chair toward Lily’s big desk, and then they went over the bill. While they counted the bottles of wine and champagne that had been consumed and calculated the charges for the extra linen Lily had ordered at the last minute, her mind was elsewhere in the salon. Melinda Hartley was about twenty-five. She was pretty and a really good colorist. She was also a little conceited and loud. If Melinda was in the room, everyone knew it. Just as everyone knew all about Melinda’s sex life, whether they wanted to know or not. She was a butt girl, and Lily had had to talk to her about appropriate workplace conversation. If it wasn’t for the fact that it was hard to find a good colorist in the Texas panhandle, she would have fired Melinda months ago.

  And she was out there. In the salon. Somewhere with Tucker. Probably telling him about her sex life. Tucker was a guy. He was probably loving it.

  Lily wrote out the balance she owed the caterer and tore the check from her business account. She handed it across her desk and watched the caterer walk out the door. Melinda was closer to Tucker’s age and didn’t have a child and Lily’s baggage. She shuffled the paperwork on her desk, sorting customer surveys and treatment plans. Until tonight, she hadn’t seen Tucker since that morning in her kitchen five days ago. She’d heard from Pippen that the two played basketball when Pip got home from school and before Tucker got ready for work. By the time Lily made it home, Tucker was already gone, which was a good thing. He clearly wasn’t good for her good intentions.

  “Now, that wasn’t very nice.”

  Lily glanced up at Tucker leaning a shoulder into the doorframe of her office. He wore a gray crew neck sweater and button-fly Levi’s. His arms were crossed over his chest and he looked annoyed—annoyed and good enough to nibble up one side and down the other. “What?”

  “Melinda.”

  She rose from her chair and moved to the front of her desk. “You didn’t like her?”

  He shrugged one shoulder. “Not really. She’s loud and talks too much.” He pushed away from where he was leaning and shut the door. “She wanted me to screw her on a massage table.”

  That was a bit crude and she’d get to his language in a minute. The inappropriateness of shutting the door too, but first she wanted to know . . . “Did she say that?”

  “Not exactly. She was much more graphic about where she wanted it.”

  “Oh.” Lily moved past the red chair to the center of her desk and sat on the edge. “She can say really inappropriate and offensive things. She’s one of those people who doesn’t have a filter, but I didn’t know she’d go that far.”

  He shrugged. “I wasn’t offended. I was in the Army for ten years, I’ve heard worse.”

  She took a breath and let it out. “Thank you for not taking her up on her offer in the massage room.”

  He moved toward Lily. “She isn’t the woman I want to shove on a table.” He stopped in front of her and she stood so she wouldn’t have to stare up at him. Just a few sequins separated his chest from hers. “Isn’t her panties I want to see around her ankles.” He took her hand and slid it up his chest. “You’re the women I want to shove on a table with your panties around your ankles.”

  “Tucker! Don’t say things like that.”

  “Why not?” He buried his fingers in her loose bun on the side of her head. “It’s the truth. I told you how I feel about you. I want you. I want everything about you. Getting you naked is one of the things I want.” With her four-inch heels, they were close to the same height and he pressed his forehead into hers. “I know you want that too.”

  After the other morning, she couldn’t exactly deny it, and she was too old to play coy games. “Anyone can walk in here.” The fire he’d started in her veins a few days ago flared in her chest. The crazy consuming lust that absolutely could not happen here.

  He shook his head and his eyes turned a shade darker. “They had their coats on and were walking outside when I came in here.”

  “They could come back.”

  “I locked the door.”

  “We can’t do this here.” She meant to sound more forceful, but the crazy, consuming lust burned her throat and toasted her pitiful resistance.

  “That’s what I thought until you stood up and walked toward me. You shouldn’t have worn that dress.”

  “You’re blaming my dress?” But this is Amarillo, she rationalized. Not Lovett. In a town the size of Lovett, the fact that he’d shown up tonight would have been telegraphed to half the town by now. In Amarillo, she was just another salon owner and no one cared.

  “Yes, and the tight outfit you had on Monday. The way you’ve been in my head for the past five days and the hard-on that won’t go away no matter how many times I abuse myself. I didn’t think we were going to do this here, but I’m think we have to now.”

  “What if someone—” His mouth on hers silenced her protest. The other morning, he’d started slower, kissing her neck and throat and cheek. Easing her into it. Tonight he hit her fast with hot lust and wet pleasure. His mouth working hers, feeding and hungry. It pulled her up on her toes and smashed her against his chest, so close she could feel the pounding of his heart. Her hands slid over his arms and shoulders and the back of his head. And like the other morning, a deep shuddering groan vibrated in his chest as if he couldn’t get enough of her touch. She liked knowing she did that to him. A strong beautiful man who couldn’t get enough of Lily Darlington.

  She kissed him back, her tongue slick with carnal implications. He pressed his erection into her pelvis and she had to lock her knees to keep from falling. She slid up his chest then back down, feeling every hard muscle and length of his harder erection.

  He grasped the bottom of her sequined dress, drew it up her thighs to her waist. His hands found her bare behind and he fingered the thin lace of her thong panties. He palmed he
r bare backside and rubbed his denim button fly against the tiny triangle of lace covering her crotch.

  He lifted his face and came up for air. “Lily,” he gasped.

  She looked into his eyes, dark and sleepy with lust, and reached for the bottom of his sweater. She pulled it over his head and tossed it to the wooden floor. She lowered her gaze to the brown hair on his hard, defined chest. For some reason, she’d thought his chest would be bare. But it wasn’t. He was a man with a man’s chest and a thin line of hair trailed down his flat abdomen, circled his navel, and darted beneath the waistband of his Levi’s. A snarling bulldog was tattooed on the ball of his shoulders with the words U.S. ARMY inked beneath. RELENTLESS was tattooed in heavy black ink on the inside of his forearm, which described him perfectly: his hands, his mouth, and the lust rolling off him in heavy, relentless waves.

  She bent forward and kissed his shoulder, ran her fingers across his pec and down his belly to the front of his jeans. She squeezed his erection and caressed him through the denim. Desire, hot and gripping, tightened her breasts and stomach and pulled between her legs.

  “Wait.” He grabbed her shoulders and turned her until her back was against his chest. He reached for the zipper on the back of her dress and slid it down. Through the old bordello mirror, she watched as he slid her dress from her shoulders. Just before it slipped down her arms, she placed her hands on the sequins over her breasts.

  “I have implants,” she told him. She hadn’t worn a bra because strap lines showed beneath the tight dress, and in a moment he would see the thin scars beneath each areola.

  Confusion lowered his brows. “What?”

  “I have breast implants. Do you have a problem with that?”

  “Is that a trick question?”

  She shook her head as he grasped her wrists. “Some men don’t like implants.”

  In the mirror, he raised his gaze from her hands to her face. “A man told you that?”

  She shook her head. “A few women in my chair over the years have mentioned it.”

  “A man would never say that unless he thought it would get him laid.” He shoved her wrists to her sides. For a second, her dress caught on her hard nipples then slid down her stomach to her waist. “Lily.” The breath left his lungs and brushed the side of her head. “You’re beautiful.”

  The dress fell to the floor and she kicked it aside. She stood in front of the mirror wearing nothing but her white panties—owning a salon and spa made it easy for her to keep her pubic area waxed and trimmed into a perfect triangle hidden beneath her thong—but looking at her abdomen . . . it was flat but not as tight and toned as she’d like. She examined the palm-size yellow-and-orange lily tattoo on the inside of her hip that she’d thought was such a good idea six years ago. “Are you lying to get laid?” She tried to turn to face him, away from her image in the mirror, but his hands moved to her abdomen and he pulled her against him. The hair on his chest tickled her bare back. She felt completely wrapped up, surrounded by his relentless passion.

  “I’ll never lie to you, Lily.” He slid one hand up and cupped her breast. Her hard nipple stabbed his warm palm and her breath caught in her lungs. “You’re so beautiful and I ache to be with you.”

  She knew the feeling. She ached too. All over. Then he slipped his hand beneath the little triangle of her thong and touched her where she ached most.

  “You’re wet,” he whispered next to her ear. “Push your panties down for me. Push ’em down around your ankles.” He brushed this thumb across her nipple and again she had to lock her knees to keep from sliding to the floor. She did as he asked, then looked at his big hands—one covering her breast the other her crotch. He slid his fingers deeper between her thighs and she reached behind her bare bottom and slipped her own hand beneath the waistband of his jeans. She wrapped her hand around his hot thick shaft and squeezed. She reached up with her free hand and brought his mouth down to hers. She gave him a long wet kiss and her heart pounded in her chest. She loved the way he touched her. She wanted him every bit as much as he wanted her.

  Tucker lifted his mouth from Lily’s and looked into the deep blue of her heavily lidded eyes. He turned his attention to the mirror and watched his hands on her body . . . on the perfect patch between her legs, and his fingers lightly pinching her pink nipples. Her hand gripping his cock was driving him close to the edge. She tore at the buttons of his Levi’s, and he pulled a condom from his back pocket a second before his pants slid down his legs.

  “Grab the desk with your hands.”

  She stepped one foot out of her thong, the she bent foreword and looked back over her shoulder at him. “You remember the no man’s land, right?”

  “I’ll never do anything you’re not comfortable doing.” He didn’t want to hurt her. He wanted to make it so good she wanted more. He pulled himself out of his boxer-briefs and rolled the condom down the shaft of his penis. “Spread your feet a little bit for me.”

  She did and he slid his hand over her bottom and between her legs. She was wet and ready and he parted her slick flesh. Her back arched as he positioned himself and he slid into the hot pleasure of her body. She was incredibly tight around him. Pulling him deeper and deeper until he couldn’t sink any deeper.

  She moaned low in her throat and whispered his name. He looked in the mirror, at him naked behind her, her beautiful face turned back, looking at him. Mine, he thought as he pulled out and thrust into her again. She pushed her bottom against him. Straining, wanting more. He gave it to her in long powerful thrusts. He drove inside again and again, his heart pounded boom-boom-boom. Mine. Mine. Mine. Over the roar in his head and ears, he heard her say his name. Telling him she wanted him. More. Harder.

  “Tucker,” she moaned loud enough to be heard in the next county as he felt the first tightening pulse of her orgasm. Good, he thought on some primal level. He was sure they were the only two left in the salon, but he didn’t care. If there was anyone around, they’d know what the two of them were doing. Know they were together. That she belonged to him now. He’d never been a possessive man, but as her orgasm pulled his own release from deep in his belly, he knew that he wanted this to last forever.

  The most intense pleasure he’d ever felt in his life rippled through his body and slammed into his heart. It spread fire across his skin, grabbed his insides, and stole his breath. He doubled over and planted his hands on the desk next to Lily’s. He buried his face in the curve of her neck and closed his eyes.

  As crazy as it sounded . . . as crazy as it felt . . . as crazy as it was—he’d fallen in love with her even before he’d walked into her salon earlier. He’d fallen for her that first day in her driveway.

  “Jesus,” he whispered. He’d never fallen so fast and hard and it scared the hell out of him. Scared him more than Taliban rounds whizzing past his nose and slamming into the granite mountain by his left ear. He’d been trained by the military what to do in combat. Trained by the sheriff’s department how to take down a felon bent on escape. But this? This was new territory. There was no training. No taking cover. No fighting back. There was just Lily and how she made him feel.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Monday morning, Lily pulled her Jeep into the parking lot of Crockett Elementary School and reached into the backseat. “My last appointment is at four. It’s just a cut and style so I should be home around six.” She stopped the SUV next to the sidewalk and handed Pippen his Angry Birds backpack. “What do you want for dinner?”

  He wore his red coat zipped all the way to his chin and said into the nylon collar, “Pizza.”

  Of course. She leaned toward him. “Give me some sugar, sugar.”

  He unbuckled himself. “Tonight,” he said. He’d stopped giving her sugar at school last year, but a mom could always try. “Is Tucker coming to play basketball today?”

  She shrugged. “He’s working, so I don’t know. I haven’t talked to him.” Not since he’d left her house yesterday around noon. Only half an hour before
Ronnie had dropped Pippen off home. Four hours early, which was so typical of Ronnie. She hadn’t been all that surprised. She was just glad she’d been alone and had taken a shower.

  Pippen opened the door and slid out of the car. “Maybe he will.”

  “Maybe.” She gave him a little wave. “Love you, Pip.”

  “Love you, Momma.” He shut the door and she watched him run to a group of his friends hanging out near the playground equipment. She took her foot off the brake and drove out of the parking lot. Her first appointment today wasn’t until noon. Her assistant manager was certainly capable of running the salon when Lily wasn’t there.

  She stopped at a red light and thought about the last time she’d been in the salon, having sex with Tucker in her office. Sex that had been so good she might have moaned Tucker’s name a little too loud. She hoped she hadn’t and that everyone had already left the building like he’d said. By the time they’d redressed and left the office, the salon had been empty. Thank God.