Her Kind of Trouble (Harlequin Superromance)

by Sarah Mayberry

  “Where are you going?”

  “I was going to leave you in peace.”

  “Maybe I don’t want to be in peace. Stay and talk to me.” She offered him a hopeful smile.

  As if he was going to say no to anything this woman asked of him.

  “I’ll go find something to sit on.”

  He made himself stop and take a deep breath once he was in the hallway. Not so long ago, he’d been a pretty cool customer when it came to the women in his life. Since Vivian had returned, he’d forgotten what that felt like. Maybe it was time to remember, for his pride’s sake, if nothing else.

  Accordingly, he forced himself to walk slowly into the kitchen to grab a chair. Just to prove to himself that he could.

  * * *

  VIVIAN SET HER wineglass on the side of the tub and sank into the water until the spice-scented bubbles tickled her chin. Her belly was warm from food and wine, her body cradled by water, and any second now, Seth would return and she would have the company of the sexiest, most intriguing man she’d ever met while she soaked away the cares and stresses of the day.

  Pretty much her idea of heaven, really—all thanks to Seth. He’d gone to a lot of trouble on her behalf. He’d knocked himself out to be thoughtful, and the knowledge he’d put so much time and effort into ensuring her comfort and happiness was more heady than any wine.

  Although maybe she shouldn’t be quite so surprised. She’d seen the way he’d pulled out all the stops for Daisy in recent weeks. When he cared, Seth didn’t hold anything back.

  The thought made her close her eyes against a dizzying rush of hope and fear. She’d been working very hard not to second-guess herself and Seth, and she’d come here tonight determined not to get caught up in all the what-ifs that surrounded them. Right now was what was important, and it was good. That was all she needed to concentrate on.

  A breeze brushed her cheek as the door opened, and Seth appeared with a chair in one hand and his own wineglass in the other. Placing the chair in front of the vanity, he sat and took a sip.

  “So. What do you want to talk about?” he asked.

  “I don’t know. Tell me about your day. I feel as though I’ve been yammering at you since I arrived.”

  “I’ll save you a blow-by-blow account of the many diapers Daisy burned through and give you the condensed version. I sorted out a truckload of admin stuff at the bar today, and the Browns called to confirm Lola’s funeral will be on Tuesday.”

  “Does that mean they’ll be going home soon?”

  “I assume so, although we didn’t discuss it. I know they had to leave at short notice so they aren’t really set up to stay longer, even if they wanted to.”

  “No. And I guess the comforts of home must look pretty appealing right now.”

  “Yeah.”

  Seth propped his bare feet on the rim of the tub as he talked about his day. She stretched out her aching feet and closed her eyes, listening to the low gravel of his voice, enjoying the undemanding pleasure of having him close. If someone had suggested a week ago that she could be naked and in the same room as Seth without being beside herself with longing, she would have laughed in their face. The hum of need was there, of course—it was always when he was near—but right at this moment it was enough that they were sharing the same space. That they would make love tonight was a given, and there was something decadently delicious about simply accepting that fact and allowing herself to savor the slow build of anticipation as they enjoyed each other in a different way.

  “Here. Give me your foot and I’ll rub it for you.”

  She opened her eyes to find him shifting the chair closer to the bath.

  “You don’t have to do that.”

  “So they’re not sore, then?” His raised eyebrow told her he would be deeply skeptical if she tried to deny it.

  “After twelve hours on them, it’d be a miracle if they weren’t. But you’ve done more than enough.”

  “Pass me your foot, idiot.”

  “Well. Since you asked so nicely, you silver tongue, you.”

  She lifted her right leg from the water, aware of how heavy and warm the limb felt. God, it was good to let go of the day’s tension. Seth placed her heel on his knee, immediately going to work on the arch of her foot with his long, strong fingers.

  “Ooooh,” she moaned, almost slipping beneath the water, the pleasure-pain of his touch was so good.

  “You like that, do you?”

  “Keep that up and I’m going to need a cigarette in a few minutes,” she said, closing her eyes so she could concentrate on what he was doing.

  “Interesting.”

  Her eyes popped open and she found he was regarding her with a smoky, patient intensity that made her sex contract instinctively.

  “One thing at a time,” he said, as if he could read her mind.

  “You started it,” she said as she closed her eyes again, unable to stop herself from smiling.

  He didn’t respond, but continued his good work, his thumbs digging into her heel, her arch, the ball of her foot. She relaxed, her body softening. After a while he tapped her other knee and she offered up her left foot to his ministrations.

  “You still awake there?” he asked.

  “Mmm.”

  “You sink any lower and you’ll need a snorkel.”

  “Or maybe you’d have to climb in and rescue me.”

  His thumbs stilled on her foot for a second. “True.”

  She caught him looking at her with what she could only describe as carnal intent. One glance at the water revealed that much of the foam had dissipated and he had an almost clear view of her body.

  “See anything you like?” she asked lazily.

  “A couple of things.”

  “Only a couple?”

  She glided her hand onto her breasts, using her thumb and forefinger to tease her nipple to hardness, not taking her gaze from his the whole time.

  “I don’t want to come across as greedy,” he said.

  “Greed is a very underrated sin, in certain situations,” she said.

  She smoothed her hand down her belly, slipping her fingers past the neat patch of hair at the juncture of her thighs and into the warm folds of her sex. She was already swollen with need for him, and she circled a finger leisurely, enjoying the gentle pressure and the way Seth’s expression sharpened to a wolflike intensity.

  “So, only a couple of things, you were saying?” she murmured.

  “A couple of dozen, yeah.”

  “Is this one of them?” she said, stroking herself.

  “Could be.”

  “Or maybe it’s these?” She slipped her other hand onto her breasts and made her already tight nipples even harder.

  “They’re definitely on the list.”

  “So. What are going to do about it?” she said, knowing she was driving him crazy.

  “This.”

  He moved so fast he was leaning over the bath, his arms slipping beneath her before she’d even registered he was out of his chair. Then he was lifting her, ignoring her halfhearted protests as he slung her over his shoulder.

  As a show of strength, it was a feat indeed.

  “You’re going to be all wet now,” she said.

  “So that’ll make two of us.”

  She’d barely got her head around the double entendre before she was bouncing on her back on his bed, Seth standing above her peeling off his clothes as though the fate of the world depended on him completing the task in under three seconds. The moment he was finished, he covered her body with his, his mouth taking hers in an urgent, hot kiss.

  She let herself get swept away in the sheer, undiluted pleasure of it, moaning when his hands found her breasts before slipping between her thighs. She was gratified to feel that he was shaking with need as he stroked her before plunging one, then two fingers inside her.

  She lifted her hips, encouraging his penetration, needing more, and he obliged, finding her with his thumb and starting
up a counterpoint rhythm that quickly had her panting and clawing at his back.

  “You, I want you,” she begged, trying to pull away from his touch even as he pushed her closer and closer toward her climax.

  He paused, his body warm and heavy over hers. “Where do you want me? Here?”

  She felt the thick, firm pressure as he guided himself between her thighs, rubbing himself along the seam of her sex.

  “Yes. Exactly there.”

  She tilted her hips, and she was so slick with desire that he slipped easily into place. Just one flex of his hips and he would be inside her, filling her....

  He nudged inside a bare inch, then immediately withdrew, his face twisted with regret. “Condom.”

  She caught his hand before he could reach for the bedside drawer. “I’m on the pill. And I had a full health check before I left the States.”

  She felt the jolt of realization rocket through him as he registered what she was suggesting. That it aroused him even further was patently evident, his erection surging against her.

  “I got the all clear a couple of months ago, too.”

  He frowned, though, torn between temptation and caution. She tucked a strand of hair behind his ear, oddly touched by his concern. He was so different in so many ways from the unrepentant pants man she’d been happy to categorize him as all these years.

  “While you think about it, I’m just going to do this,” she said, lifting her hips encouragingly.

  He groaned, the sound absolutely primal. He gripped her hips and eased himself inside her in a slow, controlled stroke, his expression tortured.

  “That good, huh?” she asked.

  “Like you needed to ask.”

  He started to move, his fingers digging into her hips, his whole body concentrated on the task. She smoothed her hands down his back to his backside, then up again, reveling in the smoothness of his skin and the flex and release of his muscles. He was so big and strong, and she loved the way he felt inside her, how he made her feel both powerful and powerless at the same time, the way he looked at her as though he could never get enough of it, of her....

  She forgot to breathe as her climax took her, her knees clenching around his hips as she shuddered out her pleasure. Seth followed seconds later, his body buried deep, his breath leaving him on a single, almost painful sigh as he gave himself up to it.

  They lay profoundly still for a few seconds, arms wrapped tightly around each other. He was still inside her, stretching her, and she could feel the frantic thump of his heart against her chest. Then he pressed a kiss to her forehead and rolled to the side and she was alone again.

  For a moment she let herself float in the afterglow, enjoying the warm languidness of her body. Her thoughts drifted toward tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after that, but she diverted them ruthlessly. She was staying in the moment. Enjoying this for what it was right now, letting it become whatever it might become in its own sweet time, without her breathing down its neck.

  In keeping with her philosophy, she turned to look at Seth. His eyes were closed, his big body sprawled on the bed.

  “Tell me, who came up with the name for your band?”

  He turned to her. “Skunk Punk?”

  “Yeah. Skunk Punk.” It was hard to say without smirking.

  Seth gave her a dry look. “Are you trying to take the piss out of me, Walker?”

  “No. I’m genuinely curious. What thought process was behind the creation of such a...unique name?”

  “A lot of the guys were really into The Sex Pistols, and I pretty much worshipped Johnny Rotten until I realized what an ass he is.”

  “Right, so that covers the punk part. What about the skunk?”

  “You know that old Warner Brothers cartoon with the lady cat and the Casanova skunk, where he thinks she’s a lady skunk and chases her all over the place?”

  “You mean Pepé Le Pew?”

  “That’s the one. Our drummer had a thing about that skunk. The rest is history.”

  Vivian tried very hard not to laugh. “That’s it? That’s the earth-shattering genesis of Skunk Punk? A cartoon skunk and a fondness for Sid Vicious?”

  “In our defense, we were eighteen when we got together. And there may or may not have been illegal substances involved the night we picked the name.”

  “It never occurred to any of you that maybe it wasn’t the kind of name that would look great in lights one day?”

  “That’s where you’re wrong. Rock and roll has a long lineage of ridiculous band names. Regurgitator, The Butthole Surfers, Hootie and the Blowfish... Want me to keep going?”

  “This is a bit of a sore spot for you, isn’t it?” she asked, poker-faced.

  “You keep that up and I won’t give you the present I got for you today.”

  She sat up. “You bought me a present?”

  “Sort of. Money changed hands for part of the present anyway.” He rolled off the bed and stood. “I’ve got you all intrigued now, haven’t I?”

  “A little.”

  “A lot. Admit it.”

  “Okay, I am medium-level intrigued.”

  He walked to the closet, his body a superb study in light and shade as he opened the door and pulled out a thin, square shape covered with a bath towel.

  Seth had bought her some artwork? How...odd. Not that she didn’t like art, but he’d never struck her as the arty-farty type.

  “I’ve been thinking for a while about how I can make it up to you for being such a dick when Jason approached me about being guardian to the boys.”

  “Good. So you should, you misguided idiot.”

  “Absolutely. Mea culpa, my bad, et cetera, et cetera.”

  “So sincere. It’s beautiful. I’m touched.”

  He pressed his fingers to his chest, playing wounded for all he was worth. “I’m very sincere, as you’ll see in a moment, because I’m offering one of my most treasured possessions to you. My way of letting you know that I’m fully aware of how far out of line I was.”

  She eyed the shrouded frame curiously. “Okay, fine, Anderson. I believe you. You’re sorry.”

  “I am, but before I hand it over, I feel honor-bound to point out that while I’m giving this to you wholeheartedly, if you should ever find yourself in a generous mood, I’d be happy to share ownership with you. A sort of time-share arrangement, if you will.”

  She was starting to get a little worried. His eyes were laughing at her, but there was something about the way he was holding himself and his gift that made her think he wasn’t entirely joking.

  What on earth was he about to give her?

  “Okay,” she said slowly.

  He slid the frame onto the bed in front of her, then stepped back, gesturing for her to do the unveiling. She rose to her knees and reached for the towel.

  “This had better not be a velvet painting of Elvis. Because no way would I share that with you,” she said, feeling ridiculously nervous.

  “This is better than a velvet painting of Elvis.”

  She glanced at him, taking in his arms-crossed-over-his-chest posture and his utter comfort with his own nakedness. She refocused on the frame, pulling sharply on the towel...only to reveal a pair of cream lacy panties delicately arranged on a dove-grey parchment background, surrounded by a gold and darker grey double mount within a thick, burnished walnut frame. It took her a full second to recognize the panties she’d worn to her sister’s wedding.

  “You did not.” She stared at Seth, flabbergasted.

  “I did.”

  “You kept these for ten years?”

  “I did.”

  “No way.”

  “Way.”

  She shook her head. It couldn’t be true. But it had to be, because she recognized the expensive French brand and could see the torn lace at the side where he’d ripped them off her in those cramped, desperate minutes in the limo.

  “I don’t know what to say,” she said.

  “I was thinking you coul
d hang them above your bed. And if you ever get sick of them, I’ve got a spot right here.” He patted a spot on the wall.

  She studied him, trying to get a read on him. That he was enjoying himself enormously was more than obvious, and it struck her that there was no way he’d offer these up to her if he’d genuinely held onto her underwear as a treasured keepsake all these years. It simply wasn’t his nature to be so sentimental, or to reveal himself so thoroughly.

  He must have faked it. He must have remembered the brand and worked out her size and bought a pair of panties that looked roughly the same. It had been ten years, after all, and she couldn’t swear to the fact that these were hers.

  “You are so full of it,” she scoffed, amused despite herself by his cheekiness. He’d gone to a lot of trouble to wind her up, and she was smart-ass enough to appreciate it.

  “You think I’m bullshitting you?”

  “Yeah, I do. No way did you hang onto my panties for ten years.”

  “They were in a manila envelope, stuffed in a box of old bank statements and tax documents,” he said. “Your sister and my brother found them when they cleared out the spare room for me.”

  “Dear God. Please tell me my name wasn’t on the envelope.”

  “What am I, stupid? Besides, I could barely remember your name the next morning.”

  It was such an outrageous lie, and so calculated to get her goat, she couldn’t help but rise to the occasion. She grabbed a pillow and slung it as hard as she could, hitting her target square in the belly.

  He grinned at her, utterly unrepentant. “I’m happy to come over to your place on the weekend and help you hang it, if you like.”

  She grabbed another pillow and aimed it at his head. “You are a ten-year-old. You know that, right?”

  He dodged the pillow and advanced on the bed. “This is a nice show of gratitude.”

  “Tell me you really thought you’d get anything else,” she said.

  She was tickled by his teasing and the knowledge that he’d played her beautifully, and that both had required a lot of effort.

  He’d been thinking about her, plotting and planning ways to amuse, entertain and comfort her. The thought made her want to laugh. It made her want to grab him and kiss him until it hurt. It made her want to preserve this moment for eternity, it contained so much joy and potential.