Hutch Nightmare Men

by L. J. Vickery

  A ding sounded and he reluctantly raised his lips a fraction of an inch. “The door.”

  “The door,” she repeated, her breath mingling with his.

  “I have to punch my code.”

  She nodded, her nose bumping his. “Code.”

  “Can we continue this later, once we get to my place?”

  “Do you have a couch?”

  Momentarily puzzled, he nodded.

  “Then, yes. The plan is to make out on it like a couple of horny teenagers. That work for you?”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  Darby waited for his answer. He didn’t respond.

  Dammit. Had she been too forward again? She might be uncertain about a future that included Hutch, but she damn sure wanted his lips, and anything else he’d offer. The sparks zinging through her mid-section told her the sooner the better.

  “Cat got your tongue?” she asked.

  His smirk was instantaneous. “This is the second time you’ve likened yourself to a cat.”

  She groaned. “Okay, I get it. Me. Your tongue. Cat. But you can’t soft paw around this forever, Mr. Metaphor. Are we going to…you know?” She waggled her brows, unable to be more direct unless she unzipped his pants and took him in hand. The thought made her blood run hot.

  He put his hands on her shoulders and gently set her away. “First, I’m going to punch in the code that will take us up to my floor. You should write it down. 97246.”

  She quickly withdrew her phone and made sure she had it.

  He hit the numbers and the elevator began ascending again. “Second. I’m all for kissing—making out, as you say—but until we’re sure this thing between us isn’t just a knee-jerk reaction to me riding in on my high horse to rescue you, I’m not going to take advantage of your vulnerability and go any farther.”

  “Vulnerability?” Her shackles immediately went on alert. He was chalking up their crazy chemistry to…helplessness? Oh, man, did he have another thing coming. She opened her mouth to tell him off, but he spoke again.

  “You’ve got some serious stressors in your life right now. Cy in particular, so we need to proceed cautiously. I’d hate for this to be a case of transference…”

  “Transference?” She said the word between gritted teeth.

  He suddenly seemed unsure of himself. Perhaps because she glared at him.

  She tugged the phone from her pocket, willing to give him the benefit of the doubt before she went off. She wasn’t quite sure of the meaning…

  She typed, “transference”.

  Neurosis. The redirection to a substitute, usually a therapist, of emotions originally felt toward one’s parents in childhood.

  She put her phone away with slow, deliberate movements and looked up into his uncertain visage. “You think what I’m feeling for you is a neurosis,” she stated between stiff lips. Lips that a few minutes ago had been very happy.

  He screwed up his face. “It could be. I don’t want it to be, but we can’t rule it out. And if I act on impulse now, we might regret it.”

  The elevator pinged open. With a withering look in his direction, she stepped out. There was one door to the right, and one to the left. “Which one?” she clipped.

  “Right,” he answered, then walked cautiously around her to approach his condo. “Darby? What are you thinking?”

  She watched with narrowed eyes as he put the key in the lock.

  “I’m thinking you’re an ass. An over-thinking, overly cautious ass.”

  “What?” His voice cracked as he pushed open the door and held it for her to walk through.

  She spun on him, dropping her duffle. “You heard me. Why do you resort to doctor-speak whenever things get heated? The first time we kissed, you maneuvered me into talking about my parents. This time, you’re insinuating I’m projecting a child’s expectations on you.” She poked him hard in the chest. “I call bullshit.”

  He backed off, holding both hands high. “Okay. So maybe I’m wrong.”

  He looked up at the ceiling. Way up. How high were those fuckers, anyway?

  “But what if I’m not?” Their gazes connected again. “I’d hate myself if we…hooked up, only to have you regret it.”

  “Arghh!” She couldn’t hold her frustration in. “My body is attracted to yours! Don’t you get it?” She turned abruptly and… Holy Christ. What a room. She momentarily forgot what she was saying, looking toward the massive floor to ceiling wall of windows framing the sunset outside. She walked farther into the room and took in the pristine white sofas, the marble floors and the massive stone fireplace. Her brain overloaded and her own doubts reared up.

  “You know what? I can’t do this. You’re going to psychoanalyze me to death. First, it’s transference, next it will be envy,” she waved her arm around, “because of this. And you know what? You’d probably be right. I’d fucking kill for this place. So yeah. Maybe I’m a gold-digger. Maybe I want you for your money.” She nodded her head. “Uh, huh. That’s it. It’s been a really long time since anybody offered me an easy road to a better life, so I’m using you. There. I’ve figured it all out. Consider me a grasping bitch. Case closed.”

  She yanked her phone out and angrily started a search.

  “What are you doing?” he hissed.

  “Looking up the bus line. There’s got to be a local that will take me back to Minneapolis.”

  He grabbed her phone and threw it on the sofa. “You’re not leaving.”

  “Oh yeah? You going to stop me?” She stood on tip-toes and got as close to his face as her shortness allowed. “Going to throw some psycho-babble at me that will make me fall to my knees and beg for your help fixing my screwed-up life? Not…” Poke. “…happening.” Poke. “Asshole.” Poke.

  He grabbed her finger and shoved it off his chest, threw his arms around her waist and hauled her up against him, bringing them eye to eye. “Darby,” he snarled, “shut the fuck up.”

  His mouth came down on hers with bruising intensity. The rough stubble on his chin, hours unshaven, dug into her soft flesh. She moaned. Here was the man she’d glimpsed in her nightmares. The one who’d forcefully attempted to defend her, a man who took charge. She melted against him. He kept his hold firm, but his lips softened. He nipped at her lower lip and she sighed into his mouth. “You said, fuck.”

  “I’m going to do more than say it.” His raspy voice rumbled all the way to her toes before he scooped her up into his arms and strode purposefully down a short hallway.

  “Where are we going?” She nuzzled his chin, then slid her nose to the back of his ear and inhaled his clean, fresh-air scent. “The couch is back there.”

  “Bedroom,” he grunted, biting the side of her neck.

  A delicious shiver ran down her spine, her nipples puckered under his onslaught. Not one sassy comment came to mind, although she wanted to tease, all she could do was agree. “Okay.”

  He didn’t slow, but brought her to an ambiently lit room that smelled like him. By the time he reached the bed, she had his shirt undone and had reached inside to caress the crisp, dark hairs on his chest. Damn. It had been so long since she’d had sex, just feeling his hard muscles under her fingers was enough to make her wet.

  He leaned down and placed her on the bed.

  Bereft of his warmth, she reached for him, but he didn’t comply. Instead, he stood a few feet away, worked the rest of the buttons on his shirt open, drew the material down his arms and threw it to the floor. His belt buckle came next, followed by his shoes, which enabled him to lower his pants. The tent in front of his boxer-briefs told her she wasn’t dreaming.

  He hooked his fingers into the cloth remaining.

  “No.” She scrambled to her knees. “Come closer. Let me.”

  His nostrils flared but he moved within her reach. She brought her hands up and started at his nipples, stroking her fingers down his chest and over his washboard abs. She leaned forward and kissed his belly button. He groaned.

  Running her hands to
his back, she reached down inside the material and slid her palms over his glorious cheeks, squeezing his taut flesh. Damn, the man was built.

  Finished with play, and already primed for the main event, she skinned the briefs from him with a fall of her hands. His engorged cock sprang free and she couldn’t help herself. She leaned forward to give it a kiss and a swipe of her tongue. “So delicious,” she hummed.

  “Enough,” he roared, propelling his body forward to topple hers back onto the bed. She uncurled her legs beneath him and lay supine while he brought her arms above her head and pinned them there with a solid five-finger grip. “My turn.”

  With his free hand he pushed her t-shirt up, revealing her white, spandex bra. She should have been embarrassed it was so utilitarian, but with the way he ogled her chest, all she could think about was getting it off. As if reading her mind, he pulled it down below her breasts, baring her hardened nipples to his gaze. He moaned, dipped his head, and pulled one into his mouth. She arched up into him with a cry. Yes!

  Loosening her wrists, he sucked, then went to work again, unsnapping her jeans, running his fingers around the perimeter of the waistband to scoop them over her ass. His mouth popped off her nipple, and down the denim went, along with her panties, to get caught on her boots. “Can you toe them off?” he asked gruffly.

  “Hell, yes.” She was out of her footwear in seconds. The jeans were shed, over her feet.

  He brought his nose to the soft hair of her pussy and inhaled. “Amazing,” he growled. “Spread your legs.”

  He didn’t have to ask twice. She was already complying.

  He brought his hands down with purpose. Fingers spreading her folds, he lowered his tongue to lap, teasing her sensitive nub, but after a few moments, she knew it wasn’t enough. She needed to feel him, all of him, and be filled.

  She reached her hands down under his armpits. “I need you now. Inside me.”

  He raised up, but rolled toward his bedside table to pull out a strip of condoms. “You sure? You okay with this?”

  “Don’t have an attack of conscience now, Hutch. Please.”

  “Not stopping,” he assured her, rolling the latex over his hard cock. He drew himself up and hovered over her again, nudging his hardness against her wet pussy. “Never stopping.”

  He plunged in.

  They both cried out in the ecstasy of joining.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  Had anything ever felt so right? Hutch held Darby in his arms as she slept, exhausted from their lovemaking. She was everything he ever wanted. Warm, loving, adventurous, wild and inventive. Already, in one night, he’d explored more with her than any woman he’d ever been with. And he was scared to death.

  How would she feel when she woke up? Would she regret going all-in when her intent had been to leave? And where had his caveman act come from? Since when did he override someone’s needs to assuage his own? He’d come on very strong, and didn’t doubt she’d have something to say about it. She’d made it very clear she was in charge of her own life and not remotely interested in having someone ride roughshod over her.

  She stirred in his embrace, swiping the tangle of auburn curls back from her face, her green eyes blinking up at him. “G’morning,” she mumbled.

  “Good morning,” he returned tentatively.

  She blinked. “What?”

  “Uh, how are you feeling?”

  A slow grin spread across her face. “Delightfully sore in all the right places.”

  He returned her smile. “Oh.”

  She laughed. “Seriously? Oh? That’s all you have to say after the marathon sex we had?”

  He couldn’t wipe the silly smirk off his face. “Uh, uh. I can do better. You, Darby Peltor, are magnificent.”

  She stretched, her arms going above her head, the sheet slipping to reveal her biteable, pink nipples. “That’s more like it.” Her gaze grew smoky. “You’re no slouch, yourself.”

  He swallowed and became serious. “Listen. I don’t usually—”

  She put a finger to his lips. “Nope. No regrets. Whether your purgatory mentor is correct or not about us having a relationship, I loved everything we did together, and…” her hand delved beneath the blankets. “I think we should do it again.” She took hold of his already eager cock, stroking him with a firm grip.

  He groaned. “And I think you’re probably sore, so rather than exacerbate your, uh, condition, I think I should run us a bath.”

  “Us?” Her eyebrows went up.

  He grinned again. “Yeah. I have a pretty big soaking tub. It’ll fit both of us, easily.”

  “Yes!” Her hand gripped him tighter. “I’ve never had tub sex before.”

  Neither had he, and his cock pulsed in her hand, thinking about it. Selfish. “This is about therapeutic hot water, Darby, not sex.”

  She let go, much to his disappointment, and raised a hand to wave him on. “You run the tub, and we’ll see.” Her stomach growled.

  “Geeze. How could I have forgotten? We haven’t had anything to eat since yesterday noon.”

  She looked smug. “We had better things to do.”

  “Yeah, well, it looks like my bath can wait. I’ll run the tub and you soak while I make breakfast.” It would be frustrating not to join her, but she needed to be fed.

  “You cook?” she asked.

  He shrugged. “I’d give my skills three stars. But breakfast is easy. Eggs, toast and bacon?” he asked. “I had the concierge stock my kitchen while I was gone.”

  “Sounds good.” She sat up in bed, and threw off the covers, not at all reticent to bare herself. “But if I run the tub while you cook, we can eat together while we bathe.”

  Seeing her naked, the sun streaming in the windows, highlighting her smooth, pale skin, had his cock twitching in response. “I like it,” he managed, coughing against the new wave of lust that hit him hard.

  “I think you do,” she smirked.

  He laughed at her unabashed sexuality and also rose, his back to her, then turned upon hearing her catch her breath. “Darby? You okay?”

  “Maybe,” she sighed. “Your ass,” she uttered reverently. “It’s a thing of beauty.”

  Hutch was at a loss. He’d never really thought about his ass before. “Um, thank you?” But one thing he could do, easily, was return the favor. He raised his hand and made a twirling motion with his finger. She grinned and turned around, showing him her backside while watching him over her shoulder.

  “Oh, yes,” he breathed. “Lovely. Much better than mine, I’m sure. Although,” he teased, “there might be a few bite marks on it.”

  “What? Really?” She maneuvered her head and rolled her eyes to get a look, without success. “Are you teasing me?”

  “Yes,” he laughed, walking to his dresser to pull out a pair of sweats. “But if you like the idea, I can take care of it later.”

  “As long as I get to bite yours, too, it’s a deal. Now where’s the bathroom.”

  He pointed. “That door.”

  She walked away, a naked queen comfortable in her own skin. He was so screwed. Every moment, his attraction to Darby grew.

  He pulled on his pants and was headed to the kitchen when a squeal made him pause. Before he could respond, Darby stuck her head out of his master bath, her hands gripping the doorframe in excitement. “You have the most kick-ass bathroom I’ve ever seen!” she gushed. “Your shower could fit a baseball team, and your toilet? Really? A control panel for heat and…bidet settings? I’ve never, ever, used one of those.”

  “Well you’re in for a treat. I’ll show you how to use it later. But now, are you going to run the water in the tub—”

  A snort escaped her. “You mean in the ark? Noah didn’t have that much room.”

  He mocked growled. “If you’re thinking of filling my tub with animals…”

  She grinned. “For now, one pair of slippery humans will do.” She pushed back into the room and within seconds he heard the water running as she humm
ed an off-key tune.

  God, he loved her.

  Wait. What? No! He absolutely couldn’t go there. It was far too soon for him to think like that, and Darby was still on the fence about a long-distance dating situation. He needed to dial it back.

  Right. Easier said than done.

  Shaking his head, he padded barefoot to the kitchen, and started the coffee. Retrieving eggs, bacon and butter from the fridge, his trepidation settled as he prepped and cooked. Sure, he could love Darby already. The way she filled his heart and his world, it would be odd if he didn’t. The problem was, getting her to trust and want him just as much. He’d worry it to death if he could, but better to let things grow between them, naturally. If he took Beletseri literally, he had to believe he and Darby were meant for each other. Time—with a lot of gentle prodding from him—would decide their future.

  Doing a balancing act when he finished cooking, he carried two full plates to the bathroom, leaving the coffee behind for the moment. Going through the door, he almost stumbled. His beautiful girl lay back, eyes closed, up to her neck in bubbles. Her face was peaceful—really peaceful—for the first time since he’d met her.

  “You going to stand there all day and let everything get cold?” She didn’t even crack a lid.

  “The food and the tub, maybe, but not my heart,” he offered.

  “That’s the most poetic thing anyone’s ever said to me.” She smiled contentedly, then sat up, water sloshing around her. He knew sarcasm was only a second away. “But poetry doesn’t fill my stomach.” She pointed her chin in his direction. “That smells glorious.”

  He carefully placed both plates on the ample side of the tub, then stood up. “I’ll get the coffee.”

  She reached for a piece of bacon. “You are the perfect host.” She popped it into her mouth. “Mmm.” She chewed and gave an exaggerated flutter of her lashes. “Amazing. You know, between the bathroom, the food and the sex, we’re going to have to come up with more superlatives. Glorious, amazing, magnificent. Way overdone.”