Kitabı oku: «Just Once More...», sayfa 5

Another thrust of his tongue into her waiting mouth.

All that mattered was this. More. Easing the almost painful clench of need so deep inside her.

And then the hand in her hair slipped free. Her head came up and in a daze she met the blue flame of Garrett’s eyes … tried to close the distance between them he had opened. She reached for his shoulder, his hair. Leaned in to his kiss, getting less than a taste before he broke away again.

Too much. She’d gone too far again. Gotten carried away—

Except he had her hand in his. The muscle in his jaw was jumping as he raked his other hand through the hair that was standing up in a guilty mess. “There’s got to be a back way out of here. Let’s go. I think I can make it to my car.”

The haze of arousal cleared further and Nichole looked around, stunned to find herself in this state of reckless abandon in the back hall of a coffee house. Oh, God. Mistake!

“Garrett, I can’t.”

He nodded, shoved his hand through his hair again and then grabbed her hips and lifted her up against him in a move so swift and deft she had her legs wrapped around his waist before she’d even realized what was happening.

No, this she had to stop—and fast. Because Garrett was carrying her up the last stairs, groaning some kind of agreement that neither could he. And then her back was against the wall and his hips were rocking against the needy spot between her legs that made her stupid in ways she could never have imagined prior to meeting him.

“Garrett,” she gasped when his mouth closed over her neck.

And that totally hadn’t come out the way it had been supposed to. But before she could even think about where she’d gone wrong with that one single critical word, the sensual, disorienting fog was descending again. Rolling in thicker with each flick of his tongue, every rock of his hips and brush of his thumb against the straining peak of her nipple.

Because, yes, this guy was plenty strong enough to hold her against the wall with one hand. And, God, wasn’t that the hottest thing? Next to all the other billion hot things about him. She was a little ashamed to admit his being so worked up enough to do her against the back wall of a public place was one of them.

But it had to stop.

She needed to check her libido and her ego and—

“Garrrrett …”

What … how … that was … would he do it again?

Then his mouth was back at her ear. His breath a hot rush against the tender tissue. His low growl a rough stroke against all the places where she ached for him. “Are you wet, Nichole?”

She opened her mouth, trying to form words—only her mind had blanked of coherent thought. And apparently Garrett didn’t need an answer anyway, because somewhere along the way he’d gotten her fly undone, loosened the denim enough to skim his hand down the back.

“Aww, baby, you’re so—”

“Stop.”

She didn’t know where she’d found the resolve to say it, or how Garrett had even heard, the word was so small. So not at all what she wanted. But there it was. And he had heard, because that marauding hand of his was working a steady retreat back to her hip, where he continued to hold her against him.

So maybe unlocking her ankles from the small of his back and letting go of his shirt and hair should be her next step.

Reluctantly, she did so. And, sure enough, Garrett eased her down to her feet from there. Let his forehead rest against hers and, with a pained groan, refastened her jeans. Because he was just that kind of guy.

Which made her want him all the more.

And that was a problem. Because Nichole wasn’t ready for this.

Thanks to her deadbeat dad’s underwhelming commitment to fatherhood she’d always been skittish about getting involved. The two guys she’d risked her heart with in the past had been more about building relationships than scoring bases. She’d known them for years, trusted them and made plans with them. With Paul … they’d been so young. When he’d ended things, she’d understood and recovered with only a few scars. But with Joel she’d been so hurt. So humiliated by what had happened it had taken her three years to brave up enough to dip just her toe back in.

Okay, fine. She’d done the full-on skinny-dip. But still … What she’d done she’d done believing it would be a one-time isolated incident with a guy who wouldn’t be around twenty-four-seven, tempting her to invest more of her heart than she should.

Garrett murmured, “Nichole, this thing between us isn’t going away.”

No, it wasn’t. “I’m not sure we’re giving it much of a chance to.”

“Maybe not.” Pulling back, Garrett looked around them, as if just realizing exactly where they were, and swore. “I’m sorry about this. I don’t know what I was—”

“Yeah, neither do I.” With a quiet laugh, Nichole added, “You are really going to get the wrong idea about what kind of girl I am.”

Garrett caught her chin with his finger and brought her gaze to his. “No, I won’t.”

Then, leading her down the flight, he stopped at the bottom stair and pulled her down to sit beside him. The guitarist had moved on to a new piece—something slow and soulful. Each pluck of the strings seemed weighted with a melancholy that resonated inside her.

Forearms resting over his widespread knees, Garrett scrubbed a palm over his face. “I know I’m the one who said this wouldn’t work. That I didn’t want it. But it sort of feels like we already have it, whether we meant to or not … Nichole, I can handle the part about Maeve.”

“But I’m not sure I can.” Maeve was her best friend. Her rock. The person she couldn’t live without. The person she’d need to turn to if her heart ever got trampled again. “Let’s just say you aren’t the only one with a protective streak when it comes to your family.”

Garrett’s brows shot skyward, as though the thought had never occurred to him. “Are you worried you’re going to break my heart and Maeve’s going to hold it against you?”

“Well, no.” While something told her Garrett’s heart was immune to breaking, there were no guarantees when it came to hard feelings. “But she didn’t take too kindly to an off-the-cuff remark I made last month. And that was before I’d actually even met you.”

His expression closed down as he asked, “What kind of remark?”

Why had she brought it up? She didn’t want to tell him what she’d said. Didn’t want to risk his feelings or insult him. But he was staring at her, waiting. “Something about antibiotics. It was stupid and totally off-base and I apologize.”

A nod. “The Panty Whisperer garbage. I get it. I’ve earned it.”

Something about those last words and the weary resignation in them cut at her.

“Garrett, I didn’t know anything about you. But I do now—”

At that, his mouth curved into a wry smile. “Yeah, and I’m betting what just happened at the top of these stairs pretty well backs up every rumor you’ve ever heard.”

It might have if this connection she’d somehow formed with Garrett hadn’t given her a deeper insight into who he was. Into what he valued. But he seemed as genuinely undone by the attraction between them as she was. Fighting it and trying to push it aside so they could enjoy a friendship regardless.

She didn’t want her careless words to hurt him or undermine all there was to respect.

If ever she needed a lifeline it was now. She wanted Maeve to tell her what to say. Although now that she thought about it …

“I do have to admit I’m pretty impressed. I always sort of assumed the rumors were exaggerated. But, damn, Garrett.”

He was a Carter, after all. And teasing was their foremost means of affection.

His sudden stunned bark of laughter was everything she’d wanted to hear. And then he leaned back and studied her, his gaze tracking from her eyes to her mouth and back. “Okay, Red. Tell me again why this isn’t going to work.”

“Because neither of us wants to risk jeopardizing our relationship with Maeve over … anything. We both know better than to think we could keep our relationship with each other separate from our relationship with her. And I’ve lost people after relationships ended before—people I really cared about.”

She’d never forget what it had been like to go from being embraced as the daughter Paul’s mother never had, to realizing the same woman was walking out of the market without her groceries to avoid having to talk to her. The friends who suddenly hadn’t seen her when they passed. That feeling of being cast adrift from everything she’d thought was safe and secure.

When she’d transferred to Chicago for a fresh start Maeve had been the one to give it to her. Maeve’s had been the open heart she’d so desperately needed after having so many others shut against her.

When it looked like Garrett might be ready to argue Nichole held up a staying finger. “And because I think you’re a very good guy. I know too much about the part of you that has nothing to do with whispering panties and everything to do with the care and protection of your family. I know about the guy who drives around Chicago at five in the morning after a big snow to dig out his sisters’ cars so they can drive to work. The guy who puts his own needs last every time. And the guy who knows the value of a simple sunset.”

“Are you whispering me right now?”

Nichole shook her head, half wishing she was. “No, I’m telling you why this won’t work. It’s because you’re too good of a guy for me not to fall for. I’m not ready for something serious and I don’t know how to do casual. Believe it or not, that’s actually how your name came up with Maeve. She’d been joking around about you giving me lessons on keeping it light. She even threatened to set us up. Ironic, huh?”

When Nichole looked up from the neat stack of her hands on her knees Garrett was watching her, his brows drawn down so his shadowed eyes left her guessing at his reaction.

“So what are we going to do about this … thing between us?”

“What we planned from the start. Ignore it.” She let out a soft laugh. “Find a distraction until it goes away. Because us getting together would be a mistake and I think we both know it.”

“Okay, Nichole. I get it.” Garrett pushed to his feet and, taking her hand, pulled her to her own.

Looking down at where their fingers had intertwined, she asked, “No more whispering?”

One last rough stroke of his thumb across her knuckles and he let her go. “Not tonight.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

GARRETT GRIPPED THE WHEEL, ten and two, his knuckles going white as his most beloved baby sister rambled on, heedless of how close she was to being dumped by the side of a road and left to hoof it the rest of the way to Carla’s in the next burb over.

“… all I’m saying is you don’t have to be such a hard-ass about everything all the time—sorry, Aunt Gloria.”

Their great-aunt waved a papery hand, her focus on the passing houses more than on the fight Maeve had picked with him the moment she’d slid into the backseat.

“You think I like this? That I enjoy always being the heavy? Come on, Maeve. If I don’t tell Erin to turn her head on and open her eyes about this guy then who the hell will? You? Beth? Carla? I don’t think so. You girls are so caught up in all the romance B.S. you don’t even register the impracticality of a guy who literally weaves baskets for a living.”

“He’s an artist,” she sniped back.

“Oh, he is. Everyone was talking about how beautiful his work was at the Acres.”

The seniors’ living facility where his latest works were on sale.

Maeve’s eyes narrowed and she crossed her arms over her chest. “It doesn’t matter what he does, Garrett. Erin loves him.”

At his scoff, she grumbled from the back, “And to think I’d been looking forward to seeing you. Where have you been anyway?”

He made some noise about work and scowled at the road ahead, not wanting to get into it. But Maeve was … Maeve.

“Cripes, it’s either feast or famine with you. Years of you only pulling your head out of your business and books long enough to bitch about whatever we’re doing wrong, and then suddenly you’re like a plague. Everywhere.” Her eyes rolled as she let out a dramatic huff. “And just when I start thinking it was kind of fun having you around, you drop off the face of the earth again.”

Teeth gritting down, he glanced in the mirror at her. “You’ve managed fine in the past.”

“Yeah, but I always had Nichole around. And she’s been suspiciously absent these last couple weeks. Tired. Busy. Working late.”

Garrett’s hands tightened on the wheel as the implication hung in the air.

Damn it.

“Anything you want to own up to?”

Not even close. “No.”

The silence stretched between them until finally he shot a demanding look into the rearview mirror. “What?” “I thought you liked her.”

“I do.” More than he should, considering what he had to offer.

“You know, Garrett, I’ve always wanted a sister.” Wonderful. And now she was playing with him for sport. Because that was what demon sisters did.

Breathe. Don’t start looking for a ditch. “You have three.”

“But not a little sister. You know Nikki is two months younger than I am?”

“It’s not like that, Maeve.”

Gloria’s frail hand reached up through the seats to pinch his cheek. “It’s wonderful, dear. All your wild-oat sowing has to stop sometime. Nikki’s a darling girl.”

Another reminder that Nichole was in with his entire family. Including his great-aunt.

“It’s not like that,” he said again, though why he bothered he had no idea.

“So what’s it like, then, Big Brother?”

Did he really want to have this conversation? Only a glance into the back showed that both women, despite their respective teasing and maternal pats, were intent on getting the scoop. And maybe saying it out loud would help it finally sink in.

“I don’t want to marry her.”

Maeve barked out an indignant cough. “Geez, I didn’t realize she’d asked.”

Snide. Nice.

“She didn’t. Obviously. But—” Damn it, he’d wanted to get that critical tidbit out first, because it seemed important. But the way it landed he sounded like an ass. For more than one reason. Cue the clarifications. “I’m just trying to explain. It isn’t because she isn’t good enough. She is. I mean, I can’t believe either of those schmucks she was engaged to let her get away. Any guy would be lucky to have her. Trust me when I tell you I want to have her. Just not in the way she deserves.”

“It’s okay,” Maeve offered from the backseat. “You’ve had an overfull plate for a long time. And after Mom and Dad you have a hard time letting people in. Getting close. You aren’t ready to think about marriage yet.”

He bristled, not for the first time cursing Maeve’s freshman-year psychology class.

It wasn’t about letting people get close. Or what had happened with his parents.

True, he didn’t have a lot of people outside Jesse and his sisters he shared much of a bond with. But that had more to do with what his life had been like these last years than any avoidance on his part. And the connection with Nichole had been immediate. She was the person he’d become most comfortable talking to.

It was about things like this damn recurring conversation about Erin’s boyfriend. He’d been playing the “hard-ass” and making tough calls for over half his life already, and what he wanted out of a relationship was something where those kinds of responsibilities didn’t apply. Where the consequences of his actions and choices didn’t impact the rest of another person’s life.

Hell, just thinking about it had the muscles in his gut starting to knot.

“It’s not just yet. I don’t know if I’m going to want it ever. Which makes me a bum deal for a woman with ‘someday’ in mind.” His fingers tightened around the wheel. “Nichole’s been engaged twice. She’s a woman with a white picket fence dream just waiting to be realized.”

Maeve sat back in her seat, arms crossed in a contemplative pose. “I don’t know, Garrett. Yeah, she’s going to want to get married eventually. But I think for now Nikki just needs to learn how to have a little fun again. And from what I hear … you’re a pretty fun guy.”

He let out a humorless laugh, not feeling like much fun at all. “But not the guy for Nichole.”

They’d decided already. They weren’t going to pursue it. And the problem wasn’t just an off alignment of goals … it was also the little lady sitting in the seat behind him. It was the strings.

Maeve’s lips pursed as she stared him down.

“And you’re cool with that?”

“Yep.” No. But he’d get there.

“Just as well. There are a lot of fun guys out there. And her dance card is filling up anyway.”

Sure … right … wait—”What?”

Only Maeve seemed to have lost interest in him and turned to Gloria.

“So, yesterday two guys from her office asked her out. Within an hour of each other …”

Of course they had. Because she was gorgeous. And she’d probably had that smile going—the one that stuck with a guy for days after he’d seen it. The kind of smile that made a guy want to get to the bottom of what exactly put it there and make sure—

“And you know Nikki—she’s always with the flat-out forget it, but in that really smooth way she’s got. Probably because she doesn’t even realize it’s going on most of the time. But this time—”

A horn blared and Garrett jerked the wheel. Hell.

“Geez, Garrett. Take it easy. Precious cargo back here.”

“Sorry, girls.” He needed to get his head together. But, damn, Maeve needed to knock off the dish … or get to the point a hell of a lot faster.

Only now his great-aunt Gloria was tapping at the window. “Oh, would you look at this house?”

Maeve nodded her approval. “I love the landscaping.”

Garrett did a mental ten count, willing his heart rate to slow, his blood to cool. There was no way Maeve was going to leave them hanging, was there? And even if she’d seriously lost her train of thought how was it his aunt wasn’t demanding resolution?

“My roses never bloom like that. I’ve added eggshells, coffee grounds.”

“Maybe it’s got to do with the sun or how much water they get.”

“Nichole,” Garrett barked out, fast on his way to losing his cool. “What did she do?”

Silence from the back of the car. He checked the mirror and found both Maeve and Gloria staring at him. One looking quietly amused, the other looking … satisfied.

“What did she do when, Garrett?”

Molars grinding down, he shot a look at his baby sister he hadn’t been forced to use since she was sixteen. A look that seemed to have lost its mojo, based on the way she crossed her arms and jutted her chin at him.

“You mean with all the guys asking her out?”

Now it was all the guys? The steering wheel creaked within his grasp and he forced his grip looser. “Yes.”

Maeve checked her nails. “She hadn’t decided when I talked to her. But she did say a date might be just the distraction she needed.”

The car slammed to a stop and he stared out the windshield at his sister’s driveway. The front door opened and relatives streamed out to greet them, but Garrett just cranked around in his seat. “A distraction?”

Maeve blanched, leaning back in her seat as Gloria shuffled out of the car.

“I’m sure she didn’t mean it … however it is you’re taking it.”

Except Garrett was damn sure she did. Which meant she was still as hung up as he was.

And she was about to look to another guy to distract her.

“Out of the car, Maeve.”

CHAPTER NINE

KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK. Knock, knock.

Nichole swallowed hard, her heart beating like the fist at her door.

Garrett.

Maeve’s single cryptic text had been the only warning. No explanation of what he wanted. No response when she’d texted back. And now, after two weeks of avoiding him, of lying awake at night thinking about the hard crush of his mouth and the low rumble of his voice, of telling herself just a few more days and she’d get past this physio-emotional chaos she’d never expected herself to be a part of, he was here.

She didn’t have to answer. She could walk back to her room. Turn out the lights and lie in bed until the sun came up the next day. It didn’t matter that Garrett had seen the light in her windows and knew she was home. It wasn’t as though he wouldn’t understand what she was doing. He might not even blame her.

So why wasn’t she turning around and walking back down the hall? Why wasn’t she flipping off the lights and climbing into her bed alone?

Because it would be rude? Because he’d spent the last forty minutes driving back from a family party he hadn’t even made it inside for to see her? Because maybe they needed to talk around an issue they’d already beaten to death?

No.

The answer lay in the nervous flutter deep in her belly. In the almost painful thump of her heart. In the eager ache that had permeated her body as a whole.

She wanted him.

Like she couldn’t remember wanting anything before.

Fingers trembling, she reached for the door. Felt the pull of him like a loose charge in the air even as she grounded herself against the knob. And then the door was swinging open and there was Garrett with those deep blue whirlpool eyes coming up to meet hers as his lips slanted into a grin.

This was such a mistake.

One solid arm was braced against the frame above her head as he reached for the back of her neck and leaned in, stopping only a breath away. “I hear you need a distraction.”

Ah-ha.

Now she understood. Maeve had repeated something only Garrett could fully understand. And he hadn’t liked what he’d heard.

Heat rushed her cheeks and, wetting her lips, she tried to think of something to say. Only the rough growl of approval as his eyes followed the movement blanked her mind of anything beyond how glad she was to see him … and how wrong that was.

She looked up into his eyes. “I keep thinking about you.”

A nod. She could feel his breath swirling over the side of her face. “Same here.”

“I thought—” She swallowed, tried not to lean into all the heat of a body too close to ignore. “Giving someone else a chance might help.”

The fingers at the back of her neck stroked, soft and gentle. “So you’ve got a date?”

And yet there was no mistaking the firm hold for anything but the possessive claim it was.

“No. I backed out.” It wouldn’t be fair to go out with one man solely in the hopes of his distracting her from another. Especially when the likelihood of it working was so slim.

“Good.”

God, those eyes. The feel of him so close. Her body hummed in response to his proximity. What were they going to do about this?

“So I’ve got an idea.”

Nichole nodded. She was starting to get an idea as well. One night. The night they never should have left unfinished all those weeks ago. Finally out of their systems. And then they’d never get within fifty feet of each other again. It wouldn’t interfere with her relationship with Maeve. It wouldn’t threaten anything.

“I like it,” she murmured, pressing her palms into the broad chest too temptingly close to ignore.

Garrett let out a gruff laugh, then tipped her head back to bring her attention up to his eyes. “I’m glad. But how about you hear it first, then agree?”

Was she really going to do this?

A look into those eyes burning with a need that matched her own—yes. Definitely.

One night. It was all she needed.

“Tell me.” Her palms skimmed downward, riding the dips and valleys of his abdomen.

“We give Maeve’s plan a go.”

That caught her attention. Chin pulling back, she shook off the haze of need and focused on the man before her. “What?”

“You say you don’t know how to do casual. And I don’t know how to do anything else. So we meet in the middle. Find some safe place that feels good. That’s about having some fun instead of forever. I’m thinking, for a while, we could be friends and lovers. We’d trust each other not to let it go too far and just … learn to date.”

For a while. Not one night.

She let out a heavy breath.

“Garrett, I don’t think you’re the right guy to practice dating with. You were right about the strings. Those complications matter.”

“I’m the perfect guy. And the only string I see is the one Maeve keeps dangling in front of me—the one with you on the end. She’s not going to flip when this is over. She’s a big girl. And she’s your best friend, so give her some credit.”

Nichole’s mouth dropped open in shock. Garrett was telling her to give Maeve some credit?

“You’ve got to be kidding?”

Garrett shook his head, brought his thumb around to stroke across her bottom lip.

Oh, God. Such slight contact … but with an earth-shattering impact.

“Not even close. And, to underscore my point, I’m going to give you your first lesson in keeping it casual.” Those deep blue pools were pulling her deeper. The gravel-rough voice was like a siren song, luring her to depths she shouldn’t go. “Don’t make things more complicated than they need to be. Neither one of us wants this to get too serious. So it won’t. Simple.”

“Easy for The Panty Whisperer to say.” His thumb was still at her lip, offering that tantalizing sensation with every word.

“Easy for anyone on the same page to say.” He ducked down so his eyes were level with hers. “And you’re the perfect woman for me because I need more, Nichole. More than the kind of meaningless that’s been on tap for longer than I want to remember. But my more has a pretty hard limit when it comes to the future. And you might be the only woman I trust not to try and change that. Don’t you see? Right now, at this place in our lives, we’re a perfect fit.”

She wanted to believe him. Wanted it to be that easy. But sometimes things didn’t go the way people planned. Sometimes the best intentions led to the worst kinds of hurt. And she was afraid.

He leaned closer then, so his words slid around her ear in warm rush. “Trust me, Nichole.”

Trust. He was asking her to trust him. To trust Maeve. To trust herself.

Could she do it?

If she ever wanted a full life she had to learn how.

And this man she wanted so desperately understood so much about her.

Knuckles coasting down the length of her neck, Garrett murmured, “Trust me to take care of you.”

Her breath caught as he pulled back to look down at her, the dark promise in his eyes enough to make her belly twist in on itself.

Her lips parted on what might have a warning to herself, or maybe just his name because she loved the feel of it on her tongue—but he was already there. Closing those last scant inches between them and catching her mouth with his kiss.

She was lost. No more denials. No more waiting.

Arms snaked around her back, he pulled her close, taking her weight as he took her self-control. He carried her inside and kicked the door closed behind them.

Feet dangling above the floor, she reveled in the strength of his embrace, the power of his need. The ever-tightening hold that roared they’d waited too long already and threatened nothing short of everything would be enough.

Her arms laced around his neck, pulling him closer, because after telling herself no for so long this was finally yes.

He walked them down the hall toward her room, deepening the kiss as they went. Taking the access she offered and thrusting inside. Retreating and then sliding past her lips again, slow and steady. Telling her what he wanted to do to her without words. Filling her mouth with the rough stroke of his tongue, the taste of him. Decadent and delicious.

Yes!

He thrust again and she closed around him, sucking softly in an urgent, needy plea. Begging him for more. For all.

He pressed into her hips, so the steely thick ridge of his erection nudged firm against her belly. It was a hint. A taunt. A tease that left her whimpering as she tried to squirm closer. Take what she needed.

And then her back was against the wall and his hands were sliding across her bottom, strong fingers splaying wide as they pushed down the backs of her thighs past the hem of her sundress. Each point of contact became a bruising demand as they guided her legs around him, positioning her so his hot length met her center with a rolling pressure just exactly right.

“Garrett—oh, God, like that,” she gasped, her words taking on an insistent quality, warning of a total loss of control.

Garrett did it again and again until desire lanced her core.

Her legs tightened with her fists in his hair, and the low growl vibrating between them was his. “I need to get inside you, baby.”

His hands released their hold on her hips, letting her legs slip down the heavy slabs of his thighs until her feet touched the floor.

“Yes, please.” Her eyes were trailing up and down his body, her mind plotting the fastest way to rid him of his clothes, working justifications on which ones weren’t critical in the removal process. Because really all she needed was him sitting on that bed, his fly open and boxers pushed down. Oh, God.

A shudder ripped through her at the mental image alone.

Glancing over her shoulder, she saw they were mere feet from her room. Her bed. From her half-clothed, full-penetration, hard-and-fast-and-finally fantasy.

Dragging her eyes back to his, she whispered, “I can’t wait anymore.”

She pulled at Garrett’s belt with greedy, shaking hands and, unbuckling it, used the tongue to lead him the rest of the way.

At her bed, she caught the sides of her skirt in each hand and pulled the dress over her head, tossing it to the floor.

Garrett froze, his own shirt caught over one shoulder as he stared down at her, naked but for white cotton bikini panties.

Her thumbs pushed into the delicate waistband, pushing them down.