Kitabı oku: «Restless», sayfa 2

3

GAUGE HAD LEARNED A long time ago that the touch of a woman could be as intoxicating as any liquor. And while Lizzie Gilbred might emerge more Chivas Gold to his Jack, she was an intoxicant all the same as she slid farther back onto the bed, stretching out like a supple black cat with blond hair.

“You don’t talk much, do you?” she asked quietly.

His answer was a shake of his head.

“I am. A talker, I mean.”

Gauge reached down and took off his right boot, then followed with his left.

He watched her watch him.

“I guess it goes along with the territory. You know, my being a trial attorney. When you come up against opposing counsel, you had better be a pretty good debater.”

Gauge took off his T-shirt. He wondered how much debating she’d done before she’d crossed the snowcovered driveway from her large house to his small apartment. Had she considered all the angles? Taken in the possible consequences?

For reasons he couldn’t quite name, he had the feeling that she hadn’t. Something, some event, had pushed her to come to his place on the spur of the moment. And his silent disrobing across the room from her was his way of giving her a chance to change her mind.

He lowered his hands toward the fly of his jeans and paused. Instead of scooting toward the end of the bed in order to make her exit, sexy Lizzie Gilbred ran her pink tongue along her lips, her gaze riveted to his actions.

Let it not be said that he hadn’t given her ample opportunity to hightail it out of there. Realize that what she was about to do was something she couldn’t take back or erase.

He crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed.

“You have a great physique,” she said quietly, reaching out to run her fingertips down his right arm. “Must be the guitar playing.”

Gauge shifted to face her, taking her hands and bringing her to a sitting position. She appeared ready for him to kiss her. Instead he reached for the hem of her sweater and slowly brought it up, purposely avoiding meeting her lips. This wasn’t about intimacy—it was about sex. Pure and simple. An escape as stimulating as spirits. He tugged the soft material over her head, tousling her golden hair and revealing that she was every bit as shapely as he’d suspected. A bloodred satin bra did what his palms were suddenly itching to do, namely curve under the fleshy orbs of her breasts.

He skimmed his fingers over the glossy material and she inhaled deeply.

Gauge looked into her eyes to find a mixture of fascination and curiosity on her beautiful face.

Her tongue made a repeat performance. “Don’t you think we should turn out the lights?”

Two lamps filled the room with dim light, and he didn’t want to switch off either one of them.

He pretended not to hear her as he slid both of his hands over the satin cups until his hands supported her as much as her bra. He rubbed his callused thumbs over the firm tips, scratching the delicate material.

He’d never understood a woman’s desire for shiny lingerie. To him, there was nothing sexier than a naked woman. Her soft skin, fleshy curves, shadowy crevices. Nothing man-made could ever rival the sight of a woman’s trembling stomach, or the cleft between her legs.

He worked his thumbs inside the bra cups until her taut nipples popped out of the top.

Lizzie’s breathing quickened, but she didn’t move, apparently content to let him take command.

Gauge took one of the nipples into his mouth, reveling in the feel of the stiff, puckered skin against his tongue. She smelled like a mixture of cucumbers and musk. She tasted like heaven. He squeezed the soft flesh with his fingers and took in more of her, sucking deeply. She gasped and grasped his wrist, as if unsure whether to pull him away or urge him closer.

Gauge took the decision away from her by removing his mouth and reaching behind her to undo the clasp of her bra. The flimsy material instantly gapped forward and he helped her the rest of the way out of it, ignoring her attempts to kiss him.

He reached for the catch to her slacks even as she fumbled with his zipper. Gauge stretched out next to her to make the transition easier. He felt her mouth on his shoulder and neck, hot, hungry, even as he clenched his back teeth and sought the springy curls between her legs with his fingers…only to find…She was completely bare, her flesh as smooth as the satin of her bra.

He groaned in the back of his throat, his erection immediately standing up at attention at the sight of her womanhood looking like a ripe fruit just waiting to be tasted.

And taste it he did…

LIZZIE’S BACK CAME UP off the mattress at the feel of Gauge’s hot mouth between her legs.

Oh, dear…

She couldn’t remember the last time someone had gone down on her. Keen awareness exploded through her, robbing her breath, making her aware of every swirl of his tongue, every beat of her heart.

Oh, yes. This definitely had been a good idea.

She forced her eyes open and tucked her chin into her chest so she could watch Gauge’s dark head as he parted her legs, baring her fully to his gaze. He followed the line of her fissure with his thumbs then opened her fleshy lips, his tongue lapping at her most intimate of intimates.

She was suddenly incapable of swallowing, incapable of thought. She twisted her fists into the downy blanket under her, reaching for something, anything that would relieve the pressure building between her legs…in her veins…filling her stomach. It seemed as if she’d flown too close to the sun in one long catapult, needing to pull away, yet wanting to stay to enjoy the spectacular view.

He slid his index finger inside her throbbing depths and she cried out, coming instantly, the pressure escaping in a series of muscle-deep spasms.

She was just beginning to regain her breath when she realized he was still licking her, apparently lapping her clean.

Lizzie found it difficult to swallow, a convert to lights-on sex. She’d been able to watch every expression on his face, every movement of his tongue. She’d been laid out against the mattress, open to his attentions, vulnerable at her weakest moment.

And she’d experienced one of the best orgasms she’d had in recent memory.

Gauge lifted himself up on his arms, his gaze intense as it flicked over her face. He slid forward until his hips lay between her legs and his chest rasped against the tips of her breasts. Lizzie’s hands immediately went to his face, needing to draw him near so she could kiss him.

He buried his face in her neck instead, leaving her little choice but to focus her attention on his shoulder.

He was hard where a man was meant to be hard, no extra ounce of flesh on him anywhere. There was a tattoo on his right arm, but she couldn’t make it out as she felt him move between her thighs.

Her throat tightened when she felt him naked and hard against her slick portal.

“Condom?” she choked.

He didn’t say anything for a long moment, merely ran his mouth against the column of her neck, creating a wet trail down to her breast and back.

What if he refused to wear one? Sure, she was on the pill, mostly to help regulate her periods, but she’d even made Jerry wear a condom.

“In the drawer to your right,” he said quietly.

Relieved, she reached for and found a foil-wrapped packet, freeing the lubricated latex inside and helping to sheath him. When he might have pulled away to enter her, she wrapped her fingers around his thick width instead and measured his length. Her thumbnail barely reached her index fingernail around him, and she guessed that if he got hard in his jeans and his member was positioned upward, you might see the tip there at the waist. Because she’d been right in her earlier supposition that he didn’t wear briefs or boxers. Nice…

He held himself above her, watching her face, his own cast in shadow from his tousled dark hair. His mouth was incredible, his lips generous, almost feminine. She released his erection and licked her lips in preparation for his kiss.

He entered her in one slow stroke instead.

She’d thought his mouth had worked miracles, but that had left her woefully unprepared for the feel of him inside her.

She was almost too tight for him, too small. But as he waited for her slick muscles to adjust to his size, a hungry restlessness built within her. She bent her knees for better traction and tilted her hips upward, taking even more of him in.

She blindly sought his mouth and connected with his jaw instead, kissing him repeatedly as he slowly withdrew and then slid inside her again, filling her almost to overflowing.

“Kiss me!” she whispered, grasping his arms to steady herself for his quickened stroke.

He did. He kissed her cheek nearer her ear. Then he whispered back, “This is fucking, Lizzie. Not lovemaking. It’s best that neither of us gets confused.”

Then he quickened the pace of his strokes more, giving her little time to protest or to even consider protesting as he shoved her closer and closer to her next climax…

THE FOLLOWING MORNING, Gauge woke to the sound of a ringing phone. Probably one of the neighbors’, he thought, rolling onto his back and pulling the pillow over his head. Then he realized that he didn’t have any neighbors. At least not ones separated from him by a wall.

He dragged the pillow off his face and stared at the ceiling, guessing it to be around nine or ten. The scent of musk teased his nose and he put the pillow back to his face, glancing at the other side of the bed. Gone.

It was just as well that Lizzie Gilbred had gotten up and left his place at some point during the night.

He reached for the telephone receiver next to the bed, but it stopped mid-ring.

Good.

He reached down and scratched his balls then slid his fingers down his semierect shaft. He’d give Lizzie a lot of credit. Some women might have taken offense at his refusal of intimacy. Not her. If anything, she’d seemed further turned-on by the idea that she was there for sex and sex only. No strings that stretched beyond the perimeter of this bed.

She’d been insatiable. Going from screaming orgasm one moment to frenzied, sex-starved nympho the next. It had been a good long while since he’d enjoyed more than just a ten-minute sack session with a woman.

And months since he’d awakened not thirsting for a swallow from the bottle on the kitchen table across the room.

He tossed off the blankets and rose from the bed, heading for the bathroom and the shower, where he stood for long minutes under the hot spray. He’d promised the band that he’d stop by the pub this morning to practice before they opened for lunch. He shouldn’t have a problem making it, seeing as he really didn’t have anything else on his agenda.

Hell, he didn’t know what he was still doing in Fantasy, Michigan. If he’d known what was good for him, he’d have left right after Nina and Kevin’s wedding in August. Would never have unpacked his bag or his guitar and would have hightailed it back out after the reception.

But he hadn’t.

For some reason he had yet to fully define, he’d stayed on, renting the garage apartment from sexy Lizzie Gilbred, sitting in with area bands when they needed him and waiting until either wanderlust or a long-term commitment to a single band saw him hitting the road again.

Then he’d blinked and it was almost Christmas.

He’d hoped to be well out of the northern city before winter hit. While he’d lived through the past three when he’d gone into partnership with Nina and Kevin, he’d been vaguely looking forward to heading someplace south this season, as he had done in the years before the three had become friends.

He pushed his face into the punishing hot spray and ran his hands over the stubble covering his jaw.

Friends. Now there was a word for you.

The ringing started again.

Gauge shut off the water and stood dripping, listening to it. When it appeared the caller wasn’t about to give up, he grabbed a towel, rubbing it against his hair as he walked into the other room and picked up the extension.

“Gauge?”

His every muscle tightened as he recognized the female voice on the other end. Nina.…

4

LIZZIE CLOSED her notepad and stood up from the conference table. The afternoon strategy meeting to discuss a case going to court the following week was drawing to a close.

“I want to see that deposition, Mark,” she said to a junior associate.

“It’ll be on your desk by tomorrow morning.”

“I’d prefer a half hour.” She turned toward another associate. “Mary Pat, how’s the witness prep going?”

The pretty brunette smiled. “As well as can be expected. I’ve got another meeting with the key to go over testimony on Friday. Hopefully this time he won’t crack under cross.”

Lizzie nodded. “If anyone can handle it, you can.”

The room began emptying out as everyone said good-night and hurried off before she could assign them another task or ask another question.

Lizzie was the last one out. Which was usually the case. Her boss, John Stivers, had always said she was one of the hardest workers he’d ever seen. And, of course, the instant he’d said it, she’d determined to work even harder.

It was after six and she understood that many of her associates had families they wanted to get home to. The three senior partners had called it a day an hour or so ago, as had the secretarial pool and most of the paralegals, but she’d requested the late meeting because it was the only time they could fit it in.

She entered her office and put her files on her desktop. Her own paralegal was still on the clock and peeked her head through the door leading to the lobby area.

“Do you need me for anything else?” Amanda asked.

Lizzie glanced at her watch, then through the window. It was dark already. The white landscape looked grim from her third-floor office in the new building built to accommodate the expanding practice.

At least five things sprang to mind, but instead she waved her hand. “Go on home, Amanda. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Thanks. Good night.”

“Good night.”

Lizzie sank down into her coffee-colored leather desk chair and sat for long moments, watching as the offices emptied out.

The partners had conducted a survey that estimated there was a more than thirty percent turnover of new attorneys at high-powered law firms nationwide, while their own partnership was doing slightly better, mostly because of the incentive program she’d helped them devise the year before. While Lizzie and a handful of other associates hungry to climb the partnership ladder put in over a hundred hours a week, most of the others averaged between sixty and eighty. Since much of their time as trial attorneys was spent at the courthouse, the only opportunity to do follow-up and file and prep work was after the regular hours of nine-to-five.

By rights, she should be feeling tired. Instead, she found she was still energized. She smiled as she compiled her notes and put a couple of files in her out-box. Over the past week she’d had to mainline caffeine to keep going. Today…

Her eyes widened. Today, she’d barely thought about Jerry and his leaving her high and dry.

Instead, she found her thoughts trailing to one very hot, very sexy Patrick Gauge.

She squeezed her thighs together, feeling tingly all over again.

Her cell phone chirped. She tilted it on her desk so she could read the display and then answered.

“I need a drink. Meet me at Ciao?” Tabitha asked.

Lizzie smiled. She could always count on her old friend to liven things up. If not for Tabitha this past week, things would have been harder than they had been. She and Lizzie had been close ever since attending University of Toledo Law School together, and they’d seen each other through some difficult times.

Despite their shared interest in the legal system, they’d taken different paths. While Lizzie had chosen trial law, Tabby had gone the bankruptcy route, helping strapped people regain some kind of control over their lives.

Lizzie asked now, “Why do you need a drink?”

“You’re right. I probably don’t need a drink. But I want one.” Tabitha sighed. “A long day, that’s all.”

“Tell me about it,” Lizzie agreed, although she hadn’t felt the day had been particularly grueling.

“You’re sounding better. Oh, no. Don’t tell me. He called.”

“Who?” she asked, before thinking. She cringed. Tabby knew her much too well not to read the road signs.

“Hmm. Okay. I suppose the question should be, ‘who is he’?”

“Who?” Lizzie asked again.

“Ah, yes. She’s taking my advice that the best way to forget about the last guy is to find the next.” Tabitha laughed, a throaty sound that never failed to make Lizzie smile. “So you’re feeling better then.”

“I’m feeling better.”

“Good. You’ve been such a train wreck this past week, I was afraid I might have to drag you to an AA meeting or two. Either that, or you might have to drag me.”

“Do you mind if I pass for tonight?”

“Mind? Hell, my credit card will thank you. Unlike you, I don’t have access to a bottomless expense account.”

“Whatever.”

“Call me tomorrow?”

“If you don’t call me first.”

Lizzie signed off after a few more moments and then sat back in her chair, both glad Tabby hadn’t asked again about the man who had taken her mind off Jerry and disappointed. Given the one-night nature of her liaison with Gauge, a part of her wanted to keep it private. Still, it had been so good, it was nearly impossible not to share.

While she’d never considered herself a good girl, she’d never really been a bad one, either. One-night stands were better left to those who had the time to waste. She’d been so focused first on school, then at the firm, that it was all she could do to stop by her parents’ a couple of times a week before dropping into bed at night, exhausted, only to start the cycle over again the next day.

She shifted her watch around on her wrist and looked at the pearly face, even though she knew what time it was. What she was really doing was wondering what Gauge was up to.

She was pretty sure the band played only on the weekends…which meant he should be home.

A warm pool of longing filled her stomach.

God, how long had it been since she’d experienced this heightened awareness? It was too long ago to remember her first time with Jerry. Had she felt the same way? She figured she must have, because she’d fallen in love with him all those years ago. Enough that she hadn’t hesitated to take him back six months ago, seeing his return as the fulfillment of what they’d begun all those years ago but never finished.

Or perhaps it had been her own competitive spirit that had made her open that door to him again. After all, stealing him away from his wife was a kind of vindication of their earlier relationship.

She opened her desk drawer and took out her purse. So much for not thinking about Jerry.

But for the first time in days she felt she had a choice in the matter.

THE TENSION at the Weber dining-room table was palpable, with Nina either ignorant of the unspoken words exchanged between the two men…or overly aware of them. Gauge couldn’t decide which.

He knew he shouldn’t have come. But over the past few months he’d turned down her every invitation to dinner at their place, preferring to meet them in public and avoid what he knew was a need for a showdown of sorts that had been brewing since last February. He’d known he’d have to accept at some point, and now was as good a time as any.

If only Kevin wasn’t slanting him looks that said he’d like nothing better than to pummel him to a pulp right there and then.

When Gauge had returned for Nina and Kevin’s wedding in August, his long absence had allowed for a lowering of defenses and he’d gladly taken the spot beside Kevin as his best man. But later that day at the reception, Gauge had pushed his luck when he’d asked for a dance with the bride…and found himself right back at square one with his one-time best friend.

Gauge focused on his surroundings now. He was familiar with the house. Kevin had inherited it from his late parents, and Gauge had been there no fewer than a couple of dozen times. Still, it had undergone such intensive renovations he barely recognized it.

“Place looks good,” he said, noticing that the wall between the kitchen and dining room had been knocked out, giving an airier feel. “Amazing what a woman’s touch will do.”

He purposely looked at Kevin, hoping to lighten the atmosphere. But the problem was that Nina had touched them both, in more ways than one.

Nina cleared her throat as she spooned gravy over the thin slices of brisket on his plate. “Actually, Kevin is the one who deserves complete credit.”

Gauge narrowed his gaze on her as the couple shared a glance.

“I tore the place up after…” Kevin began, then looked at Gauge pointedly.

Gauge picked up his fork. It seemed everything he said led back to that one night.

“I didn’t move in until after we married,” Nina said, taking the seat across from him and sliding her hand over Kevin’s. He sat at the head of the table between them. “Kevin wanted me to, but I preferred to wait until we got married.”

Gauge glanced into the living room, where the gift he’d bought them hung on the wall between the front windows and the door. An authentic dream catcher made by the Ojibwa Indians. It had seemed like a good idea at the time. It would be great if it could really filter out all the bad and leave only the good.

He forked the mashed potatoes and put a bite into his mouth. He’d been stupid to think he could just come back. That the three of them could take up where they’d left off before that fateful night when Nina had agreed to allow him and Kevin to fix her up with a blind date. More specifically they’d blindfolded her, and she hadn’t known which of the two she’d slept with.

The food tasted like sawdust in his mouth. He reached for his water glass to help wash it down.

“So, do you know when you might come back to work at BMC?” Nina asked.

Kevin’s fork screeched against his plate and Gauge looked at him. He got the distinct impression that his old friend would like nothing better than for Gauge to just walk out of town and never come back.

Of course, that’s not how he’d felt when Gauge had returned at Nina’s request for their August wedding. Kevin had hugged him like a long-lost brother. And in that one moment, he’d been glad he’d come back. Been reminded of the deep bond of friendship he’d shared with the other man.

Unfortunately, that’s not the only thing they’d shared.

He looked over at Nina.

God, but she was as beautiful as ever. Like a brilliant desert rose whose fragrance he could smell across the table. Her blond hair had grown out a bit from the way she’d once worn it, but it still hung in a shiny curtain around her pretty face. She had on a clingy red, long-sleeved shirt and black pants that hugged her curves in all the right places. It looked like she’d put on a few pounds, and they suited her. Her breasts were a little larger, her bottom high and shapely.

He picked up his knife and started to cut the meat. Only it refused to be cut.

All three of them appeared to be doing the same thing at once. And no one was having any luck.

“Sorry…the beef seems a little on the tough side,” Nina murmured.

He watched as Kevin folded a piece onto his fork. “I like big bites anyway.”

Gauge grinned, watching him put the food into his mouth and chew. And chew.

He followed suit, folding the slice of meat with the help of his knife and then putting it into his mouth.

It tasted like the belt that held up his jeans. Or what he imagined that must taste like.

The three of them chewed until finally Nina spit the contents of her mouth into her napkin, her cheeks turning an attractive shade of red.

“Mmm,” Kevin said. “It’s…delicious, honey.”

Gauge had to give him credit for swallowing what must have felt like an entire boot in one gulp. Since Kevin had already drained his glass of water, Gauge pushed his own mostly filled glass his way. His friend gave him a look of gratitude as he downed nearly the entire contents.

A sound came from Nina’s direction. Gauge and Kevin looked to see her eyes bright with tears. Gauge discreetly spit his own bite into his napkin and followed Kevin’s lead.

“It’s the best home-cooked meal I’ve had in a long time.”

Only it hadn’t been tears of exasperation that sparkled in her bright blue eyes; rather they were inspired by laughter.

Nina grinned. “That’s because you probably haven’t had a home-cooked meal in so long you’ve forgotten what it tastes like.”

Kevin coughed into his napkin. “Actually, that depends on what home you’re talking about. Because in this house, this is what a home-cooked meal tastes like.”

Laughter burst from the table and created a happy cloud around the three of them that had been sorely missing.

Gauge was glad for the change.

Nina stopped laughing first. “God, I’m sorry. I followed the recipe to a T. I don’t have a clue what happened.”

She picked up Kevin’s plate and forked the meat back into the serving dish.

“Don’t touch my mashed potatoes,” he said. “I love your mashed potatoes.”

Gauge felt suddenly like an outsider. Which was something he was getting used to when in the presence of his two friends. He could accept them being a married couple. But he still hadn’t figured out how to deal with it.

Especially since he couldn’t seem to stop himself from wanting what Kevin had. Namely, Nina.

“I should stick to café fare,” she said. “Soups and sandwiches I can handle.”

“Don’t forget baking,” Kevin reminded.

“Yeah. So long as you don’t mind living on bear claws, I suppose I’m your dream mate.” She rolled her eyes, but her warm smile belied her true feelings as she handed him back his plate. “I’m going to go order pizza. You two clear the table.”

An hour and a half later, Gauge picked up the empty pizza boxes while Kevin went to change the CD in the player in the living room. He took the boxes into the kitchen, where Nina was opening another bottle of wine.

“Thanks,” she said as he passed behind her on the way to the garbage bin.

“You want some help with that?”

She let out a long sigh. “I swear, I’ve never been any good at popping corks.”

Before he could weigh the wisdom of the move, he curved both of his arms around her, pressing his front against her soft, hot bottom. “It’s simple. You just have to remember to keep the corkscrew in perfect line with the bottle.”

Damn, but she smelled good. Like warm, summer sunshine. A field full of wildflowers. Like rain against a hot sidewalk.

With his help, she popped the cork.

“Oh!” she said, and he heard her swallow.

It satisfied him on a level he was loath to admit that his close proximity still affected her.

Suddenly she went stiff against him. Gauge looked up to find Kevin standing in the kitchen doorway, his fists looking like meat mallets on either side of his legs.

“Get the hell away from my wife.”