Читать книгу Christmas In His Bed - Sasha Summers - Страница 11
ОглавлениеTATUM STARED AT the boxes of decorations she’d pulled from the attic. They’d been buried, covered in junk and a layer of dust. But now the wreath hung over the fireplace, its colored glass balls aglow from the white lights inside. The Christmas village was arranged on the side table and she’d unpacked the train that would go around the Christmas tree. These were the things her father had delighted in... Seeing them made her think of him and happier times.
Now all she needed was a tree.
The repairman had arrived first thing. Nothing like working heat and electric, Christmas decorations, carols and a solid night’s sleep to help dispel some of her moodiness.
Or the mind-blowing orgasm courtesy of Spencer. But last night had been wrong. A huge mistake. He’d caught her when she was vulnerable and needy... And it had been the single most erotic moment of her life.
Not that it would ever—ever—happen again. She’d been arguing with herself all morning. What had she been thinking? Why had things gotten so carried away?
And then she’d remember the feel of him, the things he’d done to her, and all her arguments faded away.
She’d been gasping, still clinging to him, when his cell phone chirped. His posture had changed instantly, his forehead creasing. “Shit,” he’d muttered.
“Something wrong?” she’d asked, wishing she was still in touch with her inner teenager enough to ask him to stay and give her another orgasm—or two.
“Work,” he’d groaned, nuzzling her breast again.
Her fingers had slipped through his tangled black hair. “If you ignore it, will they go away?” Please tell me they’ll go away.
He’d chuckled, then groaned again, his breath brushing her nipples and his hand stroking along her belly. “I wish. They call, I go. Dammit.”
She tugged the plaid throw over her nakedness, watching him dress with a mixture of appreciation and disappointment. In that moment, disappointment won. She hadn’t wanted him to go. From the bulge in his pants, she knew he didn’t want to go. And when he’d looked at her, there was no denying how badly he wanted to stay. He’d kissed her, once, so hard and deep she moaned. Which made him mutter “Dammit” again before stomping out.
She’d lain on her nest of pillows hoping he’d reappear. But he hadn’t come back and she’d eventually crawled into her bed, buried in quilts and oh so lonely.
She’d woken up with the echo of his fingers on her skin. She could still feel him, taste him... All morning she’d thought of things she wished she’d done. It wasn’t the regret she was expecting, but it was still regret. He’d been her own personal playground and she’d only been allowed on one ride—a ride that had been cut short.
After living in a state of denial, her body was ready to give in, let go and thoroughly enjoy what Spencer was willing to offer her. Too bad she’d said once.
Of course, they hadn’t actually slept together so...
No. God no. What was she thinking?
“Tatum?” She heard the singsong voice through her front door. “Are you decent? It’s Mrs. Ryan, dear, from across the street.”
She blushed. Spencer’s mother. “Coming,” she called out, smoothing her red tunic into place and running a quick hand over her hair and the long beaded necklace she wore. Appearance was important. First her mother, then Brent had insisted she always look her best. And now that Spencer’s mother was on the front porch, she was glad of it.
She pulled open the door to find Mrs. Ryan and Lucy Ryan, Spencer’s cousin. Lucy was the one person she’d kept in contact with from Greyson—the one person Tatum had always counted a true friend. But after Lucy had come to visit her and Brent, their emails and phone calls grew further apart. Brent hadn’t liked Lucy and made it clear he didn’t approve of their friendship. And, sadly, Tatum hadn’t fought to preserve or defend their friendship.
“Tatum!” Lucy squealed, her gray eyes widening at the sight of her.
“Lucy? Oh, Lucy,” she answered, laughing when Lucy hugged her tight.
“I hadn’t heard from you in a while.” Lucy’s voice was muffled. “It’s so good to see you.”
“I’m sorry,” she murmured. “I guess I’ve sort of been in hiding.”
Lucy let go of her and Mrs. Ryan hugged her gently. “Well, you’re home now and that’s all that matters,” the older woman said.
“We brought you cookies,” Lucy said, offering her a huge basket overflowing with cookies, breads, some wine and fruit.
“Well...thank you,” Tatum said, taking the basket. “Come in, please.”
That was when she saw Spencer coming up the path. It hadn’t been her imagination. He really was the hottest thing she’d seen in real life. And watching him stroll up her path, all bad boy and muscled body... The phantom heat of his fingers inside her body had her throbbing for his touch and aching for more. Sticking to “once” was going to be hard.
Especially if one of them didn’t move out.
“Hurry up, Spencer,” Lucy called. “It’s cold.”
Spencer took the steps two at a time, striding into the living room before Tatum could react. He hugged her, casually, his scent flooding her nostrils. “Morning, Tatum,” he said tightly, his blue eyes staring into hers.
She nodded, reeling from the effect of his quick embrace.
“Well, come sit, tell us everything,” Mrs. Ryan said, patting the couch beside her. “I haven’t seen you in... Goodness, how long has it been?”
“Almost eight years?” Lucy asked, sitting on the couch beside her aunt.
Tatum nodded.
“You look just the same.” Mrs. Ryan smiled. “I always thought we’d see you in a magazine or a movie someday.”
“Oh...no.” Tatum shook her head. “Would you like something to drink—”
“No, Aunt Imogene is literally bursting to ask you questions about everything that’s happened since you left,” Lucy cut in.
Imogene Ryan’s eyes went round. “Lucy,” she chastised.
“It’s true,” Spencer added.
Tatum laughed, sitting in the rocking chair. She tried not to pay attention to Spencer as he knelt in front of the fire to add more logs. Tried not to think about how he’d stripped her down on the floor where her feet now rested... “Ask away,” Tatum answered unsteadily.
“What have you been up to?” Mrs. Ryan asked. “I know you finished out high school in California with your father, but after that? Lucy said you went to college there?”
“UCLA,” she said, shrugging. “Got my accounting degree. I get numbers.” People, not so much.
“Ugh.” Lucy winced. “No, thank you.”
“Okay, Miss PhD,” Tatum teased. “I met Brent there. We were married for three years. I was his wife, his accountant and his events planner...and we’ve been officially divorced for eight months.”
“I’m so sorry,” Mrs. Ryan said.
“I am too,” she agreed. “Wish I’d had the sense to get out sooner.” She smiled, trying to make light of the situation. But it was true. She’d worked hard to be what Brent wanted, keeping his books sound, his house tidy and his parties memorable. When he hired “more seasoned professionals” to do his books, the slight daily contact they had was gone. Things had disintegrated by their second anniversary. So why had she held on?
She felt Spencer’s gaze on her and glanced his way. He was studying her, looking for something. But what exactly? Instead of worrying about what he was thinking or feeling, she’d be wise to remember he’d been the first one to replace her with another woman.
Whatever spark remained was purely sexual. Which was fine.
“Good riddance,” Lucy chimed in. “His loss.”
“That’s sweet of you to say,” she laughed, even if it sounded a little forced.
“It’s true,” Mrs. Ryan agreed. “You’ll find the man that deserves you, don’t you fret.”
So not fretting. Worrying over her romantic future wasn’t on her top-ten-things-to-worry-over list. She didn’t know who she was or what she wanted—now wasn’t the time to fall in love. No, that was the main reason it had fallen apart with Brent: he defined too much of her. That, and he’d been screwing the most successful real-estate agent in their wealthy, gossipy group of friends.
If anything, she didn’t want a relationship right now. She needed to figure things out, needed to live a little and try new things—for herself.
Like sex. Last night had been a revelation. She wanted lots of hot sex. But she only knew one person she was attracted to. She glanced at Spencer again.
Could she get up the nerve to really consider such a thing? Roommates with benefits? And ask him if he was interested. The potential for rejection gnawed on her insides.
But last night. She drew in an unsteady breath, flooded with a tangle of want-inducing images, sensations and sounds. They were already sleeping under the same roof. Neither of them was involved. And, hell, they were both adults.
He could say no. She swallowed, tearing her gaze from him.
“What are your plans?” Lucy asked. “Whatever they are, tell me you’re staying.”
She nodded. “Come home, regroup, get a job...start again.”
“Sounds like a good plan, dear,” Mrs. Ryan said. “Oh, I know. I’ll check in with George Welch, see if he knows of any openings in his office. He has the largest accounting firm in the county.”
Tatum held up her hand. “You don’t have to—”
“No, she doesn’t. But it’s what she does,” Spencer said. “With or without your blessing, trust me.”
Tatum smiled at him, then Mrs. Ryan. “Thank you.”
“Free today?” Lucy asked. “I’d love to spend some time with you.”
“I’d love that too,” she agreed. “Up for shopping? I have no food.” She paused, looking at the huge goodie basket on the table. “Well, I do now. But I’m thinking a Christmas tree might brighten things up.”
“You do decorate?” Mrs. Ryan asked. “I’m so glad. I know your mother... Well, I’m glad.”
“I do,” she said. “And I want this Christmas to be extra special.”
“You’ve got a great yard, Tatum,” Spencer said.
“You had ideas for a theme, didn’t you?” Lucy asked.
“Spencer, you’re going to have to find a place to stay now that Tatum is back. I’m sure the last thing she wants is a roommate. Especially in your line of work. I tell you, a police officer is never off duty. Constant interruptions. Calls in the middle of the night. Never a dull moment,” Mrs. Ryan said and wrinkled her nose for emphasis.
Law enforcement. It made sense. Spencer’s father and grandfather had both been cops. Why shouldn’t Spencer? It also explained why he left for work in the middle of the night and why he’d been on assignment for so long. She’d been too lost in a lust-induced haze to find out what he did for a living—about his life now.
Spencer sighed. “I’ll figure something out.”
“I feel bad to cause problems, especially this close to the holidays,” Tatum jumped in. She did feel bad, which she didn’t like, for forcing him out of his home, even if it was her house. And if—if—she did decide to proposition Spencer, it would be a hell of a lot more convenient if he was here.
Spencer’s gaze met hers. “There’s nothing to feel bad about.”
Had his eyes always been so blue? So...unrelenting?
“I love it when people put up trees outside.” Lucy steered the conversation back toward decorating. “Ooh, or those giant light-up nutcrackers?”
“Nutcrackers?” Mrs. Ryan didn’t look pleased with the suggestion.
“My car’s too small for that,” Tatum said, eyeing the space in front of the window and remembering her father’s pleasure in big, flocked trees that made a mess but looked bright and cheery glowing with colored lights.
“I can take you,” Spencer offered. “To get a tree, I mean. Or two. One for inside, one for outside.”
“He’s got the truck,” Lucy agreed. “It can fit all three of us, right?”
She caught the arched eyebrow he turned on Lucy before he answered, “Yes.”
“Can’t you shave before you go out in public?” Mrs. Ryan sighed heavily. “You’ll have to excuse his appearance. I can’t stand it when he’s undercover, putting himself in harm’s way. Not only is it dangerous, but he looks like a...a gang member.” She waved at her son.
Tatum grinned. All she saw was a powerfully built man, a man with an amazing body and equally amazing hands. “He did surprise me last night.” She felt delightfully wicked as she added, “I was a little shell-shocked when he left.”
Spencer looked at her, blue eyes narrowing. “Oh, it was mutual, believe me.”
The look in his eyes made her tingle. She’d been more than satisfied, even if he hadn’t. But was he still interested? She hoped he was. She cleared her throat, her voice tight as she asked, “Next time, maybe we can finish our conversation?”
She saw him swallow, the flare of his nostrils, the absolutely gorgeous ridge of his jaw locking. His nod was stiff—but it was enough to have her throbbing.
“Oh, to be a fly on the wall for that conversation,” Lucy murmured.
She and Spencer looked at Lucy in unison, making Lucy grin widely.
“Well, I have to get those pies in the oven for the women’s auxiliary auction Saturday night.” Mrs. Ryan stood. “You’ll come, won’t you, Tatum?”
“I’d like that, thank you,” Tatum agreed.
“There are so many wonderful parties and events this time of year. And a wedding. A wedding you will be shaving for, Spencer?”
Spencer sighed, then nodded.
“Well, that’s something, I suppose. Have fun today. Now that you’re back, Tatum, I expect to see a lot more of you. You’ll feel at home again in no time.”
“I will, thanks,” Tatum agreed.
“Good.” Mrs. Ryan kissed her on the cheek. “Spencer, make sure you get the rest of Tatum’s lights done today, as well. The roof looks a little bare.”
Tatum might want to strip Spencer down and explore every inch of him with her hands and mouth, but she could decorate her own house. “I can probably—”
“I’ll do it,” Spencer assured her. “And we’ll have time to finish that conversation.”
So many delicious images raced through her mind that every inch of her tightened with anticipation.
“Sounds like that’s settled. You make sure the job is done right, Spencer,” Mrs. Ryan said, shooting her son a stern look.
“I’ll make sure,” he said, staring into the fireplace, his jaw tight.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, dear,” Mrs. Ryan called out, waving goodbye as she headed back across the street to her house.
“She hasn’t changed a bit,” Tatum said, smiling at Lucy and Spencer. “You’re lucky to have her.”
Lucy hugged her. “Oh, Tatum... I just realized... I’m sorry about your dad. And your mom. Well, that’s it. You’re going to be a Ryan this Christmas, no arguing. No way you’re going to spend it alone, you hear me?” She hugged her tighter. “This Christmas does need to be extra special.”
Tatum blinked back her tears. She’d lost her mother and grandparents years ago. Her father had passed last year. And now, without Brent, she had no one to celebrate with. “Thanks, Lucy. But I don’t want to invade—”
“Invade,” Spencer said. “You’ll appreciate coming home to a quiet house.” He smiled at her, his blue eyes so blue.
“Off to the tree farm?” Lucy asked. “Or would you rather go shopping?”
One look Spencer’s way told her exactly what she wanted, even if it wasn’t one of her choices. But she could wait. Anticipation was a good thing. Until then, she’d have to find a way to occupy herself. “Let’s start with a tree.”
“I’ll get the truck,” Spencer said, heading out the front door.
“What’s it been? One day?” Lucy asked as soon as they were alone. “How naked did you get last night? And don’t even try to deny it. You two—in the same room—wow. I need a fan and some ice water to cool down.”
She should argue, but she’d never been good at lying. “I admit, he’s... I’m...overwhelmed.”
Lucy laughed. “Yeah, well, you’re not alone. He almost poured orange juice in his coffee this morning.”
“He did not,” she argued, delighted to know their time together had him just as rattled as she was.
“Yep,” Lucy said. “Aunt Imogene texted him to come straight over after work, ready to tear into him for not having the house done. I don’t think he’s had a break in a few weeks but his mom gets all crazy over the holidays. All he said was he’d gotten distracted. By you. Then he stormed off for a shower. I can only imagine what that meant.” Lucy giggled but didn’t ask questions. One of the many reasons Tatum had always loved Lucy—she didn’t pry.
But Lucy’s words ramped up her excitement level. If he’d found last night distracting, she couldn’t wait for tonight.
* * *
SPENCER HELD HIS breath as Tatum bent forward to inspect the bin of wood-chip angels. She had great legs. Long, trim, encased in tall black boots. The sight of her round ass hugged by skintight leggings almost made him groan. It definitely made his pants uncomfortable. He shoved his hands in his pockets.
“These are adorable.” She straightened, holding up one of the ornaments.
“They’re to go on your outside tree,” Lucy explained. “To give it that rustic look. If that’s what you’re going for?”
Tatum turned the ornament in her hands, her expression assessing. “I have no idea what I’m going for, but I like them.”
“Start with a tree,” he offered.
She looked at him, nodding. Her gaze fell to his mouth. “Whatever you say,” she said.
She was teasing him. Driving him out of his damn mind. Later, he’d remind her she said that. All he could think about was getting her back to her place and into her bed. Instead, he barked out, “This way,” and led them outside. If he was lucky, the chill in the air would help him gain some control over his libido. The last time he’d felt this kind of desire, he’d been nineteen and she’d been his whole world. He glanced back at her, talking and laughing with Lucy. He was older, more grounded now...but somehow being around her made him forget that.
Last night had been a revelation. Leaving her had been one of the hardest things he’d ever done. Yes, he’d wanted to finish what they’d started, but it was more than that. They’d had unfinished business for a long time. Now that she was back, and they were the way they still were, he hoped he’d finally be able to apologize. And, if she’d give him the chance, explain why he’d done what he did—why he’d broken both of their hearts. His had never fully recovered.
One hour and two trees later, they were pulling in front of Tatum’s house. He was glad Lucy had volunteered to squeeze in the middle. He’d spent most of the day being aware of Tatum’s every move. He wasn’t sure how he’d react if he was being pressed up against her. His wayward body had no problem revealing just how much he wanted her. Walking through a Christmas tree farm with a hard-on wasn’t exactly socially acceptable but there hadn’t been a damn thing he could do about it. Now that they were back at her place and he knew what he had to look forward to, he was in for a long, uncomfortable evening.
Spencer followed them down the path, watching the light fall of snowflakes settle in Tatum’s hair. She was shivering. Didn’t she have a heavy coat? Guess it didn’t get too cold in Los Angeles. It took everything he had not to pull her close and warm her up.
As Tatum opened the front door, Lucy said, “If you decide you need extra hands, call my brothers Dean and Jared. They’re off tomorrow. I figure Zach is going to be pretty out-of-pocket since this is his first Christmas as a married man. And with Patton’s wedding coming up—”
“Zach is married?” Tatum asked, stunned. “Is Patton finally marrying Ellie? She was so stuck on him.” She hung her keys on a hook by the door.
“Patton and Ellie ended a while back,” Spencer said. “Cady, Patton’s fiancée, she’s a force of nature. One my brother didn’t stand a chance against.”
“It was one of those whirlwind sort of things,” Lucy agreed. “The wedding’s New Year’s Eve at a fancy mountaintop resort in Colorado that Zach manages. Romantic, right?”
Her open disbelief had Spencer grinning from ear to ear. “Really?”
Spencer nodded. “I know. Patton. Whirlwind. Marriage. Romance. Who’d have thought?” His big brother Patton was hardly the hearts and flowers type. Hell, neither was Zach. But somehow they were both content to be tied to one woman.
Tatum nodded. “He was always sort of...stuffy. And reserved. No offense.”
“None taken. He was. Hell, for the most part, he still is.” Spencer laughed.
Lucy giggled. “You should see him, Tatum. He’s adorable. Never in a million years did I think Patton could be so crazy in love. And show it. But Cady’s got him hooked.”
“It’s nauseating,” Spencer agreed. But that wasn’t really true. He was happy for his brothers—hell, he envied them. Both of them had the love of a good woman, women who completed them.
“And Zach?” Tatum asked.
“Bianca,” Lucy said. “Sweetest girl I have ever met. I think we were all worried he’d bring home some world-traveling, socialite type with his career and all. But Bianca is wonderful, grounded and kind. You’ll meet them both soon, being an honorary Ryan this year.”
He saw the look on Tatum’s face, the yearning pressing in on him.
“I remember being so jealous of you growing up,” Tatum said, hooking her arm with Lucy’s. “A big family, get-togethers, big parties.” Her gaze met his. “There was always something happening at your house, Spencer. Lots of laughter. And they’re all still here? Your whole family?” Tatum asked. “That’s—”
“Smothering?” he interjected, laughing.
Tatum laughed.
“Sometimes,” Lucy agreed. “But when you’ve got multiple trees to decorate and a mother who wanted this done yesterday, having extra hands—”
“Is pretty damn convenient,” Spencer agreed.
“So, tomorrow, we’ll get you set up before the big Holiday Lights kickoff?” Lucy asked. “I’d offer to stay and help tonight, but I promised to watch Mrs. Medrano’s grandson.”
Which was a relief. He didn’t know how he was going to get Lucy to leave, but there was no way he and Tatum wanted a chaperone tonight. He grinned, anticipation warming his blood. “I’ll get the house lights done. And the tree up.” He glanced at Tatum, noting the flush to her cheeks and hoping it meant she was just as eager. “What else do you want to tackle tonight, Tatum?”
The look she shot him made him bite back a hiss. Damn, but her face gave everything away. And damn if he didn’t like the way her mind was working.
“Shopping,” Lucy prompted.
Tatum nodded, tearing her gaze from his. “Yes. Food... I should go to the store. You’re doing so much to help me out, the least I can do is feed you. And your family tomorrow.”
“I’ll get started here,” he agreed.
Lucy checked her watch. “I have an hour. We can shop, I’ll drop you off and head to Mrs. Medrano’s?”
“Thank you,” Tatum said. “Thank you both for today. It was great to get out, to have...fun doing normal things, you know?”
He needed to remember she’d been through a hell of a lot. She seemed happy, but then, Tatum had always been the smiling, upbeat sort—even when she was hurting on the inside. He wanted her to be happy. If Lucy wasn’t standing here, he’d tell her as much. She deserved to be happy. And if chopping down a tree and putting up some lights made her happy, he’d do it.
He was also more than willing to take off all her clothes, spread her out on her bed and love her body until she was shouting his name. He knew that would make him very happy. He shoved his hands back in his pockets.
Lucy hugged her. “It’s Christmas, Tatum. You’re home. You should be happy.”
Tatum’s smile touched his heart. He’d missed her. He’d missed that smile.
“Now let’s go get you some food so you’re not starving,” Lucy said. “Need anything?” she asked him.
“Nope.”
Lucy nodded and headed out the door.
Tatum smiled up at him. “You sure you don’t want anything?”
“You know I do. But we’ve got all night,” he promised, his gaze shifting to her full red lips. “And I plan on taking advantage of that.”
She shivered. “Who said last night’s offer was still good?”
He smiled. “It’s still good.”
She opened her mouth, then closed it. Her green eyes narrowed before she whispered, “I’ll hurry.”
He nodded, taking in every nuance of her reaction. The dilated pupils, flushed cheeks, parted lips, the quickening of her breath... When their eyes locked, he wanted to lose himself in her—to bury himself deep and never come up for air.
“Tatum?” Lucy called from the front porch.
She blinked, smiled up at him and headed out the door.
He stood watching them run across the snow-covered lawn to Lucy’s waiting car.
Loving Tatum had been as easy and natural as breathing. They’d been inseparable, snatching every spare moment together. How many nights had he scaled the side of the house to meet her on her roof? How many nights had they lain there, staring up at the stars and sharing their plans? Plans he’d severed for her. To protect her. Even though driving her away had made every day for the next two years an exercise in survival. He swallowed, watching Lucy’s car pull away from the curb.
Now they had time, time he wanted with her. So he needed to get the damn lights up.
He worked quickly. First things first, he dragged her tree inside, ready to decorate. Then he worked outside, finishing the roof and dormer windows, wrapping the rest of the porch railings and hanging lights around the front windows. He stood back, looking up at his handiwork.
“You’re a Christmas light superhero.” Tatum’s voice reached him.
He glanced back to see her, holding two large bags of groceries. “Got it?”
“There’s two more,” she said. “If you can grab them, Lucy can head to Mrs. Medrano’s. I think I made her late.”
“I think Mrs. Medrano can be five minutes late for her weekly bingo game,” Spencer said, hoping to reassure her. “But I’ll get the groceries.”
“Thanks.” She hurried toward the front door.
He opened the back door of Lucy’s car.
“You okay?” Lucy asked him.
He frowned at her. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Don’t get all defensive. I’m not being your shrink—I’m being your cousin. The one that knows how devastated you were after your breakup and Tatum left, remember? So I’m worried about you, sue me.” Lucy sighed. “What is it with men acting like they have no emotions? Like it’s some weakness or something. News flash—women like men that emote. Not cry their eyeballs out, but emote.”
Spencer laughed. “Okay, I’ll try to remember that.” He paused. “I’m good. I’m glad she’s back.”
Lucy nodded. “I thought you might be.”
He scooped the two bags of groceries from the back. “Have fun tonight.”
“You too,” she said, giggling. “I’m pretty sure you’re not going to need this, but here. In case you need my sofa to sleep on.” She held out a key.
He hoped she was right, that he wouldn’t need it, but he took it anyway. “Thanks.” He slammed the car door and headed back to the house. It looked good. No one on the neighborhood decorating committee could complain now—his mother included. He pushed through the front door, gently shoving the door shut behind him. He put the groceries on the counter and placed the eggs and milk in the refrigerator before he saw Tatum’s shopping bags sitting—unpacked—on the counter.
“Tatum?” he called out.
No answer.
He headed down the hall, toward her room. “Tatum?”
He knocked, pushing her door open to find it empty. That was when he heard the telltale sound of water running. She was in the shower? He went back out into the hall and paused. The bathroom door was cracked. He’d take that as an invitation.
He opened the door, greeted by a cloud of steam, and pushed it closed behind him. Her red tunic lay on the floor. Her leggings, boots, a lacy black bra and a scrap of fabric he assumed was her underwear led the way to the glass-enclosed shower.
“You hoping I’d wash your back?” he asked, his throat tight.
She glanced over her shoulder, smiling sweetly. “To start, maybe.”
“To start?” he asked.
“You said we had all night.” He heard the waver of her voice and knew she wasn’t as brave as she was acting.
He nodded and stripped quickly, leaving his clothes in a pile on the floor before stepping into the shower behind her. He stepped forward, shuddering as he pressed against her. There was no way she could miss just how much he wanted her. The length of him was throbbing, pulsing against the soft curve of her ass. He leaned in, his chest flush with the wet skin of her back. He groaned as he pressed an openmouthed kiss against the base of her neck.
She shivered.
He reached around her, pouring body wash into his palm and lathering his hands. His palms slid up her arms and over her shoulders. He took his time, kneading her skin with strong fingers. She sighed, her head falling against his shoulder as he massaged the length of her back. He washed her, his hands slipping and sliding over every inch of her. He didn’t linger in one place, but used his touch to heighten her awareness...and his. His hand slid between her legs, barely cupping the soft skin before sliding up her stomach to cradle her breasts. Her nipples were tight peaks, begging for his touch. He almost caved, pushed her against the wall and slid home. But he didn’t. Not yet. She felt so damn good, the lather of the body wash making her slippery in his hold. When his hands clasped her hips, he ground against her.
Her hand came around, gripping his lower back as she arched into him. She turned her head, looking at him with unfiltered hunger.
She turned in his hold, pressing herself against him and twining her arms around his neck. Her teeth nipped his lower lip, her fingers curling in his hair to pull his head toward hers. He didn’t hold back. His tongue slid between her lips while his mouth sealed hers.
She broke away, gasping. “My turn.” She poured body wash onto her hands.
He stood still, watching as she explored his body with her hands and eyes. She turned him, kneading his back and shoulders, thighs and hips. Her teeth grazed his hips, her tongue traced his spine, and her hands came around him, clasping the length of him with slippery hands. He shuddered, giving in to the onslaught of sensations her hands and mouth unleashed. She turned him once more.
He hadn’t expected her to be on her knees, to have her soft hands clasp the rigid length of him and bring it to her mouth. But the silk of her lips slipping over his tip, the wet heat of her mouth encasing him, made him groan out loud. With one hand she braced herself on his thighs, and the other gripped him firmly in place, letting her set a rhythm both sweet and torturous. Every stroke of her tongue and caress of her lips had him teetering closer to the edge. Did she know how close he was? He pressed his hands against the side of the shower, steadying himself.
“Stop, Tatum,” he ground out. He had to stop her. Had to get control. But, when it came to Tatum, he had no control.
“Stop?” she asked, breathless. “You’re not enjoying it?”
He heard the vulnerability in her voice and ached from it. He groaned. “I am. Too much.”
“I don’t want to stop,” she answered, drawing him deep into her mouth. Her hands slid up the backs of his thighs to grip his hips and he was done for. His climax hit hard. Wave after wave of pure, raw pleasure rocked through him. His moan tore from his throat and echoed in the steam-filled shower.
When he opened his eyes, she was standing before him—a huge smile on her face. He was gasping, his heart hammering and his lungs scrambling for air. She seemed pretty proud of her handiwork.
His hands slid down the side of the shower stall to cup her face. He wiped the water from her forehead and tilted her face back to kiss her. “You’re gorgeous,” he said, pressing a kiss to her forehead.
“I probably look like a drowned rat,” she argued, kissing him back.
“A gorgeous drowned rat,” he continued, pulling her against him. He groaned at the slip and slide of her skin against him.
“Spencer.” Her whisper was low, pleading.
He held her back, staring down at her. “Bed?” he asked, turning off the water without waiting for her answer.
He helped her out of the shower, wrapping a thick white towel around his waist before rubbing her down. She laughed at the thorough job he made of it, but she was dry and rosy when he was done.
Her fingers traced his side. “What kind of feather is this?” she asked, tracing the tattoo.
“An eagle feather,” he answered, twisting the water from her hair.
“Why an eagle feather?”
He glanced at her. “An eagle is a protector. He’s powerful in battle. Alert and watchful. I needed to feel that way after Russ was killed.” Instead of feeling like a failure.
He and Patton had worked side by side with their little brother but neither of them had ever suspected Russell of being corrupt. Even after the night Russ was mowed down, Spencer had a hard time coming to terms with the truth. His little brother had been the bad guy.
Tatum was staring up at him, her fingers stroking the intricately detailed design and easing the crushing weight of his memories.
“I’m sorry about Russ.” There was no doubting her sincerity. “He was a character, always the jokester.”
She was right. Russ had always been the class clown—the one everybody loved. Being charming was a very useful way to divert suspicion.
“To lose your brother and father in the same year...” She paused, sliding her arms around his waist. “I’m sorry you had so much grief all at once, Spencer.”
He stared down at her, loving the feel of her in his arms. Missing her. How many times had he picked up the phone to call her, only to hang up? “Things were tough for a while,” he admitted. “But you get up every day, you find a way to keep going.”
