Chapter Five

 

Wade somehow knew she’d be there and had convinced himself it didn’t matter. That he’d forgotten all about her. Wade had done plenty to exorcise her, thanks to a couple of hotties he’d convinced to tag-team him. He’d not had a good three-way in years, had forgotten how awesome they could be, and had made a mental note to find willing participants more often.

But when she emerged at the top of the steps to the patio holding an oversized bouquet, his heart felt like it had damn well stopped, before stuttering ahead, skipping a few beats and making him clammy all over. He sipped a beer and watched her as she hugged their hostess, handed over the flowers, and reached back to pull her long, sleek black hair up in a ponytail.

He knew it was ridiculous. He’d seen her all of a few seconds that day at his place. What in the hell made him think he wanted anything from her?

But he couldn’t drag his gaze from her as she stood and chatted a few seconds with Skye before making her way over to the bar where Jax was mixing up some kind of disgusting, girlie crap in a blender.

The sway of her hips in the short, denim skirt mesmerized him as he sipped, frozen in place while the party marched on all around him. Her arms were strong-looking, not bony twigs like a lot of the women he’d been with lately. She had a red, tight-fitting tank top tucked into the skirt, which emphasized her drop-dead perfect hourglass figure.

Wade was shocked to find that his damn mouth was watering. He’d always appreciated a woman with an actual figure. Women should have some flesh on them, he’d always declared, even though his string of recent bedmates were more the social X-ray, scrawny types. Disgusted with himself, he put the bottle to his lips as she shook the hand of some kid who stood next to Jax.

Wade’s entire body went on a high possessive alert he hadn’t experienced since his wife revealed the fact that she’d been boning some surgeon. He gripped the now-empty bottle, knowing he must look like a complete idiot, gawking at the woman since she’d arrived.

When Jax handed her and the young man a couple of margaritas, and the punk had held out his elbow for her, the top of Wade’s head felt like it would blow off. He swallowed hard and made his wobbly way over to the huge cooler, overflowing with Shiner Bock, Budweiser, and some other of the more frou-frou beers people were into these days. Cap popped on his second Shiner of the day, he knocked back half of it, straining his eyes to see her again.

But she’d disappeared into the gloom of the covered part of the patio with that punk kid.

Wade took a long breath. At that moment he met Jax’s gaze. The man was frowning at him. Wade shrugged, flipped his friend off for no real reason, polished off the brew then turned to find some girl to flirt with, maybe to lure into Jax’s house for a quick screw to take off the edge.

After an hour or so, he let himself believe he’d forgotten her. Between a rough game of water polo, then chasing a giggly, probably-too-young-for-him female around a while before cornering her behind the outdoor kitchen for a kiss and a grope, he felt a little more like himself. Skye and her catering crew were setting out tables full of food. The pig had been dug up and hand-shredded, and it smelled like a slice of pure heaven.

He put down another empty, refusing to count them in his head. He’d already promised Jax he’d stay the night anyway and had narrowed his fuckable targets down to a couple of likely prospects—if he could manage to get it up. He was well on the way down the road to drunk, not to mention obsessed with that damn realtor lady.

“Shit,” he muttered when he stumbled on his way to the john after disentangling himself from the clutches of some random woman in the process. Once he’d taken a leak and re-emerged, he sought out a water bottle to alleviate dehydration due to beer. As he lifted the water to his lips, he heard a yelp. His professional side kicked in, shoving the boozy, horny bullshit out of his brain.

As if on autopilot, he took the space between the bathrooms and the covered patio in a few strides, jaw set, sensing that she—that Sam—needed him. Sure enough, she’d passed right out, likely clonking her head on the arm of one of the lounge chairs in the process. That kid he’d seen before already had the furniture shoved aside and was feeling for a pulse. As he watched, frozen in place once again, the kid put a rolled up towel under her neck, then accepted a tossed stethoscope.

He took a listen, then flipped the scope over his neck like a pro. It suddenly hit Wade that the kid must be Cal Morrison, the transfer he’d heard about from Kentucky. Wade smiled, realizing that Cal was his probie—the newbie who’d be hazed mercilessly by his crew, breaking him in as they’d all been.

When Sam’s eyes flickered open, Cal was up getting ice. Wade dropped to his knees next to her, pressing on her shoulder, forcing himself not to stare at the way her cleavage was exposed in the deep scoop of her tank top.

Be professional, you ass, he berated himself, even as his scalp tingled when she met his gaze. Her shockingly blue eyes narrowed at the sight of him. She blinked fast and tried to prop up on her elbows.

“Nope, stay still,” he insisted, his voice croaky and rookie-sounding. “We need to check that knot on your noggin first.”

As if just realizing it, she winced and touched the goose egg rising near her left temple. A dangerous, vulnerable place to impact, he knew. Cal re-appeared, Jax at his side, clutching a bag of ice. “Give it here,” Wade barked, holding out his hand. When the bag didn’t land immediately in his palm, he frowned at the kid. “You deaf?”

Cal handed it over, his eyes flickering from Wade down to the prone woman, then back to Wade again. “I got this, kid,” he growled, putting the ice against her rapidly swelling temple. “Stay still,” he said to Sam, using his best I’m-in-charge-here voice. The crowd that had gathered began to disperse, guided by Jax and Skye, toward the food tables.

Wade remained on his knees next to her, getting a whiff of light perfume and trying not to gather her in his arms.

What? Where the hell did that come from, he wondered as she took the bag from him and sat up after a few minutes of lying on the patio surface. He moved aside, propped his back against the outdoor couch she’d sat on with that kid for the past hour or two, and patted the stone surface next to him to indicate she needed to stay down a bit longer. She bit her lip, still holding the now-sweating bag to her head.

Wade had to clench his fists not to reach over and take that sweet-looking, plump lip between his teeth—wanting to own that, and everything about her, right then. He shook his head to clear it as she settled down on her butt, keeping a foot of air between them.

“Thanks,” she muttered, not looking at him.

“Sure,” he said, unable to conjure anything else. Struck one hundred percent dumb by the mere proximity of her, his body tingled, head to toe. His breathing felt out of his control. After a few more minutes sitting there in utter misery—wishing he could escape while at the same time wanting to put his arm around her, kiss the top of her head, have her burrow into his side and let him take care of her, he cleared his throat and grabbed the scope Cal had left on the couch behind them.

“Let me . . . um . . .” He stopped, horrified by the fact that his body’s reaction now included a significant boner. He shifted, hoping to hide it, but board shorts left nothing to the imagination. He saw her look down at his erection then avert her eyes, her face flushed and beautiful. “Yeah, so,” he said, putting the cool metal disc right above her left breast, moving it around, frowning and trying to look like he knew what the fuck he was doing.

He did, of course. That was the hell of it.

The curve of her breast brushed his hand, making him shake. He cleared his throat again and sat, letting his head drop back, trying to regain his composure.

“So, am I free to go or what?” Her voice was flat and cold in a way that went straight to his gut. When he looked at her again, she was glaring at him, ice bag now in her lap. They were close—too close—and hidden in the gloom of the patio cover.

Sounds of laughter, of food being consumed, of drinks being poured, all disappeared from his ears. The smells of chlorine, sunscreen, beer and barbecue all faded. With a shaking hand, he touched her bare shoulder. She flinched ever so slightly, which sent another strange surge of protective possessiveness across his addled brain. He moved his hand down her arm, cupped her elbow and pulled her closer. She was breathing heavy now, and the distinct, sharp smell of turned-on female slammed into him.

“I don’t like you,” she whispered, their lips mere centimeters apart.

“That makes two of us,” he said, barely able to control the tremor in his voice. He felt like a giant, horny, exposed nerve—nothing like anything he’d ever experienced in his relatively vast backlist of experiences, not even with his once-beloved wife.

A drop of sweat appeared at the juncture of her collar bones. He leaned forward and touched his tongue to it, closing his eyes at the raw sensation of need that swirled through him. She shivered. A soft, sexy sound emerged from her throat, something raw and earthy. It vibrated against his tongue as he let it trail its way up the long line of her neck, to her jaw, her cheek, and then, finally, her lips.

She kept them closed to him at first, but with one hand still cupping her elbow, his other arm tightened around her against the couch where they were leaning, he probed with his tongue and encouraged her to open to him, to let him in. When she did, it was with a groan and a full-body shiver. Her arms wrapped around his neck, her sweet tongue met his.

Wade felt himself go into a terrifying place then—a place where he actually allowed himself to experience this—tasting, smelling and feeling the woman in his arms without closing his mind to her. His MO in the past years was to flirt and seduce, to get a willing woman to his bed or couch, or floor, or wherever, then to fuck her to get off. Nothing more or less.

But he wanted everything about this woman. He wanted to own her, the noise she kept making, and that fucking awesome smell of her. He wanted to eat that for breakfast, lunch, and dinner for the rest of his life.

“Oh,” she said as he broke from her lips so he could move his hand to cup her breast. She grabbed it, but instead of shoving him away, she guided his hand up and under her skirt. He hesitated. She stiffened in his arms. “What? You don’t want to,” she said, taking his earlobe between her teeth. “I want you to, Wade. Hurry,” she insisted.

Who was he to disappoint? But something about this whole thing was wrong. He didn’t want a quickie from this woman.

With a grunt of surprise, and once she’d unlaced his shorts and freed his aching cock to the cool air, he slid his fingers up the inside of her thigh, finding his target and shoving her soaking wet panties aside. Her warm, wet flesh rose under his experienced strokes. She let go of his dick and clutched at his arm, her whispered exhalations getting faster as her hips moved, thrusting into his hand.

Wade closed his eyes and bent to her lips, wanting to taste her when she came. And she did, with a soft moan onto his lips as her fingertips dug into his biceps. Her incredible odor intensified, filling his brain like much addictive smoke. He held onto her, his dick out and leaking all over the place in anticipation until she calmed.

When she put her head on his shoulder, Wade felt as close to weeping as he ever had in his life.

He sighed, and sat back, arm still draped over her shoulders, her face pressed against his neck, his cock rigid and exposed. Head swimming with unfamiliar, unwelcome thoughts, Wade attempted to detach in his usual manner, to stiff-arm any kind of emotion, knowing himself too well, how tempted he would be to lose himself, heart and soul along with his body.

In one quick movement, Sam shifted so her thighs were on either side of his, her luscious tits at his eye level, one arm beside his head, braced against the seat of the couch. He sat there as she stared at him, using her other hand to guide him inside her warm, welcoming pussy.

He hissed and gripped her hips, shaking his head, not wanting it here like this. Like the quick and dirty he always favored. But damn him to hell and back, she felt like velvet surrounding him, enveloping him, gripping his dick so tight he had to drop his head back and cover his mouth with his hand to stifle the groan of pleasure. She smiled down at him, her eyes bright, her face flushed.

He reached up to loosen her long hair and twined his fingers in it as it spilled down over her shoulders in a silky black waterfall. They locked eyes as she moved and he sat, still as a stone, letting her clench and release him, sliding up and down so slow it made him want to scream. But he didn’t. He just watched her face, feeling her juices coat him, sensing her tense in preparation for another orgasm.

“Come,” he growled, leaning up burying his face in between her breasts, knowing he was going to explode in about five seconds, despite how badly he didn’t want to be doing this right here, with their friends eating barbecue under the pavilion two hundred yards away. She dug her fingertips into his shoulders and ground down, making that irresistible low sound as her pussy pulsed and contracted.

“Oh, my God.” She sighed as her hips kept moving. Wade closed his eyes, sucked in a deep breath of her warm flesh and released his tight hold on himself with a muffled cry.

They sat, connected, breathing heavy, sweat and sex smells mingling pleasantly in his nose. He sighed and leaned back again, brushing a strand of her hair off her face.

“Wow,” he said, trying to find some sort of tender words to express how he felt. “Shit.” He winced, knowing that surely wasn’t it.

She released him, making him gasp and reach for her.

“Wait, Sam,” he said, woozy and wobbly, useless in the aftermath of such powerful emotions on the heels of the earth shattering orgasm.

But Sam wouldn’t meet his eyes and tugged her arm out of his grip so she could pull her skirt down. He saw how hard she was shaking. He could practically taste her anxiety on the back of his tongue.

“Honey,” he whispered, the word sounding odd in his mouth. He hadn’t used it in years.

“Don’t call me that,” she hissed, grabbing a cocktail napkin and wiping it between her legs before balling it in her fist. She poked her head up over the couch then shook her head. Wade just sat, still useless, still wanting her to sit down and talk to him, never to leave him. “Damn,” she said, sitting on the couch, her smooth calves at his eye level. He slid his hand between them, gripping one and leaning against her knee. “Get off me,” she said, as she got to her feet.

“Yo, Wade,” a voice called out too close for comfort. “Where’d you go?” With a curse, he laced up his shorts more or less the right way. He put shaking fingers to his nose, then between his lips, still tasting her.

Sam cursed and got down on her hands and knees. “Don’t follow me,” she whispered, her blue eyes bright again. “I mean it, Wade.”

He got up onto the couch seat, then to his feet, swaying and dizzy. “Wait, Sam, hold up. Let’s go . . . uh . . . eat and then . . .”

She made it out to the brightly lit pool area and stood, tugging her hair up again. Wade hesitated in the shade of the patio.

Let her go, his inner asshole told him. You got what you wanted from her. No biggie. Go eat some barbecue, have more beer, and take a nap or something.

He gripped the back of a chair.

“Wade, seriously. Where—oh, there you are. Where’s Sam?”

He kept his back to his friend and saw Sam put her finger to her lips, and then she scurried down the steps and ran for the line of cars. With a long sigh, he turned and faced Jax. “She wanted to go home,” he said, knowing his voice sounded weird.

Jax narrowed his gaze, then looked up when her Porsche SUV tore ass down his dirt drive. “What did you do to her?” he asked, taking a few steps forward.

Wade moved back, arms up, skin now ice cold and pebbled with goose bumps. “Nothing she didn’t want me to.” His inner asshole had hold of him now, he figured. “Back off, dude. You’re not her daddy.”

Jax sighed and crossed his arms. The two men glared at each other a few seconds until Skye hollered for them both.