eleven
peyton
I couldn’t drag my eyes from Rutledge. After our moment in the kitchen, hell even the scene in the parking lot and how I nearly combusted being pressed up against him again, to witnessing the icy frost of temper and now him getting up in some guy’s face, being all alpha for me. The man had me twisted up in the best possible way.
I didn’t hear all that they said, but the body language made it very clear. When he turned his head, those hot eyes landing on me, heat sparked then raced through me settling in some rather uncomfortable but not unpleasant places. The bloodbath diverted—dude was smart to back down because Rutledge looked capable of taking out the whole bar—he then turned back to me and stalked across the room. I reached for my beer and chugged it because fucking hell he was hot and scary. It was a sexy combination.
He had just come to my defense, someone he’d only known for three days. Something he probably did for any woman in his company, but still, that show of possession, particularly when coupled with days of smoldering looks and stolen touches that left me aching with need. I wanted him. Never in my life had I wanted someone like I did Rutledge Raines.
I set the empty bottle on the table with a bang and immediately realized my mistake. I didn’t drink beer often, so it went right to my head. Being in the presence of this man I needed to be clear headed. My gaze traveled down his body, taking in the way he filled out the cotton and denim. How my body warmed at the sight of him, pulsed and throbbed, and thought fuck being clear headed. He had said he thought I was a vanilla kind of girl. He had no idea how right those words were, but with him, I’d happily follow wherever he led.
The chair scraped across the floor when he yanked it out and dropped down into it. He’d just gotten into some stranger’s face, but instead of anger, irritation or even impatience, he looked calm. I eyed his beer since mine was empty, before I said, “Thanks for that.” He said nothing, just studied me. I added, “Would you have really taken him outside and kicked his ass for looking at me?”
“Yep,” he muttered the word so confidently before grabbing the bottle in front of him and almost downing it in one chug.
I felt tipsy, and it was nice because I wasn’t shy about looking at him, memorizing every line and curve. My focus turned to his arms and the tattoos I wanted to take time and study, but I was still thinking about the almost brawl. “So do you do that often? Kick the shit out of strangers for looking at the women you’re with.”
He brought his frame closer to the table, put his elbows on top of it and inclined toward me. He huskily whispered, “Never.”
I had expected him to say yes because it fit with what I was coming to learn was Rutledge Raines’ brand of charming, so his denial had my words getting stuck in my throat. More than the words...it was the body language and the look in his eyes. That look, the one from earlier in the kitchen, the one I’d give up pumpkin scones for life to know what he was thinking, even when a part of me didn’t want to know because I just really liked being on the receiving end of it.
I reached for my beer, remembered it was empty. Throwing a hand up, I hollered to the bartender, “Another round and make it fast, would you?”
Rutledge’s gaze dropped to my lips, and he smiled before leaning back in his chair and asking, “I never asked, but why the move?”
He didn’t just make me ache with need; it was so damn easy being with him, and from someone who had my body in a perpetual state of lust, it was as intoxicating as it was confusing.
Playing with the ring of water on the table, I answered him, “That’s a can of worms.” Lifting my gaze, his was glued to me. “I used to work insurance. I was good at it too, but there was a guy, a climber. He liked to step on my back to get ahead. I learned this jackass was going to be my boss. I couldn’t work for him, so I quit. Didn’t even give notice.” I leaned back in my chair when the round was delivered, but I didn’t reach for my beer. I sat there and pondered why I had needed a change. It was what prompted me to buy his grandmother’s place. I was missing something in my life. Something I didn’t have in Boston. Our gazes collided, and my heart tripped in my chest because there was a part of me that wondered if what I had been missing was sitting across from me. I moved from that thought, and yet, it lingered, refusing to be ignored.
“I was ready for a change. Outside of Coda, I don’t have family in Boston, and your grandmother’s house...as soon as I saw it, I knew I could be happy there.”
He studied me for a beat, brows slightly scrunching together. “You make enough fucking money in insurance to buy a house like my grandmother’s?” He went to grab his fresh beer but stopped, and added, “I saw that on your offer, you’re a cash buyer.”
“I lost my parents when I was a teenager. I’m using my inheritance to buy your grandmother’s place. I made good money at insurance, have a nice savings, which helps now that I’m unemployed, but the house...I guess I’d been waiting for it.” I reached for my beer. “At least it feels that way.”
Dark heated blues pierced into mine when he muttered with a low voice, “Waiting for it.” His eyes skimmed over my face before he added, “I know exactly what you fucking mean.”
Just then our food arrived. The burger looked fantastic, as promised, but I didn’t reach for it, too consumed with his words and if they meant what I thought they did. Watching him take a huge bite of his burger, I couldn’t help the smile. Had I not acted impulsively I wouldn’t be sitting across from this man. I lifted my own burger and took a bite that put Rutledge’s to shame, but damn it was good.
He nodded as if he approved. “I like that you’re a chick who actually likes to fucking eat.”
“You don’t get an ass like mine without eating.” I realized I said that out loud and almost choked on my burger.
“Then we are gonna have to frequent Bluff’s more often, so you can continue to keep that ass you got.” He smirked at me. “Plus, I still owe you another pizza.” He winked and teased, “ʼCause you fucking dropped it.”
My eyes narrowed at him. “I may have dropped it, but it was your fault.” I wiped at my mouth before I added, “We both know that, hence the pizza you owe me.”
He chuckled and said, “Seriously, we’re gonna need to keep that ass of yours intact with food.” Being with Rutledge Raines for the last three days, I was slowly learning his language, and that meant he liked my ass just the way it was.
And even knowing that, I still asked, “Why?”
He tossed a fry in his mouth and muttered the words around his chewing. “Thanks for the clarification that you haven’t been fucked properly, ʼcause an ass like that, only makes it more enjoyable.” He grinned before grabbing another fry from his plate, this time dipping it in ketchup before tossing it in his mouth, all the while leaving his intense stare on me.
I stared slack jawed, burger in hand, because I hadn’t been fucked properly. The few sexual relationships I’d had could be described as nice. Nice was an adjective one used when commenting on Aunt Edna’s hand knitted sweater or a two-year-old’s macaroni art; it was not how a woman wished to describe her sex life. Staring across the table, sex with Rutledge Raines would not be nice; wild, earth shaking, dirty, but not nice. I squeezed my thighs together to ease the ache. I wanted to know what he meant by having an ass like mine making it better. I almost asked for visual aids. My mind continued down that road, taking the thought to the next logical place, us, naked, sweaty, his hands on my ass among other places, his cock, oh God. I reached for my beer and chugged it because holy shit sex with this man just moved up to number one on my must do list. Who was I kidding, it earned that spot the second I stepped from the car and saw him leaning arrogantly against his truck.
I was suddenly feeling warm, almost lifted my hair to fan my neck. The words just tumbled out, “Thanks for putting that visual in my head.”
“Believe me, the pleasure is all mine.”
Somehow I knew the pleasure would most definitely not be all his. I started to drain my beer and signaled for another one.
“You know...” His eyes came back to mine, dark and dangerous, his voice matched them when he whispered, “It’s gonna be ten fucking times better than what you’re picturing in your head right now.”
I spat out the beer. Luckily, I turned my head, so it didn’t land on him. It’s gonna was what I was stuck on. Not if, but when. My sinuses were burning but when the fresh beer was dropped on the table, I drank the whole bottle in one long swallow. My head was swimming in alcohol and visions of the man across from me naked. I put my elbow on the table and missed the edge, and clumsily corrected the faux pas before leveling my stare on him. The words couldn’t be stopped. “Only ten times better?”
He licked his lips, “Only at first, ʼcause you know.” He smirked.
“I’m vanilla.” I leaned closer, dropped my voice and asked, “What flavor are you?”
“Nothing you ever tried and the best fucking thing you’ll ever taste.” He chuckled then changed the subject. “I have to get back to Buffalo tomorrow. Sort some shit out before I return. You gonna be good on your own?” he asked before placing the last bite of burger in his mouth.
How he could switch gears so effortlessly was a true talent because I was so turned on, I was in danger of going up in flames. I glanced around for the nearest extinguisher, even while pondering how very ready I was to explore new flavors.
I didn’t miss another example of Rutledge charm. That he even asked if I’d be okay. His grandmother had raised him right. His words sank in then. He was leaving. It was like taking a punch to the gut. I dropped my gaze. It had been only three days, and yet, the thought of him leaving was making my heart ache. He’d be back, he decreed he’d be overseeing the renovations, but there would come a day when he didn’t come back. I’d gotten so lost in the last three days that I let myself forget this wasn’t his home, not anymore. I needed to remember that.
With an enthusiasm I didn’t feel, I replied, “Yeah, I’ll be good. It’ll give me time to explore Ogg’s Point.”
The silence stretched out long enough that I lifted my gaze, and it was then I caught a glimpse of the horrible look that had swept his face the day of the walk through. What fueled it? His words were gruff, like they were being run over with sandpaper when he added, “I’ll leave early in the morning. See if I can get back here quicker.”
All I heard from his reply was ‘back here quicker’. And as much as I tried to not get excited, I did because I wanted him to come back here quicker. Back to me.
The band started another song, and people crowded a section of the dance floor. I’d like to know how it felt to feel Rutledge’s body against mine as we swayed to a seductive beat. Sneaking a glance at him, he was looking at his phone. First time he’d pulled it out since he picked me up. I imagined whatever it was, it was important. I didn’t mind because it gave me a chance to study him. Too fucking sexy for his own good. He was likely one of those guys who stood with his arms crossed, watching his woman dance while glaring at every man who came within three feet of her. The song changed, the first bars of Air Supply’s ‘Making Love Out of Nothing At All’.
My focus was on the dance floor where men had pulled their dates close, bodies swaying as the lead singer did an incredible imitation of the angelic voice of Russell Hitchcock. A shadow fell over me, my head lifting to see Rutledge. He’d moved, so silently I hadn’t heard him. He stood at my side, and his invitation was just the lifting of his hand. I stared at that hand a second before I slipped mine into it. He led me to the dance floor. His hand moved around my waist, and the forceful pressure he put there had me flush against his chest. We began to sway to the music. His hips moved like a man who knew how to use them. Thoughts of another way he could use those hips filled my head. I was tipsy, in the arms of a man that made me burn, so I moved closer, ran my hands up his arms, enjoying the play on his muscles from my touch. I knew he liked it by the subtle pressure of his fingertips, drawing me closer with just the slightest prompting. I didn’t know when dancing turned into something more. I forgot we were in a crowded bar. My focus shifted to his mouth, one I’d been wanting to taste, one I wanted to feel dragging over my skin, one I wanted between my legs. That thought brought a flush of color to my skin and the astute man I was with knew exactly where my thoughts were. I tried to pull away, needing space to keep my wits, but his hold was unyielding. He didn’t give an inch. It was the sweetest torture. The song changed, the couples changed, and yet, we were lost in the moment, just the two of us on that dance floor.
It happened so fast. That haunted expression flashed over his features and he released me, causing me to stumble.
“I gotta get you back,” he grumbled in annoyance.
And it wasn’t but a few moments that he had our tab settled and we were back in his truck; this time, him not helping me in, and me not asking for his assistance. I kept my head turned from him. My fingers twisting together as I battled the stinging behind my eyes. The air in the cab was now anger and pain, forcing out the passion and lust.
Once we pulled up to Swan Point Inn, he folded out of his truck and made his way around the front, but I didn’t give him a chance to help as I quickly unbuckled my seatbelt and jumped down from his truck.
“I’ll be in touch,” was all he said before I was left standing on the sidewalk, watching the red lights fade in the distance. I didn’t know what just happened, but I knew I was going to need to guard my heart because that man really was dangerous.