Inside Out (19 page)

“Thank you” seemed sort of small for the way her praise made him feel. So he smiled at her and nodded. “Thank you. I think so, and I’m pretty glad you do too. No, I didn’t study it, but I’m wildly flattered you’d think so. I just love carpentry and building. I like working with my hands.”

“You’re very gifted.” She bent and peered closely, sliding her fingertips over the curve at the base. “Did you do this banister yourself?”

He had to swallow hard at the sight, at the graceful way she caressed something he’d made, the way it was so obvious she appreciated the beauty of it.

“Yeah. Though I’m still working on the other side. You like?”

She turned to him, her attention focused on his face as intently as she’d focused on his work. “I’m astonished, Andrew. This is”—she shook her head—“this is incredible. I can’t believe you did all this. I had no idea how talented you are.”

Warmth hung in his belly, in his chest.

“Thanks.” He ducked his head again, the heat of a blush on his cheeks. “How about that hot chocolate?”

“Coming right up.”

She made it, seemingly at ease in his kitchen, which only made him want her more.

“I like this house a lot.” She stood, stirring the saucepan of hot chocolate as he rustled up plates and mugs.

“I do too. It’s been a long time, but I feel really good about where I’m going with it.”

“I can’t believe I had no idea you were doing this.” She filled the mugs, and he hummed his pleasure at the rising scent of cinnamon.

“Well, it’s just a little project.” He shrugged. “The living room is still sort of a mess. I’m mainly in the bedroom, where I’ve got a couch and the television. And a fireplace. Interested?”

She nodded, and they carried their loot upstairs, and he led her through the big French doors.

“Holy crap.” She halted, looking around the space. “This is, well, wow, Cope, this is magnificent. I keep saying ‘wow,’ which is more about me just being totally overwhelmed by how much you’ve done and how beautiful this all is. I’m very impressed.”

He indicated she put the mugs down on the table near the couch before he turned and bent to build the fire. It felt strange, her seeing such an intimate part of him and appreciating it. Good. He realized he’d half expected her to not get it or to wave away how much work he’d done. Shyness, something he hadn’t felt in a very long time, settled into his system as he built the fire.

He came back and settled with her on the overstuffed couch. The fire began to crackle and pop. He’d gone with natural gas fireplaces downstairs, but he wanted the real thing in his bedroom. Seeing the way the color of the flames lit her skin, he knew he’d made the right choice.

He’d never had anyone up in his room. Not since he had the furniture moved in. It seemed fitting it would be her, then, to be the one sitting there with him, filling his senses with a thousand different zings of chemistry.

“Thank you, again. Really.”

She sipped her cocoa and looked at him over the rim of the mug. “You should be really proud of yourself. This is a major undertaking. Lots of skill here. And time, I imagine. How do you get it all done around your day job and training friends how to fight off attackers and flirting with women at the pub?” The smile she quirked up allayed any ideas of her jealousy.

“I like to work here on weekends and at nights. At first it was a big job, so all I could see was how I had to do X, Y, Z before I could move on. After a time I realized part of living here was making the physical changes to make this house truly my home. I do what I can when I can, and I don’t resent it when I have other things to finish up.” He shrugged.

“That’s a very good way to look at it. It’s quite an accomplishment to have done all this. What does your family think?”

“Oh well, they don’t really; we don’t talk about it much.”

She leaned forward, putting her mug down and turned to him more fully. He liked the way she firmly gave him her full attention. It was rare to see in most people who generally only half listened while they texted or thought about television or whatever.

“Why is that? I’d imagine Ben would be over here helping you with stuff all the time.”

“He’s got a baby on the way. They’ve all got stuff going on. It’s just a house. Erin, Ben and Todd did a huge remodel not so long ago.”

She wore a sour look for a moment. “Erin hired people to do the renovation. Which is great, but not what you’re doing at all.” She motioned around the room. “This is all you.”

She pushed every single button he had. Disoriented, he shoved a hand through his hair, moving it back from his face. He was Cope, the easygoing lady-killer, and here he was, sniffing after a woman who already had immense power to pull emotions from him in the most unexpected ways. Mainly because she saw he was more than Cope, the easygoing lady-killer.

“I need a haircut,” he mumbled, feeling suddenly totally out of his depth. Did he even have any depth? Was he just a fraud?

She put a hand over his, sifting through his hair herself, her fingers sure and firm against his scalp, bringing a groan of pleasure from him.

“No. I like it.” The statement was shy, but she meant it. He tipped his chin to see her face, as always, struck by how it appealed to him so deeply. “I mean,” she said, licking her lips, “if you don’t have to cut it for work or anything. It’s just, it suits you.”

“You do something to me, Ella,” he said, moving toward her slowly, not wanting to spook her but needing to kiss her.

“Glad to know I’m not alone,” she said, her lips moving against his just as he made contact.

Her taste wended through him, opening doors he’d welded shut, some he hadn’t even known existed. Like a key.

Forcing himself to take his time, he moved enough to slowly unwind the scarf she wore around her neck loosely so he could put his lips there. When he did, when he finally pressed his mouth, slightly open, to the pale expanse of skin just behind her jaw, she took in air, letting it out as a soft sigh.

She was warm there, and, as he’d hoped, sensitive. She tilted her head back to give him more access, her fingers gripped in the material of his sweater.

Slowly, drunk with her taste, his lips slid over the hollow of her throat, and she stuttered a breath. It wasn’t until he licked over the freckles just below her collarbone that she uttered his name, softly, raggedly.

It was enough to challenge his control, enough to rip his defenses to shreds. Not enough; everything.

She arched, changing their balance, and he went with it, landing on top of her, the long, wiry length of her body beneath him, her breasts pressed to his chest.

Her eyes, which had been closed, slowly opened and focused. With her watching, he bent to lick over the exposed curve of her left breast and then the right. He’d meant to tease her, but got caught in his own trap because he could do nothing but bow his head over her and breathe in before sliding his hands up her sides. In another breath, her breasts were in his palms, and they both groaned.

Cope had to lever up a bit, nipping her bottom lip before turning his attention back to her breasts. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to touch your breasts.”

“Glad you finally got to it,” she said, her voice squeaking. Her grip tightened as he slid his thumbs back and forth over her nipples.

“How are we doing?” he asked.

She yanked at his sweater. “Huh? Shirt off. Please, Andrew, I want to see you.”

Well then, that was a good answer. He moved to kneel above her, her eyes roving over his body as he pulled the sweater over his head and tossed it somewhere behind them.

“Oh.” She sat, taking in the upper body she’d remembered from some backyard party two summers ago. It was better than she’d remembered. Forgetting her hesitation, she had to touch. Hard, acres of muscles, olive-toned skin, tattoos and . . . “You got a new piercing.”

Until she came to work at the café and saw Brody and his crowd of friends, she’d never considered piercings or tattoos to be sexy. But over time she’d changed her mind. She’d met and looked at a lot of really hot bad boys with ink, and by that point, she found it incredibly sexy.

Something about the barbell in each of his nipples made her mouth water. It was hot. Hot, hot, hot, and he wore them with such confidence it only made him more attractive.

“About six months back.” Absently, he flicked a fingertip over his left nipple, leaving her dry-mouthed as well as achy.

Because he seemed to enjoy it and certainly because she did, she continued to touch him. Unable to help herself, she leaned in and kissed his side, her lips against his rib cage. He made a ragged sound, pushing against her.

Inside she warred with herself, because she needed him, trusted him, but she hadn’t been so unsure of any situation so important for a long time. But his skin, his hands and mouth, the sound of his voice, they lured her into him, into wanting more than she’d ever imagined.

Control slipped from her fingers, and it was delicious and scary all at the same time.

“Ah god, Red, you feel so good,” he rasped as she ran her hands up and down his torso, over the intricate lines of dragon scales of the huge Chinese horned dragon on his back and sides. Swallowing hard, she touched each nipple ring with her fingertips and had to close her eyes a moment.

When she tipped her head to look at that handsome face again, he was looking down at her. “You like what you see?” he asked with that quirk of the mouth that showed the dents of his dimples.

Her eyes widened as she remembered her fantasy of a few months ago, when she’d imagined nearly this same thing, though she was bolder in her imagination.

“What is it, baby?” He arched into her touch. “God, I love it when you touch me. So long, so long I’ve wanted this.”

When he said that, it always stunned her. How could he have felt this way for years, and she never noticed? She’d wanted him forever it seemed, and now he was there and her hands were on him. How funny life was sometimes.

If her imaginary Ella could be bold, why not the real Ella too? At least a little?

“I had this fantasy about you. Well, okay, so I’ve had
way
, way more than one, but a few months back I was imagining you. You and me together, and you asked me if I liked what I saw. Just a little déjà vu, I guess.”

“You had fantasies about me?” He took her hand gently, bringing it back to his nipple. “I like it when you twist, like—fuck yes—like that.”

She twisted, not too hard or too far, but her pussy muscles clenched as he hissed with pleasure. That’s when the inner Ella took over and licked from his belly button up to his chest.

It felt awesome
.

He was so handsome, so big and male and confident. She loved it. Loved how ridiculously sexy he was. And damn, he was beautiful. She’d never known a person who wore their skin so well, who exuded all the things sexy seemed to embody. Being with him the way she was just then was like hitting the lotto.

She laughed at the thought, and he pounced, pulling her sweater up and over her head. Then he quickly looked at her face, panicked, until he saw she was okay.

Hmm.

“I’m fine.” Reaching back, she divested herself of her bra.

“Wow.” He whistled with wolfish appreciation. “Those are fucking magnificent. You have no idea how many times I jerked off thinking of them.”

Her breath caught as shivers went through her.

“Too crude? Sorry.”

She stood and moved to the bed. “Not too crude.” Just totally not something she was used to. There’d never been dirty talk with Bill or the only other boy she’d slept with. Plenty of sex with the first boyfriend. Not a lot with Bill.

“Hot.” And it was. So much so that it sent her reeling. She stood on shaky ground, mainly with herself and her confidence. Being with him, while totally right in so many ways, made her unaccountably nervous.

Which she knew was stupid. So. Perhaps they could work out something that would help. If he could trust her enough. If she could trust
herself
enough.

He grinned and stalked to her. “Yeah?”

She nodded and put her hand out, touching his chest, but holding him off. “I really,
like beyond really
want to have sex with you right now. A lot of sex. For a long time.”

“Why you stoppin’ me then, Red?” His hands slid over her belly. “Before I give attention to these.” He thumbed over one of her nipples. “I want to see your back. Please?”

He must have some sort of pact with the devil. It was really the only way to explain how he always just seemed to know exactly what she needed to hear and when she needed to hear it.

Because it also gave her a way to hide her face, she turned quickly.

He moved close, so close she felt him, even though he wasn’t touching her yet. So close she could smell his skin and whatever shampoo he used. Thank god she had on her cute underpants.

“Brody is the king. Jesus, this is amazing. You’ve kept this whole design to yourself. We’ve only seen bits and pieces.”

“He is. Brody being the king, I mean. I haven’t shown it because, well, I’m not like Erin or Raven. They’re so bold! It feels private to me, I suppose, something I’ve done for myself. Also, my back isn’t nearly like theirs.”

He leaned in and nipped at her shoulder. “Isn’t nearly like theirs how? And does it have to be like theirs? It’s better. If you could see yourself like I see you, you’d have nothing at all to say about others being bold. You are beautiful. Your back is beautiful, and Brody worked the ink to fit you and your skin tone perfectly. It’s you. What made you think of this?” His fingertips made an alluring trip along her spine.

She smiled, flattered and pleased. “All I had at the beginning was this card my brother sent me. It came with one of his letters. It was a picture of a cherry tree next to this beautiful, rough-hewn water pond. The tree was perched at this precarious angle on the slope, but it had grown deep and strong. It didn’t stand tall, because it had to adapt and grow strong from another angle.” She shrugged. “You gotta have the sun. Anyway, he designed this sketch after I told him I wanted to do something large and why. There’s one more part left to go, but really, it’s pretty done. Just three floating petals from the tree left to add.”