MoreThanWords (13 page)

Her hands drifted lower. One nail dragged over his balls,
then back and forth along his perineum. Sparks shot from the source. Tightened
his balls, sent more blood surging to his cock. Fuck, too good. Too close, too
soon.

“Get up here.” He choked the words out, grinning at her
disappointed pout as she obeyed. “I fucking love it when you suck me.”

“Then don’t stop me. Let me do more.”

He caught her arm as she tried to descend again. “Later.” He
snagged the condom and rolled it on. “Bend over the table and spread your legs.
I want that sweet ass tipped up at me while I fuck you deep—as deep as I can
sink my cock inside you.” One of the things he’d discovered about Calli in
their four nights together—she really got off on dirty talk. Hearing it and
saying it, even when he had to coerce it out of her. And she took instructions
very
well. That sure as hell turned him on. Her too, from her responses.

Not that she was some shrinking submissive type. She had her
own mind about things. Like taking her time stripping off her shirt and bra
before assuming the position.

“That’s even better.” He slid his hands through the net of
hair fanned across her back. “I love your hair. Love the feel of it around my
fingers.” He gave up touching her hair to smooth his palms over the creamy skin
at her waist, the swell of her hips and ass. He parted her cheeks and ran one
hand down the tempting valley, swallowing hard as he passed her puckered
rosette. Not today, but soon.

She moaned when his fingers met her slippery heat. “Please…”

“Please what?” As if his control could endure more bedroom
talk in her throaty tone. He must be a closet masochist.

“Please fuck me, Travis…fuck me as deep as you can.”

“Fuck, Calli. I’ll never last with you talking dirty
and
saying my name.” One sweet stroke and he was balls-deep. He stilled, clenching
his jaw. Fighting the pulse that threatened to end his ride before it’d
started.

“Travis…”

Goddammit, was she trying to torture him? “Yeah?” He pulled
back slowly, then slid in deep and fast. One hand on the middle of her back, he
retreated and thrust again.

“I want you to-to—”

“To what, sweetheart, to what?” He’d be lucky to keep it
together for another minute, max.

“Hold my hair and…pull.”

He’d wanted to do this since their first time. With a flick
of his wrist, the silky strands wrapped over his knuckles. Simply shortening
the length had her head angled toward him. He tugged, just a bit. Enough to see
the tip of her nose. He stroked into her tight body again, increasing the
tension in his grasp, bringing the line of her delicate neck into view, causing
her to emit a sound so raw and pure it undid him.

The last straw was watching her hands slip under her
belly—that breathy gasp of pleasure she made as her orgasm mounted.

He needed to feel it—that perfect, slick heat blooming
between her legs. He curled his free hand around her hip, then lower, twining
his fingers with hers as they rubbed her clit. So much harder than he’d do it
on his own.

“Do it. Again, harder.”

She couldn’t mean the rubbing, had to be her hair. He tugged
again and she instantly responded, moving their hands frantically over her
clit. Oh yeah, that was it. She arched. Moaned. Clenched around his throbbing
cock.

“Sweet fucking hell…” Moaning and heavy breathing crowded
his ears. One last thrust seated him deep, cock pulsing as he held her tight
and captive against his hips. Face pressed to her hair, he came long and hard
enough to damn near buckle his knees.

Burnt-toast smell infiltrated his senses. He opened his
fist, letting the scent of her hair surround him. That didn’t stop the smoke
detector from wailing. Or the dog from howling in response. At least her
apartment didn’t have a sprinkler system.

“You’re going to have to let me go,” she said, wiggling
beneath him.

There was only one way to answer that. “Never.”

* * * * *

Travis had commandeered her clothing before dinner. When
she’d deked around him en route to the bedroom, he’d caught her by the waist
and wrestled her mock-protesting, one-hundred-percent naked body up against the
wall.

“Don’t cover up. I want to look at as much of you for as
long as I can,” he’d said.

When he said stuff like that, something grew inside her. A
fledgling seed of confidence buried under years of being second best took root
and pushed up the tiniest flower. So dinner au naturel it was. Sure, she’d
eaten in her underwear before, what single person hadn’t? But completely naked
and in the company of a man—never. With Travis’ knee brushing hers under the table
and his smile mesmerizing her above the oak top, eating in the buff wasn’t the
tiniest bit awkward. In fact, it was hot.

Yet all they’d done was eat. The regular way, no cutesy
feeding each other bites of macaroni casserole, no lying bare-assed on the table
and slurping cheese noodles from each other’s navels. Not that those options
hadn’t crossed her mind. The way his eyes had stayed on her during their meal,
darker than their normal light-hazel, he might’ve had some similar thoughts.
But he hadn’t moved one inch in her direction. Hadn’t made a single double
entendre. He’d talked. He’d eaten. One mouthful at a time, his strong jaw
moving lazily as he chewed, with the occasional swipe of tongue over his
perfect, chiseled lips added in for sensual torture.

By the time she stood to clear the dishes, she’d reached
that state where one well-placed touch would be enough to send her over the
edge. Again. This, after he’d fucked her with the heat and power of a volcano.

“You could come with me tonight. Watch from behind the
curtain. You’d be ten feet away, in my line of sight.” He stepped into boxer
briefs that hugged him to perfection, making her mouth water. “I’d like to look
over at my girlfriend while I play.”

“Your girlfriend?”

Denim rustled as he shrugged the jeans up over nicely
muscled legs. “Unless you’re seeing somebody else. Because I’m not.”

“You know I’m not.”

“Good.”

All kinds of warmth ran through her when he picked up her
hands and tickled the tips with a kiss. Might’ve been the softness of his lips that
did it. Or the deep smolder in his eyes.

“So you’ll come?”

Despite the sweetness in his voice, the simple question
stabbed at her gut. She didn’t want to argue or defend herself—again—and she
certainly didn’t want to cry. She scooped her clothes into a ball. Let her hair
crowd her face when she answered. “Give me a minute to use the washroom and
I’ll…walk you to the door, okay?”

“Sure.”

The single word stung. What could’ve been one of the best
moments of her life went in the crapper. Head down, she sidled past him, out of
the room. She flicked on the bathroom light and stared in the small mirror. The
bloom she’d felt earlier—gone. Withered and dull was all she saw in the glass.

“I hate you.” Her reflection bounced the insult back. Most
days she accepted who she was, the good parts and the shortcomings. Currently,
she didn’t feel so generous.

Music floated in from the kitchen—a few bars of the song
Travis had played earlier.
To her.
Even without lyrics, there’d been no
mistaking it for anything but a love song. God, what was wrong with her? For
the first time in years, she had a boyfriend. A gorgeous one with talent,
brains and phenomenal bedroom skills. He wanted to take her out, the most
natural thing in the world…and she was hiding in the damn bathroom, avoiding
him.

She needed a grip. Or a kick in the ass. Both, concurrently.

The small medicine cabinet had three shelves that housed the
usual suspects—toothpaste, toothbrush, moisturizers, tampons, bandages, Advil,
etcetera. Her eyes settled on the brown pharmacy bottle that’d repeatedly
failed on its promise of help. She popped the safety lid and shook an orange
pill into her palm. It’d been a few months since she’d last tried the
Alprazolam for her “panic disorder”, as the doctor had labeled it. Maybe the
medicine would work now that she had better motivation.

But what if it didn’t? What if she managed to go outside
with him, got all the way to his show, then lost it? It’s not as if he’d be
able to stop mid-song and take her home.

The strumming ended, the new silence punctuated by sharp
clicks from the buckles on his guitar case. Footsteps followed, then his voice
from the other side of the door. “Calli, I have to hit the road.”

She dropped the tablet back into the bottle. “Coming.”

“You okay?” he asked when she opened the door.

“Peachy as ever.” Ugh, why was she being a sarcastic bitch
to him—it wasn’t his fault she was a headcase. “You know what, I’m not okay,
but it’s not your problem. I’m sorry.” Thank god he didn’t try to placate her
with words. He just pulled her into a hug and let her melt there until she was
ready to speak again. “Sometimes I wish I could go out at night for the
convenience of it. But this, tonight,” she sighed, tapping balled fists against
his chest, “now I’m personally, royally pissed off at my stupid…limitations.”

“So you want to come with me, but you don’t think you can.”

“Yes.”

“That’s all I needed to know.” He kissed the top of her head
before opening his arms. “Walk me out?”

They reached the back door too quickly, too quietly. Her
chest tightened as he pulled on his coat and hat. Thirty seconds, sixty tops,
and he’d be gone. Damn, damn, damn. Why couldn’t she get over this?

Winter’s chill filled the entryway. Travis stepped out to
lean his guitar case on the back wall of the building. She moved up, right to
the doorframe.

“I hope the audience likes that song you played.”

“They won’t hear it. It’s not finished, and it’s not for my
band, anyway…it’s for you.”

Oh god. Pure emotion took over. She threw her arms around
him, burying her face in his neck, soaking up his smell and warmth, memorizing,
as if he were leaving for a month, or, forever. Tears threatened at the corners
of her eyes. A stupid sob escaped, despite holding her breath.

“Bet you’re rethinking that girlfriend thing now.” Her words
were muffled against his coat, as was his laugh against her hair.

“Not for a second, sweetheart.” His arms closed around her
and he lifted her off the ground. Rocked her a little, side to side. Then, they
were moving, the sound of a door closing behind her.

Cold air rushed up her skirt, wrapping around her warm, bare
legs. A small twist of her head gave her a view of their surroundings. “Travis,
stop. What are you doing—I can’t be out here.”

“Shh, you’re fine.”

Good god, he’d carried her halfway down the alley. She
blinked fast, desperate for her eyes to adjust to the darkness. Voices from the
street out front stormed her ears—male voices. Her heart took off in her chest
and her throat closed tight. She was absolutely
not
fine.

“Take me back inside,” she said, burrowing into his coat.

“I will, in a minute. Just breathe. One deep breath at a
time.” He stopped and lowered her bare toes onto his shoes, inching her back
from the safety of his chest. “Look around, look at me.”

“Travis, please, don’t.”

“One look, that’s all.” He didn’t let her go, but allowed
more space between them. “Nobody will hurt you while I’m around, I promise
you.”

Light from the streetlamps taunted her eyelids. And the
voices—how many were there? Were the men staring at her, laughing at the guy
holding a crazy woman? Her mugger had laughed too.

“Trust me—”

“I don’t want to!”

Travis stiffened. Without another word, he lifted her again.
Carried her back to her door and plopped her down. For the longest minute they
stared at each other across the threshold. Inches apart, in completely
different worlds. She wanted to say something to make him understand. Out
there, in the dark, terrified her, even with him at her side. Inside equaled
safety and control. When she opened her mouth, all that came out was fog
against the cold. And when he grabbed his guitar and walked away, she felt
anything but safe.

Chapter Nine

The venue was smaller than the previous week’s, but you’d
never know it by the noise level. They’d mixed rock covers with their own songs
and the crowd had hooted, whistled and jumped to every single one. The energy
from the floor had carried to the stage, energizing him—and the rest of the
band, from what Travis could tell—to frenetic levels. By the end of the second
set, he was buzzing hard from adrenaline. Enough to follow Victor, Stubbs and
Luke to the bar instead of heading out. Enough to knock back a couple of vodkas
and order up a third instead of sticking to water and his precious fucking
control.

Why the hell not, he had nowhere to be, nobody who
trusted
him enough to care what he did or why.

“Buy you a drink?”

Travis let his eyes wander over the woman who’d inserted her
curvy body between his stool and Victor’s. No denying her appeal. Legs that
went on forever in painted-on jeans. Long dark hair streaked with chunks of red
and blonde, shiny, full lips, long eyelashes, and a rack that’d make any man
salivate. From behind her, Victor made lewd licking gestures, namely wiggling
his tongue between the V of his fingers. Travis couldn’t help smiling.

Miss Tall ’n Curvy must’ve assumed the smile was for her,
and took it as an invitation to perch on his knee. Straddle his knee, actually.
His leg heated under the press of her body. His dick went on alert, rising to
the call of duty as she shimmied higher, closer. He lifted his glass and
drained it.

“I’ll buy you another, hot stuff. Vodka on the rocks?”

Another drink and he’d be looking at relaxed in the
rearview, well on his way to stinking drunk. “Probably shouldn’t.”

“Ooh, a man who likes to maintain control, I like that.” Her
hand curled around the traitor in his jeans. “How about fucking—do you do
that?”

Victor whistled and gave the thumbs-up, clearly approving
that Travis was back in the game. “Travis is the king of fucking. I can attest
to that personally.”

The brunette swiveled enough to see both men. “Oh, is that
right? I’m not coming between you, am I?”

“Not yet, but you could be.” Wood scraped on the floor as
Victor brought his stool closer. He palmed the woman’s back, then slid his hand
over her thigh. “What’s your name, honey?”

“Honey works for me,” she said, licking her lips at Victor
while grinding onto Travis’ quadriceps.

“Then Honey it is.” Victor leaned in, close enough for
Travis to smell the rye on his breath. “How ’bout we go to my place and get
nice and sticky on my bed, the three of us.”

Shit. This was getting way out of hand. Not to Victor,
though—he was just getting warmed up. He’d caught scent of the player Travis
used to be. Victor preferred that version, and looked intent on keeping him
close. Very close.

“Honey, you and I are gonna curl up and enjoy some
sixty-nine, ’cuz your lips look like they were made to blow me. And while I’m
licking that honeypot of yours, my man Travis here is gonna fuck you from
behind, maybe even in that pretty ass of yours, nice and hard like he likes to
do.”

“No.” Travis ignored the blood that’d surged to his dick at
Victor’s description. They’d done that scene before. Other variations too. It’d
been awhile, but his cock hadn’t forgotten. “Just me.”

Honey—whatever her real name was—pouted for a couple of
seconds before blowing a kiss at Victor. “Tease me with that mustache next
time.”

“With pleasure,” Victor said, then removed himself to scan
the bar for new prospects.

“Didn’t want to share me, huh?” She arched, pressing her
half-exposed cannons against his chest. “I’m all yours now…what are you going
to do with me, Travis?”

“Don’t say my name.” He jerked them both from the chair.
Dragged her by the hand through the crowd to the small backstage room where the
band had stowed their cases and coats.

It was too damn bright. He killed the lights with his free
hand, then backed her against a wall.

“A little rough, huh, I’m into that. I’m into whatever you
want.” Her voice was too high, her laugh too unnatural.

To shut her up, he pushed his tongue in her mouth. Without
leaning down. Damn, she was tall. She tasted like hard alcohol, cigarettes and
too much artificial mint. No good.

He cut the kiss, speaking before she had a chance. “Put that
mouth to better use.”

She dragged her nails over his t-shirt. On her knees in the
dark, she clawed at his jeans until they were open, his cock filling her hand.
“Travis, baby, you’re gonna love the way I suck you down…”

His name in that high, nasally voice broke through. What the
fuck was he doing? “Stop,” he said, pulling away as her lips grazed the tip of
his cock. He stepped back, stuffing his wayward dick in his pants and zipping.
“We shouldn’t be here.”

A few seconds of denim shuffling forward and her hands were
wrapped around his ass. “Ooh, we’re gonna go get your friend from the bar and
go to his place?”

He shook her loose and headed for the door. Hit the light
switch and took another look at the woman he’d ordered to her knees.
Attractive, willing. Plenty of women were. And none of them were Calli. Jesus,
what had he done?

“Don’t settle for shit like this, Honey. Guys like Victor
and me, we’ll treat you like a piece of meat. Use you. Fuck you ’til you’re
raw, shove cab fare in your pocket and laugh once you’re gone. You can do
better than us.”

Her mouth was a gaping O. Maybe he’d shocked some sense into
her. Maybe she’d go rub up against Victor and the other guys now that he was
out of the picture. Either way, he was done.

* * * * *

From his position in bed, Travis could see a clear blue sky
and more sunshine than he’d have thought possible on a late-November morning.
Kersh purred at his feet instead of begging in his face. Last night’s gig had
netted him enough cash to do some serious Christmas shopping. Life would be
good—if he hadn’t screwed it up with that brunette from the bar.

He reread the texts from last night. Written proof of the
damage he’d done.

After the blowup with Calli, he’d sat in his car out front
of her building for twenty minutes he didn’t have to spare, staring at her
windows and his damn cell. A text, a call, her face peeking between the blinds.
Anything. He would’ve been late to the club if it meant patching the wreck
between them. But the only chirp from his phone had been Victor’s message
asking him when the fuck he planned on showing up.

So he’d given up. Assumed the worst, that they were done.
He’d acted like an overbearing asshole, she’d countered by telling him she
didn’t want to trust him. After Victor’s text, Travis had tossed his phone in
the glove box. Hadn’t looked at it again until he’d left the bar…five hours
after peeling away from Calli’s building, five minutes after coming to his
senses in that backstage room. And too late to do anything about either one.

He scrolled to the first text she’d sent. If the timestamp
was correct, she’d sent it about when he had a visitor to his lap. If he’d kept
the phone in his pocket, he’d be in Calli’s bed now, his body wrapped around a
piece of heaven, instead of here in his self-inflicted hell.

I didn’t mean that I don’t want to trust you. Only that I
didn’t want to look around, like you’d asked right before that.

That’s exactly what he’d thought when she yelled, “I don’t
want to”. He’d been such a closed-minded, controlling idiot. Carrying her
outside against her will to show her it was safe… Good intentions counted for
squat if they scared the shit out of the woman he cared about. And from her
next text, he’d done just that.

All I could hear were the men’s voices, and even though
you were right there, I was scared. I’m always so scared.

But her last text made his actions—all of them—even worse.

I trust you, Travis. I do. I hope it’s not too late for
you and me.

She trusted him. God damn it all. He pressed his face to the
pillow and groaned. Of course it was too late. Because he was still a
self-righteous, womanizing bastard with a hot head. Same as he’d always been.
Same as he would always be. He’d had a shot at something better—something
incredible—with Calli, and he’d destroyed it in a week’s time. Less. He’d been
a dreaming fucking fool to think he could change, even for the right woman.

The phone chirped in his hand. He brought it closer, cracked
one eye open to read the screen. A new message from Calli.

Are you still angry? If you are, I understand.

She couldn’t possibly understand. Angry, yes. One hundred
percent—at himself. It’d be simple enough to say nothing, but the guilt would
eat him alive. What was he going to tell her when he saw her? That he was crazy
about her, never stopped thinking about her, even when he’d been
this close
to shoving his cock down another woman’s throat?

No, she deserved better than the shitty, sordid truth. She
deserved better than a lie. She deserved better than him.

Not angry at you. I’ll see you after work.
He hit
send on the message, muted the ringer and shoved the cell under a pillow. He
had eight hours to come up with…something.

* * * * *

“You’re acting weird today,” Caitlyn said in a lull between
customers. “Like you’re hopped up on caffeine one minute, sort of a stoned
zombie the next.”

So it was noticeable. Great. “I’m, uh, taking the Alprazolam
again. Hopefully those effects are my body adjusting to the medication, because
that’s pretty much how I feel.”

“Oh.” For a beat, Caitlyn stood and stared. Then she dropped
the nightie she was straightening on a hanger and pulled Calli into a full-body
hug. “Oh Cal, I’m so happy for you.”

“Because I’m a jumpy, half-stoned zombie—thanks.”

Caitlyn pasted a kiss on Calli’s cheek. “Because you’re
willing to be that way temporarily so you can get on with your life.”

“I’m going to
try
. Don’t get your hopes up, and for
god’s sake, don’t tell Mom and Dad—or anyone—in case it doesn’t work. Again.”

“It’ll work this time.” The smile on Caitlyn’s face couldn’t
get any smugger. “Now that you have some drop-dead-gorgeous motivation.”

“Maybe.” If she hadn’t totally screwed up her chance with
her hysterical fit. Travis’ lack of contact last night and aloof, minimalist
text this morning didn’t leave her in the hopefully optimistic column.

Calli peeked at her sister, who’d returned to the business
of tidying stock. As good a time as any to get some other stuff off her chest.
“Hey, Cait…are you okay with me seeing Travis, since we sort of found him at
the same time?”

“If I said no, would you stop?”

Since she’d already contemplated it, the answer was
immediate. Just not easy to say out loud. “No, I wouldn’t. I’d feel a little
bad, but I’d keep seeing him anyway. Sorry.” A pair of sexy Santa undies hit
her on the cheek, then fell to the floor. When Calli looked at the thrower,
Caitlyn was smiling ear to ear.

“About time you grabbed ahold of what you want and refuse to
let go. I’ve been waiting for you to wake up and realize how amazing you are.”

All the years spent living in the shadow of Caitlyn’s
über-outgoing personality, thinking that’s where Caitlyn, along with the rest
of the world, wanted her. But Caitlyn didn’t want Calli in the shadows. Neither
did Travis.

This time the pills had to work. They had to.

* * * * *

Calli was alone in the store when Travis tapped on Romance
U’s picture window. Her heart picked up speed with each step closer to the
door. Three doses of panic-disorder medication weren’t going to make her
instantly brave. But something was happening. The tiny beginning of a
life-altering change, she could feel it budding, deep inside. Either that or
she had the most monumental case of indigestion known to humankind. That would
really be a sucky letdown.

She waved at him, enjoying the heat spreading through her
body, warming her cheeks. Travis showing up on her doorstep always gave her a
thrill. Today, the giddiness was different. Relief after what’d happened last
night. Hope for what the nights to come might bring if the pills did their job.
By the time she turned the deadbolt, her face threatened to crack open from
smiling.

His expression didn’t mirror hers. Not even remotely. There
was no sexy grin, no sweeping her into his arms for a kiss. He looked like
hell. Hell that edged by her without making a single point of contact.

“Your buzzer didn’t go off when the door opened.”

“Hi to you too,” she said, locking up behind him. “It’s
still on the blink. The electrical panel looks fine to me, but that’s not
saying much. I’ve been too busy and too cheap to call a technician.” Business
was steady, both in the store and online, but Charming’s emergency vet bill had
bitten into her savings. Renewing her prescription on a regular basis was going
to take another big chomp. A downside of being an entrepreneur—no fancy drug
plan, paid sick leave and such. Every penny counted.

Travis nodded. Because of his freelance work and the
musician stuff, he understood that part of her life better than most. “I could
take a look at it for you—I’m pretty good with electrical and circuitry.”

“That’s true.” She gave his lapels a tug. “You always know
how to turn
me
on.”

The teensiest hint of a smile tugged at his mouth. Then it
was gone. “I’ll start with the panel, then open up the casing on the door
mechanism if I need to. You have much more to do in here before you head
upstairs?”

“I’m done, and you don’t have to look at the door right
now…” She wormed her hands into his coat pockets and found tightly balled
fists. A bit of prying and they yielded—slightly.

“I’ll feel better if I can get it working. Especially with
those pervy emails you’ve been getting…since I won’t be around to watch over
you.”