MoreThanWords (7 page)

“Wow, you have a lot. With your clothes on, I never would’ve
guessed.”

Not exactly an endorsement, but she hadn’t turned away,
either. “It started with one shoulder and went from there over the years. I’d
never get one that couldn’t be covered, though, for professional reasons.”

“Why wouldn’t you want everybody to see them…they’re part of
the whole ‘sexy rocker’ vibe, aren’t they?”

“You’re asking a lot of questions for somebody who’s
supposed to be answering mine.” Not that he minded. And the shy smile on her
face while she continued checking him out—he didn’t mind that, either. “I got
my first tattoo long before anybody paid me to play a guitar. Also, I keep my
clothes on while I’m on stage.”

“That’s unfortunate for your female fans.”

“I guess that means you like tattoos.” When was the last
time he’d fished for a compliment—five years ago, ten?

“Not necessarily…but I like yours.”

Damn and double damn. Her voice already did it for him, but
when she spoke quietly like that, the soft-husky combo completely lit his fuse.
The muscles in his arms twitched. He wanted to knock the game board out of the
way and drag her on top of him. Feel her hands on his skin as she explored
every line on his arms, shoulders, chest.

He swallowed hard. “You still owe me three sentences.”

“All right.” She fidgeted again. “You met my sister, saw how
she is—gorgeous and exciting and outgoing. I’m the opposite. She’s like this
beacon that draws everybody’s attention, whereas I’m more comfortable being the
lighthouse keeper. I guess you could say I’m a homebody and leave it at that.”

Whoa. The subtext in her statements told him she stayed home
for reasons other than loving her apartment. “How much older is your sister?”

She cocked her head. “I’m older. Not by much, eleven months.
Irish twins, as they say.”

That explained a few things. Why she and her sister were
close, which he’d picked up from his conversation with Caitlyn. Why Calli would
feel the need to compare them. Growing up with a sister so close in age
would’ve fostered a lot of competition, in all areas, he’d bet. Thinking the
other girl had her beat, though—not in his books.

“Technically, I shouldn’t have answered that question.” She
turned her attention to their game, scowling as she shuffled tiles in her rack.
“Double-word score on
fop
and
do
…twenty-seven measly points.” The
scowl turned on him. “Don’t even think about playing another bingo on this
board, mister.”

“Master, not mister.” He had to smile when she rolled her
eyes at him. All his luck had disappeared after the first move. She’d win this
round. And he didn’t mind one bit. “
Hae
for eighteen. Ladies’ choice.”

She clapped with genuine enthusiasm, the little bounce that
went with it making her tits jiggle and her skirt inch closer to her hips. Holy
mother, another celebration like that and he’d have one hell of a view. He’d
never been one to throw a game of any kind, but there was a first time for
everything.

On his side of the board, he didn’t have much to lose.
Jeans, boxers, socks, a belt. If she asked for jeans he wasn’t putting the belt
back on, so it’d be gone too.

She leaned forward, making a big show of deciding. “Hmm…what
to choose…”

The move pressed her tits against the fabric. That’d be his
next move—getting those damn buttons out of the way.

“I’m inclined to dare you, just for payback, but I do have
questions.” Her tongue slid across her bottom lip. “Nope. Questions will have
to wait. I’m definitely going with dare.”

“What’ll it be? Socks, belt, one-hundred push-ups, sing you
a song…?” Or pants, so she could see the evidence of how exciting he found her,
despite what she thought about herself.

“You sing?”

“Sometimes.”

“What kind of songs? Covers, or do you write your own?”

“You changing your mind, sweetheart? Truth instead of dare?”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “You wish. Jeans,
please.”

This would make things interesting. He reversed the thick
strip of black leather through the buckle, then worked the metal button. She
watched every action, big eyes even wider, as though she’d never seen a man
take off his clothes before. As if she were starving and he was dinner, dessert
and a midnight snack all rolled into one. His cock liked it. He liked it. More
than was wise for the moment.

He paused with his hand on the zipper. “What if I’m commando
under here? You might get more than you bargained for.”

“As long as you’re not wearing a man-thong,” she waggled her
fingers at him, “carry on.”

Ready or not. He hooked his fingers under the edge and
shoved, cursing under his breath when manual adjustments were needed to free his
obvious bulge from the opening.

“Troubles?” she asked, then giggled.

“If you’re offering to help, then yes.”

She held out one hand after he yanked the second leg free.
“I’ll take those.” First thing she did was fold them into a neat little square.
Second thing was to yank her panties from the pocket. “And I’ll take these,
thank you very much.”

“Conniving wench.” Served him right for thinking with his
dick.

She treated him to a smug smile. “My turn.” No glaring at
her pieces this time. No focus at all, in fact. Seconds ticked into minutes,
half that time spent with Calli’s eyes flitting across the board—at him. The
flush on her cheeks deepened and spread into the neckline of her shirt. And if
she licked her lips one more time while eyeing him squarely in the hard-on
zone, he was going to have to jump her. Immediately.

“My tiles suck.”

He groaned. Suck was not a word he could handle from her
lips right now. “Swap ’em…if you don’t mind losing again.”

“No, I have a word. It’s a little one, even though they can
actually be quite large and immensely satisfying. Double-letter score on the D,
for a total of seven points.”

Now that he hadn’t expected. “You made
dildo
.”

“Good reading.”

“And you opened up the triple-word square.”

“Oh, did I?” Purple nails mock-covered her lips. “Oops.”

She’d been too embarrassed to take off her skirt, yet now
she was handing him a win. Interesting game—and woman. He placed his tiles. D,
I, C, blank.

“
Dice
for eighteen. Too bad you had to use another
blank.”

“I didn’t.” He flashed an E from his rack. “It’s
dick
,
not
dice
. And I guarantee it’s better than your dildo.”

“Nearly three times better, according to the score.”

“At least three times better, even on a bad day.” Extra
blood raced to his cock, causing it to throb and strain against his boxers.
Whether it’d been noticeable or not, Calli’s eyes had moved to his crotch. And
again with the lips and tongue. He ground out, “Truth or dare?” and prayed she
didn’t quit her current bold streak.

“Dare,” she whispered.

So maybe there really was a god. “I want those buttons
undone.” Her hands moved to the top one.
Pop.
Lower, to the second.
Pop.
Then the third, never taking her eyes from him as she pushed it through the
hole.
Pop.
“Stop. I want to do the rest.”

“O-okay. Should I c—”

“Stay there.” As much as he wanted her on her knees in front
of him, he didn’t let her finish the offer. That’d be the end of his thinly
held control. He moved to her side of the couch. “Face me.” Good god damn,
those eyes staring up at him. At his face, at his cock jutting forward in the
boxer briefs. Still too tempting. He knelt, his body bumping her thighs apart
as he shuffled closer. With no resistance.

She gasped when the skirt rode straight up to her hips,
grabbed the edge of the fabric, attempting to hold it in place. Too late. Heat
from her core taunted his chest, daring him to press tight against her. Not
yet. He needed those inches of separation a few minutes longer.

“This is a pretty shirt.” He cupped her hands with his. That
touch, having her small, soft hands inside his, jolted him. He moved them from
the buttons and deposited them flat on his chest. Instant fire. And when her
delicate fingers wandered over his chest and stomach, it spread like brushfire
over every inch of his skin. “Tell me I don’t have to win another round before
I can kiss you.”

“I’ll put it on your account.”

He brushed his lips across hers. “I’ll take that deal.” The
way she tipped her head, opened for him, was innocence and sensuality—a heady
combination. He stroked into her mouth with his tongue. Pulled back until their
mouths met with the barest, softest touch. He lingered there, fighting the urge
to plunder as she wiggled closer. And closer. Close enough for her fingers to
reach the thin screen of material covering his cock.

“Calli.” He didn’t know what to ask for. For her to stop
stroking him, or keep stroking him, or more.

Her hand slid inside his boxers and circled him. “Yes.”

Fuck the buttons. “Put this on my account too.” He grabbed
the open edges and yanked. The crisp tear of cotton and scramble of plastic
pearls startled her—and her dog, now standing by Travis’ hip and growling
pretty damn loud for a pocket-sized canine. “He’s not going to bite me in the
ass, is he?”

Calli turned her head toward the little beast. “I don’t
know. He’s never seen me kissing or…anything. I haven’t had a man over since I
got him.”

“How long have you had him?”

“If I answer, it’ll count as a truth. Your tab is getting
pretty full.”

His cock jerked in her hand—its way of letting her know that
his tab wasn’t the only thing that was going to get full. “Bill me.”

“Almost two years.”

“But you’ve dated, you’ve—”

“No. Nothing.”

“Seriously?” he asked, watching pink flood her cheeks as she
nodded. He hated to ask more, especially now, but it made no sense—a beautiful,
smart woman going without for so long. He’d walk away if he had to. “Any reason
for the celibacy that I should know about?”

“No, god no. Nothing like that. I’ve never even had a cold
sore.”

Another thank you went up to the clouds. Since Calli’s hand
was still wrapped around his cock, stroking him with agonizing lightness, he’d
take his chances with Prince Charming’s teeth. “You’re driving me crazy,
touching me like that.”

She released him like a hot potato. “Sorry…I don’t have tons
of experience with the male equipment.”

“Not bad crazy.” He guided her hand back to his cock, closed
her fingers around it again. “Does it feel like my equipment is complaining?”
He sucked in a breath as she gripped him tighter and slid her palm up and down
his length.

“Actually, it feels a little angry. All that pulsing and
jerking while I’m petting it so nicely.”

He laughed, then caught her mouth in another kiss. From sexy
to shy to sexy again. As much as wanted to bury himself inside her, if they
played like this all night and nothing more, he’d go home smiling.

She pulled back from the kiss, slightly out of breath and
completely glassy-eyed. “You took care of my buttons, I guess it’s time for us
to make another move.”

“I haven’t finished with your buttons yet, sweetheart. Not
by a longshot. I want them all undone.” He nuzzled her cleavage while sliding
the shirt from her shoulders, down her arms and off. “Your skin is so damn
soft. And so fair.”

“That’s a nice way of saying I’m pale.”

“That’s me trying to take it slow and gentlemanly, when the
truth is, I want to tell you you’re beautiful and sexy and fucking
irresistible. Your skin is perfect. Warm, silky, creamy. And it tastes sweet.
So sweet I want to sample every inch, starting here…” He nudged one breast free
of the bra and licked it from the luscious swell to the hard, raspberry-colored
tip. He slid one hand along the hot, smooth skin of her thigh. Higher, to the
velvety folds between her legs, where he stroked until
he
couldn’t take
any more. “And here…” He jiggled one finger against her clit, groaning around
her nipple when her hips jerked forward for more.

A shrill bark sounded beside him, followed by a low,
guttural wail. Man’s best friend did not look pleased.

“Bedroom—it has a door.”

“Hold tight.” He scooped her into his arms. She was a tiny
thing, light and warm. He could carry her for hours. Especially with her tits
pressed against his chest and her pussy riding the desperate ridge in his
boxers. So maybe not hours.

Her mouth went to work on his neck. Choppy breaths filled
his ear. Then a little moan as she dug her heels into his back and ground
against him. Holy hell, if she came now, he was done for. “Wait for me,
sweetheart. I want to be the one to make you come.”

“You are.”

“With my mouth,” he said, chuckling as the grinding came to
an immediate halt. He closed the door in her dog’s face and pinned her against
the back of it. “Where’s the light switch?”

“Don’t have one. Just a table lamp by the bed, to your
left.”

Three steps in his knee connected with a dresser. “Shit.”
Practically tripped over a stool next. “It’s pitch black in here.”

“Sorry. Put me down and I’ll get the light.”

“No.” He cradled her ass closer when she tried to shimmy
free. “Fuck.” Stubbed toe from what had to be the leg of the bed. He put a hand
down and felt around for the top. “We’re there. Now you can get it.”

He’d made it a policy to do his fucking at the woman’s
place, never his own. Easier that way. Tidier all around. But while women’s
bedrooms could be interesting, incredible dens of femininity, coziness or
exotic sensuality, sometimes they turned out to be scary places. Some he wished
he could un-remember. A couple he’d been lucky to escape with his dick intact.

He held his breath while the lamp switch clicked. Then it
was all good.