Stirring Up Trouble (16 page)

Bree flushed. “We did Life Studies back in Philadelphia. I know all about where babies come from and stuff.”

Sloane exhaled, her relief audible. “Okay. That’s good.”

“They just . . .” Bree broke off, scrunching down against her headboard. “They told us what would happen, but no one ever said what it would be
like
.”

Sloane paused. She’d had two older sisters to pave the way with information, plus Carly and a handful of other neighborhood girlfriends who all went through puberty right alongside her. Although they butted heads on a regular basis now, Sloane could even remember her own mother drawing hot baths for her when her body adjusted to those first scary cycles.

All the women in her life had been a given. The only female Bree had, right in this moment, was Sloane.

She swallowed hard, but her voice was unwavering. “I can help you with that.”

Thirty minutes, both mugs of tea and countless questions later, Bree’s eyelids drooped so heavily that Sloane had no choice but to pull the quilt up around the girl’s shoulders and turn off the light. She hooked her index finger through the ceramic loops of both empty mugs, nearly dropping both as she stepped into the darkened hallway to meet the unyielding wall of Gavin’s chest.

“Oh!” Sloane clapped her empty palm over her mouth at the same time Gavin’s hands flew to her shoulders to steady her.

“Sorry.” He dropped his voice to a whisper, and his palms felt hot on her arms even through her cotton sleeves. “I didn’t hear you coming.”

Her brain spun, quickly putting everything together. She whispered, “How long have you been standing here?”

Even in the dark of the hallway, the guilt that flashed over his features was obvious. He dropped her shoulders to pull Bree’s door quietly shut before answering. “A couple of minutes. I wanted to make sure she was okay, but then I heard you talking and didn’t want to interrupt.”

Sloane tilted her head. “So you were eavesdropping?”

“A little. Yeah.”

The admission startled her, and she couldn’t rein in the empathetic smile it brought to her lips. “So you know she’s okay, then?”

He shifted his weight, and in that moment Sloane realized that they were standing inches away from each other in a darkened hallway in the middle of the night.

“Thanks to you, she is.”

His whisper caught her with the force of a yell, and she clutched the mugs so tightly that they clanked together. “I don’t know about all that. I mean, I kind of fumbled my way through most of it.”

Gavin refused to relent, cupping his hand beneath hers to take both mugs from her fingers. “No, you didn’t. And I owe you a pretty big apology on top of my thanks.”

“You . . . what?” Despite her effort to control it, Sloane’s pulse jackhammered through her veins as his words sank in.

“After what happened earlier, most people might’ve been tempted to tell me to go to hell, but you came back out here anyway.”

“Well, yeah, but you said Bree wouldn’t talk to you, and you didn’t have anybody else to call. I couldn’t just leave you guys hanging out to dry.”

“Yes, you could’ve. But you didn’t.” Gavin’s eyes glittered over hers in the barely there light filtering in from the living room, and his expression rendered her knees completely useless. “While I’m still not crazy about the hair thing, I shouldn’t have accused you of stirring up trouble. I overreacted when I yelled at you, and I’m sorry.”

“Oh.” Her response came out as little more than a sigh, and she cleared her throat in an effort to get her neurons to do something of value. “Well, all things considered, I screwed up too. I should’ve asked you first. In hindsight, I overstepped my bounds.”

“What do you say we call it a draw, then? Fresh start in the morning?”

Sloane blinked. With everything that had filled the last hour, she’d completely blanked on the notion of Gavin firing her. “Oh. Um, sure. I guess I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

“Sloane, tomorrow is only a handful of hours from now, and you’ve got to be as exhausted as I am. I don’t suppose you’d humor me and just stay in the guest bedroom.” He took a step toward her and gestured to an adjacent doorframe farther down the hallway. Her muscles tightened at the unexpected closeness, sending warmth like a slingshot right between her hips.

Whoa.

“How would that be humoring you, exactly?” Okay, so she’d been unable to keep the hitch out of her voice on that one, but Lord almighty, had he really just asked her to
stay?

Gavin stood so close she could practically feel the dark smile break over his face as he answered, and it did absolutely zip to help her gain her composure.

“We traditional guys tend to feel pretty uneasy at the idea of sleep-deprived ladies driving home at two-thirty in the morning.”

A wisp of hushed laughter escaped from her lips without her permission. “It’s ten minutes up the road. I think I can handle it.”

“That’s where the humor me part comes in. Look, there’s no way Bree is going to wake up before I leave for work. If you stick around, you’ll be able to sleep late rather than having to get up and drive right back out here in a few hours.” Gavin capped his words off with a nonchalant shrug, but Sloane didn’t buy it for a second. She crossed her arms and gave him a hard stare through the dusky light.

“Low blow, using my predilection for uninterrupted slumber against me like that.”

“Guess it’d really be below the belt if I offered to throw in breakfast too, then.”

Her stomach rumbled with awareness. “Doughnuts. Double glazed,” she challenged, her resolve weakening by the second.

He scoffed. “Please. I make an omelet that’ll make you forget baked goods even exist.”

Under normal circumstances, she would be flat-out irritated at being manipulated this way. But as it stood, she was too busy being turned on like Christmas lights to notice. “I bet you’re going to tell me it’s nice and cozy in there, too, huh? The guest bedroom gets the nice linens, and all that jazz?”

A tiny voice warbled at the back of her mind, screeching at her to march herself down the hall and get the heck out of there. The offer was well-intentioned, sure, but in ten minutes, she could be back at home, in her own bed. Where she belonged.

Gavin grinned. “Ever pick up fifteen hundred thread count sheets when you were in Italy?”

Sloane fought back the moan growing in her throat at the mere inkling, and it shut her inner flight risk right up. Damn it, why did her limbs feel so heavy all of a sudden?

She swallowed hard and wavered. “No.”

“Pity. I highly recommend them. But if you insist on heading back out into the cold . . .”

“Oh, come on. You had me at breakfast.” Sloane made a show of releasing an exaggerated sigh as she padded toward the guest bedroom, but her smile canceled it out. After all, how many chances was she going to get to sleep on sheets that probably cost more than she spent on an entire month’s worth of groceries? In the grander scheme of things, staying in the guest bedroom for just one night wasn’t that big a deal.

“Hey, Sloane?”

The sound of Gavin’s husky whisper trailing over her name as he turned toward his own door halted her feet on the floorboards.

“Yeah?”

“Sleep tight.”

As he pulled his bedroom door shut behind him, Sloane knew it didn’t matter if the sheets were spun from pure gold.

Exhausted or not, she wasn’t going to sleep a wink.

Chapter Sixteen

Sloane climbed between the sheets in the darkened guest bedroom, but the sigh on her lips had nothing to do with the thread count enveloping her body. Even though the sheets did feel like butter.

She twisted beneath the covers, trying to drift off to sleep to no avail. The room was perfectly quiet, with no sounds from within the cottage or the boundaries beyond to distract her efforts. Likewise, the bed was comfortable to the point of decadence, a factor which normally would’ve had her inner sleep goddess preening with sleepy-time bliss. Hell, even the room temperature was wonderfully climate controlled, splitting the difference between not-too-cold and just-warm-enough with flawless precision.

Too bad Sloane was so hot and bothered, she didn’t notice.

Wanting Gavin this much was a bad idea. Okay, yes, he was good-looking, and double yes, he could turn her insides to tapioca with just one of those dark, seductive smiles, but come on. She was watching his sister, which might not be so bad in itself, but she was doing it to finance a trip abroad in an attempt to resuscitate her dying career. And as of this moment, that trip had no return date
or
return destination, which was just how she wanted it. Getting tangled up in anything right now would just be epically stupid.

And epically hot.

Sloane kicked off her pajama bottoms and rucked her night shirt up around her rib cage in a last-ditch effort to let the sheets cool her overheated body, and to her surprise, it actually worked. The fabric was downright luxurious, cradling her legs and gliding over her belly as if its sole purpose for existing was to indulge her skin. She snuggled lower to enhance the contact, unable to keep the deep tingle of pure, sensual goodness from radiating down between her thighs. The heater kicked on in the cottage, providing a rhythmic rush of hushed sound that tickled her ears.
Tap tap tap tap . . .

Someone was at her door.

She opened her eyes, certain she was just hearing things, but then it came again, followed by the click of the knob and the sigh of the hinges. The door opened to reveal Gavin’s shadowy outline, barely visible in the muted moonlight spilling past the curtains, convincing Sloane that now she was seeing things, to boot.

“Hey.” His voice was more innuendo than whisper, but it was a very real, no-you’re-not-imagining-this sound. She blinked, feebly trying to keep her pulse from working overtime.

“Hey.” Her whisper emerged like a question, and Gavin shifted his weight just slightly before answering.

“I was just lying in my bed, staring at the ceiling when it occurred to me that no one’s ever slept in here before. So it only seemed right to make absolutely sure the sheets are okay.”

“You came to check my sheets?”

He nodded, a bare rustle of movement. “You can’t be too thorough about these things.”

“I see.” Her mouth curved into a completely involuntary ear-to-ear smile, and she propped herself up on one elbow to fully face him. “You’re quite the gracious host.”

Gavin laughed, just a soft chuckle, but she felt the sound in her bones. “That’s me. Mr. Hospitality.”

Sloane tightened with realization. If agreeing to stay had been a bad plan, then being half-naked and chock-full of lust for the guy while he flirted with her in the dark was a recipe for utter ruin. Especially when they’d both run the emotional gamut tonight as it was. The urge to hightail it back to the meager percale sheets on her bed at the bungalow made a repeat performance in her mind.

Oh, who was she kidding? Her girly bits were too busy doing backflips of joy at the sight of him, and he hadn’t come across the hall in an act of goodwill. It might be impulsive as hell, but she was done fighting the attraction between them.

“Well, the best way to test for quality assurance is to find out firsthand,” Sloane said on a whisper, pulling the comforter back in a clear invitation.

Gavin’s seductive smile was nearly palpable through the dark. “Outstanding point.”

He was next to her in less than a breath, his fingers in her hair and his mouth finding hers in the shadows. He cupped the back of her neck to bring her closer, and their kiss took on a life of its own as he drew her from the covers to his lap, seating her there tightly as he leaned back against the headboard.

“Sloane.” Gavin parted from her mouth to trail hot kisses down the column of her neck, slipping his palms to her hips to anchor his hard angles to her swelling curves. “Damn, you taste incredible.”

She splayed her fingers over his back to hold him close, and he slid his tongue along the taut line of her collarbone, edging toward her breasts. Her nipples strained beneath the loose neck of her nightshirt, rasping against the fabric. Wanting nothing between her body and Gavin’s glorious mouth, she crossed her arms between them and peeled the garment off in one swift motion.

“You
feel
incredible. Don’t stop doing that.”

His eyes flashed up at her, dark and glittering, and the naughty grin she felt on her skin sent a shot of uncut want through her.

“Hold that thought for two seconds.” He maneuvered her from his lap to the sheets, crossing the room to lock the door with a decisive click.

“You didn’t lock it on your way in?” Sloane asked, her body already mourning the loss of his intoxicating heat.

“I didn’t want to be presumptuous.” He traced back over the space between the door and where she lay in three strides, and she nearly groaned with pleasure when he eased her against the lush pillows, returning his attention to her aching body as if he’d never left.

“Presume, presume! Oh, God, that’s good.” The pure luxury of the sheets had nothing on Gavin’s mouth, and Sloane arched from one to the other with hot abandon. He braced himself over her, dropping his head down the midline of her chest to divide his attention between her breasts. Each swirl of his tongue over her nipples dared her closer, coaxing her soft skin into hard peaks so quickly, she couldn’t hold back.

“Please tell me you’re at least presumptuous enough to have condoms.” Sloane reached down and curled her hands into fists over the hem of Gavin’s T-shirt, desperate to feel his body on hers without hindrance. She sent up a fervent prayer that he wasn’t
that
much of a gentleman, and was rewarded with a gravelly chuckle that had her nearly crying with relief.

“There’s a difference between being presumptuous and being stupid.” He hovered over her body, close enough for her to feel the heat coming off him in waves. “But you’re getting ahead of yourself, don’t you think?”

“No.” Sloane pushed her hips up in a maddening thrust, a wicked smile of satisfaction on her lips at the groan it produced from Gavin’s chest. “I’m done waiting. I want you right now.” She slipped one hand between his hips and her own to wrap her fingers firmly around his fabric-clad erection, and his groan grew deeper in her ear.

“We don’t . . . have to go so fast.” He arced into her hand, belying his words, and she reached her free arm around the other side of his body for leverage. “Christ, that’s hot.”

She released a satisfied sigh without stopping her movements, stroking his cock with rhythmic care. Need swirled, deep and low in her belly, and she guided him right over the spot at the apex of her thighs that begged for attention, every inch of her body sparking from the heat of contact. His fingers joined hers in the sliver of space between them, sliding beneath her panties to find the tight bundle of nerves at her core.

Oh, God, she was either going to shatter or scream.

“Gavin, please. I want you inside me. Don’t make me wait.”

Their remaining clothes became a blurry tangle, and in a handful of seconds Gavin retrieved the condom he’d put in his pocket. Sloane’s body hummed in greedy anticipation as he settled back over her, slanting his mouth over hers. Urgent need flared under her skin, pushing her recklessly, and she listed her knees open as if to punctuate her desire.

“Now, Gavin.
Please
.”

He filled her in one swift thrust, so shocking in its intensity that for a second, Sloane couldn’t breathe. But then a moan issued from her throat, both husky and delicate, and she widened her knees even farther, rising up to meet him like the sun slipping over a gorgeous horizon. Every last inch of her reveled in the feel of him inside her body, in the primal, pared down electricity of it. Gavin angled himself against the cradle of her hips, pushing into her over and over again, and Sloane answered every move without thinking.

She arched tightly off the sheets, and his hand flew beneath the sinewy curve of the small of her back as he breathed out her name, holding her so close that no space existed between them. Pure pleasure wrapped around every inflection, and she sank her palms around him to lock him into place, lifting the insistent threshold of her body with thrusts so exquisite, she had to bite back the gasps in her throat for fear of screaming out loud.

Her senses reached their limit, not gradually, but with a shock of undiluted awareness, and her eyes flew open just in time to watch Gavin’s shadowed expression go hooded with pleasure. His ministrations became faster, more focused, and they pushed her over the edge, into an unexpected free fall of release.

“Sloane.” Her name was both ragged and reverent as he placed it in her ear, breathing it into the heated fold where her shoulder met her neck. Gavin gripped her hips and tightened above her with a shudder, and her body went taut in acknowledgment, still singing with the awe of her own residual bliss.

They lay together, tangled in the skein of bedsheets, while their breathing slowed and time dropped off the clock. A thousand thoughts spun through Sloane’s head, but none of them formed words that made any sense, so she said nothing. What had started out as impetuous want was now something entirely different, and it slipped beneath the circle of Gavin’s arms, whispering right into her brain.

Even as he held her in a beautiful knot of arms and legs and quiet, she felt the urge to run.

 

 

Gavin hummed under his breath, chopping fresh herbs in time to the wordless rhythm. He cracked a couple of eggs, then a couple more with a swift tap and release. The familiarity of the motions, of the seamless string of tasks one after the other, piggybacked with scents he knew by heart, and he grinned into the egg mixture as he started to whisk.

His head popped up like he’d been caught doing something forbidden, and his grin became a quiet laugh that fell over the empty room. While he hadn’t exactly planned the bold move that brought him across the hall to Sloane’s room, he sure as hell wasn’t sorry for it after the fact. The look on her face in the half-darkened hallway, so uncharacteristically vulnerable and yet still edged with her trademark strength, had made him want to unravel her, bit by bit. Before he’d even realized it, he’d been in the shadows of her room with every intention of doing just that.

Ironic, then, that he’d completely abandoned the notion of that slow discovery the minute she put her hands on him.

Gavin shook his head and gripped the stainless steel whisk handle tighter, meting out a rhythmic
tat-tat-tat-tat
against the glass bowl. Yes, Sloane was a beautiful woman, and the chemistry between them was obvious. But ditching caution in all its forms wasn’t something he could do, no matter how much he liked her. He had more than just himself to think about now, and anyway, he’d gone the serious relationship route once before with disastrous results.

Good thing the only thing serious about Sloane was that she was
seriously
sexy. Plus, it was plain that Bree felt comfortable with her, and having someone in his corner there would definitely help. While he wasn’t about to spill all his feelings à la Dr. Phil, having someone to talk to about the everyday stuff wouldn’t be a bad thing.

And there was no way around the fact that she’d well and truly blown his mind in bed last night. Denying his attraction to her would be like trying to convince a magnet to stick to plastic. It was pointless, so he might as well enjoy what they had and see how things panned out.

Maybe next time they’d pan out slower. Or twice.

By the time Bree made her bleary way into the kitchen, Gavin’s goofy grin had returned in full force. For once, he didn’t care about wearing a little emotion on his sleeve. Or in this case, on his slightly stubbled face.

“Breakfast?” he asked, transferring the egg mixture to the omelet pan with a flourish. “I don’t have to leave for the restaurant for another hour.”

Bree eyed him with equal parts curiosity and disdain, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. “Why?”

Nope. Not gonna let it bug me.
He gave the handle a solid shimmy, swirling the egg mixture around the pan in an even layer. “Because I closed last night, so I get to go in a little later. I don’t have to be there until lunch shift starts at eleven.”

“No, I meant breakfast. Are you cooking because Sloane stayed?”

Gavin dropped the pan to the burner with an unceremonious clank. “What?”

“I heard you guys talking a little in the hallway before I fell asleep. You told her you’d make breakfast, right?” Bree asked, her matter-of-fact expression the polar opposite of the panic brewing in Gavin’s chest.

Well,
shit
.

He’d been able to listen in on the tail end of Bree’s conversation with Sloane last night easily enough. How the hell had he not put two and two together to realize that thin walls worked both ways? The spare bedroom was at the end of the hall, with the bathroom between its walls and those of Bree’s room.

What else had she heard?

Gavin tested the waters with extreme care. “If I’d known you were awake last night, I’d have come in to say good night to you.”