Touch Me (22 page)

Then he moved to her breasts. Those beautiful breasts. Though his intention wasn’t to tease, her nipples bunched into hard points even before he passed over them.

Kneeling, he stroked her belly, slid over the mound of her sex, washed the front of her legs. He bent over her feet, lavishing attention on them, so small and narrow, the nails painted a hotter pink than what was on her fingers.

Insinuating the sponge between her ankles, he encouraged her to widen her legs. As she obeyed, he looked up and she was staring down at him, her eyes just a shade darker than the billowing steam. Licking her lips, she seemed prepared to say something to him, but he bowed his head again and focused on her shins, her knees, the soft lips of her sex.

He didn’t linger there, though, but instead stood to walk around her so he could give the same attention to her back side.

Once she was all soaped up, foamy and fragrant, he unhooked the handheld shower head and trained a soft cascade of water onto her, taking care to wash every nook free of any lingering bubbles. Rose began to tremble when he washed her hair.

“Here,” he said, drawing her over to the bench at one side. He sat on the top step and placed her between his knees on the bottom one. The position was perfect to massage her scalp, and he took his time there, too, luxuriating in the feel of the wet strands of her hair wrapping around his fingers.

Grabbing the handheld again, he rinsed her hair, pressing his hand to her brow so her head dropped back and kept the shampoo out of her eyes. When the water ran clear, he set that showerhead aside and gently wrung her hair, taking it in his fists to squeeze the water free.

When he was done he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. Her eyes, which had been closed, opened.

“Payne,” she said. A lone drop of water ran from her hairline, and past the outer corner of her eye, traveling down her cheek like a tear. “I…”

Oh, God. His heart seized.
Oh, no.

It was written all over her face. He’d been too nice. Too tender. Acted too much like he treasured her.

Do right and fix this, damn it!

Sliding them both off their seats, he took her shoulders in his hands. “Now it’s time to fuck,” he said, his voice guttural. Desperate. “You want that?”

She wouldn’t want that. Yeah, he’d been a little over-the-top that night in his kitchen, but when he’d bent her over the table she’d already gotten off. Girls were much more amenable under those conditions.

Her brows rose. “Payne…”

His fingers tightened. Any minute now she’d leave, shutting down that dangerous stuff he’d sensed a moment before. “It’s going to be rough,” he said, narrowing his eyes and putting on his best mean face. “I feel like having it rough.”

Then she did the damnedest thing. She murmured, “Hey, there, dragon,” then wrapped her arms around his waist. “I feel like having it any way you want to give it to me.”

She followed that up with the kind of smile that came with an offer of chocolates.

Confused, he could only stare at her a moment, but then she moved in, and her belly pressed against his cock, which went from half-hard to standing steady and ready in a single breath. Smiling again, she tilted her hips, then pressed a soft kiss to the middle of his chest.

His heart slammed at the gentle touch and he spun her away from him. “Hands against the wall,” he muttered.

She complied with a tiny giggle. “He-man.”

What was wrong with her? He pushed his body against her back, his cock nestling between her ass cheeks. “You got a problem with what I’m asking for?”

Her glance at him over her shoulder was flirtatious. “Your fire can’t keep me away, Payne.”

“What if I fire
up
your ass?” he growled, then lifted a hand to smack one round cheek.

She wiggled her butt instead of getting in a huff and walking out on him. So he smacked the other cheek as well, then moved back to glance at his handiwork.

Lust shot through him at the sight of the blush-pink marks. Hell, he had to have her.

He leaned close again. “You’re not going anywhere,” he said in her ear, loving the little shiver that rolled through her in response. “You’re not going anywhere until I get what I want.”

Then he lifted her wet hair, gathering it in his fist to pull it across her neck so it fell down her front…leaving her bare to him from nape to heels. Steam filled the shower enclosure, keeping them both warm, but she goose-bumped as he kissed and sucked across her shoulders, down her spine. Extra attention got paid to her ass, he ran his teeth along the swells then nipped the lower curves.

Rose shifted, her feet restless, and he loved the arch of her back as she thrust her bottom toward him. He palmed it, running a firm finger up the crack, and she froze, even as her breaths echoed harshly against the tile. “Like that, baby? Like my touch here?” His finger was on the move again, another pass as held her ass cheek in a strong grip.

She moaned, and he leaned close to whisper in her ear. “What’s seven times six?”

“Anything you want, Payne.”

He laughed, dark and low, not sure if she was answering the question or offering herself up. Either way, they were past that treacherous moment and onto the good, superficial stuff.

With his hands on her hips, he repositioned her, pulling her back so her palms slid down the tile and she was bent at the waist. The view was spectacular.

He touched her pussy, found it hot and swollen. Wet as can be.

Time for a condom.

But man, he wanted to be skin-to-skin.

So he reached over to fill his palm with more liquid soap, then spread it over his cock, jacking himself a little as he gazed on Rose. She glanced over her shoulder, her eyes focused on his dick.

“I’m going to get myself off on you. Come all over your back. You okay with that?”

She moaned instead of answered and so he stepped forward, and slid his slickened tool along the crack of her ass. She moaned again, and he reached around with his free hand to cup her breast and tweak her nipple.

The action went from zero to sixty after that, Rose’s responses taking Payne up, up, and up. He was revved, and breathing like a race horse as he rubbed himself to the point of climax along Rose’s sweet cleft.

Stilling to prolong the bliss of impending explosion, he reached around her hip and toyed with her pussy, finding her clit, rubbing and pinching. She gasped, and then she detonated, pushing back into his body and jerking with the power of her climax.

His cock jerked too, and then he was spilling onto her skin, groaning at the sharp pleasure that rolled up from his balls as he watched his cum pool in the hollow at the small of her back. Still twitching, he brought one trembling hand up to rub his semen there, drawing some of it down to massage into his marks that still lingered on her ass, just another urge he didn’t think to resist.

When he could move, he drew her to a stand, and circled his arms about her. “Like that, baby?” he whispered into her ear, breathless, his heart slamming against her spine.

She nodded, her head lolling against his shoulder. “I love everything you do to me. I love every second of it, Payne. I love you.”

For a second he thought it was his post-climax hearing that was out of whack. Then the words sank in, and he went cold.
Aw, fuck.

She’d said it.
I love you.

Rose was in love with him. Which meant he’d done her very, very wrong.

In the time-honored tradition of the male homo sapien, Payne’s first strategy for the Rose problem was to stuff it into a new compartment at the very back of his brain. Left there, he could pretend the situation hadn’t happened and could hope it would go away.

She’d done that last part herself, the evening before. After the shower confession, she’d dressed, rounded up her things, and headed home to her sister’s. Payne had kicked back with some beers and basketball on the screen, losing himself in a college game decided by a single point. Cami had once asked if men were actually as absorbed by the competitions they watched on TV as they seemed to be.

Uh, yeah.

But the game always ended and a man had to find another focus to occupy the forefront of his mind, while keeping his latest problem in the back-beyond.

This morning, he was doing a car-thing. “How do you know this guy again?” he asked Walsh. He was sitting comfortably in the other man’s boring black Mercedes. Honey was in the back seat, behind her boss, thumbs at work on the keyboard of her phone.

“Met him at the gym,” Walsh said. “You’re always bitching at me about my Benz, so when he told me he had a Karmann Ghia for sale, I decided to look into it.”

“Type 34, you said?”

Walsh grunted in agreement.

“Hmm.” The 34s were never sold in the U.S., though many made it to the States through Canada. They didn’t have the sleek, bullet lines of their smaller stablemate, the 14, but Payne personally liked the stylish flare around the headlights and the trunk. Still… “It doesn’t seem like your type of car, Walsh.”

“Honey likes them. I saw her admire one once.”

The thumbs of the little admin in the back froze.

Payne cast her a smile. “Look at that, a boss who cares.”

Walsh cast him an annoyed look. “Speaking of employees, yours going to pick you up?”

“Yeah, yeah.” He’d texted her. Walsh had a meeting following this appointment, so Payne would need a ride after checking out the Karmann Ghia.

“How’s Rose—”

“Can we talk about something else?” Payne interrupted, wanting to keep the lid on that compartment. “I was thinking of taking the Berrys out. You want to come along?”

A little whisper of noise from the back seat got Payne’s attention. Damn. Honey didn’t need to hear him setting up a date for the boss she adored. “Never mind. I don’t want to share them with you.”

“I heard Rose met the triplets not long ago,” Walsh said.

“Rose?” Payne lifted his hands. “Are we talking about Rose again? Rose, Rose, Rose. I’m done with that subject.”

“Geez,” Walsh remarked, his tone mild. “Touchy, much? It’s as if you don’t like the woman.”

“It’s not a question of emotion, all right?” Payne glared out the window, and pictured that faraway compartment and the stuffing of all things Rose inside it, like a jack-in-the-box toy.

“I thought you asked her to do the books for the new yard.”

Payne mentally latched the lid. “Yeah, she’s doing the books for the new yard.”

“So why the long face?”

The damn lid popped free. “She said it. The woman said she loves me.” He wanted to strangle himself.

“Oh.” Walsh looked over, grimacing. “Shit.”

Yeah. Shit. But he tried making light of it now. What else could he do? “You say that like I’m not loveable.”

“You’ve got a lot of loving in you, Payne,” a small voice popped up from the back

Closing his eyes, he groaned. Why had he opened his big mouth in front of Walsh and Honey?

“But you’re a bad bet,” her boss added.

“You think I don’t know that?” Payne demanded. “Of course I know that.” He ran both hands through his hair. “We were raised by the fucking Velvet Lemons. We aren’t like normal people. We don’t make attachments like normal people.” He’d once told Ren that dysfunction made a shitty glue and he’d been right.

“That’s not what makes you a bad bet,” Walsh said. “Of course you make attachments. Before Cilla turned creating our tribe into her personal calling, you were the guy always phoning to meet for drinks or for breakfast. You shared your black book.”

“I wanted a second sometimes when it came to the women,” he mumbled.

“You kept up with the girls, too, and even got Reed out of his bat cave on a semi-regular basis.”

Payne had to smile at that. Coaxing the reclusive horror writer out of his dark imagination had been a challenge. “Okay, I’m a saint.”

“You’re a shit,” Walsh corrected. “Because we all love you, you big dumbass golden boy, but every one of us is scared out of our minds that you’re going to kill yourself.”

“What the hell?”

“With the racing, Payne. You’re speeding away from something.”

This conversation was getting out of hand. “What could I possibly be running from?” he scoffed.

“That’s what we’d all like to know.”

Then, luckily, they reached the gym friend’s place and Payne spied the beauty of the 34, which led him to open his auto expert compartment and ignore all the others.

An hour later, he was still a little dazzled by the 34. He’d been under its hood, beneath its undercarriage, in the passenger seat during a test drive as Walsh guided it on nearby Mulholland Drive. He’d gone too slow, of course, dinky-driving it like he did in that old man Mercedes, but Payne had felt the potential.

Now, Walsh had driven off with Honey, and he was just kicking it in the gym friend’s driveway, waiting for Rose. The pink slip was Walsh’s now, but he wanted to pick up the 34 later.

And later than that, Payne thought he just might talk his good buddy out of the sweet ride. It was too good for Walsh.

Just like Rose was too good for Payne.

Christ, she kept popping up like that jack-in-the-box. To distract himself, he took another look inside the car. The dash set-up was simple, no bells and whistles like modern vehicles, but Payne appreciated the masculine elegance. The body of the car had lines that would be appealing to a feminine eye, but inside—all man. He grinned. A little like himself.

Vain asshole
, an inner voice taunted, sounding a lot like Walsh’s tone when he called Payne a “big, dumbass golden boy.”

Every one of us is scared out of our minds that you’re going to kill yourself.

He closed his eyes a moment, and when he opened them, he noted the keys were in the ignition. Mr. Oh-So-Wise Walsh had left them behind. Payne reached in to pull them free, then hesitated. God, getting behind the wheel would go a long way to clearing his head.

Without another thought, he climbed in.

Mulholland was the natural choice and he wasn’t going to dinky-drive it. Payne ate up the windy road, the view of the San Fernando Valley on the north and the view of city L.A. on the south blurring by. On a weekend or a different time of day he’d be in a line of motorcycles or commuters, but this was the sweet spot in terms of traffic and the road was taking Payne to his own state of bliss.