Tough Love
Page 10
Time ticked by in silence. Watching him, Vanity licked her lips, then shook her head. Eyes big and soft, she whispered, “I’m going to need more than just a few hours.”
That promise had his heartbeat thundering again. Moving things aside, he located the first-aid kit tucked into the corner of the trunk. He pulled it free, closed and locked the trunk, then put a hand to the small of her back. “C’mon.”
With both of them walking quickly, she opened her small purse, dug out her house key and handed it to him.
He opened the door and stepped into her living room.
After slipping off her sandals, Vanity closed the door and flipped a few locks. Following her cue, Stack, too, removed his shoes. Usually, unless jogging, he wore boots. But the damn tux had come with glaringly shiny shoes. Luckily, unlike his boots, he could toe them off easily enough.
Until Vanity had removed her sandals, he hadn’t realized that they’d each collected grass and mud while freeing the woman from the fire.
Taking his hand, Vanity got him walking. “Living room,” she said, waving a hand toward a midsize couch and two stuffed rocking chairs. An enormous television hung on the wall above a shelf of books, and what looked like real paintings hung on the remaining walls.
“Nice.” The decor and the artwork, which he tried to see better, but Vanity hadn’t slowed to give him time.
“Thanks.” By the kitchen she finally paused. “That door over there opens to the garage.” Indicating the opposite wall, she said, “And that one goes to the unfinished basement with the washer, dryer and...stuff.”
The kitchen looked newly remodeled, but he barely had time to see it before she got him walking again, this time down the hall. “Bedroom one, bedroom two.”
She was in such a rush that Stack smiled. It was a nice thing to be wanted by Vanity.
“Hall bath,” she told him, and then she tugged him into an open room. Dropping his hand and tossing his tux jacket to a chair, she said, “And this is my bedroom. The connected bath is over there.”
“Pretty,” was all he managed to say before she took the first-aid kit from him, set it on the floor, then plastered herself against him.
Arms around his neck, her gaze on his mouth, she whispered, “Stack?”
He held her waist as she slowly stretched up to reach him. “Yeah?”
“Kiss me, please.”
“Hell of an idea.” And given that she wanted him, maybe he could work on wresting the control back from her in the process.
* * *
A HUNDRED TIMES Vanity had thought about this moment, about playing it cool, taking her time.
Being in charge.
Not likely, not now that she finally had Stack in her house, ready, willing, even anxious. He smelled so good, a little like smoke mixed with the chilly night and his own, delicious scent of macho man. She tunneled her fingers into his cool hair. In warmer weather the sun bleached his light brown hair into a dark blond. Now, though, after a recent trim for the wedding, most of the blond was gone. The wind and the fire had left the wavy strands mussed. She loved it.
She loved his incredible body even more.
While he kissed her, she drowned under the feel of him, so tall and strong with fluid muscles that shifted against her. She trailed her hands down to his hard shoulders, then over his strong chest.
Stack freed his mouth and drew her close, her head to his shoulder. One of his hands knotted in her hair, and she felt his heartbeat knocking hard against his ribs.
“Stack?”
“Give me a second.”
But...why? Levering back enough to see him, she started on the buttons to his dress shirt. When she had four of them free, she slipped her hand inside. Crisp body hair teased her palm; his skin was so hot, his chest solid.
“Hold up.” He caught her wrist and kept her still while he sucked in air. “Shower,” he said. “And your arm.”
“Take your clothes off.” She didn’t mind that idea at all. “Then we can shower.”
His rough, strained laugh made her smile.
“I like that.” He touched her mouth. “I like how your smile always twitches into place. One side kicks up first, then the other, almost like you’re trying not to smile but you can’t help yourself.”
An apt description, at least whenever she was around him. He made her happy. She loved talking with him, laughing with him, looking at him.
Loved getting closer to him.
Would love loving him if he’d give her half a chance.
All the fighters were focused on their careers, but Stack, more than the others, had always seemed disinterested in the possibility of a relationship.
That promise had his heartbeat thundering again. Moving things aside, he located the first-aid kit tucked into the corner of the trunk. He pulled it free, closed and locked the trunk, then put a hand to the small of her back. “C’mon.”
With both of them walking quickly, she opened her small purse, dug out her house key and handed it to him.
He opened the door and stepped into her living room.
After slipping off her sandals, Vanity closed the door and flipped a few locks. Following her cue, Stack, too, removed his shoes. Usually, unless jogging, he wore boots. But the damn tux had come with glaringly shiny shoes. Luckily, unlike his boots, he could toe them off easily enough.
Until Vanity had removed her sandals, he hadn’t realized that they’d each collected grass and mud while freeing the woman from the fire.
Taking his hand, Vanity got him walking. “Living room,” she said, waving a hand toward a midsize couch and two stuffed rocking chairs. An enormous television hung on the wall above a shelf of books, and what looked like real paintings hung on the remaining walls.
“Nice.” The decor and the artwork, which he tried to see better, but Vanity hadn’t slowed to give him time.
“Thanks.” By the kitchen she finally paused. “That door over there opens to the garage.” Indicating the opposite wall, she said, “And that one goes to the unfinished basement with the washer, dryer and...stuff.”
The kitchen looked newly remodeled, but he barely had time to see it before she got him walking again, this time down the hall. “Bedroom one, bedroom two.”
She was in such a rush that Stack smiled. It was a nice thing to be wanted by Vanity.
“Hall bath,” she told him, and then she tugged him into an open room. Dropping his hand and tossing his tux jacket to a chair, she said, “And this is my bedroom. The connected bath is over there.”
“Pretty,” was all he managed to say before she took the first-aid kit from him, set it on the floor, then plastered herself against him.
Arms around his neck, her gaze on his mouth, she whispered, “Stack?”
He held her waist as she slowly stretched up to reach him. “Yeah?”
“Kiss me, please.”
“Hell of an idea.” And given that she wanted him, maybe he could work on wresting the control back from her in the process.
* * *
A HUNDRED TIMES Vanity had thought about this moment, about playing it cool, taking her time.
Being in charge.
Not likely, not now that she finally had Stack in her house, ready, willing, even anxious. He smelled so good, a little like smoke mixed with the chilly night and his own, delicious scent of macho man. She tunneled her fingers into his cool hair. In warmer weather the sun bleached his light brown hair into a dark blond. Now, though, after a recent trim for the wedding, most of the blond was gone. The wind and the fire had left the wavy strands mussed. She loved it.
She loved his incredible body even more.
While he kissed her, she drowned under the feel of him, so tall and strong with fluid muscles that shifted against her. She trailed her hands down to his hard shoulders, then over his strong chest.
Stack freed his mouth and drew her close, her head to his shoulder. One of his hands knotted in her hair, and she felt his heartbeat knocking hard against his ribs.
“Stack?”
“Give me a second.”
But...why? Levering back enough to see him, she started on the buttons to his dress shirt. When she had four of them free, she slipped her hand inside. Crisp body hair teased her palm; his skin was so hot, his chest solid.
“Hold up.” He caught her wrist and kept her still while he sucked in air. “Shower,” he said. “And your arm.”
“Take your clothes off.” She didn’t mind that idea at all. “Then we can shower.”
His rough, strained laugh made her smile.
“I like that.” He touched her mouth. “I like how your smile always twitches into place. One side kicks up first, then the other, almost like you’re trying not to smile but you can’t help yourself.”
An apt description, at least whenever she was around him. He made her happy. She loved talking with him, laughing with him, looking at him.
Loved getting closer to him.
Would love loving him if he’d give her half a chance.
All the fighters were focused on their careers, but Stack, more than the others, had always seemed disinterested in the possibility of a relationship.
