Whisper Falls Page 17

  Tessa gave him one last look and their eyes locked—right before she turned and left him there.

  Upon reaching the parking lot, Mike had announced that Rachel would ride with him in his pickup and Tessa would drive Rachel’s car—they’d follow her to her cabin.

  But it was all Tessa could do to drive Rachel’s BMW—her hands trembled for the first few minutes after leaving Gravediggers, and even after that subsided, she remained tense. Did that really just happen? She blinked, then let out a sigh, trying to focus on the road. She’d never seen Mike so enraged, nor had she ever witnessed such pain in Lucky’s eyes. How had the night ended this way?

  It ended this way because you were selfish and dragged your friend someplace she didn’t want to go.

  And after this, Lucky probably wouldn’t want anything more to do with her—and she couldn’t blame him. Clearly, he and Mike weren’t ready to see each other—and because of her, they’d had it out in public.

  Tessa kept reliving the moment Mike had hit Lucky, and it upset her more each time, until she was almost as angry with Mike as she was with herself. She’d come to like Mike since his engagement to Rachel, but she hadn’t liked him tonight. How could he hit his brother like that? She didn’t know everything that stood between them, but it had still felt unduly harsh.

  As she wound the car across the country byways, soon turning onto Whisper Falls Road, Tessa tried to wrap her head around everything else that had happened, too—but the night had felt like a whirlwind and it all came to her in a mishmash of memories and feelings.

  Lucky kissing her, and kissing her, and kissing her.

  Rachel had gotten in big trouble with her fiancé now, thanks to Tessa.

  Lucky running his fingertip along the upper ridge of her breast.

  Mike had seen her dressed like a trollop and probably thought she’d gone insane.

  Lucky splaying his strong hands across her thighs, sending bursts of heat shooting to her core.

  Rachel now knew Lucky wasn’t an awful guy. And they’d actually gotten some tidbits about his past—even if he’d been evasive at moments.

  And . . . if Mike hadn’t shown up, Tessa was pretty sure she’d have had sex with Lucky right there, behind Gravediggers, on the hood of that old car!

  Except then she remembered . . . he’d told her he wanted to take her home with him. Which maybe meant . . . he thought she was worth more than just a quickie outside a bar. And the truth was, her body had been so ready, so primed, so eager, that if they hadn’t been interrupted, she wouldn’t have been very bothered by where they were or how sudden it all was—but she liked knowing Lucky had wanted it to last longer; she liked the idea of him wanting to take her into his bed.

  By the time she pulled into her driveway, Mike’s truck right behind her, her heart pounded with renewed lust. So much that she had to grit her teeth and try to will away the pulse between her legs before she could exit the car and face the matter at hand, namely the problems she’d created for Rachel with her selfishness and impatience.

  Finally, she took a deep breath and opened the door—to find Rachel approaching her in the glare of Mike’s headlights. Upon getting out, Tessa gave Rachel a hug and said into her ear, “I’m so, so sorry, Rach. I didn’t mean to be so selfish. I never dreamed things would turn out this way.”

  When Rachel drew back to look at her, Tessa was surprised to see such calm understanding in her friend’s blue eyes. “It’s okay, Tessa, really.”

  Tessa just sighed. “I didn’t mean to cause a rift between you and Mike. I never imagined he’d show up there.”

  “I know. But . . . he’s a lot more upset about Lucky than mad at me. Don’t worry—everything will be okay.”

  “Between Mike and Lucky?” Tessa asked.

  Rachel gritted her teeth, her expression troubled. “Well, I meant between Mike and me. I don’t know about Mike and Lucky—I really don’t.” Then she bit her lip and met Tessa’s gaze. “What about you and Lucky?”

  Tessa let out a heavy breath, her thoughts drawn back to the profound passion they’d shared—albeit briefly. She wasn’t sure she’d ever experienced such intense need with a guy, such a powerful urge to simply go with it—with the moment, with the man, with everything he made her feel. “Well, things were getting really, um, great . . . until Mike showed up. Now, though . . .” She stopped, shook her head. “He’ll probably hate me. I knew Lucky had reasons for not wanting to see his family, and it’s all my fault this happened.”

  “He’d be crazy to blame you,” Rachel said.

  Yet the thought drew Tessa’s eyes toward where Mike sat waiting. “But sometimes emotions clearly get the best of people.”

  Lucky raced through the night, probably going a little too fast on his Deuce, but having to focus on the road was a good distraction from what had just happened. Not that it wasn’t all still roaring through him, but he gripped his handlebars tight and tried to feel each bend and curve in the road. He tried to let the brisk night wind rip his emotions away. All of them. The way he’d wanted Tessa. The pain of his confrontation with Mike. He wished he’d never come back here. He didn’t need this shit.

  But then he remembered. He had a son—a son he’d be meeting as soon as Sharon gave the okay. So he had to be back here.

  For once in your life, you’re gonna do the stand-up thing, you’re gonna do something right.

  Even if coming home to this backwater town kills you.

  Limp Bizkit’s version of “Behind Blue Eyes” played over the sound system on his bike, so he tried to focus on that, too—tried to let the somber song calm him down. But he felt the song’s words too much. What a fucked-up night. And there for a while, it had seemed like such a good night.

  But maybe . . . hell, maybe everything happened for a reason. Maybe his self-righteous brother had punched him in the mouth because he wasn’t meant to be with Tessa the way he wanted; maybe this was fate’s nasty way of telling him he wasn’t meant to quit worrying about the past coming back to kick him in the ass. After all, this was a cruel reminder—the past had just come back, in a different way. To kick him in the ass—and to punch him in the mouth.

  A few months ago, life had been easy. Well, wait, no—not easy. Not . . . good. But normal. He’d had a routine, and a set of rules he lived by, and everything had been on an even keel. For years, more or less. Sure, you run with a crowd of rough bikers, sometimes you had to push your weight around or even get into the occasional bar fight. But anything that had happened in the past ten years had all been petty shit for Lucky, nothing that mattered. And here, back in Destiny, it felt like everything mattered. He felt things here more. Whether it was anxiety over meeting his kid, or worry over his family, or lusting for the pretty girl next door.

  Right now, all Lucky wanted was to turn it off. All of it. Even Tessa. Because tonight had reminded him in a whole new, brutal way how in small towns everything was intertwined, how everybody was a part of everybody else’s life, and how fucking complicated that always made things. No wonder he preferred city living, where people kept to themselves and left other people alone.

  Hell, in nearly ten years in Milwaukee few people had ever even asked him a question that had caused him to mention California. In the city, no one made him remember, or worry—at least not any more than he did on his own naturally. Here, one night out with a woman he was attracted to and he’d been forced to bring up those California days and fudge answers and feel that ugly weight of keeping ugly secrets. And all that forced him to ask still new and troubling questions: Could a girl like Tessa ever truly get him? Understand him? Accept everything about him? This whole night had just served to remind him how different they were.

  He wanted to go to bed and sleep until noon tomorrow. He wanted to forget. It was the closest he could come to . . . not being here, to running away from it all . . . without running away.

  As his bike rumbled into the driveway, he glanced down at Tessa’s house, sitting quietly in the dark,
all the lights out.

  Goodnight, hot stuff.

  Goodbye, hot stuff.

  Tessa lay tossing and turning—she couldn’t sleep; she couldn’t even relax. She’d been home for two hours and it was officially late now, but she was wide awake. And distressed.

  Or was that . . . sexually frustrated?

  Both, she supposed.

  She wore the “Hot Stuff” pajamas with the little red peppers on the pants, but couldn’t help remembering how sexy she’d felt in her lacy red bra and the matching undies Lucky would now never see. She’d truly been bold tonight, and it had worked—until her grand plan had all come crashing down around her.

  She hated the way she’d left things with Lucky, that she’d left him just standing there; she hated that she’d let Mike boss her around, even if he’d had good intentions. Now, she couldn’t get her big, brawny neighbor off her mind—partly because of all the making out they’d done and the sex they didn’t have, but also because of everything else, too.

  Like all the secrets surrounding him—those she knew and those she didn’t. And because seeing him with Mike tonight, and even with his buddy Duke, had opened up all kinds of new uncertainties. From the moment she’d met him, he’d seemed like a walking contradiction—the scary, tattooed guy who helped her lure Mr. Knightley back with a bowl of milk. And the more she learned about him, the more that held true. Was he the dangerous biker with secrets? Or the dad who wanted to give his son a great second home he would love? Was he the big, burly guy who could clearly snap someone in two like a twig? Or was he the man who’d touched her so tenderly and refused to defend himself against his brother’s fist?

  She let out a sigh. You’ll never know now.

  After all, he’d forgiven her for being nosy and forcing him to come clean about having a child. But that, added to the trouble she’d unwittingly brought his way tonight, would surely be too much. She could easily envision Lucky continuing to do what he’d done earlier this week: keeping his distance from her, avoiding her when she was working in his house. And then, when the job was over, they’d just go back to being neighbors, the kind who casually waved when coming or going.

  Just then, a loud knocking pierced her thoughts and made her flinch—then bolt upright in bed. What the hell was that?

  When it came again, it registered that someone was beating on her door. She had company so seldom that it had thrown her off. Plus it was the middle of the night.

  As she flipped on a light and tromped out into her living room, she thought of ax murderers, but decided they probably wouldn’t knock. Although now seemed like a good time to have had a peephole, and she thought briefly of Rachel and Amy’s worries about her cabin being so far from town. The only thing that made her yank the door open was the logical thought creeping slowly into her brain—that there was only one person who lived anywhere near her: Lucky.

  Still, even when she found him waiting on the other side, she had no idea what to expect now. She only knew that his dark eyes looked so wild at the moment that it made her draw back slightly.

  “I tried to stay away, tried to go home and go to sleep,” he said.

  And then—oh. She understood. He . . . he still wanted her.

  “Why?” she breathed, stunned. Because after tonight on the hood of that car, how could he not know she wanted him, too?

  He let out a breath, shook his head, swallowed visibly, and appeared wholly uncertain. “I’m not sure if . . . I’m good for you.”

  She simply blinked and asked the same question again. “Why?”

  Pressing his lips together, he hesitated. “It’s complicated. But . . . I couldn’t stay away.”

  Tessa bit her lip, then pulled in her breath as her heart began to beat harder, warmth expanding through her chest. “Thank God,” she said. “I can’t sleep, either.”

  A small, deep sound of passion escaped Lucky’s throat just before he lifted both hands to her face and kissed her with the same heat that had been building inside her for the past few hours, too. It nearly stole the breath from her lungs, left her weak, nearly collapsing into his arms.

  “Are you okay?” he whispered as she slumped against his chest, pressing her palms there.

  She lifted her gaze to his and felt the full measure of how large and tall and broad he was. “I just . . . want you,” she whispered.

  He let out a low moan, then lowered his hands to her ass through her pajama bottoms, lifted her until her legs wrapped naturally around his hips, and pressed his erection exactly where she needed to feel it. Then he took a few long steps with her in his grasp and fell with her onto her couch, pinning her there with his hard body.

  Their gazes met hotly, and she could feel his breath on her lips as he asked, “Are you sure you’re ready for what’s coming, hot stuff?”

  Come to me—come to me entirely now.

  Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre

  Ten

  Tessa didn’t even have to think. “Oh yeah,” she practically purred. In fact, she was reasonably certain she’d never been more ready for anything in her life.

  She peered up into Lucky’s eyes, ran her fingertips over his stubbled cheeks. She’d seen plenty of expressions on Lucky’s face—she’d seen him angry, she’d seen him hurt, she’d seen him distant and withdrawn. She’d seen him cocky, confident, teasing, and kind. But the expression he wore right now was the one she liked the best—he looked like he was going to devour her.

  A second later, his kiss engulfed her once more, deep and with intent, like a man who knew what he wanted and was going to take it. He didn’t hesitate to thrust his tongue into her mouth and she liked the small sense it gave of being invaded by him.

  His erection remained right where she wanted it, pressing between her legs—which she’d instantly, willingly parted for him. As they kissed some more, she skimmed her palms over his strong, wide shoulders, combed her fingers through his long, silky hair. Moonlight through the window combined with the soft glow of the lamp from the bedroom to allow her to study him, and to watch the way he touched her; cupping her jaw in one hand, he let the other glide down over her neck, then pressed it flat against her chest to slide it ever-so-slowly between her aching breasts.

  That’s when he glanced to her chest, then back up, giving her a wolfish grin. “You’re wearing my favorite shirt.”

  She bit her lip, met his heated gaze with her own. While she’d fantasized about Lucky seeing her—exploring her—in her racy red lingerie, now she was glad it was happening like this. Because this was her, the real her. The girl who wore “Hot Stuff” pajamas far more often than sexy bras. And cotton panties more frequently than lace ones. And even if he’d liked the way she’d looked earlier, he didn’t seem the least bit disappointed in her late-night appearance now. Oh God—it hit her just then that she didn’t even have on makeup. But then she calmed down, remembering once more: He doesn’t care about that.

  The realization made her reach up to kiss him again, luxuriating in the feel of his hands on her skin. He’d eased them under her top, over her ribs, and she longed for them to rise higher, higher.

  “Could we go in your bedroom?” he murmured deeply.

  She was unable to summon words amid her overwhelming desire. “Uh-huh.”

  He leaned in to lower a warm kiss to her neck, whispering, “Couch is too small. I wanna be able to take my time.”

  Oh my. The words fluttered through her like the best promise anyone had ever made. “Okay,” she breathed.

  And instead of getting up off her, he said, “Wrap your arms and legs around me, babe,” and when she did, he easily hoisted her up until he was on his feet, saying, “Down the hall?”

  “Mmm-hmm.” She was simply too excited to speak, and glad at least one of them was able to communicate sensibly.

  Lucky found the way and soon lowered her gently to her bed—the covers already drawn back from before. Despite being dim, the lamp on the bedside table allowed her to see him better than in the living ro
om as he gazed down on her, then kicked off his shoes and lifted one knee to the sheet alongside her. Now that she was past being intimidated by his appearance, she thought him truly beautiful—a beautiful man with olive skin, sculpted cheekbones and jaw, and muscles that felt strong and capable when they encircled her.

  Feeling aggressive, she reached up, placed her palm on the rippled muscles of his stomach through his T-shirt. Then she closed her fingers around the fabric and pushed upward. “Take this off.”

  His warm sigh said he liked the request—just before he smoothly removed the black tee over his head and tossed it aside.

  She gasped, not only at the sight of his chiseled chest and stomach—but at other things, too. A small scar near his rib cage. A larger, more angry one that slashed down his side. And yet another tattoo he’d been carrying around hidden beneath his shirt, and curving over his heart: Anna. He’d had his little sister’s name engraved on his skin.

  “What?” he whispered at her reaction—but then followed her eyes and said, somberly, “Oh.”

  She just nodded.

  “Keep her close to my heart that way,” he said soft, low, then bent over her, stretched out alongside her, and kissed her some more.

  He was right—the bed was better. The bed somehow silently meant, We can go all night long if we want to, just as he’d suggested back at Gravediggers.

  His kisses reignited all the fire inside her until finally his mouth trailed over her jaw, down onto her neck. Sighing languidly, she bent her head to make it more accessible—her neck was one of her most sensitive areas. He lay on top of her now and slowly smoothed his warm palms down over her breasts and on to her waist. Oh God, just to have that momentary touch—there—delivered more pleasure than he could possibly know. Oh Lucky, please. Please, more.

  He must have read her mind, or maybe her reaction, since he continued kissing her neck even as he began to roll the bottom of her tank upward over her torso, each motion painstakingly slow. And then his kisses ceased and he raised slightly, peering down, studying his movements, her body. She bit her lip and watched, too, but also lingered over his brown eyes with those long, black lashes and all the secrets that hid behind them.