Rachel Gibson - True Love and Other Disasters

“Did I wake you?”

She blinked. “Ty?”

“Yeah. Are you alone or is that dog in your bed?”

“What?” She felt around and her fingers touched fur. “Pebbles is here.”

His soft laughter filled her ear. So rare it poured through her and woke her up inside. “That must mean my dad’s there.”

“He must have snuck in after I went to sleep. Did you want to talk to Pavel?”

“God no.”

She licked her lips. “Then why are you calling?”

“I’m not quite sure.”

She turned her head and looked at the glowing numbers on her bedside clock. “Do you know what time it is?”

There was a pause and then, “Three fifteen.”

“Where are you?”

“I’m in my car. Sitting in front of your building.”

She sat up and pushed the cover aside. “You’re kidding.”

“No. We just landed a half hour ago. Did you watch the game?”

“Yeah.” She swung her legs over the side of the bed. “How’s your eyebrow?”

“I got five stitches.”

“It looked like it hurt.”

“Like a son of a bitch. You should come down and kiss it better.”

“Right now?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m not dressed.”

“At all?”

Through the darkness, she glanced down at her Looney Tunes T-shirt. “Completely naked.”

He cleared his throat. “Throw on a coat. I promise I won’t look.”

She smiled and shook her head. “Looking isn’t what gets us into trouble.”

His voice lowered and he said, “You like trouble. Apparently, so do I.”

She did. She liked it a lot. “What kind of trouble were you thinking we should get into?”

“The kind that has you naked and in my bed. Since you’re already naked, maybe you should just come on down and go the rest of the way.”

She shouldn’t. Really shouldn’t. “That would be inappropriate.”

“Very.”

“And you don’t regret what happened the other night?”

“Not yet, but I’ve got a few twisted positions with your name on ’em. I figure that after tonight, we’ll be filled with enough shame and regret to last a while.”

“It sounds like you’ve been thinking about me.”

“A lot.”

She’d thought about him, too. She shouldn’t have, but she couldn’t help herself. And while he might not regret what had happened, she should. But at that moment, listening to his voice and knowing he was parked outside wanting her, she didn’t feel anything but a hot curl of lust tugging at the pit of her stomach. “Me too,” she answered just above a whisper. “There’s a golf tournament this summer. I think I need to practice.”

“Honey, you can practice with my nine iron all you want.”

“I’ll grab my coat.” She hung up the phone, then stepped out of her panties and pulled her T-shirt over her head. Right now, wanting to get into trouble with Ty won out over the guilt she would feel in a few hours.

She hurriedly brushed her teeth and hair and grabbed her slick black raincoat from her closet. She shoved her feet into a pair of red pumps and dropped her keys into her coat pocket on the way out the door.

Ty stood next to his black BMW parked heading the wrong way next to the curb. Darkness surrounded him, and a cool breeze blew off Elliott Bay, tossing several strands of Faith’s hair in front of her face.

“Mrs. Duffy.”

“Mr. Savage.”

He opened the passenger door. “Nice coat.”

She stepped in front of him and looked through the darkness into his face. Stark white bandage strips were taped at the corner of his left eye. The same breeze that tossed her hair about her head brought the scent of his skin to her nose and she breathed him in. She placed her hands on his chest and raised her face to his. Beneath the cotton of his dress shirt, his muscles bunched and turned hard.

Ty lowered his mouth and kissed her. His lips pressed into hers and something hot and intense flooded her senses and her fingers curled into the fabric warmed by his flesh. His tongue touched hers as his hand slid between the lapels of her raincoat. His warm hand cupped her breast and he fanned his thumb over her nipple.

Just when she gave serious thought to grabbing his wrist and leading him upstairs, he lifted his head and pulled his hand from her coat. “Get in,” he ordered, his voice a bit gravelly from exhaustion or lust or both.

He opened the door and she sat in the passenger seat and looked up at him. “What sort of twisted positions do you have planned for me?” she asked.

“Working our way from one end of my mattress to the other.”

She pulled her feet inside and remembered his king-size bed. “That could take a while.”

“Exactly.”

The brush of something warm across Faith’s shoulder brought her out of a sound sleep. Her lids fluttered open and she turned to stare into a pair of brilliant blue eyes a few inches from her face. Smile lines appeared in the corners, wrinkling the white strips covering Ty’s stitches as he lightly bit her shoulder.

“Good morning,” he said against her skin.

“What time is it?”

“A little before noon.”

“Oh my God!” She sat up and the white sheet slid to her waist. “It’s late.” A sudden knot of panic kicked up the beat of her heart and tightened her stomach. She hadn’t woken up in a man’s bed in…she didn’t know how long. She pulled the sheet up to cover her breasts and glanced back over her shoulder at him. He looked at ease and relaxed in a gray T-shirt and a pair of loose shorts. “You’re dressed.”

“I ran five miles on the treadmill.”

“And you didn’t wake me?”

He rolled onto his back on top of the thick black paisley comforter and stacked his hands behind his head. “You were out.” His gaze ran down her bare back. “You didn’t get to sleep until around five.”

“Neither did you.”

“I don’t need a lot of sleep.”

With one hand she held the sheet to her chest and rubbed her face with the other. Her heart pounded in her throat as she looked around the room at the sparse oak furniture and the blinds closed across the huge, arching window. “Don’t you have practice?” She was twenty minutes from home—if the traffic was good—with nothing but a raincoat. What had seemed like such a fine idea last night felt like a horrible mistake in the harsh light of day.

“Not for a while.” He sat up and pushed her hair behind her shoulder. “I thought I’d drop you off on my way and pick you back up afterward.”

Her heart pounded in her ears. She didn’t even have a pair of panties. There was a time in her life when that wouldn’t have bothered her, but that was a long time ago. A different time and a whole different life. She’d been a different person, and that wasn’t her anymore. Anxiety tightened her forehead and she feared she was going to have a panic attack. She’d worked hard to put that kind of life behind her.

“Faith?”

She looked at him. “Yes.”

“Did you hear what I said?”

“You have to go to practice.”

He lowered his mouth to her shoulder and softly bit her skin. “I want to pick you up afterward. Maybe take you to a little Italian restaurant I discovered in Bellevue. Service sucks, but the food is great.”

“No!”

His head snapped up and he looked into her eyes. She had to think. Had to get control of her life and herself. She couldn’t date her hockey player. Her husband had just died. She couldn’t date anyone.

After several heartbeats, he said slowly, “Okay.”

“I meant…” What did she mean? She was so confused. She didn’t know. “I didn’t mean that the way it came out. I just meant…”

“I know what you meant. You just want to have sex and that’s it.”

Is that what she meant? No. Yes. She couldn’t think beyond the confusion tightening her skull.

He shrugged and took off his shoes and socks.

“I’m cool with that. A lot of women want to fuck hockey players.” He pulled his T-shirt over his head but he didn’t look cool. He looked a little angry. The T-shirt flew across the room and he yanked the sheet from her grasp.

“Ty!”

“Now we know where things stand.” He pushed her shoulders until she lay back looking up at him.

“You’re mad.”

He shook his head and leaned over to plant his hands beside her head on the pillow. “I was just trying to be nice before. Now I don’t have to worry about it.”

Faith raised her hand to the hard muscles of his chest. “I like it when you’re nice.”

“Too bad.” He lowered his face to the side of her neck.

Before she’d fallen asleep in his bed, they’d had sex twice. The last time had been in his shower that had body jets and could easily accommodate a party of six. Which meant her hair was probably a horrible mess. A frown wrinkled her brow as he kissed her throat. Her life was in crisis and she was worried about her hair?

“I don’t want to play nice anymore.” His warm breath fanned across her neck and down her chest and she felt a slight easing of her tension.

“How do you want to play?” she asked.

“Rough,” he answered, as his mouth moved across her neck, pausing to bite the side of her throat. He slid down her body to her right breast and looked up at her, his gaze a volatile mix of anger and lust as he opened his mouth and sucked her nipple inside. He drew her hard into his hot, wet mouth while he palmed her other breast. Gone was her lover of the night before. The man who used his big hands to tease and stroke a response wherever he touched. Gone was the man who took his time and paid attention to her response as he made love to her body.

He turned his attention to her other breast and stabbed at her stiff nipple with his tongue. His rough hands kneaded her soft flesh and God help her, but it turned her on. She grabbed handfuls of sheet and comforter and arched her back. She moaned deep in her throat and he laughed.