Behind Your Back - Cameron Chelsea M.. Страница 18

She backs up and gestures.

“So, this is it. I wasn’t expecting you to see it so soon, but oh well.” I’m not sure why she’s worried. The place is cluttered, but neat.

“It’s nice,” I say as she backs toward the kitchen.

“Can I get you something? Coffee?” I didn’t really come here with coffee on my mind, but sure, why not.

“That would be great,” I say as she starts messing with an espresso machine.

“Fancy,” I say, stepping closer. She smashes her hand against the thing and makes a face.

“Yeah, when it works. Most of the time I have to beat it into submission. I tried handcuffs and a whip, but it safeworded out.” A laugh bursts from my mouth.

She whacks the machine again and it starts making a gurgling noise before dispensing coffee into a cup.

“Cream or sugar?” I shake my head and take the steaming cup from her as she repeats the process until she has a cup for herself. She adds a dash of cream and sugar and stirs it with a silver chopstick she pulls from a drawer.

“I must confess I feel a little underdressed,” she says, looking down again. I have to force my eyes upward so I don’t stare at just how thin the t-shirt is. She’s definitely not wearing anything under it, and I might be crazy, but I think her nipples are pierced.

“You look fine to me,” I say, sipping the coffee. Damn, it’s good. I haven’t had a good cup of coffee in a while. She shrugs and then pirouettes on her toes, being careful not to spill her coffee before she heads to the living room. I follow her. She sits on the couch and tucks her feet up. She looks so young right now. Young and vulnerable. Young and vulnerable and fuckable.

But I decide to be a gentleman and sit down on the other end of the couch with enough space for another person to sit between us.

This time, our silence is scented with awkwardness. I take another sip of coffee and clear my throat.

“Do you not want me here? I sort of invited myself in.” She laughs once.

“Believe me, if I didn’t want you here, you wouldn’t be sitting on my couch. I have a very protective father who would do anything I asked him to.” This, I know.

“Ah, I see,” I say, as if I don’t already know. “So I should probably keep my hands to myself.” She sets her coffee down and leans toward me.

“Oh, I don’t know about that. Seems selfish. You don’t want to share your hands?” She leans on her arms and crawls toward me. I have to set my coffee down or else I’ll spill it in my lap. That would probably kill the mood.

“Oh, you want me to share, Saige Beaumont?” I spread my fingers in front of her face and look at her through them.

“Yes, I would love you to share, Quinn Brand. I want you to share all sorts of things with me.” I lean toward her and stop, with our faces only inches apart.

“Well, you know what they say.”

“What’s that?” she breathes.

“Sharing is caring.” I take both hands and hold her face, bringing it toward my mouth. This time the kiss is sweet. Subtle. Teasing.

But I don’t care. Not about her, anyway. I care about getting what I need.

I tell myself this even as she licks the seam of my lips and I open my mouth to let her in. She’ll never get inside me. Inside my soul. No one will ever go there. The person who gets the closest is Lizzy. Maybe Cash. But no one else. I closed that door and locked it a long time ago.

Saige pulls away and studies my face.

“I can tell when you’re thinking.”

I don’t answer her. She bites her bottom lip and then props herself up with her arms. If I’d thought she was fuckable before, it’s nothing to how she looks now. Still sweet and vulnerable, but with a side of vixen.

I turn a little and she crawls all the way over me, straddling my lap. If there was any question about me wanting her, it’s put to rest as she grinds herself against me. Her fingers creep up my chest and come to rest around the back of my neck.

“What do you want from me?” she asks and the echo of a chill runs down my back. I give her what I hope is an easy smile.

“I don’t want anything from you.” She smiles back at me and rolls her hips. I have to bite back a groan.

“Liar,” she says. “Everyone wants something. So. What do you want?”

For one wild second, I think about telling her. Just to see her reaction. I’d never do something so stupid, but this is the first time I’ve even begun to consider what would happen if I did.

“Right now I want you to keep doing that,” I say, brushing my hands down her sides and letting them rest on her hips. She’s soft and generous in that department. More than enough to grab onto. I dig my fingers in and she stares down at me.

“That’s not all you want,” she says.

“You’re right. I want a whole lot more from you.” Yet again, I tell her the truth, but she has no idea.

“Like this?” she says and then kisses me again.

“Like that. And like this,” I say, pushing my hand up under her shirt. Yup, her nipples are pierced with little bars. If I wasn’t hard as a rock already, that alone would have done it. Stroking her nipples with my thumbs, I suck her bottom lip into my mouth. She moves her hips and arches against me. I roll her nipples with my fingers until they’re hard and her breathing has changed.

She breaks the kiss again and I take a moment to savor her flushed cheeks.

“Bedroom?” she asks.

“Sure,” I say and she gets off me, but takes my hand as she leads me down the hall to her bedroom. It’s light and bright, with soft white curtains hung from the ceiling to give the appearance of a canopy over her bed. There are black skulls printed on her pillows.

She drops my hand and I see her hesitate for just a split second before she grips the bottom of her shirt and pulls it over her head.

“Come here,” I say and she obeys. We should have stayed in the living room. This is not the kind of bedroom for the things I’m going to do to her. It’s too soft, too delicate. This is a room for making love and lingering touches and falling asleep in each other’s arms. I will do none of those things here and I hope she doesn’t expect me to.

Her lips meet mine again and I attack her mouth, but that seems to be what she wants. Her fingers rip at my clothes, like she can’t get them off fast enough. Most of the time I try not to undress when I’m with someone, but she gets the best of me. It’s been years since a woman has seen me completely naked and her reaction is exactly what I thought it would be.

“Oh, wow,” she says, taking a step back so she can look at me. I never intended to have that many tattoos, but it just happened. I estimate that nearly 70 percent of my body is covered now. None are on my hands, face or neck. When I wear a suit no one can see them. But now Saige sees them. Sees all of them.

I stand in front of her in only my boxers. Saige’s eyes dart from my shoulders to the sleeves on my arms, down my torso to my legs before she walks around me in a circle to look at the ink on my back.

“I’d ask you what they mean, but there are so many,” she says, coming back around to face me.

“Does this make you think differently about me?” I ask. She finally looks up into my eyes again.

“I’d be lying if I said no. But I don’t think badly of you, if that’s what you were expecting. There’s something about you, Quinn Brand. You’re a man of mystery.” She’s one to talk.

“You’re mysterious too, Saige Beaumont.” I know about the tattoo on the back of her neck, but I wonder if there are others that I haven’t gotten to see yet.

“Not as mysterious as you,” she said, taking her finger and stroking the nightingale tattoo over my heart. I’ve been careful with my tattoos. No names, nothing specific. No portraits. This bird is for my mother. Her favorite thing in the entire world was to sing. Shit. My mind had wandered again and this isn’t the best time for it.

“They’re beautiful,” she says, touching me again. I need to get out of my head. Get out of the past.