Chapter 11
ELEVEN
Phoebe
The strength of his grip on my neck zinged up my spine with something akin to a warning.
Danger?
My heart raced in my chest and buzzed in my head like a hive protecting the queen.
My breath stalled in my chest as his lips hovered a millimeter away from mine.
It wasn’t danger.
Nope. It was the hum before something life-changing.
His lips were soft.
Vulnerable almost.
Tentative for a moment.
His hand held me still. I brought my other hand up to frame his face. His soft beard tickled my fingertips and lips then a simple flick of his tongue changed everything.
As if my taste unleashed something else inside of him.
He slanted his mouth over mine and I groaned as my body came alive. The hum spun into an electrical storm as my fingers raked through his beard into his hair.
He straightened, dragging me off the coffee table onto his lap. One arm banded around my lower back and his fingers tunneled under my sweater to grip my shoulder until I was plastered against him.
I was going nowhere.
Safe and wild at the same time.
I gripped the back of the couch as the kiss got more heated.
I wrapped my arm around his neck, swept away into his scent and his taste. The wine, sharp on his tongue and as drugging as if I’d downed the whole bottle.
His fingers moved around to cup my jaw, his thumb stroking under my chin until I opened even more for him. His silvery eyes slitted and met mine as the kiss went syrupy slow. His nose stroked along mine. “Phoebe.”
His voice was dark and ragged.
“Yeah?”
Was that my voice? It was little more than a needy whisper.
“I’m six kinds of fucked-up.”
I frowned, lifting a hand to his face. My fingertips trailed the lines beside his mouth then over to his lower lip. “Okay. Are you trying to warn me?”
He nodded and bit the tip of my finger.
“Drugs?”
He shook his head.
Relief kicked my heart back into gear. “Alcohol?”
“It’s happened before.” His dark lashes hid his eyes as he stared at my mouth before meeting my gaze again. “But mostly just my own mind.”
“Okay,” I said with a shuddering sigh.
“I want you.”
I rocked against his lap where I was very aware of just how true that statement was. “Handily we seem to be on the same page.” I grinned, but it fell away when his face stayed serious. “That was a joke, Dutch. Should I still call you Dutch?”
His eyes burned. “Everyone calls me Dutch.”
I lightly grazed my nails through his beard and up to his overlong hair. “I do enjoy being an individual.” I scraped my nails along his scalp until I got a handful of the thick chestnut curls. I tugged a little and his silvery eyes went molten.
His hold on my shoulders intensified and I hissed out a surprised breath as he drew his fingers down my back and found my bra, flicking it open.
“Atticus.”
He scraped his teeth over his lower lip. “Say it again.”
“Atticus.”
He pulsed his hips up against me, his cock pressing along the seam of my jeans. He drew me closer until our lips brushed then his hand slid around to cup my breast. “Is there still paint on this pretty breast?”
I licked my lips. “Maybe.”
His hand was still under my sweater and my breath went ragged when he scraped a nail under my nipple before tugging lightly. He flicked his tongue along the bow of my upper lip. “Lift your sweater.”
I leaned back, resting my butt on his thighs. I dragged his fingers over the softness of my belly and used his hand to push the sweater up. His gaze locked on each inch I revealed.
He bunched up the fuzzy angora, a groan rumbling through his chest when he pushed it up around my neck. I was going to pull it off, but his mouth covered my nipple and I lost my fine motor function.
My fingers tangled in his hair as I held him against me. He went from one to the other, tasting and roughly tugging at my tight tips until the beard burn and friction held me in a thrall. I rocked against his lap, needing more. Needing to get closer.
But I loved this hazy verge of oblivion.
I didn’t want to go over.
I wanted this bit of edging to last forever.
Either he was a masochist, or he felt the same.
I brushed his hair out of his eyes as he looked up at me, my nipple trapped between his teeth. His eyes were glazed and his pupils blown wide like an abyss. Endless. Dangerous in a way that made my pulse skyrocket.
This wasn’t just a hookup.
It was as if we were feeding off one another on another level.
His free hand reached around to grab my ass, pulling me in until his cock notched against the seam of my jeans.
The sudden free fall had me grabbing his shoulders.
He ground me down against him, his breath ragged. I threw my head back, my spine bowing. He didn’t stop. In fact, he practically drop kicked me into the most intense orgasm I’d had in years. Everything inside of me fisted, then unfurled like a daisy reaching for sunlight.
I couldn’t stop the laugh that burst out of the supernova of pleasure.
I sagged back on his long legs until my head draped off his knees.
“Jesus, Phoebe.”
I fluttered my fingers in a carefree wave. “Don’t worry, I won’t fall.”
His fingers gripped my thighs, his fingers finding the holes in my jeans to grip me even more firmly. My chest heaved as if I’d run ten miles. At least what I imagined ten miles felt like.
I’d never run in my life.
“I don’t know what that was, but I want more of it.” I drew my fingers along the skin of my belly through the rivulets of sweat I hadn’t realized had formed.
When he didn’t reply I sat up. “Sorry, I did not reciprocate. Bad Phoebe.” I tried to go for his buckle but he stopped my hands. “What?”
“I’m good.”
I frowned. “That looks like you’re lying—painfully.”
“I’m good.”
The hot lust was banked now, under a chilly demeanor. What the hell happened?
“I should probably clean up.” He lifted me up off his lap and set me down on the couch.
Dumbfounded, I stared at him as he stiffly walked across the living room, gathering our bowls and wine glasses. I glanced around to find Mouse on a dog bed near the fireplace, his nose hidden under his tail.
I got to my feet, a little shaky with the abrupt lack of afterglow.
The usual post orgasmic fuel also strangely missing.
What the hell had happened? I stopped at Mouse’s bed and patted his head. “Sorry you had to see that.”
He made a little huff and tucked his nose further under his tail. Could you scar a dog with sexy times? I’d never done it in front of an animal before. One of my previous boyfriends had a cat, but she disappeared the minute we got naked.
I padded across the living room into the kitchen. Dutch was gripping the counter, his head bowed. I went up behind him and looped my arms around his middle and he instantly stiffened.
“Okay, now I’m definitely getting pissed.” I stepped back and pushed his shoulder. “Look at me.”
He turned around and leaned his hip on the counter, crossing his arms insolently.
“Is this part of your six kinds of fucked-up? Jekyll and Hyde?”
His jaw clenched.
“Hey, I’m the only one who got the orgasm, so it’s not like you got your rocks off and don’t need me anymore.”
He said nothing.
“Wow. Okay, so you’re just not going to say anything?”
“I’m messed up about stuff, Phoebe. I shouldn’t have touched you. I was stupid.”
“Messed up about what?”
“I can’t talk about it.”
I frowned. “What do you mean you can’t? Or do you mean you won’t.”
“There isn’t really a difference.”
The hurt surprised me. It wasn’t like I knew him that well, but I thought we’d been vibing pretty well while we were eating. “I see.”
I didn’t—not really, but I wasn’t going to stay where I wasn’t wanted.
“I’ll get out of your hair, then.” I backed out of the kitchen and bumped into Mouse.
“Take him with you.”
I looked around the kitchen at the treats on the counter and the leash hanging on the side of the fridge. “You bought him a bunch of stuff.”
“Take it.”
Maybe he really was hot and cold to the extreme. A manic phase? I didn’t know the ins and outs of mental illness, but it felt like it was something else. Being an empath was annoying as hell.
I picked up on his rolling emotions, but it was like a staticky radio station and I didn’t know how to pull the information clear. It came in handy when I was dealing with the volatile emotions that had been flying around my house, but at the moment it was just confusing.
And I was tired.
And my own system was out of whack with an orgasm to beat all orgasms, then just a wall.
Like he’d locked himself away where I couldn’t reach him.
I raked my fingers through my disheveled hair. “Fine.” I took the leash off the hook and Mouse tapped around the kitchen walking from me to Dutch with a whine. I crouched and called him over. “C’mon, Mouse. It’s okay.”
Dutch turned on the faucet and started cleaning up, ignoring both of us.
“You really are a dick.” I stood and caught Mouse against me then clipped the leash to his collar.
Dutch bowed his head for a moment, his fingers gripping the sink before he went on back to the dishes.
I grabbed the handle bag from Animal House and dumped everything into it. It didn’t make any sense. He obviously had taken care to get Mouse food, treats, and a good number of toys. I ruffled Mouse’s fur and tugged on his leash. “We gotta go, pal.”
He laid down on the floor and put his head between his paws.
“Don’t start that.” I pulled on the leash, but he didn’t budge.
Dutch gripped the sink, but didn’t turn toward us. “Go on, Mouse.” His voice was flat and emotionless.
Mouse whined.
I wanted to fix it and soothe both of them, but it wasn’t my job, dammit. At least I could console Mouse. I crouched next to him. “C’mon, buddy. For me.”
He scrabbled to his feet and slowly walked behind me.
I stuffed my feet into my boots. “Thanks for dinner,” I said over my shoulder and slammed the front door behind me.
I didn’t give Mouse time to get stubborn.
I knew he’d pout and lay on the damn porch.
I’d parked my truck in Dutch’s driveway instead of my own and walking over.
While I’d had dinner, the truck had iced over.
I blasted the heat enough to make a hole for me to see and backed down the drive and over to my portico.
Mouse stood on the bench seat, staring out the window to Dutch’s house. He barked, but it was a pathetic cry more than anything.
My eyes stung.
I knew how he felt.