Chapter 24 #2
We swap halfway through the drive, and Rig bunches up his coat and falls asleep against the passenger window.
And there’s something warm in the center of my chest about sitting next to this man as we thrum down the road.
I like him resting while I get us back home.
I like taking care of him. Home. He’s said let’s try and make it work, but the house on the beach and what that might mean is still flickering in the back of my mind.
When we arrive back at my apartment, he grabs his duffel out of the trunk and I follow him up the iron staircase.
In the bedroom, I drop my bag on the floor and head through to the bathroom, picking up my toothbrush, and he appears behind me in the doorway, watching me in the mirror.
He’s taken his top off, and his broad hairy chest makes my mouth water.
Then he leans over and picks up a glass from beside the sink, and I shift to one side as he fills it from the faucet.
I tip my head as I smile. His eyes are heated as he steps in front of me, glances down at my breasts and then back up to my eyes, leaning in and brushing his lips across mine and my mouth chases his.
“Been thinking about this all the way down,” he rumbles.
“Thinking about what?”
He shifts back and brings the glass up and pours the water down my T-shirt. It’s cold and wet and makes the cotton stick to my warm skin, soaking into my jeans and splashing down onto the linoleum floor.
I gasp with the chill and the shock. “What are you doing?”
He grins. “You asked me about playing with liquids,” he says, “when I met you. I like the shower, the soap, and getting you all slippery, but there are other things I wanna do.” His eyes gleam.
My breasts are outlined through the thin material, my nipples hardening as the icy water brings goose bumps up on my skin. So cold. A long finger comes up and runs along the side around the curve of my breast and back up the center of my chest as he groans.
“Only like doing this with women I trust.”
What?
“You know a lot of untrustworthy women, Rig?”
He laughs. “Yeah, babe, you’ve met some of them.”
Right enough, I wouldn’t trust Sadie or Amanda as far as I could throw them.
But I’m also fascinated by this insight.
He’s not one for sharing his feelings, his past. I can see how much he struggles sometimes, trying to be open with me.
I just get these glimpses into how he thinks, his history, what he likes.
I don’t mind. I like his brand of quiet, how he’s a doer.
I look at the scruff on his chin and the dark lashes fanning his cheeks as he stares down at me.
“So I’m trustworthy?”
He laughs. “You said that like it’s a question. You’re the definition of trustworthy, babe. You’ve sat in a dead-end town for years because you’re so loyal to your dead son.”
I turn my head away. “It sounds so stupid when you say it like that.”
He cups my jaw and turns my face back to his, somber eyes meeting mine.
“No, it’s not stupid. Not stupid at all.
” He draws a finger down my throat and taps my sternum.
“It’s something in here. You can’t replicate it, can’t fake it.
Loyalty. Honesty. If guys don’t see that in you, they’re ignorant as shit.
Now stop talking so I can concentrate on this. ”
He slides his hand farther down to play with the curve of my breast, stroking along the wet fabric underneath and making my nipple tighten even more. He runs his thumb over it, playing with the stiff bud.
“Jesus, baby, look at this.”
When I look down, my chest is outlined and it leaves nothing to the imagination.
“No bra,” he murmurs, his other hand coming up to cup my breast. “So cold.”
“It’s always more comfortable without one. I’m not big enough to need …”
He grips me gently. “Your breasts are fucking perfect.” He squeezes. “Fit my hands like they were made for them.” He’s watching what he’s doing, like he can’t take his eyes off me.
He holds me in one hand as he pours more water over me with the other, gripping me firmly in his hand and squeezing as the water cascades down my body.
“Always so hot with you,” he says. “Kept me company on the rig for a long time, and when you kicked me to the curb.”
I open my mouth to say that it was more like me desperately trying to resist him, but change my mind. “The problem here is that you’re doing too much talking.”
A grin curls over his face. “Like that, too.”
“Like what?”
“You giving me sass. Can’t get away with anything.
” His eyes meet mine as his hand presses in.
“Very nice, babe,” he says, stretching over to place the cup on the sink before leaning back into me and running his thumbs over both my nipples again, now outlined by my T-shirt, cupping my breasts in his warm hands.
“Want to do more, babe. I want to play.”
Fuck, I want to play with him, too. My hand comes up to his bare chest and sift my fingers through the hair curling over him and down his stomach to his happy trail, stroking his abs. I can see how hard he is in his jeans, but I can see it in his face, too.
“Can I pour liquids down you, or does this only work one way?”
He smiles a predatory smile. “No one’s asked that before.”
What? His pecs are amazing, too. Broad and firm. The perfect amount of soft hair. I run my hands over them, avoiding all the Band-Aids and drifting my thumbs over his nipples like he’s been doing with me.
“With the right liquid, I could create interesting patterns in this.”