14. Avery
“Where shouldI put the petri dishes?”
“I don’t know… over by the chemical analysis charts?” Brooke suggests. “Or maybe with the lie detector. You could do a fun arrangement, like a champagne tower… but with saliva samples.”
I laugh. Brooke’s heading back to the city tonight, but for now, we’re helping Tessa set up tables at the BB for a big group she has checking in– and basking in the cool ocean breeze. The cottage has turned into a sauna in the sticky summer weather, so we jumped at the chance to come cool off here– with bottomless iced teas, and, apparently, every true crime book from the local library.
“I don’t know, guys…” I look around the room at the array of forensic equipment. “Are we sure this is actually just a group of nice fans, and not cover for a serial killer support group?”
Tessa grins. “Serial killers are famously clean,” she says, folding a stack of sweatshirts reading “CSI: Cape Cod”. “So as long as they don’t leave blood all over the bedspreads, they’re fine with me!”
“You should put that on your brochures,” I quip. “It could open up a whole new market for you.”
“Blackberry Cove: home to hot movie stars, and a couple of crazed killers.” Brooke agrees.
“And half the paparazzi on the East Coast,” I add with a sigh.
“How’s that going?” Tessa asks. “I mean, aside from the steamy make-out action,” she adds with a smirk.
”The fake make-outs,” I correct her, even as I feel my own temperature rise at the memory. Duke’s hands… his body…
His mouth.
Brooke snorts. “I know you’re a good actress, babe, but you’re not this good.”
I toss a tea towel at her, flushing deeper. “Anyway, what’s with the plural? It’s only happened once.” So far.
But god, what a kiss…
“You’re blushing,” Tessa teases.
“It’s the heat!” I grab an icy drink, and gulp. So much for my so-called acting skills. How do I have a hope of landing a prestigious A-list role when I can’t even keep a straight face and hide my emotions around my friends?
I sigh. “You did this whole fake dating thing with Jackson, didn’t you?” I ask, as we all move out onto the front porch to enjoy some more of that breeze. “How did you manage drawing lines? Keeping boundaries while you’re pretending not to have any.”
“Umm, I didn’t?” Tessa points to the massive diamond on her ring finger. “But I’m sure you and Duke will find a way to keep things professional. Unless…” she studies me, her eyes widening. “Wait, are you really falling for him?”
“No!” I protest immediately.
Brooke snorts with laughter again.
“Well, maybe,” I admit reluctantly. “I’m feeling all these… feelings. And I don’t like it,” I scowl. They laugh more. “I don’t! Especially because I know Duke doesn’t feel the same. I mean, even if we could have had some whole hate-sex hookup thing to work off the tension, the chances of that plummeted to zero about the time I was vomiting all over his pristine bathroom. There’s nothing like cleaning up puke to really turn a man on,” I add, wincing.
“Welcome to romance in the land of mere mortals,” Brooke rubs my shoulder sympathetically. ”Not all of us are getting whisked off by private jet to dinner on the Amalfi Coast for a first date, you know.”
“That happened to you?” Tessa asks, gasping.
I nod. “Some tech billionaire wanted to impress me. It would have been really romantic… if his wife didn’t call halfway through the gnocchi because their youngest kid had strep. The wife he’d forgotten to mention,” I add, rolling my eyes.
“See?” Tessa grins. “Food poisoning might not be quite so luxurious, but if there’s one thing I’ve learned about Duke, what you see with that man is what you get.”
I really am in trouble.
“How am I going to deal with more dates?” I despair. “Quinn wants us to make an appearance at the local bar tonight. I need a chaperone, before I jump his burly bones and get even more humiliated when he rejects me.”
I turn to Brooke hopefully, but she shakes her head. “Sorry, but I have to get back to the city.”
“I’ll do it!” Tessa volunteers, looking suspiciously excited. “I’ll bring Jackson, make it a double date.”
“A platonic fake double date,” I remind her. “You can’t leave us alone together. I mean it. This heatwave is already steaming up my judgment. The last thing I need is to lose my mind completely, and lunge tongue-first at the man.”
“You’ll be fine,” Tessa reassures me, firing off a quick text. “Jackson’s in!”
“Great,” I exhale, relieved. “And if it looks like I’m about to make a fool of myself… Please, just whack me over the head, and put me out of my misery.”
My fevered, triple-X-rated, late night fantasizing, battery-operated misery.
Tessa gives me a big smile. “Don’t worry,” she says merrily. “Trust me, I know exactly what you need. Tonight is going to be so much fun.”
* * *
I was half-jokingabout needing a chaperone, but when I walk into The Last Buoy that night and see Duke leaning casually by the bar, chatting to Jackson and Tessa with that baseball cap on and his jeans hanging just right from his hips, I’m glad I’ll have some back-up tonight.
Because this heatwave in my loins isn’t going anywhere. And clearly, I’ve been reading way too many bodice-ripper romances if the word “loins” has even entered the chat.
Time to put my (platonic) game-face on.
“Hi guys,” I chirp, joining them. “Comparing notes on how to tame the paparazzi?”
Duke chuckles, pulling me closer and landing a casual kiss on my cheek. “Actually, yeah,” he says, draping one arm around my shoulder so naturally, every nerve ending in my body comes screaming to life at his touch?—
Before I realize it, the night’s performance is already underway.
Of course, he’s putting on a show. We’re in a crowded room, with a ton of people around: locals and tourists alike enjoying the casual, dive-bar vibes and valiant Bon Jovi cover band– and shooting curious glances in our direction.
The presence of not one, but two Hollywood stars here tonight was always going to turn heads. Duke’s just standing up to his part of the deal.
That’s all.
I try to ignore my pang of disappointment, and focus on the conversation.
“Apparently, I’ve got to watch for—what did you call them?” Duke turns to Jackson.
“Trackers.”
“Oh, them.” I wince. “They’re real low-lives. They’ll trail you around, just yelling offensive things at you so you’ll snap and fight back. Then they get to run stories about your explosive temper, and how you’re way out of control.”
“One of them showed up at the Sandpiper, and started harassing Artie,” Tessa says with a grin. “He chased them off with the garden hose.”
“Duke used a chainsaw,” I tell them, and Tessa hoots.
“No, really? Now, that’s footage I’d love to see!”
The bartender delivers a round of beers – and a Diet Coke. Duke passes it to me without a word, and I blink. With a family history like mine, I try to stay away from booze, but I don’t make a big deal about it, and nobody ever notices, not even some of my closest friends.
But he noticed.
“So, kids, what do you need from the story tonight?” Tessa asks, with that mischievous grin on her face again. She looks back and forth between us. “Wholesome small-town fun or steamy moments in dark corners?”
I choke on my soda.
“You OK?” Duke asks, patting me on the back.
“Uh huh!” I wheeze, shooting Tessa a warning look. “Wholesome fun. Definitely.”
“Then it’s time for Jackson and me to whip your asses at pool,” Tessa beams back.
“No way,” Duke says immediately. “They’re both sharks,” he explains.
“Then we’ll go girls against guys,” I decide, stepping away from Duke’s embrace. I need to put some space between us, if I’m going to avoid that whole “jumping his bones” thing. “I’m a terrible player, so it’ll even out.”
“A little friendly competition, I like it,” Tessa agrees, leaning up to kiss Jackson on the cheek. “Prepare to crumbling in the face of my greatness, babe.”
“Oh, someone’ll be crumbling, alright,” Jackson teases back, clearly smitten. “But it’s not going to be us.”
We moveto the corner and the game gets underway, full of good-natured smack talk and bragging between the happy couple. I’m content to sit back, and let them argue – and try not to let my team down, too badly.
“You’re holding it wrong.” Duke speaks up, watching me lining up a shot. Tessa and Jackson have gone to get another round, so we’ve been left alone at the pool table.
Well, about as alone as we can be, with half the room shooting speculative looks over at us, and snapping oh-so-subtle photos on their phones.
“You need to grip the pool stick lower,” Duke continues, looking amused. “And relax. If you’re too tense, you’ll strike the ball too hard.”
“Maybe this is all just part of my brilliant strategy,” I say lightly, leaning over. “Lulling you into a false sense of security, before I steal a win.”
I make the shot – and sure enough, send the cue ball ricocheting way across the table… Without sinking a single ball. “Like I said,” I grin. “I’m playing the long game.”
“Sure.” Duke grins back. “Keep telling yourself that, sweetheart.”
He chalks his cue stick. “Any word on that audition tape?” he asks, approaching the table.
I shake my head. “It’s way too soon,” I tell him, trying to reassure myself. “I probably won’t hear anything for weeks.”
If she decides to watch it at all. It probably just went straight to the junk folder.
“Hey, don’t write yourself off just yet,” Duke says, as if reading my mind. “It’s been twenty-four hours. Wait at least a week before you lose all hope,” he adds with a grin.
“Hey!” I protest, but I’m laughing now.
“And look at it this way, at least you’ve got plenty of time to study up on your pool game,” he adds, shooting me a smirk. “Watch and learn from a master.”
Duke leans over, lining up his shot.
“A master, huh?” I muse, strolling around the table, so that I’m directly in his eyeline. Then I hop up to sit on the edge of a table, swinging my bare legs back and forth.
I’m wearing another dress tonight, printed with tiny roses, with spaghetti straps and a hem that flutters above my knees. At least, it does when I’m standing, but sitting here right now, the fabric just about covers my thighs.
Duke glances over, tracing the line of my long, tanned legs down to the little wedge sandals I have dangled off my toes.
His jaw tightens, and I feel a flash of triumph. “Go ahead,” I coo, “Show me what you’ve got… Master.”
Duke grips the stick, lines up… and shoots so hard, the ball jumps right off the table.
I throw my head back and laugh. “Now who’s the tense one?” I smirk, hopping down.
“It’s not a fair game with you looking like that,” Duke says, his gaze still hot.
I flush. “Life’s not fair, baby,” I declare lightly, moving to take my turn at the table. This time, I can’t help leaning into it as I get into position with the cue: sticking my ass out a little, and arching my back.
“Easy tiger.” Duke’s voice is low beside me, and then I feel his hands on my arm and shoulder, gently nudging them into place. “Just breathe.”
His touch sends heat rushing through me, like it’s burning an imprint into my skin. I inhale, wanting the moment to last, willing him to move even nearer; to close the distance between us and?—
“Who’s winning?”
Tessa and Jackson return, just as I strike the ball blindly, sending it slamming straight into the corner pocket.
“Not me!” I lurch up. “Bathroom break,” I add quickly. “I’ll be right back!”
I scurry across the room to the safety of the women’s restroom, going straight to the sink to dunk my wrists under the cold faucet. And maybe my head, too, if I can’t cool down.
“Easy tiger.”
I catch my reflection in the mirror, surprised that I’m looking halfway normal, and not the panting, flushed mess I feel inside. Duke was right, I need to take it easy. I’m playing with fire here, flirting like this. And sure, Duke seems to, ahem, be rising to the bait, but he’s a red-blood American man.
What do I want to happen? Him to call my bluff, lay me down on the pool table and go crazy with the whole bar watching?
Now that would make some headlines.
I straighten up, give myself a determined nod, and exit the bathroom. You’ve got this, I tell myself, looking around the bar. Duke’s across the room, but I don’t see Tessa and Jackson?—
“Look who we have here.”
A guy steps in front of me, blocking my path. He’s around my age; stocky and balding, wearing a hockey shirt and a leer. “Slumming it for the night, huh?” he asks, his eyes raking over me.
My skin crawls under his gaze, but I don’t let him see it. I square my shoulders, and look him dead in the eye. “Get out of my way.”
“Aww, but we’re just getting to know each other,” he smirks. “I heard you like it rough.”
“And you think you’re up to the challenge?” I ask icily. “How sweet.”
I try to sidestep him, but he grabs my arm. “Think you’re too good for me?” he demands.
“I think every woman on earth is too good for you,” I shoot back, my temper rising. “And all the livestock, too.”
“Fucking slut.”
I see red, but just as I’m about to knee this asshole in the balls and take his genes out of circulation, a wall of muscle moves between us, shielding me.
Duke.
“That’s enough.” His voice is steely.
“I’ve got this,” I try to move him aside, but Duke is like a damn mountain. He refuses to budge.
“Walk away, Mickey,” he tells Drunk Guy.
“Aww, c’mon,” Mickey whines. “You’ve had your turn. Let someone else have a ride.”
“If that’s what you really want, then let’s go!” I try to duck around Duke, furious. “Come on, take that shirt off, and let me see what I’m working with. What are you waiting for, hot stuff?” I demand. “Put your money where your mouth is!”
Mickey backs off. “Crazy bitch,” he mutters, before turning and slinking back to his buddies.
“Fuck you!” I call after him. I wrench away from Duke. “And fuck you, too,” I hiss at him.
I storm outside.
“Avery!”
I hear Duke call after me, but I don’t stop. There’s a patio out back with a few people drinking, so I head around the side of the building to where there’s a generator whirring loudly and a bunch of old beer crates strewn around.
“Avery, wait!” Duke catches up with me. “Calm down!”
“Why?” I swing around, furious. “Because you swooped in on your white horse to rescue me? I didn’t need saving!”
“No, he did.” Duke replies, infuriatingly calm. He folds his arms, glaring at me. “My money is on you in a fight, but I didn’t think you’d want the photos of you being led out of the bar in handcuffs!”
He’s right, of course. But that just makes me madder.
“You shouldn’t have interfered,” I insist hotly. “I can take care of myself. I’ve been doing it my whole damn life!”
“But what if you didn’t have to?” Duke demands, closing the distance between us. “Would it really be so bad if you just let someone else give you what you need?”
“Oh, and you’re volunteering?” I ask, sarcastic.
“Yes.”
Wait, what?
Our eyes lock in the dim alley light. Duke’s features are tight with tension again, and his eyes…
His eyes are blazing with pure, heart-stopping lust. Wanting me.
I stare back, frozen to the spot. My pulse kicks. And all those good reasons why I should keep my hands to myself?
I can’t remember them anymore.
So I reach for him. Hell, I practically hurl myself into his arms. Up on tiptoe, hands gripping around his neck; I pull him down to meet me and kiss him like my life depends on it.
Because god, the way I want him right now, I might just die without his mouth on mine.
Duke groans, and then his arms are coming tight around me, crushing me against his chest. We stumble back, slamming into the wall, and?—
“Aaiiii—” I let out a shriek, as the wall gives way, and I keep on stumbling.
“Whoa!” Duke catches me at the last second, before I hit the ground.
“What the hell?” I gasp, looking around. It wasn’t a wall, but a door to some kind of dark supply closet, filled with junk. I’m pretty sure that if I look too closely, I won’t want to be pressed up against any of these surfaces, so I just yank Duke closer again. “Close the door,” I manage, already kissing him again. He slams it shut behind us, and then, yes, the noise from the bar muffles, and we’re all alone.
Alone, and hot, and horny.
Duke presses me up against the shelves in the back, his hot mouth roving along my jaw and down the bare curve of my neck. “Out there, you can put on any damn show you like,” he growls, lodging a thigh between my legs. “But in here, between us, you don’t fake a goddamn thing.”
I moan, grinding against him. I can feel his cock, hard against my hip, and it just makes me hotter to know he’s losing his mind here, too.
“Say it,” he demands, as one hand closes around my breast.
I shiver at the touch. “Duke…”
“Say it’s for real.”
“Yes,” I manage, with my last coherent thought. “It’s real. Please.”
Duke sounds a groan, and then it’s like he’s a man unleashed: running his hands over my body, squeezing possessively, touching every inch. Other men have handled me with care, like I’m some priceless toy that they can’t afford to break, but Duke doesn’t hold back for a second, palming me roughly and pinching at my aching nipples until I’m melting in his hands.
“Christ, sweetheart.” He tugs my dress lower, hissing an exhale the sight of my bare breasts. “You’re a work of art.”
“Like Jacee’s paintings?” I tease, and Duke covers my mouth with his hand.
“Quiet princess,” he orders me, eyes glittering hungrily in the dim light. “Keep that smart mouth shut while I’m making you come.”
Oh my god.
I swear my eyes roll all the way back at his filthy command. I sag back against the wall, reeling. I’ve never been so turned on in my life before.
And then Duke sinks to his knees, tugs up the hem of my dress, and yanks my panties aside.
“I came so close that day in the woods,” he groans, breath hot against my core. “I was right here. Inches from heaven…”
I’m close too – to losing my mind. I hang onto the shelf above me for dear life as Duke slowly, teasingly parts my thighs wider and licks up against my clit.
Fuck.
I moan out loud as his tongue swoops over me again, nudging and lapping and—“Oh god!” I blurt. “Right there!”
“I told you, hush,” Duke grumbles, but I can feel his laughter vibrating against my skin. He licks again, stronger this time, lapping and devouring me in a frenzied rhythm that sends me crashing towards my climax before I even know what’s happening.
“Oh my god,” I gasp, already teetering on the edge. He slides a finger inside me, and then another. I moan in pleasure, out of my mind. “Wait… I can’t?—”
“You can.” Duke rises to his feet in one smooth motion– his fingers still thrusting, deep inside me. I sink back against the wall, my legs weak, eyes falling shut?—
“No, sweetheart.” Duke’s other hand tilts my chin up to meet his gaze. “Look me in the eye while you’re fucking my fingers.”
I flush, but I can’t help clenching around him, taking him deeper.
“Now beg for another.”
My jaw drops. I’m already full. It’s already too good.
Duke’s mouth grazes my earlobe, his breath hot against my cheek. “Don’t worry baby, we’ll make it fit.”
He slowly sinks another finger inside me, all the way to the knuckle. My legs buckle.
He flexes, oh god, thick and full and?—
I shatter with a cry. Duke lunges in, muffling the sound with his mouth; kissing me into oblivion as the pleasure wracks my body for the most intense orgasm of my entire life.
What. The. Hell.
I’m still reeling, out of my mind, when suddenly, there’s a gentle tap on the closet door.
I freeze, gasping in his arms.
“Umm, guys?” Tessa’s voice comes, and it sounds like she’s trying not to laugh. “If Duke and Avery are in there, or, you know, around, then… you should know, there’s a whole pack of photographers out front. We should probably all leave together. With our clothes on,” she adds, her voice full of mirth.
“Thanks,” Duke’s voice comes out hoarse. “We’ll be, uh, right out.”
The footsteps retreat. Gently, he releases me.
“How did she know we were in here?” I ask, feeling like a kid who just got busted in the backseat. “Oh god,” I clutch him in horror. “You don’t think people could hear?”
“I did tell you to be quiet,” Duke says, looking smug. He pulls my dress straps back into place, and retrieves my panties from the floor. Then he cracks the door and peers out. “All clear. Ladies first.”
I gulp, still dazed. “You think I can walk right now?”
His smug grin gets wider.
“Forget I said that.” I pull myself together, and stumble blindly out the door. “Your ego is already big enough.”
Duke’s chuckle follows me into the alley. “You seem to like the size of my ego just fine.”