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I nod. I may even snort. “So, weird—even if he wasn’t your dad. I’ve been cringing all day.” My shoulders shake with a lame semi-hysterical chuckle. Sonnie is here. And he still smells exactly the same. Sandalwood, citrus and sunshine.
His warm grip on each of my knees slows my mirth. Instant tension ripping up my spine in its place. Tension of every kind. The good and the bad. The hot and the hotter. I press my lips together beneath the weight of his stare.
“Why?” His face has sobered. And the hurt from that night sparks in the lines around his eyes.
I don’t need to ask to know he’s not talking about his dad or my tattoo anymore. “One of my kids needed me,” I answer simply. “A long, shitty story, that left me no choice.” My mouth feels unnaturally heavy with the memories of what I came home to that day, but I manage to take a breath. “I thought about hunting down your number.” I bite my bottom lip then let it pop from between them. “To thank you.”
His grip tightens on my knees. “Thank me for what part? Running like a pussy without letting you explain? Or the shitty things I said to you before I took off?”
My brow wrinkles, but I can’t help but smile. “Prepare yourself, dude. Shits about to get sappy.”
“Sappy?” His eyebrow lifts and I think I see the beginnings of that smirk that nobody else can pull off quite as well as him.
I blow out a long breath and square my shoulders. “If it wasn’t for meeting you...” I lick my lips then click my tongue off my teeth. Man, this shit is harder than I thought. I clear my throat. “I thought I was killing it at life before you. No ties, no worries, and zero responsibilities past my workshop.”
He sways a little closer, his hands sliding a little further up my thighs, his stare intent. Serious. Absolutely delicious.
“Then I met you.” I moosh my lips together and blow air out my nose, his sexy sandalwood and sunshine smell surrounding me, making it hard to focus on anything other than the fact that his hands are on me after all this time. “You made me realize that I want that shit. And more than that, I’m capable of that shit. Even if it did blow up in our faces. So, thank you, Sonnie. I’m glad you stole my cab.”
Sonnie
Stanza. In my shop. In my fucking shop. And she’s thanking me? Of the many, many ways I thought this would go, this doesn’t come close.
I steel my muscles against the urge to wrap her long legs around my waist and pin her to the bed. Her hair seems a brighter red than in Clua. The gray of her eyes more feline, more sultry, and a hell of a lot more settled than I remember them to be. She watches me carefully, her knees either side of my hips. Her straight white teeth worry her bottom lip. Fuck I’ve missed those lips.
“You’re welcome?” The gravel in my voice puts paid to any notion I had of playing this cool. It’s like someone’s reached inside my brain and pulled out my dream woman. Since the day I found her on my porch, I’ve been clocked around the head by that very realization every single time I lay eyes on her. Every single fucking time.
Her chest lifts with her long breath and my dick twitches against the zip of my jeans in response. The fine line triangle I know is beneath her T-shirt is begging me to press my lips against it. I circle my thumbs on the inside of her leopard print covered thighs. I missed this woman more than I’ve missed—anyone. Ever.
“Let’s take a look then.” I force my mouth to tilt up in a smirk and push from where I’ve somehow ended up leaning between her legs to cross the room and close the door. I turn the key even though May, the receptionist, has already taken off for the day.
By the time I’ve turned back, Stanza is already laying back against the raised side of the bed. The jingle of the buckles on her biker boots when she swings her legs up throws me right back to my bungalow in Clua and her riding me like she’d never fucking leave me.
A bittersweet memory if there ever was one. My dick doesn’t know if it’s coming or going. Hell, I don’t know if I’m coming or going.
I grab a pair of black latex gloves before I arrive at her side, forcing my dumb-ass smirk to stay put. Do I tell her she’s the reason I came back? That Staying in Clua lost its shine for me the day she left? That I’ve spent most of my free time since I got back trying to hunt down her number exactly like the lovesick pup she accused me of being when we first met?
Hands resting on the waistband of her pants, she stills and her gaze lifts. And just like that every other thought in my head disappears. If I didn’t know better, I’d think she was nervous.
I know better. This woman does not do nervous. It’s one of the things I liked most about her.
The corner of my mouth ticks when I snap on my gloves and meet her unreadable gray eyes. They’re the color of storm clouds, rimmed with thick black lashes. Impossible to forget. So is the face she makes when she’s just hit me with some shady one-liner. And the way her nose wrinkles when she’s thinking up said shady one-liner. Probably why I’ve not even come close to hooking up with anyone else since her.
She shifts on the bed. “Is this weird for you?”
I blink back from wherever the fuck it was I just went and clear my throat. “It’s only weird if we make it weird.” I flick my gaze to her pants. “But you’re gonna have to...”
She giggles. It’s not something I’ll ever get used to hearing in her smoke-toned voice. Cackle—sure. Low, sexy chuckle—totally her. Even a deep and dirty purr ... but giggling? Maybe she is nervous. Let’s hope they’re good nerves. Because if they’re get-the-fuck-away-from-me nerves, shit’s about to get even more awkward.
I lift an eyebrow.
She scrapes her bottom lip through her teeth but lifts her hips and slides down her pants along with her underwear, her abs tensing when she lowers her ass back onto the black leather. Her tan has faded, but not completely.
I lean my pelvis against the side of the bed again. Apparently, my dick did not get the play it cool memo either, but fucking hell. A woman’s tan-lines. Stanza’s tan-lines... I rub my jaw. If I clamp it any tighter, I’m in danger of getting lockjaw.
This tattoo is—fuck—it’s the most distracting art I’ve ever tattooed on anyone.
I touch my finger to the black detailing at the top of her pubic bone. She tenses. My dick thankfully decides to take the hint and calm the fuck down.
