Busted

It took less than sixty seconds for them to be alone.

Now, with that soulful sax wrapping around her and the dim light casting Trey’s face into shadows, Ressa felt her breath catch in her chest, just looking at him.

The low lights played with the planes and hollows of his face, making his eyes look darker. A man as beautiful as he was really didn’t need the extra help to look so beguiling. He took a step toward her and she spun away, moving around the decidedly smaller dining area, her heels muffled by the padded carpet. “They really have gone all out here, haven’t they?”

“Yeah.”

She shot him a look as he leaned his hips against one of the tables.

“Mitch . . .”

She stopped and turned to him, laughing a little. “Don’t worry about him. I got his number.”

“Yeah?” Trey smiled halfheartedly. “Is it tuned to the I’m a sex-fiend dial?”

“Nah.” She decided she wanted the little booth tucked against the windows. Sliding onto the bench, she turned her gaze toward him and lifted an expectant brow, waiting.

Once he joined her, she slid her hand over the table, linked their fingers. “He strikes me as somebody who does it just to get a rise out of people.”

“He does.” Trey shrugged. “He’s mostly harmless.”

“I already figured that.” With a happy sigh, she leaned back and looked around once more. “This place is something else. I can’t—oh!”

“What’s wrong?”

“The bookstore! I wanted to see inside!”

Now it was his turn to laugh. “Both Mitch and Guff have keys and they’ve all but been living here lately. Guff’s wife, Zelda, too. We can get them to show us the store. I wouldn’t mind seeing it myself.” He paused, frowned. “They keep asking me to set up a signing there.”

He was rubbing his thumb over the back of her hand, a thoughtful, almost absent caress. It sent shivery little thrills racing through her each time.

“Will you?” Her voice came out a little less than steady.

His eyes slid slowly up to meet hers, pausing to linger on her lips.

Oh . . . don’t do that . . .

Chapter Nineteen

“Is Loki really dead?” Travis asked, faking interest in a movie he’d seen a hundred times. Well, maybe not that many. Although he already knew the answer, if he managed to get Clayton going, it just might distract him from the nausea twisting through him. It felt like somebody was playing Twister inside him—with spiked gloves and boots.

Amy narrowed her eyes at him and then whispered, “Don’t tell him. You don’t want to ruin the movie.”

Clayton stared at Travis with suspicious eyes. “I think he’s already seen Thor. Dad told me that Uncle Travis collected all these comics and he knows more about these movies than probably anybody else.”

Travis kept his face blank. “Hey, that was when I was a kid.” He watched the scene play out, then he shook his head. “I don’t know. I think he might be. He got all white and stuff.”

Clayton focused on the screen for all of two minutes.

His next question almost had Travis choking on his beer—and the wound in his side all but screamed as he tried not to laugh.

“Do people kiss each other on dates?”

Torn between agony and amusement, he eyed Clayton. “Aren’t you a little young to think about dates and kissing?”

Clayton rolled his eyes. “No. I see Uncle Zach kissing Aunt Abby. And Uncle Zach posted a picture on Facebook of Uncle Z kissing Miss Keelie.” He scrunched up his face. “I bet Uncle Z will ask Miss Keelie to marry him.”

“How do you feel about that?” He poked Clayton in the foot, glad the kid was distracted from his father and potential kissage.

“I like Miss Keelie.” He displayed his bicep. “She drew Captain America’s shield on me at the wedding. It washed off, though. I’ll get a real one when I’m big. And I’ll have her do it.”

“Uncle Zach might have something to say about that.”

“He can do the Hulk. A giant Hulk. On my back.” Clayton gave him a gap-toothed grin.

“You got it all pla

“Yep! You think my dad will kiss—?”

Travis reached over and covered Clayton’s mouth. “Enough. I’m the uncle. I don’t talk about kissing. You got questions about kissing, ask your dad.”

Amy laughed and then leaned in, whispered something in Clayton’s ear.

Travis couldn’t hear it, but whatever it was, it sufficiently distracted the kid. There was no more talk of kissing.

Personally, though, he sure as hell hoped his brother did some kissing. The man needed to start living again.

*   *   *

“I can’t.”

Trey laughed and scooped up the last bit of Irish Delight. It was a debilitating mix of Gui

But now he wanted to know how to make it—maybe Abby could do it and send him a few to stick in the freezer, so he could see that look on Ressa’s face. Often. Not that he’d tell Abby that’s why he wanted the cakes.

“One more bite.” He held the spoon in front of her mouth.

Ressa rolled her eyes at him and then leaned in, closed her lips around the spoon. As she drew back, humming in pleasure, he had images of her doing something similar . . . only not with a damn spoon.

Her lashes lifted.

She finished the bite and then lifted a brow. “What’s that look for?”

“It’s not a particularly polite thought.”

“Who said I was looking for polite?” She pushed the plate away and then leaned forward, elbows on the edge of the table. That position did devastating things for her breasts, plumping them up and sending a whole new slew of images rushing through his mind.

“It involved your mouth, and you doing just what you just did . . . but not with a spoon.”

Confusion clouded her eyes, but only for a few seconds. Then she reached for the wineglass at her elbow. “You shouldn’t put thoughts like that in my head, honey. I just might forget we’re in a public place,” she said a moment later, and he didn’t think he was imagining the lower, huskier rasp to her voice.

She’d sounded like that just after he’d made her come.

He’d heard that voice in his dreams. Too many times. Now he wanted to hear her sound like that again, in reality.

“Then I guess I won’t mention how sexy your voice sounds right now,” he said, leaning back from the table before he did something stupid. “That you sound pretty much exactly the same way you’d sounded when I made you climax.”

Her eyes widened, pupils spiking before her lashes drooped. “No. Let’s not mention that.”

A soft, shaky sigh escaped her and then she slid out of the booth, moving to pace around the room. Trey stayed where he was, blood pulsing too hot inside his veins. The dim light practically caressed her skin and his hands started to itch, just thinking about feeling her again. Under him, against him, above him . . .

It was a thought that made his hands start to sweat.

But all he could think about was touching her. Hearing that voice break as she whispered his name. Hearing her moan.

She swung her head around, staring at him over her shoulder. The power of her gaze held him mesmerized as she turned and slowly started toward him.

“You keep looking at me like you’re seeing me naked, we’re going to have problems, Trey.”

His heart practically stopped as she went to her knees in front of him, her palms resting on his thighs. Through the material of his trousers, he could feel the imprint of her hands, each finger, the heat of her.