Jenny went to get cleaned up and Billy took care of the condom. Man, he thought to himself over and over. He’d been afraid that, after the weeks-long buildup, sex with Jenny wouldn’t live up to the expectation. He’d never been more wrong.
He straightened out the sheets and got the pillows lined up. As great as that had been, he’d only had her home for about forty-five minutes. He still had her for the whole night. And a long morning.
Almost nine grand. He had no idea who Josey had been bidding against—but it had been someone who’d been freaking serious about it. Bobby hadn’t thought he’d go for much more than four or five, tops. But almost nine? Yeah—he was keeping Jenny here for as long as he wanted.
As long as she wanted, that was. Already, he was hardening thinking about the way her warm wetness had taken him in, the way she’d moaned and then cried out his name. The way she’d looked, her breasts bouncing up and down with each thrust.
He shook his head, checking to see if it was on straight. She’d said it herself—it’d been a long time. Even though she’d been able to handle him, she would probably need more than ten minutes of recovery time.
But the image of all her curves wouldn’t be banished. Would twenty minutes be enough?
To distract himself, he hung up his jacket and tried to shake out her dress. The thing was a crumpled mess, though. Then the bathroom door opened and he spun to see her backlit with the bathroom light. The sight of her, nude, in his room had him hard all over again. Man, she was so much more than he’d hoped. For such a small woman, she packed a hell of a punch.
“I think your dress is ruined,” he said, trying to think about anything but the way the light shined between her legs as she walked over to him, making the V of hair covering her sex glow like a sunset. Didn’t work. “I’ll buy you another one.”
“Can’t think of anywhere I’d wear it.” Her voice had that low, teasing tone that made his brain misfire.
“I’ll take you someplace fancy.”
The dress fell to the ground, forgotten again. “You look amazing,” he managed to get out. And she did. As sweet as she looked when she was being a teacher and as glamorous as she’d looked tonight, nothing beat her in all of her glorious, nude beauty.
At this, her playfulness took a more anxious turn and she tried to cross her arms in front of those amazing breasts, only to appear to change her mind and try to cover up her lower parts.
“No, don’t.” He closed the distance between them and took her wrists in his hands. “Don’t hide from me.”
She was such a little thing—barely came up to his chest. Which was where she was looking now, right at the rose over his heart. When she pulled her hand away, he let her. “If we’re not hiding, is this the part where I get to see your tattoos?” Her fingers traced the outline of the rose.
Billy swallowed. Sure, people knew he had tattoos—hard not to. People knew he had this tattoo, in fact. But no one knew what this tattoo represented, what all of them meant. Men—including his brothers—didn’t ask. They just said, “Nice tats, man!” and left it at that. A few women had asked over the years but Billy had never wanted to tell those women what his skin meant. So he’d made up crap—the rose was for his mom or whatever sounded good at the time.
This? This was different. He didn’t want to lie to her.
So he sucked it up. “Yup.”
It was worth it to watch the greedy light in her eyes, worth it when she turned him and pointed him to the bed. “Go.”
That’s where he wanted her, anyway. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe they’d get through the tattoos and get back to more sex real quick.
“Yes, ma’am.” And it was totally worth it when she smacked him on the butt.
He sat down on the bed, but she shook her head at him. With her hands on her hips, she looked exactly like she did during daylight hours—scolding and irritated but with that trace of playfulness underneath. “On your stomach, please.”
Billy complied, sprawling out on his belly. He felt the bed give under her weight as she climbed over his legs, shivered as her hand skimmed over his butt. She grabbed a handful of cheek and squeezed. She was going to kill him.
Her laugh was light and airy—not afraid of him or his ink. He felt something inside him unclench.
She moved—and suddenly she was straddling him. “No tattoos here?” He could feel each one of her fingertips cutting a path over his butt.
His erection strained against the bed, but it hadn’t been twenty minutes yet, and she wasn’t done looking. “I’ve got a few ideas, but nothing I’m going to drop trou for.”
“I see.” Then she was running her hands over the swath of black that made up his lower back before it exploded into a tornado of blackbirds that flew free up and over his shoulders. “This is truly impressive, Billy.”
“One of a kind.” She wasn’t just touching him—that would have been torture enough. But she’d scooted up a little, and he could feel the warmth of her body where she was sitting on his backside. All he’d have to do would be to turn over and he could be inside her. The need to do that was so strong that it took him a moment to realize he’d still have to fish a condom out of the nightstand drawer. Damn it. Instead, he fisted the sheets and tried to breathe.
A soft fingertip touched each bird. “What does it mean?”
Billy turned his head so that he could see her out of the corner of his eye. “It’s my life. There was a time when I was only this massive tornado of darkness and destruction—I hurt myself, hurt people who cared about me.”
“Then you saw the light?” Her weight shifted and he felt her warm breath on his back.
“More like I broke free. Grew up, got smarter, got over it.”
Well, gotten more over it. He didn’t know if he’d ever be all the way over it.
“It’s beautiful.”
And the funny thing was, she didn’t sound like she was jerking his chain. She leaned down far enough that he could feel the weight of those amazing breasts on his back. She kissed one of the birds.
In that moment, Billy not only saw but felt the difference between being horny and being something else, something he didn’t quite have a name for. Did he want to sink himself into Jenny’s sweet body again? Hell, yes. But it wasn’t just getting off that pushed him. It was something more—being with Jenny.
It was amazing how much a difference that made.
She slid off of him, which left him colder than he wanted to admit. But she rolled him onto his back—and straddled him again. He couldn’t help himself—his hands found her hips and he began to rock back and forth under her—not enough to qualify as sex, but more than enough that she got the message.
She gasped, her eyes widening with what he hoped was pleasure. The feeling of skin on skin—his skin on her skin—was enough to drive all rational thought from his mind. He pulled her down harder, feeling her wetness coat him.
She bit her lip, which probably was a gesture of indecision but happened to look damn sexy. Had it been twenty minutes? Could he get a condom?
“Not yet.” She got the words out through gritted teeth as she peeled his hands from her hips.
He had to admire her control, damn it all.
But she didn’t scoot off of his erection. She sat there in that narrow space between intimate and not, her chest heaving. Finally, she turned her attention back to his tats. The main one on his chest was a huge skull with black flames on top and a rattlesnake coming out of one eye. The snake went up and over his shoulder.
But next to it was the rose wrapped in thorns. It was the only tattoo he had that was in color. The red was on the edges of the petals, like a tea rose, his mom’s favorite flower. It had been the only tattoo of his that she’d ever thought was pretty, even if it was wrapped in thorns.
Billy could see Jenny looking from the big, scary tat to the small, pretty one and he knew that she was smart enough to make more than a few connections.
“So,” she began, covering his rose with her palm, “you have a, um, graphic tattoo to distract from this one?”
“Yeah.” He wanted to cut her off, distract both of them by sliding into her welcoming body—but he couldn’t. He had to be honest with her. With himself.
But he couldn’t do it with her naked body on top of his. Not when he could look into her eyes. So he squeezed his shut, focusing on the warmth of her hand over his heart.
To his surprise, she slid forward, wrapping her arms around his chest—full-body contact. Yeah, he thought, folding her into his arms, that’s better.
“When I was seventeen, I was dating this girl,” he began, not knowing a better place to start. “She was everything I wasn’t—smart and pretty with rich parents. I think I was her wild streak—her family hated me. Hated me. But she’d sneak out at night.”
He felt her head nod against his chest. No doubt, she’d done some of that sneaking out, too. “So what happened?”
“I got her pregnant.” Jenny stilled—he didn’t think she was even breathing—so he kept going. Stopping and thinking about it sucked more than getting it over with. “And I freaked out. I broke my hand punching a wall, threw a fit—I even broke my bike. Kicked it over. I’d gotten drunk before then, but I went out and got ripping drunk. I...” God, he was so ashamed of what a jerk he’d been. “I couldn’t deal with it. Tried to start a fight at this bar I shouldn’t have been in, almost got myself killed.”
“Is that when you got arrested?”
“Actually, the bartender knew my dad. Called him up. He came and got me, dragged me home and tore me a new one.” This part—the part that wasn’t his fault—was easier to think of. “He’d gotten my mom pregnant—with me—when they were both eighteen. When I told him what I’d done, he slapped me and told me to get myself together. Told me I had to marry her—that’s what he’d done. Told me that any Bolton baby had to stay a Bolton.”
“Did you?”
Billy realized he was stroking her hair. And that she was still here—hadn’t bolted because he’d been a huge jerk. Not yet, anyway.
“I slept on it for a few days. Then bought a cheap ring and went to her house to propose.”
God, this was hard. He’d only said these things out loud one other time. Not even his brothers knew this. As much of a loudmouth as his father was about some things, Bruce Bolton had kept his mouth shut about this. Billy wasn’t even sure if Dad had told Mom before she died. He hoped not, anyway. He wouldn’t have wanted her to be so disappointed in him.
He didn’t want to disappoint Jenny, either.
“What happened?” Her voice was small—but not scared, not judgmental. She’d been on the other side after all. Maybe she understood being freaked out better than most.
“She said...” His voice caught, and suddenly talking was almost impossible.
Jenny leaned up and kissed him on the cheek before she returned back to her chest-to-chest hug. Then she waited.
“She’d had an abortion. Said she didn’t want it because she didn’t want me—she’d never wanted me. Then she slammed the door in my face.”
Jenny gasped in surprise. “She did what?”
“Yeah.”
They lay there for a few moments. Billy was keenly aware of Jenny—not so much in the sexual sense, but that she was still here in this bed with him, still wrapped up in his arms. That she hadn’t called him a filthy, no-good dirtbag who was too stupid to know when he wasn’t wanted. All those things that Ashley had said to him.
“I almost got an abortion,” Jenny said in her super-quiet voice. “After Ricky left, I wanted it to be over. But my mom wouldn’t let me. She said I had to live with what I’d done, and one day I’d thank her for it.”
“Did you?”
“Eventually. Like you said, I grew up, got smart and got over it.” She traced her fingers over the rose petals. “So, this isn’t for the girl.”
“No. It’s for the baby.”
She slid a hand behind his back and caressed the inches of inky blackness that had once been his life. “Then you were lost.”
“Yeah.” Funny, he didn’t feel lost at all right now. More than anything, he felt right—more right than he’d felt in a long time.
“So, what happened?”
He smiled in spite of feeling a little raw. After all that, she was still here, holding him. “I got more and more gone. Spent half my days drunk, the other half hungover. Picked fights—earned my nickname, Wild Bill, the hard way. Got arrested a bunch. Then my dad stopped bailing me out. Told me I could rot in jail until I got my head screwed back on. Told me I was killing my mom, the way I was.”
He swallowed again. His mom had been so worried about him for so long, no wonder his dad had been furious with him. Mom and Dad might have had to get married, but they’d stuck by each other, through good and bad, until the day the cancer took Mom. After that, Billy hadn’t been the only one who was a little lost.
“He left you there?”
“Yup.”
“Wow...my mom just made me have a baby.”
“I wasn’t there for years or anything. A couple of months. Then, when my case came up, I had a plea deal. Community service.” This was the only part of the story he liked to think about. Coming into the light. “My old shop teacher spoke on my behalf, said he had a plan for how I could talk to the kids in school, kids like me who were lost. He’d make me work it off.”
“Your shop teacher stood up for you?”
“Cal Horton. He’s the only other person, besides Dad, who knows about this. And you,” he added quickly. “So I did work it off. I was twenty-four. I’d lost seven years of my life to drinking and fighting. Cal is pretty much the anti-Dad—wiry little guy, soft-spoken. He’d been the only teacher who didn’t write me off in school. The only person who never wrote me off. So he dragged me back to school, made me talk to the kids, made me lead them in picking up an adopted stretch of the highway—and put tools back in my hand. Gave me something to do with my life. After I’d finished with the community service, I went to work for my dad and started building bikes.”
Her hand slid up his back, finding the birds again. “Free.”
He held her tighter than before. “Free,” he agreed.
But lonely. He’d built a hell of a business with his brothers. For ten years, his life had been work. He’d worked on bikes twelve, fourteen hours a day. He’d made a boatload of money, but he hadn’t stopped long enough to enjoy it—like enjoying his money took something away from the reason why he did the work. It kept him busy and out of trouble, but hadn’t left time for anything else.
Until now. Any other Saturday night, he might be working on his drawings or testing out a new angle for the handlebars—thinking about a bike. Tonight? Tonight he was in bed with a sweet, beautiful woman. And that’s damn well where he was going to stay for as long as he could.
“You didn’t take the easy way out. You did the right thing, even though it was hard. I want to be good enough for you, Jenny. Because you’re so much better than I am.”
Her head shot up, nearly clipping him in the chin. She stared at him, her mouth open. He smoothed her hair back from her face before he closed her mouth for her with a kiss. It was true—all of it.
She kissed him back without hesitation, their tongues tangling along with their limbs. This was freedom—here, in her arms, being loved by a good woman.
Then she tried to roll him on top of her, but he pulled away. “I like you on top,” he said, and put her there.
She frowned at him, even as her hips worked small circles on his aching erection. “Why?”
“Better this way,” he got out through gritted teeth. Man, the way she was grinding against him—he leaned over and snagged a condom.
She wasn’t having any of that, though. She grabbed the hand holding the condom and pinned it against the bed. “Maybe I want you on top.”
“No, you don’t.” He flexed, knowing good and well that he could break her hold on his hand. But he didn’t want to.
Her eyes narrowed. “And why is that?”
“Better view.”
“Baloney.”
Right now—except for the fact that she was naked—she looked exactly like the kind of woman who would threaten to feed him to the coyotes.
“A lot—” No, that wasn’t right. He started again. “Other women have complained that I’m too heavy.”
The look on her face said, “You can’t tell me what to do.”
“I’m not afraid of you or your massive, gorgeous chest, Billy.” As if to emphasize her point, she rolled off—and pulled him with her.
This wasn’t a good idea, but it was clear that she had a point to prove and he wasn’t going to get lucky again if he didn’t let her prove it. So he rolled into her, pausing only long enough to sit back on his heels and put the condom on. “You tell me if it doesn’t work?”
“Absolutely.” She reached out and stroked his length, and suddenly, he was ready to go again. “And I’ll tell you if it does. Deal?”
“Deal.” Then her legs were around his waist, pulling him forward until he hit her wet center.
Billy surrendered himself to the sensations of her body—the way she took him in, the way she surrounded him with her warmth, the way her arms clung to his neck, holding him tight. He stroked into her. It had been so long since he’d been on top that it was like having sex for the first time all over again. Everything about Jenny felt new and different. Any worries he had were blown away with the breathy whispers of how much she liked being with him. Soon, she couldn’t even whisper—all she could do was moan his name.
Soon, he couldn’t hold anything back. And when her body tightened on his with the force of her orgasm, he lost it all. The release was so intense that, for a moment, everything got a little hazy at the edges. All he could think was of birds flying into the sky, free. That’s how he felt with her. Free as a bird.
He pulled away, but he didn’t get far. He lay on his side and wrapped his arms around her. Suddenly, he was tired—not the usual stayed-up-all-night-working tired, but something that was infinitely more satisfying.
“Was that okay?” He hoped so, because that was the kind of sex a man could get used to having more of. A lot more of.
Jenny surprised him by giggling. “No.” He froze, but she added, “It was wonderful.”
He exhaled in relief, which became a yawn. “Good.”
“Maybe in the morning, we can try a different position.”
That was enough to get his eyes open again. “Yeah?”
She kissed him. “Yeah.”
Hot damn.
Billy had finally gotten lucky.