All Things Pretty (15 page)

Sig lifts me off my feet and I wind my arms
around his neck to hang on. I feel weightless, drifting through the
air with his arms as my only anchor, until he lays me down on
something. And then I feel only him. His weight, his heat, his
touch.

I’m drinking in the exotic taste of his
tongue when cool air hits my skin. He pulls away for a heartbeat
and then cool is replaced with fire. The hot flames of his skin
kiss mine as he settles on top of me, belly to belly.

With his palms roaming my sides, teasing the
edges of my breasts, his knee slips between mine, easing my legs
apart. Without thinking, I open for him, groaning into the moist
cavern of his mouth when his erection makes contact with the ache
of my sex.

I lift my hips toward him and he grinds his
into them, rotating and shifting against me, causing a delicious
friction right where I need it most. His mouth moves away from mine
and travels down the column of my throat to the throbbing tip of
one breast. He hovers over it, breathing heavily onto the sensitive
tissue, as if to torture me for a few seconds more before he gives
me what I want.

But then he does. He closes his hot mouth
over one nipple and sucks. Hard. I nearly come up off the bed,
digging my fingers into his hair, fisting and pulling until he
bites down lightly with his teeth in response.

“That’s it, baby,” he groans around my
flesh. “Gimme the wildcat.”

His hands, his fingers–at my breasts, on my
stomach, squeezing my butt, scraping down my legs. His lips, his
tongue–worshipping my nipples, teasing my navel, searing the crease
of my thigh. His touch is everywhere.
He
is everywhere.

One minute I was dressed, the next, there’s
nothing between us except heat and want. He took away my thoughts,
my intentions and replaced them with the intoxication of his
desire. I’m drunk on it, high on him.

I tremble at the tickle of his hair on my
belly. I shiver at the scratch of his scruff on my inner thigh. I
gasp at fire of his mouth at my folds.

He doesn’t ask permission. I don’t deny him
what he doesn’t ask. He simply takes what he wants. And I simply
give it.

The first warm, wet scrape of his tongue
over my clit bends me forward, folding me in half with an agonizing
pleasure. “Oh god, Sig!”

“Talk to me, Tommi,” he says, his lips
moving sensually against me. “Tell me what you like.”

He doesn’t stop to wait for me to comply; he
continues his assault like he’s gaining the front lines of an enemy
force, a force he means to obliterate with fire. Hot, blazing
flames that lick over every inch of my skin.

“Do you like lips?” he asks, kissing me,
devouring me with his lips, opening and closing, opening and
closing. “Or do you like tongue?” Like the flicker of a snake, he
teases my sensitive nub, causing me to shudder, before he sweeps
his tongue sweetly back and forth over the area, as if in apology.
I’m writhing beneath him, my head tossing back and forth, gasping,
breathless, unable to answer. I can only feel. Just like he wants
me to. “Or do you like teeth?” Gently, he rasps his teeth over my
clit and then nibbles it, sucking it into his mouth. Pulling,
tugging, rhythmically biting. “Tell me,” he whispers, his voice a
dark delight as velvety as his tongue.

“Please, Sig,” is all I can manage. I don’t
know what I want. I just know that I want him. All of him.

I nearly cry out when his mouth leaves me,
replaced by a single, exploratory digit. He kisses his way quickly
up my stomach, pausing only briefly at my breast as his finger
massages me. When his lips find mine, he teases them, brushing them
lightly and then skimming them with the tip of his tongue.

“Or do you want more? Something thick and
deep? Something that you’ll feel when you walk tomorrow, like I’m
still inside you?”

I feel something broad and smooth replace
his finger. Leaning back, Sig looks down between us, drawing my
eye, too. He’s rubbing the enormous head of his shaft between my
folds, round and round and then down toward my opening. He pulls
back, grazing his thumb over the glistening tip. “That’s all you,
baby. So wet for me. So ready for my cock.”

When he touches me again with it, I let my
head fall back, my hips moving against him as his eyes click back
up to mine. They’re full of passion, raw and wild. “I wish I could
come right here, right on top of this sweet lil pussy. Make it
mine. Cover it until you’re slick with me. Just me.”

My breath is coming faster. The picture that
he draws for me, the images that his words produce, rocket through
my body like a physical touch. I gasp for air, both fighting and
welcoming the tension that’s building from his touch, spreading
from his slippery erection. It’s like a wildfire, scorching
everything in its path, even thought and reason.

“Would you like that?” he asks, dipping his
tongue into my mouth, dragging the flavor of my own essence with
it. He presses just the tip of himself into my opening, quickly
withdrawing, tormenting me mercilessly. My body clutches at him,
begging him to satisfy my need.

I squeeze my eyes shut, searching
desperately for some kind of control where none can be found. Sig
brings me to the brink, balancing me there without allowing me to
go over. Teasing me. Tantalizing me. Driving me mad with want.

A knock on the door brings an abrupt halt to
his play. Sig stiffens on top of me, going perfectly still,
perfectly quiet. Our eyes meet, panic in mine, aggravation in his.
I only feel more alarm that he doesn’t take this seriously, that he
doesn’t take Lance seriously. It’s almost as though he doesn’t fear
him at all, which is ludicrous.

My heart is pounding, so hard my vision is
throbbing with the pulse of it. Sig places a finger over my lips
and shakes his head once. He doesn’t have to worry about me keeping
quiet. My vocal cords are frozen.

He eases off me, grabbing my clothes from
the floor–I’m not even sure how they got there–and handing them to
me, as though he hasn’t a care in the world. He bends to kiss my
stomach, my breast and my lips before he moves to slide his jeans
on over his lean hips.

As he zips up, he runs a hand through his
hair and grins down at me. I’m balking, of course. And terrified,
but I’m not so terrified that I fail to notice the masculine
perfection that is Sig. He’s magnificent.

His shoulders are a mile wide, his chest
lightly dusted with hair. His long arms are exquisitely shaped,
like Michelangelo lovingly carved each one muscle out of flawless
granite. His stomach is a stair step of strength, his hips trim and
narrow. And his legs…God help me, they’re thick and powerful and I
can still see his massive erection straining against his
zipper.

“If you don’t stop looking at me like that,
I might hurt whoever’s at the door.”

His voice is soft and amused, meanwhile my
panic returns full force.

I sit up, scrambling for some amount of calm
to aid me in digesting this horrific situation.

“What if it’s Lance? Or Barber?” I ask,
standing on the bed and pulling on my panties and jeans. Sig
watches me, in no hurry to move, his dark eyes sizzling with
desire, burning me everywhere they touch. “Stop that! We have to
think,” I snap.

He has the audacity to grin. “Don’t get so
excited. If it’s any of them, I’ll just say that I walked to your
house to check on you and you insisted that I drive your car back.
That sounds like something you’d do.”

My chest is heaving as I mull over his train
of thought. Then I realize that he’s right. This doesn’t have to be
a disaster.

“Okay. That sounds good. Do that.”

He laughs quietly and reaches forward to
pull me into his arms, kissing me nearly senseless. I’m more than a
little dazed when he lets me go. “Maybe I will.”

I watch him leave, taking in his confident
posture and delicious butt. I have to shake my head to clear it
before I finish dressing, concentrating on my hands
not
shaking any worse.

I hear low voices, but none that I
recognize. I creep to the window and stick just the tip of one
finger in the edge of the miniblind and pull it away from the glass
only enough for me to get a quick peek. A guy I’ve never seen
before is standing on the walk talking to a shirtless Sig. Only
when I see the stranger smile do I relax and take a seat on the bed
to wait for Sig to come back.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO- SIG

Although Finch’s timing leaves much to be
desired, it actually works out well so that we can talk
outside.

“How’s it going?” he asks.

“Fine as hell until you showed up.”

Finch grins, his rusty-red eyebrows shooting
up as he cups his hands over his mouth to light a cigarette. He
takes a couple of puffs before commenting. “I sure as shit hope you
know what you’re doing.”

“I’ve got this. Don’t worry about my end.
How’s it going with you?”

He shrugs, turning to stand shoulder to
shoulder with me as he casually surveys the street, picking out a
stray piece of tobacco from his mouth and flicking it to the
ground. “I hope something pans out. I’m not making much headway.
Tonin’s got his trusted guys and the rest of us just don’t get told
shit. Just the basics.”

“What about that warehouse?”

Finch shakes his shaved head. “Tellin’ us
he’s converting it into a few studio apartments. Total bullshit,
but…whatever. Keeping an eye on it anyway.”

“I’ll get something from my end. Don’t
worry.”

Finch’s eyes flicker down my bare chest and
back up. “Looks like you’re working your…angle pretty damn
hard.”

I can’t stop my big grin. Before Finch
showed up, I was very,
very
happy with how things were
progressing on my end.

“Nothing stands between a Locke and his
job.”

“His
blow
job, you mean?”

I fake punch Finch in the gut. He reacts by
shrinking his abdomen away. “Oh-ho-ho! Getting slow, old man.”

“You wish, puppy.” He flips his half-smoked
cigarette into the grass and exhales a cloud of smoke away from me.
“Don’t forget to check your messages, man. They copied me on the
files you requested. Some pretty interesting stuff in there. Turns
out your sweet ‘contact’ has a not-so-sweet rap sheet.”

I frown. “I already checked her rap sheet.
It’s clean.”

Finch’s eyes narrow on me. “Maybe
hers
is, but the
sealed
one’s not.”

“Hmmm,” is my only response.

“Be safe, man,” Finch says, holding up his
fist. I bump it with my own. “I gotta roll. Big party tonight.
Criminal ballroom blitz.”

“I’ll keep doing what I’m doing,” I say.

Finch nods and throws back over his
shoulder, “Hey, seriously man, check your email before you go
playing in that pond too much.” With that, he climbs in his car and
drives away.

What did he see in that damn file?

I head back inside, closing and locking the
door behind me. I’m anxious as hell to get back to my play date. I
know, however, when I find Tommi perched nervously on the end of
the bed, fully dressed and picking at her fingernails, that
playtime is officially over.

I don’t even give her a chance to freak out
over what almost happened. I walk right to her and scoop her up,
plunking her back down on my lap. “It’s sunny and hot as Hades
outside. Why don’t we go by your house and let you change into some
shorts then we go get Travis? I have the perfect idea for how to
spend the afternoon.”

“I probably shouldn’t,” she says, dodging my
eyes, stiff as a board in my arms. “I told Lance I wasn’t feeling
well. If he finds out…”

“How the hell would he manage that? I’d know
if we were followed. Or did you forget that
I’m
his eyes on
you?”

“No, but…”

“No buts. It’s either that or I hold you
down until you’re feeling like you were five minutes ago and I take
advantage of that.”

Her big, green eyes snap up to mine. There’s
panic in them. Dammit. “That can’t happen. That
shouldn’t
have happened. Sig, when I came home today, I was going to try to
figure out a way to get you out of my life.”

“What? Why?”

“Because you complicate things. You
complicate things that are already incredibly complicated.”

“Then let me help you uncomplicate
them.”

She pushes against my chest to get up. I let
her go easily.

“I don’t need help. I already know what to
do.”

“And what’s that?”

“Stay away from you.”

“Don’t say that,” I say, rising to my feet
and reaching for her hands. “If you try to tell me that we’re
anything less than spectacular together, I’ll know you’re a damn
liar.”

She sighs. “I told you I wouldn’t lie and I
won’t. But this,” she says, taking one of her hands from mine to
wave it between us, “
us–
we are the problem.”

“This can only be a problem if we let it.
And we won’t. We’ll be careful.”

“It’s not just that. It’s everything. I
think about you too much. I’d rather be with you than with Lance.
You make me dread spending time with him and that’s not good. I
can’t live like that.”

I can’t help smiling. “I don’t see how
that’s a bad thing
at all.
Because
I
really
want to spend more time
with you
.
”

She growls, frustrated. “I knew you wouldn’t
understand. This is all fun for you, but it’s not fun for me. It’s
torture. It’s just making me miserable. And I can’t afford to be
miserable. I can’t afford to screw this up.”

I stare down into her frantically beautiful
face, reaching up to cup her flushed cheeks. “Why can’t you? What
does he give you, what does he do for you that I can’t?”

She closes her eyes, shutting me out. “I
told you I wouldn’t lie, but there are some things I can’t tell
you.”