Branded as Trouble (23 page)

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“Jesus.”

“Any more questions?”

“Hell no.”

India grabbed the can, climbed off the chair and shut off the TV.

In record time, Colt’s sweats and boxers sailed to the floor.

The little vixen trailed the fringed end of the dishtowel over his thighs and stomach. His flesh rolled beneath her touch and he recognized the power she had on him, body and soul.

It was surprisingly sexy to give up control.

“Last thing. Keep your hands on the armrest until I say otherwise. If I feel those mitts in my hair or on my face, I’ll stop and tie them together with this towel. Understand?” She snapped it once by his head for good measure.

Colt nodded. Damn. Was this domination stuff as much of a turn-on for her when he did it?

“Good.” India dropped to her knees and scooted between his legs. She rubbed those soft breasts and pebbled nipples over the coarse hair on the inside of his thighs. “That feels good. Do you like that?”

“Hell yes.”

He went rigid as she studied him, as if deciding where to start.

The tip of his cock jerked. The thick vein running up the center pulsed; pearly liquid seeped out the purple head.

With an evil grin she put the nozzle at the base of his shaft and squirted a wide line straight up.

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“Holy shit! That’s cold!”

“Not for long.” She bent her head and zigzagged her tongue up the length of his erection.

It took every ounce of control not to grab her head and force her mouth where he wanted it. Not to touch her while she was tormenting him.

She swirled more sweet stuff around the head of his cock. Then she sat back and admired her handiwork. “Mmm. Looks like a big mushroom, don’t you think? And isn’t it lucky I love mushrooms?”

She daintily closed her lips over the rim where the cap met the shaft and sucked.

Colt’s hips shot up, a reflex for her to take him all the way in her mouth.

“Huh-uh. Not yet. I’ve still got half a can of creamy goodness to mess with. You were the one who wanted to mess around, weren’t you, Colt?”

He groaned.

She tortured him. Fleeting licks from his balls to the twitching tip. Then she’d suck him hard until the head hit the back of her throat. Bringing him to the edge again and again. Leaving him hanging there by a thread and then starting over. Hot mouth. Cool spray of whipped cream. The wet lap of her tongue.

His thighs clenched. His knuckles were white on the black armrest. He gritted his teeth. Sweat dripped from his temple. He didn’t touch her. But he knew his eyes were absolutely wild and probably begging. Finally, he panted, “Enough.”

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India smiled. “You’ve been a very good boy. You can touch me now.” She curled her hand around the root and began to pump as her wet mouth moved up and down. Clasping her lips tightly as she released him from her mouth, opening her throat as his cock slid back in into that warm cavern. Creating a rhythm that made him pant and squirm.

Colt’s hands cupped her face; his thumbs traced the center of her hollowed cheeks. Then his hips thrust higher.

“Faster. Like that. Oh God, India. Don’t stop. Oh Jesus. Oh fuck.” He gripped her head as he erupted against the roof of her mouth. She sucked and he felt her jaw working as she swallowed and swallowed until he was fully spent.

After his cock quit throbbing and he could think again, he sank back into the recliner.

She stood.

Colt pulled her onto his lap. He aligned her back against the front of his body, hugging her tightly. “Would it be lame if I said thank you?”

“No.”

“Thank you. That was…” He sighed. “Words fail me. I didn’t invite you over, expecting that, India.”

“I know. That’s why I had such a fantastic time blowing your expectations all to hell.”

“Blowing me to heaven and back is more like it.”

She released the catch on the recliner. When they were horizontal, she snuggled into him and whispered, “Aren’t these cooking lessons going great? I think I’m a natural.”

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It was another crappy, boring day.

Damn rain meant India couldn’t ride her bike. No tattoo customers had braved the lousy weather. No Sky Blue customers either. She’d been stuck inside for four lousy days. She was sick of her own company.

You’re sick of staying away from Colt.

True.

India kicked the door shut and bobbled the box of lavender soap when she saw him leaning against the doorjamb, looking pretty as you please. Dark hair tousled and damp from the wind and the rain. Stubble coating his jaw. Trouble in his eye.

Crap. She could never resist him when he looked all gorgeous and scowly.

Go on the offensive.

“Colt? What are you doing here?”

He patiently returned her cool stare. “I’m here to ask why I haven’t seen you.”

She dropped the soap on the counter and pointed to the boxes scattered around the showroom. “I’ve been busy.”

Colt gave her that you’re-f-of-shit eyebrow lift.

Branded As Trouble

“And you were out of town.”

“I was in Guernsey for two lousy days, India, two days in which I didn’t hear from you once.”

“Hey, bucko, the phone lines run both ways.”

“Is that so?” Colt began to stalk her. “I thought we were beyond this fightin’ just so we can make up stuff.”

“But it’s so fun.”

He growled.

“Besides, didn’t we talk about not spending every waking minute together?”

“You talked. I listened. And I disagreed.”

India’s pulse doubled. He’d used that matter-of-fact tone before he’d stripped her, boosted her against the tile in his shower and screwed her until the water ran cold and her vocal cords shorted out from shouting his name in rapture.

Thinking about showering with him and experiencing his hot,
naked male stamina is not helping you retain the upper hand, India.

Right. And she
so
had the upper hand when the man had her in full retreat until her spine hit the wall.

“Got nothin’ to say?”

“Fine. What do you want?”

“You,” he said tersely, slapping his hands on either side of her head. His mouth swooped down on hers in a kiss that wasn’t gentle, wasn’t meant to soothe, but to chastise. His mouth punished, forgave, and seduced—all at the same time.

It was a kiss that smacked of ownership.

It was a kiss that knocked her for a loop.

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It was a kiss that was four long days overdue.

After he’d thoroughly scrambled her brain cells, Colt whispered, “Sweet Jesus, you piss me off sometimes, but I missed you, Indy. Come home with me tonight so I can show you how much.”

She ducked under his arm. “I can’t.”

“Why not?”

Tell him the truth? Or lie?

He didn’t give her time to decide. “What? Are you sick of me?”

“No!”

“Then what?” His gaze roamed over her. “Are you sick?”

“Sort of.”

“Explain.”

She huffed out a nervous stream of air. “Dammit, I got my period after that last time in the shower.”

“That’s why you’ve been scarce?”

“Yes.”

He looked utterly confused. “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“Because it’s not usually a topic for discussion between men and women when they’re first dating. Plus, I feel gross and I’m not good company. I thought I’d spare you.”

Colt kissed her hard and quick. “I don’t care. I want to be with you no matter what your mood or what your hormones do.”

“Really?”

“Really. We’re way beyond the first dating stage, Indy, and don’t pretend what’s going on between us is only about sex.”

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“Oh yeah, Mr. ‘I Disagreed’?”

“Don’t get me wrong. I love getting nekkid with you.” He kissed her. “All.” He kissed her again. “The.” Another kiss.

“Damn.” And another. “Time.” He grinned. “But I’d be just as happy hangin’ with you as bangin’ you.”

“How poetic, McKay.”

“I am tryin’ like the devil to get the shine back on my silver tongue.” He fingered the gold hoop in her eyebrow. “Come over anyway. You can sit on the couch with a heating pad and a bag of Hershey’s Kisses. I’ll even watch chick flicks with you.”

“How’d you know—”

“That you crave Hershey’s Kisses that time of the month?

We’ve been friends for almost three years. I’ve noticed all your little quirks and your hormonal breakdowns.”

“Why didn’t you say something?”

“Because I was too much of a gentleman to mention it. Now that I know you prefer my ungentlemanly ways…” He brushed his mouth across the crown of her head. “Sometimes I think I know you better than you know yourself.”

He was so damn sweet that she teared up. “Colt—”

“Hey now, none of that. I’d rather you were throwing wrenches at me instead of crying.”

She kissed his chin. “I’ll be over at seven. But I’m warning you; in my hormonal state, I expect a lot of kisses. And chocolate for dessert.”

“Sugar, I’ll give you as many kisses as you can handle.”

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***

After an amazing week with India, didn’t it figure his weekend started out crappy?

Colt’s morning had gone to shit after the engine on his four-wheeler blew up. If that wasn’t bad enough, he’d gone to check cattle and found two dead cows and one dead calf that’d been gnawed on by coyotes. Then he’d sliced open his forearm on a piece of metal sheeting in the barn when his mother called demanding he show up for Sunday night supper. He spilled gas all over the floor in the garage and the fumes gave him an instant headache.

It was enough to drive a man to drink.

By the time he finished his daily chores and returned to the house well after dark, he needed a beer. Or a shot. Anything grain alcohol based.

Days like this, it flat-out amazed him he’d passed the three-year mark without ingesting a single drop of booze.

India had left a message on his machine and on his cell phone and he ignored both. Pissy, testy, fighting the temptation of addiction; he wasn’t fit for company.

He needed a distraction. Driving into town and running on a treadmill at the gym didn’t appeal to him. He was too wired to sit on his ass and watch TV or climb into bed and sleep it off. He wanted to hit something—just not hit the bottle.

In the spare room he slipped on a pair of boxing shorts, his sparring gloves and circled the punching bag. Starting slow, he wanted to stretch out this beating and not tire himself out too quickly.

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Right jab. Right jab. Left jab. Reverse the sequence.

He hit the bag over and over. Then he moved to the speed bag and pummeled it until he could scarcely hold his arms up. Only then did he take a breather. The workout mats were slick with sweat.

Colt’s entire body was soaked, even his hair dripped. His eyes stung. The self-inflicted physical punishment usually helped him focus on one thing: not chugging beer until he passed out.

But tonight it didn’t work.

So, Colt began his workout again. By the time he’d suffered through the third round, he’d almost reached that level of an exercise high. He wanted to wallow in that feeling of invincibility.

Of strength. He spun around to rest his forearms on the weight bench bar and saw India leaning in the doorway, gawking at him.

No hello. No pleasantries. He tried to level his breathing and demanded, “How long have you been standin’ there?”

“Long enough.”

Goddamn, she looked good. She wore leggings the color of rich coffee and a floaty sheer pink tunic that hit her mid-thigh. No shoes. No makeup. No extra jewelry. No bra.

“Tell me, do you always beat on that thing so hard?”

“Only when I’ve had a lousy fuckin’ day.”

“Been a bad one?”

“You have no idea how bad.”

India crossed her arms over her chest. “Try me.”

“Look, Indy, I’m in a piss-poor mood, I’m shitty company, and I don’t feel like makin’ small talk.”

“Did I suggest we sit around and shoot the breeze?”

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“No. But you oughta know I’m feelin’ a little mean, more than a little raw around the edges and I can’t promise I wouldn’t take it out on you, so it’d be best if you went on home.” Colt faced the heavy bag again. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Oh, I see how this works. You can demand
I
buck up and spend time with you when I’m a physical and emotional train wreck, but when
you’re
having the same issues, I’m just supposed to accept a pat on the head and go on my merry way like an obedient girlfriend? That sucks, Colt, and it’s not fair.”

He ground his teeth together. “I didn’t ask you to come over.”

“I didn’t think I needed a written invitation.”

“Jesus, India. Will you just drop it?”

“Fuck that.” She stomped behind him. “You demanded complete honesty in this relationship and that includes both of us.

Which means you don’t get to hide this side of yourself from me.”

“I’m hidin’ it from you for your own damn good.”

“What? Do you turn into a werewolf or something?”

“You’re fuckin’ hilarious.”

“I’ll keep cracking jokes until the crack of dawn because I’m not going anywhere, McKay, so you might as well talk to me.”

“I already told you; I don’t wanna talk.”

“So let’s fuck.”

Colt wheeled around. “You don’t want to fuck me either, because I ain’t a nice guy right about now.”

“I don’t care.”

“Yeah? Even when I warn you haven’t begun to see my aggressive side?”

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