Her Wicked Heart (17 page)

“I think it’s beautiful.” I trace the ink with my finger. “Is this the only one you have?”

He raises an eyebrow. “Are you hoping for more?” He spreads his arms—only wincing a little—and grins. “You’re welcome to search.”

“Not until I take a guess first. I’m pretty sure there’s a formula for this sort of thing. Let’s see…” I purse my lips. “You don’t have a motorcycle—at least that I know of. No visible piercings. No scraggly facial hair. Wait—have you been in prison?”

He gives one of those half-smiles. “That depends. Do you find that sort of thing attractive or not?”

I poke him in the good shoulder. “You’re kidding, right? Because I don’t fool around with ex-cons.”

That gets a laugh, but it’s a hollow one. He draws back and dips his fingers absently into the pool next to us. He’s not looking at me, and my stomach drops. The question was meant as a joke, but now I’m afraid to know the truth.

“I’ve been arrested three times,” he says after a moment.

“Three!”

He shoots me an appropriately ashamed look.

“Stupid stuff,” he says, waving his hand. “The first time was when I was fifteen. For underage drinking.”

I raise the wine in a faux toast. “Drinking stolen booze even back then, huh?”

“I had better taste back then. Lots of cheap tequila.”

“Mm.” I take a swig of the wine, trying to process this. “What about the other two arrests?”

“The second incident was the only one I got real jail time for,” he says. “I got caught trying to steal some things from a convenience store. I was just… stupid. A stupid kid. I made a lot of mistakes.”

I dip my fingers in the water. “And the third time?”

“The third time was because of a bar fight. A couple of years ago.”

I open my mouth to respond, but he holds up a hand.

“Before you start lecturing me about the dangers of violence and all that, believe me, I know.” He points to his eye, which is still a little puffy and discolored.

“I wasn’t going to lecture you.”

He gives a laugh that sounds bitterer than I’m sure he intended. “You looked like you wanted to kick my ass back there at the spa.”

“You started a fight with
four people.
Not one. Four.”

“It wasn’t as bad as it looked.”

“You broke your nose! And your arm is—”

“I know. Don’t you think I feel like an idiot already?”

I look down at my lap. I’m suddenly aware that my shirt is still open, but I don’t care.

“Why?” I say finally.

He snorts. “It’s not like I wake up in the morning and think, ‘I’m going to bust some guy’s lip today’.”

“Geez, you know that’s not what I meant.”

He sighs. “Sometimes I just… you know. I just need to hit something.” He rubs the back of his head. “I was in a bad place for a while after my mom died. Be glad you didn’t know me then. But we’ve talked about this before. Sometimes you just need somewhere for all that confused energy to go.”

“I can think of a few better places than fighting.” I raise the wine bottle. “Lean back.”

But he catches my wrist before I can pour anything down his chest.

“What about you?” he says.

“What do you mean?”

“Tell me something about your past. Something you’re ashamed of.” His thumb brushes against the inside of my wrist. “Or something happy, if you’d prefer.”

I freeze. I don’t want to think about my past. And
talking
about it sounds even worse. But for some reason, I can’t find the strength to deny him. Not with the way he’s looking at me right now.

“When I was younger,” I say after a minute, “maybe eight or nine, I decided to run away. I was mad with my father about something, but I don’t remember what. Probably something really silly. I grabbed my favorite stuffed animal and stole a box of cereal out of the kitchen and just left. Walked right out the door.”

Ward smiles knowingly. “And your father came after you?”

“Oh, no,” I say, my own lips curling up slightly. “He let me march right out the door.” Probably not surprising, considering it was a bit of a walk from the door to the main gate, and even if I got that far, there wasn’t anywhere to go out here. “But he watched me. From one of the windows. I caught him peeking out from behind the curtains.”

I look down at the water in the pool beside us. Ward’s still holding my wrist, still sliding his thumb across my skin.

“Eventually, of course, I got bored and went back inside,” I continue. “I thought my father would be angry with me, but when I saw him, he acted like he hadn’t even noticed I’d been gone. And that was worse, in a weird way. I was upset because I thought that maybe he didn’t care.” I twist my hand around, locking my fingers with Ward’s. “And then I went back up to my room and found something on my bed. He’d left me an atlas with a note that said ‘Here are some maps for your next adventure.’” My father had never been overly emotional or over-the-top with his displays of affection. He rarely said things outright. But sometimes he’d do little things that showed me exactly how much he loved me.

“I know that’s not a very exciting story,” I say quickly. “I’m not even sure why that one popped in my head. I just…” I shrug. “I don’t even know where that atlas is now.” Probably sold off with the rest of my family’s things.

Ward squeezes my hand. “Your father sounds like a good man.”

If he knew my father’s name, he might not say so. But now isn’t the time to think about that. I didn’t come out here to have this conversation. Not tonight.

I hold up the bottle of wine again and choke down the lump in my throat. “There. I’ve shared. Now it’s your turn for a little fun.”

There’s a questioning look in his eyes as I lean forward, but he doesn’t argue. Probably because he came out here for the same reason I did.

He leans back slightly on the edge of the pool, propping himself on his good elbow. The pose only enhances the muscular lines of his body. I try not to drool as I reach out and let a little of the wine spill down his chest.

I don’t move as quickly or hungrily as he did. Slowly, I lower my mouth to his skin. The trail of wine starts just above his sternum, and I kiss his collarbone gently before moving my lips lower.

One kiss, two, three. Once or twice I let my tongue slip between my lips, but only to tease. My kisses are light, just a soft touch against his chest. The bit of wine that reaches my taste buds seems sweeter than it did before, and it doesn’t quite mask the saltiness of Ward’s skin.

His free hand moves up to my hair, but he doesn’t try to force the direction of my head. I follow the wine down to the place where the trail of hair beneath his belly button disappears into the waistband of his pants. And then I start working my way back up.

This time I’m not delicate. I attack his chest with my mouth, determined to clean every sticky bit of wine off of him. He lets out a groan, his hand digging into my scalp.

I don’t stop when I reach the top of his chest. I continue moving upward, my mouth skipping up the line of his throat. I’m practically on top of him now, my body spread out across his own. His hand drops from my head to circle the small of my back as I finally lift my face to his.

I can still taste the wine on his lips. I’m sure he can taste it on mine as well. Any last hesitation he had disappears.

He tugs at my shirt, and together we manage to get my arms free. The bra goes next. I have to stand to remove my skirt. I peel it off slowly, enjoying the growing heat in Ward’s face as I reveal myself inch by inch. When I’m down to my underwear, he stands up.

“Let me get those,” he says roughly. He slips his fingers beneath the band and sidles the panties slowly down over my hips.

“Your turn now,” I say when my underwear is on the ground next to my feet.

He smiles, then steps back to undo his belt. He doesn’t taunt me with a striptease—he’s too eager. His pants and boxers are off in what must be record time, and I laugh as he tosses them aside.

“Slow down there, partner,” I say.

He grabs me by the waist, yanking me up against his body. Bare skin against bare skin.

His mouth moves against my ear. “Is that really what you want? To take things slow?”

No
, I want to say.
I want it fast and wild and crazy.
I want to forget about feelings and mistakes and reporters who may or may not be blackmailing me. I want to forget about death and grief and stolen homes.

I don’t have to utter a word. He kisses me, and my entire consciousness narrows to the feeling of his mouth against mine. His arms loop around my back, and I stumble back a step as his body presses against mine.

My calves hit the stone edge of the pool before I’m fully aware of which direction we’re moving. I clutch desperately at Ward, but it’s too late. I fall backwards, pulling Ward off-balance as well.

The water is cold. And it’s everywhere—in my mouth, up my nose, all around me. The pool isn’t deep, but I’m still sputtering and coughing as I sit up.

Ward landed partially on top of me. He sits up quickly, pushing his damp hair out of his eyes.

“Are you all right?” he says.

I nod as I cough up the rest of the water in my throat. He looks worried, but the minute I can breathe again, I laugh.

“It’s just a little water,” I say.

Only then does he break into a smile. The moonlight reflects off the beads of water on his face, making him look so brilliant and beautiful that I can’t help but reach up and drag his face down to mine.

“Besides,” I murmur against his mouth. “It’s not like I wasn’t wet already.”

He groans at my bad joke and tugs me toward him. It’s not graceful, the way our limbs flail toward each other through the shallow pool, but I don’t care. I want this guy, and I’m not going to let anything stop me from devouring every last inch of him.

My skin is covered in goose bumps, but I’m not sure whether it’s reacting to the coolness of the water or the heat of our bodies. My nipples are sensitive points, and every time they brush against Ward’s chest, tremors ripple through me. He wraps his body around mine, pulling me closer and pushing me further into the water at the same time. I tilt my head back, letting the top of my scalp touch the surface of the shallow pool as his mouth moves down to my breasts.

He takes one of my nipples between his lips, and I whimper at the flush of heat on my breast. My flesh is so sensitive that the tiniest touch of his tongue against that delicate nub makes my core clench in response. He sucks gently, nibbling at the rose-pink skin of my areola until my whimpers deepen into moans.

Just when I think I can’t take it anymore, he moves to the other nipple. I arch my back, lifting my breast to his mouth while I hang on to him by the shoulders. As the pleasure builds inside me, I spread my legs and hook them around his hips beneath the water.

He groans as I shift myself into his lap, and the throaty sound makes his lips and tongue vibrate around my nipple. I feel his hard length jump against the inside of my thigh.

I pull myself upright and tighten the grip of my legs so that my body is right up against his, chest to chest with me in his lap.

“Fuck,” he murmurs, the word little more than an exhale against my cheek.

Below the water, we’re pressed together. All it would take is a clever shift of my hips to give him access. My heart is pounding so quickly that it feels like it might beat its way right out of my ribs. Assuming Ward’s arms don’t squeeze the breath right out of me first.

“Condom,” he mutters.

Oh. Yeah.
I try to disentangle myself from him, but he tightens his grip, holding me in place. Slowly, he stands, drawing us out of the water with my legs still around his waist. I throw my arms around his neck and hold tight.

“If you drop me, I’ll kill you,” I say.

He chuckles. “I’ll be careful, I promise. I’m not done with you yet.”

Slowly, he steps out of the pool and carries me over to where his jeans lay in a crumpled pile. Only then does he put me down, but he keeps an arm around my waist as he reaches down and grabs the pants. As he fumbles for the pocket, I stand on my toes and close my lips around his ear. His arm grips me tighter and his arousal leaps against my thigh.

“Hold on, hold on,” he says.

I answer by flicking his earlobe with my tongue. One of my hands skims over the muscles of his back while the other drifts down to touch his other muscle.

“Fuck, woman, give me a minute.”

I don’t want to give him a minute. I want him now. In reality, it probably only takes him a moment to open the condom, but it feels like forever. My body is so tense and achy with longing that I can’t think straight.

And then suddenly he’s grabbing me with both arms again, lowering me down to the ground. I relax into his grip, letting him press me down onto my back against the grass of the clearing. After the cool water, the ground feels almost unnaturally warm—but maybe that’s only because my blood is boiling in my veins.

Ward is on top of me, and every sweet inch of his body feels like heaven against mine. We’re both still wet, but I can’t tell what’s fountain water and what’s sweat.