Kisses In The Sand: Blame It On The Kiss Part 11

No she was not okay. She was in trouble. Big, big trouble. Not only did he always seem in tune to her, he made her think about things she'd written off. This crazy reaction to him was different from anything she's experienced before.

"Yes," she half lied. Because being in his arms felt amazing and she didn't want to move from this position.

His tickling stopped and he put one of the small couch pillows in his lap. He shifted his weight, keeping one arm wrapped around her shoulder, until her head fell onto the pillow. Then his fingers gently rubbed up and down her arm, her back. Her eyes fluttered shut.

"How'd the skating go today?"

"Good. Everyone seemed to really like it. And as far as I know there weren't any casualties. The mayor also told me I was da bomb, so you know, I think that means he'll be giving me a key to the city soon."

"You know what that means, right?" His fingers dipped a little below her lower back, teasing the top of her bottom before cruising up her side.

"That I can't hide it in a rock?"

He chuckled. She smiled. "That congratulations are in order. I think you're the first person to successfully bring roller-skating back."

"Thanks to you."

"I'm pretty sure you did it without me." His hand rubbed farther down, this time rounding the curve of her b.u.t.t. Her nightshirt rose a little up her legs when his palm ma.s.saged back up to her shoulder.

Her eyes flew open. Tingles of antic.i.p.ation shot straight to between her thighs. What was he doing? And please, Lord, don't let him stop.

She swallowed and concentrated on the movie. She also didn't move a muscle.

He accepted her silence by continuing to rub her back before moving his ministrations to her hip and dipping his hand to her front, the pads of his fingers grazing the side of her stomach and front of her thigh before pressing lightly back up her torso.

With each stroke down her body, he got more daring, more intimate. Her shirt inched up higher, exposing her black cheeky panties. He let out a tiny groan when he touched the lace that only covered half her bottom.

That barely-there s.e.xy sound almost had her lifting her head to see if he was as turned on as she was, but she didn't want to spoil the best back rub of her life. Every sweep of his hand up and down made her belly coil tighter in pleasure, her skin more sensitive.

She almost stopped breathing when he lifted her shirt high enough to expose her entire backside. His warm, strong hand settled at the base of her spine and stilled. Was he silently asking permission to continue? Staring at her a.s.s and contemplating his next move?

Touch me there. "There" being that magical spot that ached and begged to have a turn with at least two of his fingers. She rolled her hips over just the tiniest bit. Spread her legs just the slightest bit. But otherwise kept her hands around the pillow in his lap and her head still, eyes on the television screen.

He slipped his hand over the curve of her waist and to the edge of her panties. She rotated a little more, lest he doubt where she wanted him to go.

Her breath came out in a short sigh the second he rubbed over her center. She didn't feel the least bit shameful as her legs fell open and she pressed into his hand. Her heels dug into the couch, she squeezed the pillow.

"Mmm," escaped her lips. He continued to ma.s.sage, his thumb grazing over her tight nub and making her crazy. Wet. h.o.r.n.y beyond h.o.r.n.y. He slipped his hand underneath the cotton and lace and the feel of his bare hand was almost more than she could take.

Until he slid one, then two fingers inside her.

She cried out and came faster and harder than she could ever remember.

He brought her down slowly, caressing with such delicate strokes that she was afraid to look at him. Afraid to speak. Raw, complicated feelings she had no idea how to handle opened her mind to a new sensation-trust.

Bryce covered her back up with her shirt and rested his hand on her upper arm. He settled deeper into the couch as if he were content to end this there. She closed her legs, shifted so her knees were bent in a comfortable position.

They watched the rest of the movie with her head still on a pillow in his lap. When it was over, he lifted her up, kissed her cheek, and said he'd pick her up at two on Sat.u.r.day.

She hugged the front door as she watched him walk to his car. Because if she let go, she'd race after him and tell him to stay.

Bryce got home to his and Danny's place and immediately hit the shower. He'd never been more turned on in his life than he was sitting with Honor on the couch and making her feel good. Hearing the breathless sounds she made when she came had made him harder than a steel drum. If there hadn't been a pillow in his lap offering some barrier, he doubted he would've been able to reign himself in.

He knew he'd crossed a line and was treading on dangerous ground. Cooper had made it clear he didn't want Bryce near his sister, but with her blond hair, blue-gray eyes, killer bod, and naughty smile, no guy in his right mind could look away. Look closer-something Bryce couldn't stop doing-and there was a woman with much more to offer than a beautiful view. She had substance and sincerity and hated anyone studying her too hard. Which stupidly only made him want to know more.

What started nine months ago wasn't over despite his mind's protests.

He toweled off, pulled a pair of sweats on, and headed to the kitchen for a cold drink. He'd keep this unwanted connection with Honor casual because stopping didn't appeal to him. It felt good being around her and he hadn't felt good in a long time.

"Feel better?" Danny asked from the living room. His laptop sat open beside him on the couch and one of those home improvement shows played on their flat screen.

"Much." Bryce guzzled down some milk, wiped his mouth.

"Quit drinking from the carton you douche."

Bryce ambled to the oversized chair beside the couch and sat, his douche smile firmly in place.

Danny rolled his eyes. After almost three years of living together the guy should get over it already. "If you say the word 'cooties' I'm going to punch you."

"What's up your a.s.s tonight?"

"Nothing."

"Maybe you should j.a.c.k.-.o.f.f. in the shower." Bryce leaned back, put his feet up on the coffee table. "Really takes the edge off."

"Do I want to know?"

"No." Bryce didn't want to lie to his best friend. Danny had more restraint than anyone he knew and taking things as far as he had with Honor tonight showed zero restraint. His actions also effed up his relationship with Cooper.

Danny's phone vibrated with a text. He picked it up and read the message. A heavy-duty frown took over his expression.

"Something wrong?" Bryce asked.

"It's Olivia. She's upset about some stuff with work." He double-thumbed a message back. "I think I'm going to head home this weekend to see her."

Olivia was the unofficial fourth Musketeer. Home was the small beach town a couple hours north where he, Danny, Zane, and Olivia had grown up. Liv lived next door to Danny, but it wasn't until sixth grade when a girl called her Chubby Livvy and Danny defended her that they all became friends. More tomboy than girlie, she'd liked to be outdoors as much as they had.

"She didn't say anything at the wedding."

Danny kept his phone in his hand and looked up. He'd been closest to Olivia, and felt responsible for her even when he wasn't close by. "She hadn't realized how bad it would get. And she didn't want to be a downer on Zane's big day. I'll probably head out tomorrow. Be back Sunday night."

A picture of Honor immediately flashed through Bryce's mind. Naked and in his bed. Naked and in his shower. Naked and standing with her palms on the floor to ceiling window right over there. She'd love the view of the ocean and the Santa Monica pier from their high-rise condo. He'd love staring at her.

"Dammit, Bishop," Danny said.

Bryce blinked away his impure thoughts. "What?"

"Do not screw things up with Cooper."

It sucked having a friend who could read your mind, but the reprimand cleared his head. He couldn't get physical with Honor again. Coop meant too much to their agency. His inconvenient attraction aside, Bryce felt a true kinship with the skateboarder. At sixteen, a car had hit Bryce while riding his bike. With traumatic breaks in both legs, doctors doubted he'd walk again without a limp. That prognosis only made him want to prove them wrong. So he had.

"I've got this," Bryce said.

Danny sc.r.a.ped a hand over his jaw. "I'm not so sure."

"Win or go home, right? I haven't put everything I've got into this agency to blow a deal over a girl."

"There's the guy who swore off women."

"He's still here." He'd triumphed over every setback that fate sent his way and this time would be no different.

Two days later, Bryce parked his car at the Los Angeles Pottery Show and hurried around to open Honor's door. He'd almost canceled their Sat.u.r.day plans, but as she continued to talk about pottery and other antiques without taking a breath he was glad he hadn't. Her extensive knowledge of design and workmanship kept him fascinated, but listening to her uninhibited enthusiasm, he realized he'd hit on her main pa.s.sion and she glowed with happiness. "You really know your stuff," he said.

"It's kind of my thing." She pursed her lips and her gaze took a faraway turn, as if she'd caught herself off guard with the remark.

"We never talked price. What does someone with your vast knowledge and exceptional charisma charge?"

"Hmm..." She tapped her fingers to her mouth. A mouth he could tell she tried to keep from being affected by his compliment. "Let's see how our luck goes and then I'll let you know."

"I'm already the luckiest guy here."

"Bryce."

He really got off on the s.e.xy-sweet way she said his name, a touch of annoyance layered at the tail end, like a little emphasis on the "ssss" would scare him off. It should. But somehow he found himself walking a tightrope without a net and rather than worry about falling, a buzz ran through his veins. "Yeah?"

"You need to stop. This is work. I have to stay focused and I can't do that when you say nice things to me."

"Got it. I'll stay quiet, rely on head nods, the occasional hand gesture, and let you do your thing."

"Thank you."

Every person they met on the conference room floor of the convention center fell in instant like with Honor, making it easy for Bryce to stand back and watch. Her warmth and positive energy charmed men and women alike. She treated everyone like an old friend whether they had something of interest or not. A couple of the dealers had sold to her before and one of them had a piece of Roseville Bryce wanted.

He made eye contact with Honor and nodded to let her know his interest. His mom had over two dozen pieces, but he didn't recognize the design on this particular pot.

She picked up the Roseville. "This pattern is called Normandy. It was introduced in 1928 and its Italianate design features knots of vines, berries, and leaves on a textured background." She ran her hands over the pot, and her teacher voice had him in need of a lot of lessons that had nothing to do with antiques. "This was a short lived line so there aren't a lot of pieces. It's in excellent condition with only minor discoloration to the inside." She handed it to Bryce. "How much?" she asked the dealer.

"For you? Two hundred sixty-five," the older man answered.

"Do you mind if I talk to my client in private for a moment?" The man gave a nod and stepped away. "What do you think?" She smoothed her fingers over a vine on the piece. Their hands brushed and their eyes immediately met.

"I like it, but you're the expert."

Her face lit up. "It's a fair price and from what you told me of your mom's collection, I think this will be a great addition."

"Sold."

She clapped her hands together before carefully taking the pot from him and giving it to the dealer to wrap up. "That was fun," she whispered.

Bryce wrapped his arm around her waist and brought her to his side. "It was."

Her body relaxed under his hold. She laid her head on his shoulder. "Mind if we look around a little longer? I'd like to buy one or two things for the store while we're here."

"Sure." He didn't want the comfortable vibe they'd struck to end just yet.

She pulled back and like so many times before, her smiling eyes met his and he couldn't look away. She slayed him with the undisguised emotion he'd learned she didn't give away easily. Some people wore their hearts on their sleeves, but not Honor. She wore hers in the silver blue depths staring back at him.

Sometime later while driving away from the show, he slowed when he caught sight of a tattoo parlor. Without thought, he pulled over and parked in front of the shop.

"What are you doing?" she asked, her attention out the windshield.

"Getting a tattoo."

Her eyebrows shot up. "Really?"

"Yeah. You're welcome to get one, too, if you want. No pressure, though."

She gave a tiny, dubious shake of her head. She wasn't fooled. "How long have you wanted a tattoo?"

"What makes you think I don't already have one?"

"You're about as clean cut as they come, Bryce Bishop. And I've seen you..." She clamped her mouth shut.

He turned to face her more fully. "Almost naked?"

"Yes. So unless you've got your mama's face stamped to your b.u.t.t cheek, I'm betting there's no ink to be found."

He grinned and leaned over the center console. "I may be clean cut on the outside, but make no mistake." He moved even closer, close enough to see her pulse jump at the base of her neck. "I like to get very, very dirty when n.o.body's looking."

"That's unfortunate," she whispered, angling her head so her lips were at his ear. "I bet you're fun to watch."

He threw his head back and laughed. "I'll prove it to you later."

"You think so?" She undid her seatbelt and reached for the door handle.

Bryce caught her arm. ""I'm not thinking at all."

Her lashes swept down and lifted only halfway, her focus somewhere on the dashboard. "Noted." She climbed out of the car. He came around the hood and picked up her hand. Her clammy palm almost slipped right through his. "You can do this," he said.

"As much as I want to believe I'd do it on my own, I'm not sure I would. I'm kind of mad at Payton right now."

"Ever think..." He cut himself off. He may be trying to rationalize the list to himself, but Honor didn't need to be dragged into the hit his ego had taken. He was already laying himself a little too bare, trusting Honor when his track record with women said that was a stupid move.

"Think?"