Tap (Lovibond #1) Page 10

  He isn’t far off from the truth, but it’s not an announcement for him to make in front of our staff. “Can I see you privately?’

  Porter tosses the towel in his hand on the table. “Abso-fucking-lutely.”

  I walk until I’m certain we’re out of earshot. “What the hell was that all about?”

  “You’ve been with Lawrence all day.”

  “I fulfilled all my job duties. Every aspect. I landed four new accounts today. I'm set to get more tomorrow. I made rounds on every guest brewery. I judged the home brew competition and did a damn good job of picking the best according to you. Name one way I failed Lovibond.”

  He doesn’t have an answer for that. “What has crawled up your ass?”

  “Stout won't like what you're doing with his sister.” And it doesn’t look like Porter does either.

  “I’m not doing anything with Lawrence except watching over her and making her feel welcome. That's it.”

  “Be sure to keep it that way because none of us can afford a fallout over her. Not me. Not you. Not Stout. Or any of those people who work their asses off for us at the brewery.”

  “Stout and I have already had the Lawrence conversation.” I don’t owe Porter an explanation but there it is anyway. Maybe it’ll get him off my back.

  “Good. You know where he stands, so get your ass over here and help us clean up so we can go home, sleep fast, and do this again tomorrow.”

  * * *

  It was two in the morning when I finally rolled into bed. Sleep didn’t find me easily. But visions of Wren in that camisole with no bra did.

  I wanted to touch her tits so badly. Rub my thumbs over her hard nipples pushing against the fabric of her top. I went for her sweet round ass with the intention of moving on to those perky tits next.

  Didn’t happen.

  I grew a hard-on and then a fucking conscience. Bad combination.

  I bet I barely got three hours of sleep last night, but I’m still up and ready for her call at any time.

  I’m on my second cup of coffee when she texts.

  I’m ready.

  * * *

  Be there in ten.

  * * *

  Ok.

  Wren opens the door and I’m blown away by how beautiful she is. Not because she’s dressed in something elaborate and wearing a ton of makeup. Total opposite. She’s barefaced with a single braid down the middle of her back. Natural beauty.

  I hold up the bag of coffee and box of tea I picked up on the way over. “Both organic. Think you have time for a cup before you have to go?” Or two cups? Maybe three? I’ll take whatever she’s willing to give.

  “I think I can stick around long enough to have one.” I follow her into the kitchen and she holds up both. “Which would you prefer?”

  I don’t care. Whichever will last longer. “Whatever you’re having is fine with me.”

  She opens the box of chai tea and takes out two bags. “What time did you make it in last night?”

  “Two.”

  “Good grief. What time did you get up?”

  “Six.” I sit at the dining table and watch Wren flutter around the kitchen. She’s like a graceful butterfly.

  “Ouch. Four hours of sleep?”

  I wish. “More like two. Maybe three.”

  “Why so little?”

  “I was wound pretty tight last night.” As was my hand as I fantasized about what was beneath that little cami you were wearing.

  “You must have been after making sure the festival went off without a hitch.” No. That wasn’t the reason at all. You were.

  “Day one of operation beer fest was a success. Hopefully today goes as well.”

  “I’m sure it will. I know Ollie must be bummed he’s missing it.”

  “He has to be.” But, no worries. I’m letting his ass take over the next festival.

  “Do you take milk and sugar in your tea?” Wren goes to the refrigerator but promptly shuts it. “Forgot. No milk. Sugar only then?”

  “I’ll take mine however you do.”

  She puts a spoonful of white granules in one cup and stirs. “You don’t drink tea, do you?”

  “Not this kind.”

  Wren looks at me and huffs. I think she does that often. “I would have been happy to make you coffee.”

  Another dose of caffeine could do me in. “It’s only seven thirty and I’ve had two cups. I didn’t need a third.”

  “Okay, but if you don’t like it, I’m making you a pot of coffee.”

  “Deal.”

  We migrate to the living room with her leading the way. She takes a seat on one end of the couch so I choose the opposite. I don’t want to be in the chair across from her. It’s too far away.

  She dips her teabag up and down by the string so I mimic her. “I feel so dainty.”

  “Well, I must admit it’s a little entertaining to watch a manly, bearded man dip that teabag like that.” Hmm . . . she’s thought about me enough to come to the conclusion I’m manly. Interesting.

  She continues dunking so I do too. “You don’t consider chai tea a man drink?”

  She watches me for a moment. “I’ve never given it much thought, but after seeing you do that I’ve come to the conclusion it isn’t.”

  Wren uses her spoon to press the bag so I follow her cue. And tilt the damn cup over so far a huge portion of my tea spills in my lap. I set my cup of hot-ass liquid on the coffee table and spring up from the couch to tug the fabric away from my skin. “Oh, motherfucker, that is hot.”

  Wren leaps up from the couch and sprints into the kitchen, quickly returning with a towel in hand. “I’m so sorry.”

  “I’m the one who should be sorry. I made the damn mess.” I take the towel from her and wipe the crotch of my jeans. “I think we can agree I don’t have enough grace to be a tea drinker.”

  “I concur.”

  The hot tea on my crotch turns cold quickly. “Do you mind if I grab a pair of Stout’s pants so I can put my jeans in the dryer for a few minutes? I don’t think it’ll take long for them to dry.”

  “Sure. I’ll grab some for you.”

  Wren returns a moment later holding elastic-waisted pants. “These okay?”

  “That works. Thanks.”

  I go into the bathroom to strip out of my jeans and find my boxer briefs took a nice hit as well. Shit. Those have to go into the dryer too.

  I come out of the bathroom free-balling beneath thin white linen pants. Real thin.

  Wren holds out her hand. “I’ll put those in the dryer for you.”

  “I can do it.”

  She holds out her hands. “I don’t mind.”

  I guess I don’t have a choice. She’s going to handle my skivvies. “Thanks.”

  She comes back to the living room wearing a grin. “You doused yourself pretty good.”

  “Allow me to tell you a little something about me. I don’t do anything halfway. I go all the way.”

  Wren giggles as she plants herself on the opposite end of the couch from me a second time. “I believe I’ve heard that line used before.”

  “Yeah. I may have stolen it from a pretty girl I drank beer with once.”

  Wren takes a sip of her tea. Much more graceful than me. “Sounds like a fun girl.”

  “I enjoy her company very much. And she’s banging.”

  She giggles some more and nearly spills her tea. “Banging, huh?”

  “Oh yeah. And she’s a great kisser.”

  “How many times have you kissed this girl?” Wren’s brow is wrinkled. I think she’s second-guessing if I’m talking about her.

  “Only once. But it was amazing.” Truly.

  “Why only once?”

  “Because I was an idiot. I said things I didn’t mean, and now I’m afraid I may have messed up with her.”

  Wren scoots forward to place her cup of tea on the coffee table. “Maybe you should try kissing her again so you can see what happens. She could be waiting for you to steal her
breath.”

  I slide across the middle cushion of the couch so I’m closer. When I reach her, I rub my thumb over her bottom lip. “You think this beautiful girl would let me take her breath away?”

  I hear her breath moving coarsely in and out of her chest. “I think you already are.”

  She needs to know where I stand. “If I start, I won’t stop this time.”

  Wren licks her lips and rubs them together. “Don’t make promises you don’t plan to keep.”

  I lean in and suck her bottom lip. I’ve wanted to do it since I watched that dribble of beer fall from the corner of her mouth last night.

  I taste a patch of sweetness leftover from her tea. This kind of chai tea, I like. “So sweet.”

  I move my mouth over hers and our tongues fall into a rhythmic wave. It’s a seductive swirl of soft, wet velvet. My God. I don’t know how I had the strength to pull away from her last night. In this moment, I’m powerless to stop.

  The rhythm of our kiss is no longer slow and smooth. It’s erratic. Demanding. Unforgiving.

  Wren pulls away from me, panting. “Breath successfully stolen.”

  “I’m not done yet.” I drag my mouth along her jawline toward her ear, leaving kisses in its path.

  Wren squirms when I kiss the sensitive spot below her earlobe. “Oh, that gives me chills all over.”

  I love physical reactions beyond a woman’s control. Such a turn-on; those can’t be faked.

  I move my mouth down her neck and kiss her shoulder. She’s such a squirmer. She’s nearly worked her way beneath me. Did she mean to do that?

  I want to go further but I don’t know where her head is. “Do you want me to stop?”

  “No.” She places her hands on each side of my face and drags her fingers through my beard. “Keep going.”

  She doesn’t tell me the lines I can’t cross, yet I suspect she has some in place. Every woman does. “I need you to tell me what we’re doing, Wren.”

  “You’re taking my breath away . . . in whatever form that may present itself.” I think she’s giving me free rein. Maybe.

  “Tell me to stop at anytime and I will.”

  “You promised you wouldn’t stop this time.” Holy. Shit.

  “I did, didn’t I?”

  She laces her fingers through the back of my hair and pulls me down. “I can pretend last night’s kiss didn’t happen. And I can also pretend a morning fuck before I leave didn’t happen either.” Wren just confirmed everything I need to know. She’s giving herself to me.

  I grasp the back of her thighs and pull her all the way beneath me on the couch. “Any boundaries I can’t cross?”

  “None.” Ah . . . the beauty of fucking a bohemian. They don’t have rules.

  “I like that a lot.”

  “It’s been a while. Despite what most people believe about people like me, I don’t make a habit of freely giving my body away.” Something else I like. I’m glad she doesn’t go around sleeping with just anyone. Maybe that’s sexist but I proudly own my feelings regarding it.

  Wren is unlike any woman I’ve ever met. And certainly not like the ones I’m usually with. This is going to be good. Damn good.

  “How long has it been?”

  “More than a year.” Shit. That’s a long time. It’s added pressure to make this spectacular for her. “You look shocked. Or scared. I can’t decide which.”

  “It’s a little surprising.”

  “I told you I didn’t need a man to feel complete. I meant that.” I’m going to make her come so hard she’s going to know what she’s been missing.

  I stroke the back of my hand down her cheek. Soft. Smooth. Delicate. “You’re beautiful, Wren.”

  Most of the women I’ve been with are too skinny, and they hide behind masks of cosmetics. But not Wren. She’s an all-natural woman.

  She’s very different from Bridgette, yet alike in many ways.

  Both make me laugh.

  Both put me at ease.

  Both are so genuine.

  I rub her hip and there’s actually something there to grab instead of skin-covered bone. Skinny isn’t attractive to me. I like curves and shape. Wren is everything I like in a woman.

  She strokes my face again, running the tips of her fingers through my facial hair. “I love this, Brou. It’s my idea of manly beauty.” I’m used to being called Boudreaux. But I can get used to Brou if it’s coming from her.

  “Manly beauty.” This is the second time she’s made a reference about me being manly. Makes me wonder if she’s ever been with a man she considers masculine. Well, I’m going to show her how much of a man I am. And not just once.

  I lower myself until I’m hovering over her. I press my lips to the side of her neck as I grasp the back of her thigh and bend it at the knee. That’s it, baby. Wrap it around me.

  I glide my hand up the back of her smooth leg until it’s inside her shorts. And panties. Same song from last night. Second verse. But it’s palm against bare ass this time.

  I wonder what she’d do if my fingers left the safety of her ass cheek and moved to that sensitive place between her legs. Let’s find out.

  It’s been a long time for Wren. I don’t want to rush this so I move slowly, gliding my hand up to her waist before moving it lower. She jolts when I touch her groin. “Sorry. I’m terribly ticklish there.” Duly noted. I’ll use that to my advantage later.

  I move my hand away from the bend of her leg closer to her center. “What about that? Better?”

  “Yes.” The single word comes out in a soft whisper. Time to take her breath away, as promised.

  She pants as the tips of my fingers stroke her through the wet crotch of her panties. I’ve barely touched her and she’s drenched. Physical proof of her arousal and desire for me. Fucking beautiful.

  I push her panties aside and drag my finger up her wet center. She jolts when I graze her clit. Given it’s been a long time, she’ll be more sensitive than ever. That’s going to make this even hotter.

  I take my hand out of her panties and suck her slick moisture from my fingers. “Mmm . . . you are delicious. I can’t wait to taste you fully.”

  She reaches up and rubs my bottom lip. “You have a dirty mouth.”

  “I have a greedy mouth. Lucky you.”

  I return my hand to its former place. There it is. The hot spot. “I want to make you come like this first. Because I want to see your face. Then we’ll move on to the other many ways.”

  She slides her hand into the elastic-waisted pants and wraps her hand around my cock. Her fist moves up and down, stroking me from balls to tip. “I want the pleasure of watching your face when you come.” I see now Wren isn’t a greedy lover. She gives as good as she gets.

  “I support that idea one hundred percent.”

  I glide my fingers up and down her center, slow at first, but increasing as her breath becomes faster. Her moving fist mimics my rhythm exactly. Perfect synchronization. Until I change maneuvers. You’re gonna love this, baby.

  I press the tips of my fingers to the top of her slit, applying pressure to her clit, and move them from side to side. She’s slick so they glide back and forth with ease. That’s it, Wren. Move your hips. Ride my hand.

  Can’t say I’m not pretty much doing the same. I’m thrusting my cock pretty hard into her hand. “Damn, I’m already close.”

  “Me too. Almost there.”

  I move my fingers faster because I want her to catch me. And I know she has when she arches her back and stiffens. “Ohh . . . ohh . . . ohh.” I love the sound of those three words. But it’s not her screaming my name so my job isn’t done yet.

  I move my hand faster. Harder. Quick jerks from side to side. I want her to know no one has ever made her come so hard.

  “Ohh. Brou.” She’s using her name for me. I love that.

  I don’t know what it is about hearing a woman scream your name when she comes but nothing is a bigger turn-on. Even better when it’s the special one she�
�s chosen for you. “Say my name again. Louder.”

  She grips my bicep hard with her free hand and moves the other up and down my cock faster. “Brou.”

  “Say it louder, and I’ll take you over the edge.”

  “Brou!” Good girl. That’s what I’ve wanted to hear from her.

  She goes stiff, except for the involuntary jerks of her body as she convulses with pleasure. Very much the same reaction I’m having as I shoot off in her hand.

  The only sound in the room is panting and moaning. Proof of satisfaction. “You took my breath away.” Breathless, and I haven’t even gotten inside her yet. But you wouldn’t know that by the twinkle in her eyes and smile on her face. It’s fucking hot to know I did that to her with my fingers. I can’t wait to see what happens when I get my dick inside her.

  “As promised.” I can’t remember a time I’ve been so vested in making sure a woman comes as hard as me. No . . . harder.

  Wren in her sliced and diced Lovibond shirt yesterday was beautiful. Wren in her skimpy cami and shorts last night was sexy. But Wren post orgasm, wearing a smile so tender and sated, is stunning. Magnificent. She makes me breathless. And . . . hard again already.

  I take my hand out of her panties and frame her head with my arms as I support my weight on my forearms against the couch. Loose strands of hair have escaped her braid so I work to smooth them back in place. “I’m afraid your hair is going to need a little work.”

  She pulls the band from the end and lifts her hair, shaking it until if flows freely. “Better?”

  “Gorgeous.”

  We aren’t done yet. Not even close. “Let’s take this to the bedroom.” I want Wren naked and in bed beneath me. These clothes—especially the wet pants—and couch aren’t working for me. I need to be unrestrained for everything I want to do to her. “Are you okay with that?”

  She nods. “Very okay.”

  I get up from the couch and take her hands, helping her to her feet. We’re eye to eye. So close I can’t stop myself from cradling her face and planting a slow, deep kiss against her mouth. I don’t know what this is I’m doing with Wren. She’s Stout’s sister. Forbidden fruit. He told me so. I said I wouldn’t touch her but I did anyway. My promise became a lie—another fucking lie. Deceit has never been in my nature but I couldn’t help myself. And now I don’t want to stop.