Текст книги "Things Liars Hide"

Автор книги: Sara Ney

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Текущая страница: 5 (всего у книги 8 страниц)

“Give me your best line.” Collin watches me from across the table, taking a forkful of steak and chewing slowly. “Tell me something you’ve only put on paper. In one of your books.”

“It’s only the one book, remember? Well, two. But the second one is just… me playing around.”

He rolls his eyes, still chewing. “Let’s assume there will be more.”

It’s right then that my chest swells and my heart begins beating wildly. Becomes huge. His words release a spark of affection inside me that I can feel—actually feel—blossoming into something bigger.

Something wonderful.

Collin believes in my dream.

Collin believes in… me.

I could leap across the table and kiss him all over his beautiful, sexy, freshly shaven face.

I bet he smells good. All sexy and mannish.

Collin breaks the silence. “Well? If you can’t think of one, I can supply one for you. Confession time: I read your proof three times before giving it back to you. I’ve got a few good zingers locked away up here.” He taps his skull with a forefinger, saying it so casually I have to replay it in my mind a few times.

“Three times!” I sputter ineloquently. “Why?”

“Because it was good?” He lays his fork on his dinner plate and leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. “Mostly I just thought it was nuts that you wrote it. You. That’s what went through my head while I was reading. Holy shit, Tabitha wrote this. I’m in awe of you.” He says it so matter-of-factly, his voice a low purr. “I couldn’t stop picturing you at your laptop in that sexy little baseball hat, pen tucked behind your ear, dreaming up that shit. You’re so fucking smart.”

Tilting my head a little, I gaze at him with doe eyes. I know they’re doe eyes because my entire face softens and my whole body gives a blissful, dreamy sigh.

Collin straightens in his seat. “What’s that look you’re giving me right now?”

I quietly exhale. “What look?” Even that comes out sounding breathless and wistful.

His lips curve into a knowing smile. “Don’t deny it. You’re looking at me like this.” He puckers his mouth and flutters his dark, sexy eyelashes. Lowering his voice, he arches one perfect, masculine brow. “You’re totally thinking about climbing into my lap right now, aren’t you?”

Yes. “No.”

He relaxes in his seat and crosses his arms.

God, those arms.

“Pfft. That is not how I’m looking at you.” My lying eyes go to his lips—his full and soft and pliant lips. Well, I don’t know for sure that they’re soft, but right now there’s nothing I’d love more than to find out.

I almost groan out loud at the wayward ideas running rampant through my mind that have nothing to do with enjoying the rest of our four-course meal: Unbuttoning his dress shirt, one button at a time to expose his warm skin. Climbing into his lap. Kissing his neck. Finding out how happy his trail actually is, all the way down to his…

I take a sip of wine to occupy my hands and my tongue, guiltily glancing away.

Collin laughs. “You dirty, dirty pervert.”

“What?” It’s on the tip of my tongue to point out that, as a romance writer, it’s practically my job to picture him naked. “If you must know, my thoughts weren’t dirty. I was—” I clear my throat so I can lie with a straight face. “I was just…” God, this is torture. “I was just thinking about how soft your lips look.”

“Soft. My lips?” If a man has ever looked disappointed by a pronouncement, it would be Collin Keller right in this moment. Actually, disappointed doesn’t even cover it; the man stares at me, crestfallen. “That’s it? You weren’t undressing me in your mind?”

“Pretty much.”

“Not my muscles or my… cash and prizes?” He raises his eyebrows again. “Soft lips don’t sound sexy. Soft lips sound like a snooze-fest.”

“Are you sure about that?”

The table we’re at is square. Small.

Intimate.

Just enough room for the two of us, a few plates, and not much else. Which means with very minimal effort I can prod. “Lean towards me for a second.”

I remove the napkin from my lap and brace my elbows on either side of our table. I watch, fascinated, as Collin’s hazel eyes run down the length of my neck, over my collarbone, and land on my exposed skin. On the smooth skin of my cleavage.

My breasts.

Lifting myself off the chair gets me closer still, my laser-like focus directed entirely on his mouth. He chooses that moment to slide his tongue over his lips. “Should I pop in a breath mint?”

He sounds so hopeful I almost giggle.

“Shhh.” My whisper is centimeters away, so close we’re sharing the same breath. Parting my lips ever so slightly, I kiss just his bottom lip. Softly, I rest my lips there before teasing him with one small suck. A tender pull. I was right: warm, tender, and so, so soft.

His large hands grab fistfuls of white linen table cloth and clench when I brush my mouth against the irresistible divot above his chiseled chin. Back and forth, back and forth, taking the opportunity to inhale the masculine smell of him. Fresh. Woodsy. Delicious. Virile.

I could have the Big O just from the smell of him.

My kiss lands in the corner of his lips. Left side… right side.

His lips part a fraction and holy mother of… it feels so good.

Eyes quivering closed, his body shivers on an inaudible moan. Collin sits utterly still when the flick of my tongue meets his cupid’s bow, and I press my entire mouth firmly against his one last time before pulling away.

Mmmmm,mmm, mmm.

Satisfied, I plop back down, settling into my cushy dinner seat. Silently, I calmly lay the napkin across my lap and sink back into my chair, trying to get comfortable. I shoot Collin a long, meaningful look across the table.

He looks about as dazed as I feel.

I grasp my wine glass with unsteady fingers and take a casual sip. “Was that a snooze-fest?”

“Uh…” Collin un-fists the tablecloth and smooths out the creases. “I don’t know. We should probably do it again to make sure.”

I tsk, giving my head a shake. “Let’s save some of that mystery for later, shall we?”

“I thought you’d be more like Rachel,” he huffs with a pout but gives me a wink. “If I start calling you Rachel, will you start acting like her?”

“In my book, Rachel and Devon had sex on the table during one of their dates, remember?” I point out. “No offense, but I think I’d rather sit and eat this sourdough bread.” I set down my glass and pull a slice of bread from the loaf. “Wait. Having sex on the table tonight wasn’t part of your plan, was it?”

A loud, obnoxious snort fills the room. “No! God no—I was trying to surprise you by doing something romantic. I mean… unless you want me to bend you over the table. Shit, sorry, that was…” Chagrined, he blushes and starts over. “You know, this date is the best idea I’ve ever come up with. And you’re the one that came up with it. The details were easy to recreate. Wine. Food. Flowers.”

Speaking of flowers… “Do you even know what any of these colors mean?”

“The color of the roses? Yeah, I Googled it.” Collin takes a drink of Chardonnay. “Red means love, or in this case, passion. Yellow means friendship—or a new beginning.” My face reddens as he prattles on. “And peach means closing the deal.”

“What about the purple one? That’s not in the book.” I already know what it means because I had researched their meanings too, but I ask anyway. Just to see if he’ll say it.

He hesitates. “Promise you won’t freak out?”

I roll my eyes and tease. “Nothing you do would surprise me at this point; you’re like a loose cannon. Besides, I’m destined to be a famous writer of smutty romance—it’s impossible to shock me.”

Hair flip.

He gives a jerky nod, steeling up his courage. Him. This handsome hunk of man, nervous. Imagine that. “Alright, smartass. Lavender means enchantment.” His voice deepens. “Tabitha Thompson, I’m without a doubt enchanted by you.”

Lavender roses also mean love at first sight, but I don’t say it. Can’t say it.

He must know it, too.

Must.

The blush creeps from my cheeks then lower to my chest, over my body, down to my legs. I’m blushing everywhere—from the roots of my hair to the tips of my red painted toenails.

My lips part and I muster a feeble, “Do you Google everything?”

He’s not fooled by my casual countenance—not one bit. His beautiful hazel eyes wrinkle at the corners in amusement. “Pretty much.”

“Maybe you should stay off the internet,” I suggest quietly.

“Maybe I should.” He leans back in his dinner seat and crosses his arms, the blue dress shirt stretching and straining over his muscles. “But then again, maybe I shouldn’t. I’m always amazed at what I find.”

His underlying meaning makes me shiver—and not from the cool air being pumped into the room. Oh boy. Is it hot in here? Waiter! Oh, waiter! Could someone bring me a fan, or a pitcher of water to pour down my pants?

Or maybe that’s his line.

“And what did you find when you Googled me?”

“Well, Tabitha Thompson—did you know if you google Tabitha Thompson, a whole history of accomplishments pop up? Track and Field scholarship. Summa Cum Laude. A random picture from a Greek Formal you went to.” He reaches forward and picks a small baby carrot off his plate, popping it in his mouth. “Sexy dress, by the way.”

I look down at my outfit, my eyes hitting my generous cleavage. “This one, or the one I wore to Greek formal?”

“Both.” His eyes do a leisurely, appreciative scan of my exposed clavicle and the swell of my breasts.

I stab blindly at the plate in front of me with my fork, spearing a hunk of seafood and stuffing it in my mouth so I don’t have to reply.

Classy, right?

I swallow and say, “How did you know these were my favorite foods?”

“Easy.” Collin smiles. “Your brother through my sister. And the best part is, they’re my favorite foods, too.”

We continue eating in silence, giving each other furtive glances over wine and steak and lobster. When dessert comes—crème brûlée and banana cream pie, more of my favorites—we share, wordlessly passing the plates and spoons back and forth between us like we’ve been dating for years.

Heaven. Every mouthwatering bite. Every delicious time our eyes meet.

We sip wine, falling into easy conversation. So easy. Natural. Relaxed. Collin grabs my hand and finds my knee under the table with his other, giving my smooth skin slow, gentle strokes until I’m biting my lip and looking away.

Then we’re leaning into each other across the tiny table, our knees touching, our lips pressing together. My eyes flutter closed as Collin’s hand finds my inner thigh, the other finding the nape of my neck, pulling me in closer. Sweetly. Hungrily.

Aroused.

Our mouths part and our tongues touch, exploring deliberately. An unhurried pleasure that sends a shockwave of desire between my legs and surging through my body.

This isn’t just a kiss; this is an unspoken invitation for something more. More meaningful. Full of surrender.

I will worship you, the kiss whispers.

I will be good to you, the kiss promises.

It doesn’t last long. Collin pulls away first, resting his forehead against mine, stroking the underside of my jaw with his thumb.

He’s breathing hard.

I’m breathing hard.

“Tabitha.” His voice is a low, gravelly plead. “Tabitha, come home with me.”

I will worship you…

I will be good to you…

I know I shouldn’t. I know it’s too soon to be intimate. But I know if I don’t…

I’ll regret it.

I give a barely perceivable nod. “Yes.”

Yes.

B lare Wellborn did not sleep around. Didn’t do one-night stands. Didn’t sleep with men on the first date. But as she looked across the table at him, the only sensible thought running through her mind was… nothing. There were no sensible thoughts, only need and want and desperation. For him. For Collin Adam.

He slid his hand across her knee. “Blare, come home with me.” All she could do was nod, the words lost in her throat. When he got her home she would see to it that he worshipped the column of the smooth skin there—her favorite spot to be kissed.

“You want me to come home with you? I want to, but… I barely know you. We’ve only known each other, what—three weeks?”

He leans in and presses a kiss to her chin. “Blare Wellborn, I am enchanted by you.” With those seven words, all her fears melted away…

Greyson:What’s going on? Hello! I haven’t heard from you in days…

Tabitha: Sorry! I’m sorry. Work has been so busy.

Greyson: Busy? I hate when people say that. Busy is just an excuse.

Tabitha:You’re right—I haven’t been THAT busy, but I do have a confession to make.

Greyson : A confession?! I like the sound of that!

Tabitha: The truth is, I’ve been spending some time with your, um.

Greyson : My, um… what?

Tabitha : I’ve been spending time with Collin. Your brother.

Greyson: WHAT? Since when? What kind of time?! How! What? LOL. I mean—WOW! In a good way!!!!!!!

Tabitha: Phew. I was kind of worried.

Greyson: Are you kidding me? You’re amazing. He’s awesome (most of the time)! My second and third favorite people. Cal is obviously my FIRST favorite… dating! Love it.

Tabitha: Not dating, just thinking about it?

Greyson:So where are you right now? What are you doing tonight?

Tabitha:We just went to dinner and now we’re… uh… heading to his condo?

Greyson: RIGHT NOW???? This very second??? Is he there with you?

Tabitha:Yes? Is that bad? I’m so nervous my hands are shaking.

Greyson : Tabitha Elizabeth Thompson, you’d better be “dating” if you’re HEADED TO HIS CONDO at eleven o’clock on a Saturday night!!!! Do I need to Mom lecture you about “safety”? cough cough

Tabitha:Oh god, please don’t.

Greyson: I’m not ready for nieces and nephews yet, just so you know. Even if he is 26. Nevermind—I’ll take a niece…

Tabitha: NO. Just no!

Greyson: Alright, I’ll stop, but only on one condition: you tell me everything later. Well, not EVERYTHING…

Tabitha: It’s a deal. <3 you

Greyson : <3

We don’t go through the pretense of wanting after-dinner drinks when we arrive at my condo, don’t make small talk in my living room, don’t loiter in the kitchen.

I bypass a tour entirely, assuming she took one during my housewarming party, and lead her by the hand up the stairs to the master bedroom. I give it a squeeze when I push open the double doors, and she steps over the threshold first, walking to the bed, sitting, and crossing her legs.

Flushed, she rests back, bracing herself up by the elbows on my soft mattress, and I stroll in after her, flipping on a newly acquired table lamp from Target. I give my shirt collar a tug, loosening the top button and leisurely sliding it through the hole. One. Two. Two buttons undone.

Those hypnotic blue eyes never leave my face.

Three buttons.

The pads of Tabitha’s fingertips lightly caress my white duvet cover, stroking it softly. “Are these the crisp, clean sheets that Greyson said would be nice to roll around on that day I found you shopping?”

“Hell yeah.” A chuckle escapes my throat.

She swallows and licks those juicy lips. “Good choice.”

My fingers pull a fourth button unfastened. Five. “You impressed? I got me a new wine bottle opener, too.”

“Oh, fancy.” Her voice is throaty and breathless.

“You like the sheets, Tabitha?”

“Oh yeah.”

Six.

“You should see yourself. Hair all over, skin all hot. I couldn’t be more turned on. You’re so fucking sexy.”

Her hooded eyes leave my face to rake me up and down, searing, as I pluck button number seven free. “So are you.”

“You know what would make us even sexier?”

Eight.

“What?” she says in the barest hint of a whisper.

Her legs part voluntarily when I kneel… go down on bended knee… unbuckle the thin straps on her high-heeled shoes, each one the same color as her flesh and sexy as shit. I remove them both and kiss the top of her foot before tossing both heels off to the side. They hit the closet door with a loud thud. I ignore them, running my palms up her silky thighs, letting them roam up and under the skirt of her dress, parting the seam in the process.

I watch, transfixed, as Tabitha’s eyes flutter shut, losing herself in the feel of my hands gliding across her skin.

Still on my knees, I inch forward to settle myself between her legs and wrap my arms around her waist. I trail kisses along her collarbone, the glowing skin where her shoulder and neck meet.

Tabitha tips her head back to give my greedy-as-fuck lips access, her long blonde hair falling to the comforter, cascading like a waterfall. Stunning. I take a few strands, rubbing them between two fingers, then lift them to my nose.

“Your hair smells amazing.” I drop the locks and my lips speak into the hollow of her neck. “You smell like I want to do this.”

This is my tongue trailing the length of her collarbone.

Tabitha moans, stiffening slightly.

“What are we doing, Collin? What are we doing,” she pants. “This isn’t me. I don’t d-do one-night stands.” She releases another moan when my tongue licks the hollow between her breasts. “I’m a… mmm... relationship kind of girl.”

“So am I,” I respond dumbly, my mouth nipping her bare skin, hands pushing aside the soft fabric of her dress, lips grazing her bare shoulder.

Tabitha gives her head a little shake.

“I would never bring this up, but… oh god, that feels good… we’re stuck with each other no matter what. Cal and Grey are going to end up married and… mmmm… we’re going to be in each other’s lives whether… your tongue is amazing… or not.”

Tabitha threads her fingers through my hair, roughly raking her nails along my scalp. Her back is arched with pleasure, and my large hands move up and down her spine, kneading. I wet the pulse in her neck with my tongue, too. “Good. I want you to be stuck with me. You’re so goddamn sexy.”

I wonder if she knows what a turn-on her brain is, her mind.

No lie.

“What will our parents say?” she asks with bated breath into my hair as my fingers splay across her middle, enjoying the feel of her silky dress beneath my fingers. But not for long: she needs to be naked. “All their kids dating each other. Collin, it’s not normal.”

“Who gives a shit? I don’t.” My mouth finds purchase on the swells of her breasts and my fingers deftly work the belt on her dress. Swiftly. Done. “You’re beautiful.”

Her fingers continue their savage plunge through my—

“I love your thick hair.”

I’m close to purring like a goddamn jungle cat when she massages my scalp. “I love your hands.”

“I love your hands.”

These hands are going to make her feel even better. I nuzzle her cleavage again with my nose and inhale the musk of her perfume.

“I fucking love your boobs.” I palm one through her dress. “Definitely love these boobs.”

Tabitha tips her head back and laughs through a gasp. “Take off your shirt.”

Oh, now she’s giving orders? “Take off your dress.”

But I stand to pull the last few pearl buttons through their holes. She stops me.

“Wait, let me do it.”

I watch, mesmerized, as her nimble fingers fly down the seam of my shirt. She spreads her hands on my bare chest when she succeeds in releasing the remaining button. Her palms span flat over my washboard abs.

Her breath hitches in wonderment. “I was right.”

“About?”

“This is one of the happiest trails I’ve ever seen.” Still sitting on the edge of my bed, the tip of her finger leisurely traces the narrow path of hair that runs from my belly button, and disappears into the waistband of my pants.

I swallow. “When… when were you thinking about my happy trail?” She stands, both palms traveling flat over my abs, roaming the length of my stomach, pecs, and up, over my shoulders. Unhurriedly, they descend again towards my belt buckle in such a slow, deliberate pace it almost makes my leg twitch with urgency.

Like a dog in heat.

“When was I thinking about all this? Hmm…” Tabitha hums. The sound of metal coming unfastened, leather sliding, and a thud on the ground are the only sounds filling the air. “The minute I found out you weren’t Greyson’s new boyfriend, my mind went there. And stayed there.”

Her talented fingers work the fly of my pants, then the zipper.

Jesus.

I bite my lip and deeply inhale towards the ceiling, count to… to… shit yes… to control my breathing as my large body begins to vibrate, strumming high with eagerness.

Tabitha’s fingers skim my waistband, tormenting. Grasping my black slacks, she finally fucking pushes them down my hips. I step out of the legs, kicking them aside like a Neanderthal so they land in a heap near her shoes, out of the way. It wouldn’t be cool to trip on that shit once we’re frantically stumbling around bare-ass naked.

And we will be naked soon.

Guaranteed.

She teases, stroking me with a feather-light touch. “You really do have the best hands,” I damn near whimper. It sounds like I’m whining as goosebumps cover my skin.

Fucking goosebumps—and she hasn’t even stroked my cock yet.

“That’s what all the boys say.” She giggles then at my sullen expression. “What? I’ve always wanted to use that line out loud.”

“Maybe you should use it in your next book.”

“Maybe I should.”

Impatiently, I begin working the sash on her dress, yanking it free and letting it limply fall to the side. My fingers, of their own accord, pursue her skin like a heat-seeking missile. Tabitha bites her lower lip when I push her dress all the way open, permitting the pads of my hands to roam her body, the flat planes of her stomach, the plump breasts pressed together by a sheer, nearly transparent push-up bra.

Barely there, flesh-toned G-string.

If I didn’t know any better, I’d think… “Were you planning on getting naked tonight?”

With a single shrug, off comes the dress. It cascades to the floor. “You’ll never know, will you? And I’ll never tell.”

Tabitha Thompson, you secretive little sneak.

My hands reach out, grab on, and toss her on the waiting bed.

It wants to get laid, too.