After the Hurt (8 page)

Well, why not try to make herself look a little more alluring? No harm in that. So she tugged the front of her poets-style blouse and it slipped lower, exposing a little more of the swell of her breasts. She smoothed her hands over her jeans, which, since she'd lost weight, no longer hugged her as tightly as they used to. Her feet were a bit chilly in the sandals she'd slipped on.

Glancing down at her toes, she muttered, “At least my toenail polish looks fresh enough.”

She used to love it when Tank played with her feet. Now she wished she'd put on her favorite black leather boots. They were butter soft, snug to her legs, and ended just above her knees. They made her feel sexy the way the laces, tipped with turquoise-and-silver-hammered tips, crisscrossed to the top and swung as she walked. Ah well, she'd wear them at the next opportunity.

Pepper straightened the wide leather belt that rested low on her hips and combed her fingers through her hair, trying to create a sexy flip so it fell across her shoulder. She held her breath and waited.

The door remained unanswered. Were they having sex? The thought chilled her, but she needed the damn key. She raised her hand and knocked again, this time with more assurance, the sound of her knuckles loud on the door. She waited. What if he didn't answer at all? Her mind tripped over itself, creating all sorts of scenarios of what could be happening behind the door and where she would sleep if he didn't answer. So when the door opened she wasn't prepared and nearly jumped out of her skin. Pepper's breath snagged in her chest. There he stood in all his glory, looking devilishly sexy.

He was bare-chested with white cotton lounge pants, the kind he wore when they were at the beach. They were tied at the waist and slung low on his hips, the bulge behind the fabric at the front drawing her gaze like a magnet. She swallowed and looked higher, and her throat constricted. She feasted her eyes on him. He was tanned, although not as dark as he used to be. And his muscles were so much more defined. A few new tattoos inked on his body were very artfully placed. They enhanced his physique and her gaze was led on a merry chase as it crawled over the designs etched onto his chest, side, and hip.

Her fingers ached to trace the inked design that emerged from the waistband and fanned in strong arcs over his belly, then up his side to curl around his shoulder. She balled her fists to keep from reaching out. That tantalizing muscled ridge running from his waist to his hip bone was like a siren's song to her fingers. It sported a thinner more delicate inked trail of tempting enticement. Her mouth went dry when her gaze fell across his six-pack belly and roved higher to his wide chest. He hadn't succumbed to removing his chest hair like so many men. Pepper couldn't breathe as she devoured his spectacular broad chest and powerful arms. It made her want to jump right into them. Good God, he was gorgeous. Finally meeting his gaze, she let her breath out and sucked in much-needed oxygen.

A crooked grin curved his lips. He raised his arm and rested his hand over the top of the door. Tank's muscles flexed, rippling and dancing under his taught flesh. All thought fled Pepper's brain and she couldn't remember why was she there.

“Hi.” The deep timbre of his voice filled the hall. Her heart tumbled and her blood raced a little hotter through her veins.

“T-Tank. Sorry, I uh—” She swallowed, suddenly forgetting how to speak. “Ah…forgot the key.”

“Did you, now.” It wasn't a question but a statement. He shifted his weight to the opposite foot in a fluid and completely entrancing movement then, stepped aside. Pepper took it as an invitation to come in. She walked past him and the heady scent of his maleness slowed her as if she'd stepped into a wall of liquid passion. Pepper struggled to put one foot in front of the other. Was she in an underwater dream? No matter how hard she tried, her body refused to do as she bid. Looking at him from behind the sweep of her hair, she saw a bit of emotion flicking in the vortex of his deep blue eyes. Her belly fluttered and she dug her fingers into her legs. The temptation to reach out and touch him was almost more than she could resist. Pepper looked away from him and into the apartment, remembering that Olivia was likely here. She craned her neck to see if she could see her.

“I'm alone.” He'd come up behind her, his voice soft and low. Pepper spun like a top and faced him. She sucked in a squeak of surprise at how close he was to her. Close enough that she could feel his heat. The sizzle of air between them was almost palpable. She wanted to step closer to him. Pepper tipped her head back and looked into his cobalt eyes. Her legs quivered and it was all she could do not to show the tremble that raced through her body.

“Sorry. I didn't want to intrude, ah…” She swallowed to try to loosen the knot in her throat. It seemed to have closed up on itself. “I can't get in…” Pepper's voice trailed off and she pointed her thumb in the direction of the loft. She struggled to think clearly. His amazingly wonderful scent and proximity was a total distraction, keeping her overtired brain from working coherently. She blinked and rubbed her eyes. Not really realizing she was doing it.

He nodded and placed the palm of his hand on her forearm. His touch was nearly her undoing and her knees wobbled.

“You look exhausted.” Tank walked past her. Pepper took the moment to close her eyes and collect her thoughts before following him to the kitchen. The everyday movements he made while digging for the extra key weren't so innocent to her. Pepper watched him, filled with such a crushing sense of need it staggered her.

She gave up trying not to look at his delectably muscled butt flex beneath the cotton pants. She licked her lips, forced one foot in front of the other, and tried to
not
launch herself at him. In that one clarifying moment, Pepper knew she needed him, more than anything, to be in her life. Not just physically, but emotionally. She'd never gotten over Tank and, in truth, she knew now that she'd never really tried. He'd always been there. In every thought and dream. Just behind the veil. She nodded to herself. Even though she'd fled and essentially given up any claim she'd had on him, she knew she'd love him to her dying day. Could he ever forgive her and love her back?

Then there was Olivia. Someone who was currently in his life. Pepper pressed her lips together and refused to think of her—where she was or how important she was in his life. Eventually she would figure it out. But for now, she'd not ask. She didn't want to know. The short time she had with him was hers. And hers alone. She'd soak up every minute.

The last person he expected at his door was Pepper. It took every bit of control not to show his surprise. Seeing her standing there looking so damn sexy, and vulnerable, to boot, was dangerous. The surge of protectiveness that punched him in the gut had him close to hauling her into his arms. It surprised the hell out of him. Her hesitation at disturbing him seemed genuine and it was a bit confusing. One thing was certain: She was chipping away at the icy block that lodged itself in his chest.

The past six months had frozen his heart into a chunk of ice. Nothing had been able to cast a warming glow on it. Other than for his sister, he'd shut off his emotions. It wasn't worth the angst or pain. But warmth bloomed in him at her sheer vulnerability, not to mention the sexuality that surrounded Pepper as if she had her own magnetic field drawing him relentlessly. It concerned the fuck out of him. She might not have been intentionally trying to soften him up, but something was happening. He still hadn't figured her out; it was simply her presence that seemed to brighten his dark world. Like the sun had started to come out again. Just being here, close by, on the other side of the wall, she had made a beeline to his heart. He smiled, a silly stupid grin that he had no control over.

After he'd basically tossed Olivia out, Pepper had been on his mind. What was she doing? Had she gone out or called old friends? Or was she all alone in the loft? That thought was far too enticing and it took all his control to not walk down the hall and knock on her door. Instead, he'd distracted himself with cooking, music, and wine. He'd floated through the evening, buzzing on the booze and glad there was a wall between them.

Then as if he'd summoned her by will, conjured the temptress up, here she was on his doorstep. It was almost more than he could stand and Tank curled his fingers around the top of the door for support.

Against his better judgment, and as if he was in a sensual fog, he heard himself invite her in, assuring her he was alone.
Why?
Leading her into the kitchen, he made sure the counter was between them and turned, clearing his throat.

Tank shifted his feet, hoping to ease the ache in his groin, which did nothing to ease the ache in his heart. He didn't like how quickly he was responding to Pepper, not at all. He tried to think of something that would dampen his mood. Glad the island hid his growing arousal, he silently cursed the light fabric of his pants, knowing how clearly they would outline his hard-on. Somehow he had to get her out of his system. But how, other than banging her? He knew that would only make him want her more. Pepper wasn't one to love and leave. Once tasted, always craved. She was like a rose, all heady scent and beautiful but with some nasty, hooky thorns that held and hung on, best avoided unless you wanted to be ripped to shreds. And yep, he'd been torn. When
she
left.

“Have you eaten?” he asked, starting up small talk.

“Yes, I had pasta downstairs. It was good.”

He nodded, smelling wine on her breath. Tank looked through a bunch of keys, giving them much more attention than the task deserved. He selected one, slowly removing it from the ring.

“Would you like some wine?” He reached for the bottle of Caymus, surprised by his invitation. Once the words were out, there was no taking them back. Had he just set something in motion he might regret? Or not…

“Um, sure.” She smiled and he felt another little drip of melting ice in his chest.

“Were you drinking white or red?”

“White, but if you're having scotch I'd rather that.”

She knew him well. His nightly routine was a shot of scotch. And how odd, yet comfortable, was it that Pepper was here, ready to join him? Another reminder of how good they were together.
Were.
The operative word here.

He slipped the key into his pocket and rounded the counter, much more comfortable now that his erection had subsided enough to not be glaringly obvious. Grabbing two cut crystal tumblers, he did a generous pour and held out hers. Their fingers touched. Tank was shocked by the electrical charge that ripped through him, surging right to his heart and cock. Her eyelids fluttered. A telltale sign she felt it as much as he.

“Let's sit. I lit a fire and there's no point not enjoying it.”

Pepper stayed quiet. He gestured with his hand for her to go into the other room and followed her from a safe distance. It let him watch the gentle sway of her hips. He walked into her seductively familiar scent that hung on the air as she passed—so delicate and fragile yet with the power to bring him to his knees. Tank struggled to keep one foot moving in front of the other. Pepper curled up in the corner of the couch and crossed her long legs. Tank took a sip of his drink, glad for the fiery liquid that burned its way into his belly. He let his gaze slide over her tight-jean-clad thigh and up her torso, lingering briefly on the gentle rise and fall of her chest before slipping away to focus on the fire. Yep, she was getting under his skin.

They were silent for a few minutes. It was slightly awkward, but an underlying sense of comfort and ease made it seem like old times.
Almost
like old times. When she did speak, her voice was low, husky, and full of sensuality. The sound tangled around him like satin sheets, which only succeeded in rousing memories of her sprawled before him in naked glory. He cleared his throat, and she turned to him. He stared at her, but no words came, so he took another sip.

“I like the piano bar. Did you get the idea from Vegas?”

If he admitted that, she might think he'd thought about her often. He didn't want that. To have her know he'd designed something after an experience they shared was like giving her an advantage somehow. A poker face was necessary, and especially hard considering the involuntary reaction his body and mind had to her.

Tank shrugged. “I thought it would be a novelty and draw the crowds.” He crossed his arms over his chest, letting his chin drop as he watched her from the corner of his eyes before turning to the fire.

“It looks like it does really well. It was packed. The octagon idea is great. Very ingenious. The loft, it's really nice too.” He felt the heat of her gaze and knew she was looking at him. Tank kept his eyes on the fire. He knew where she was going with that comment and no way in hell would he make eye contact with her. “It reminds me of Spindrift. You know, in the Bahamas.”

The place where they'd pretty much lived off each other for the two weeks they were there. “Yes, I know. I liked that place and had it designed to be similar.” Just another reminder of their past together. Maybe it hadn't been such a good idea after all.

“We've had some good times.”

It wasn't a question so Tank chose not to reply. He lifted the glass and took a sip. He looked at her, relieved she was watching the flames in the hearth. It allowed him to really take her in. He sat down at the opposite end of the couch, keeping a safe distance between them. Tank nearly reached out to touch her hair, and his hand jumped in his lap as he suppressed the urge. His fingers itched to curl a flaming tendril around his palm and pull her head to him. But he didn't.

Instead he watched her fiery hair shimmer with a myriad of reds and golds in the soft firelight. A memory reared up and he caught his breath. They'd made love before the fire. She'd pushed him back, then did the goddamned sexiest striptease. Once she was naked she'd removed his clothing, piece by piece, with her fingers and mouth. What she'd done next…Tank closed his eyes and drew in a silent breath. The memory rushed at him. He'd lain on the couch and watched her every move until she'd straddled him, taking hold of his cock and sliding onto him. She'd rode him, hard. He let her take his hands and hold them above his head. She'd been in charge that night and he'd loved it.