Declaration (16 page)

She nodded, crossing her legs as I continued to rub circles into her skin. I didn’t miss the fine goosebumps that sprang up over the tops of her thighs as she moved. “Well, there you go. That’s a great start.”

“I just can’t wait for the day I can stop working two jobs to make ends meet. I don’t want to live paycheck to paycheck for the rest of my life.”

“You’ll get there, sweetheart.”

Her eyes fluttered to mine and she watched me for a moment. “You know what you need?”

“What?”

“A lip ring,” she said, tracing the corner of my bottom lip, “right there, to go with all those sexy tattoos of yours.”

“No way.” I laughed, shaking my head.

“Why not?”

“I couldn’t pull that off, are you kidding me?”

“What, are you chicken?” she raised her brows in a challenge, biting down on her lip.

I extended my arms to show her my ink. “I’m not afraid of needles.” My hand fell right back to her hip, where my thumb resumed its circular motion along her hemline.

“Then what’s the problem?”

“I’d look like an idiot.”

“Trust me, it’d be hot.”

“Tell you what,” I said, feeling brave, “I’ll get the piercing if you get a tattoo.”

“What?” she shrieked, sitting up straight.

“What, are you chicken?”

“Most definitely
not
!”

“Then what’s the problem?” I arched my brow and gave her my best Cheshire grin.

“
Ooohhhh
,” she said, shaking her finger in my face, “see, Montgomery? You’re quiet, but you’re bustling inside. You’re a sneaky little bastard. I knew you had it in you.”

I pursed my lips into an innocent pout. “Me, sneaky?”

She laughed and scooted forward, surprising me with a sharp bite to the neck. My hand clamped down on her hip, fingers splaying wide and digging into her skin until I felt my knuckles go white.

I was instantly hard.

“I’m holding you to that,” she whispered as her teeth released the skin of my neck. “But there’s something I have to do before we leave.” She left me stunned in the booth, cock throbbing and heart racing, to slip away from the table and into the crowd.

I was too dazed, too turned on, too enamored to try to piece together where the hell she was going or what she had up her sleeve next.

She reappeared a few minutes later, behind the belly dancers, wrapped in a gold, beaded satin sheet. The dancers were huddled around her, chatting animatedly and peeking at whatever was under the sheet. Her eyes found mine from across the room, slicing into me as she nodded and responded to something one of the dancers was saying. The women turned to glance over their shoulders and they broke out in smiles, all laughing and whispering to Whitney.

What the hell?

I looked down to break eye contact, shifting in my seat. I lifted a menu from the table, clumsily flipping the pages to busy myself with something—anything but the gorgeous sets of eyes leering at me from the other side of the restaurant.

The music picked up again, changing tunes, and the room started to come alive with new shouts and an arrangement of claps,
ohs
, and
ahs
. The commotion drew my gaze up, over the top of the menu, and there she was.

Whitney, taking the center formation of the belly dancers’ arrangement.

She raised her arms up and then brought them down in one dramatic swoop. The satin sheet fluttered open and then I realized it wasn’t a sheet at all, but a part of her costume. The satin wings were attached to golden rings on her fingers, but that wasn’t the best part.

Holy Mother of fish and chips.

No, the best part was what the sheet-like wings revealed. Her body was a work of art, covered with an ornate, intricate bodice, similar to the other dancers’ costumes, except hers was even more daring. Where the other dancers were decked out in flashy black and gold bras and long, flowing skirts to match, Whitney donned a skirt with the highest slit I’d ever seen. She bared the entire valley of her torso—that vast, sexy lengthened space that plummeted from the bottom of her breasts to the lowest point of her navel. She was a vivacious spark—a diamond glittering in a sea of gems, with smooth, luscious skin exposed for the world to see.

I couldn’t drag my eyes from the sight.

She began to sway and pick up the pace to match the music, falling in line with the other dancers as they popped and rotated their hips to each exotic beat. The menu dropped from my hands. She turned to the side and rolled one hip, and my eyes greedily scanned the curve of her torso, watching it slither like a snake. She balanced herself on one leg and slightly bent the other as she continued to work her waist, the slit of her skirt revealing the sleek skin of her thigh.

I swallowed and found myself settling back into the booth, propping one arm along the back of the seat. Heat rolled down me in thick waves and I shifted to deter the building ache in my groin. I was a doomed insect drawn to her flame.

To put it bluntly, I was completely and utterly fucked.

The girl was a goddess, plain and simple. I was ensnared in her magic, and there was positively no way I was ever making it out of her web. She continued to lure me into a helpless trance, stealing the show as the other dancers performed behind her with knives. They could’ve been juggling monkeys and fireballs, for all I cared. All I saw was her and those damn hips, and the way she sneaked glances at me with those brazen, emerald eyes.

My skin heated and flared, welding me to the leather seat. A strange feeling overcame me. It was familiar and foreign, a mix of curiosity and intrigue, lust and desire, need and want. It all swirled in my mind, but the sensation was extinguished as the music came to an end and Whitney slipped away with the other dancers behind the curtain, near the kitchen. The spell was broken, but the provocative portrait she’d painted before me would be burned into my mind for a long damn time.

Adjusting myself beneath the table, I sat up and counted to ten. I needed a smoke, right fucking now.

I dropped some bills on the table next to the check and caught a glimpse of Tony on the way out. I gave him a wave and slid through the front door as another group of people piled in for a late-night meal. I lit up faster than I could blink, taking a deep whiff of the warm, salty Gulf air. Waltzing around the side of the restaurant, I blew out a stream of smoke and let myself fall back against the wall.

“Carter?” Whitney’s voice came from around the corner.

“Hey, I’m over here.” I sprang off the wall and spun around to look for her, still dazed from her performance.

She rushed over when she spotted me, planting a big smack on my cheek. “That was so much fun! Did you have a good time?”

“Did I have a good time?” I took a drag and wiped my forehead. “I’m pretty sure you just made every hot-blooded male’s dreams come true back there. Yeah, I’d say I had a good time.”

She giggled and fluffed out her long, black hair, then began threading it through her fingers to pile it up on her head. She swept up each lock and fastened them into her signature loose bun, then grabbed my hand. “I’m happy you liked it.”

I huffed. “Liked it? Are you kidding me? You’re sexy as hell, Whitney. Where did you learn to belly dance like that?”

“Here.” She shrugged with a smile. “I love Tony’s dancers. They’re all family. They let me dance once a month, or whenever they have a spot open. It’s a great work out, actually.”

“I was about to pounce on you. I’m beginning to understand the whole serial dater label Emma slapped you with.”

“What?” She faked a pout. “I haven’t ditched you yet!”

“Emma has it wrong. You don’t ditch your men, you kill them.”

“I won’t kill you.” She stepped in front of me and took my hand, watching me take the last drag of my cigarette. “I like you too much.”

I put out my smoke and reeled her into me, letting her weight push us both back against the wall. Taking her chin, I stared down at those mesmerizing eyes and pressed my forehead against hers. “You’re liquid fire. You wake me right the hell up.”

She inhaled a shaky breath against my lips. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. So, what’s next?” I nudged her nose with mine. “Sky diving? Wrestling alligators?”

She let out a soft laugh and bit down slowly on the corner of my lip. “Piercings and tattoos,” she whispered.

Not bothering to wait for my response, she pushed off of me and threaded her fingers with mine, then dragged me from the wall and towed me away into the night.

9
PROGRESS

White, piercing light hit my eyelids and I didn’t dare open them. Not yet. I groaned, rolling over and pulling a pillow over my head.

Then I remembered who was next to me.

Whitney Sinclair, belly dancing goddess and now tatted-up beauty, lying, fully clothed, in my bed.

As she slept, I peeked out from underneath the pillow and watched her— like a total creeper. Her face was peaceful and innocent, her soft breaths rising and falling with her chest. Her arms were draped above her head, accentuating her perky little rack and the fresh ink on the inside of her forearm. It was an image of two bluebirds, their wings spread wide, holding up a ribbon that said
Libertas
, the Latin word for freedom or liberty.

She was beautiful, lying just like that, but I was dying of thirst. I carefully slid to the left and slipped out from the sheets, sliding my glasses on and making a pit stop to the bathroom before padding over to the kitchen area for a glass of water.

We’d come home around the time the sun was coming up, whenever that was, and by then, Whitney had passed out in my arms. She was too tired to walk home, so I scooped her up and let her fall asleep on my shoulder. I’d carried her upstairs, then placed her in bed while I showered.

Now it was 11 a.m., and I realized I’d forgotten to ask her what time she worked today. I didn’t want to wake her. Truth be told, I wanted her to spend the whole day with me. I wanted to keep her captive here in my flat, but I knew that wouldn’t fly. I had to work this afternoon, too.

Damn it.

I tipped the water glass to my lips and felt the rim clink against a tender spot: my new piercing. I actually went through with it, and Whitney was thrilled. It was a small ring, positioned on the corner of my bottom lip. It would take some getting used to, but strangely enough, with a brush of my fingers, I realized it was already growing on me.

I downed the last of my water and tiptoed quietly back over to the bed. She squirmed as I settled down into the sheets, then suddenly rolled over and curled up into a ball, her hand reaching out and splaying across my chest.

I froze.

“
Mmmm
, morning,” she moaned into the pillow, her eyes still closed.

“Hey.”

“Do you work today?”

“Not until this afternoon. You?”

“Yeah. At one o’clock.”

“I didn’t want to wake you. I wasn’t sure.”

“S’okay.” She uncurled her legs and let one glide over my thigh, hooking them together. My body remained still but my lips parted, releasing a sharp breath. Her lips found the side of my throat next and my shoulders and back stiffened. I needed to touch her so goddamn bad. As if she sensed it, she trailed her tongue up my neck and along my earlobe, drawing another shaky breath from me with one little flick.

“Shit,” I mumbled, closing my eyes to relish the feeling.

She unhooked our legs to roll over and straddle me, then leaned down to continue working her mouth on my throat. Her lips danced across my Adam’s Apple and I flinched from the pleasure as she moved down to kiss my chest. Another groan escaped me as she wiggled her way down my torso to tease my boxer line with her teeth. Every inch of my skin was torched, her fire setting flames to each of my nerve endings. Her fingers delved into my boxers and she gripped me hard, sending me hissing through my teeth. My cock sprang free and she bent her head, licking straight up the shaft and swirling her tongue along the tip. My head pressed back into the pillow and my fingers found her hair, tugging softly.

I couldn’t believe this was happening. Was this really fucking happening? This gorgeous, vivacious, intelligent girl wanted me?

Despite the pile of BBC DVDs sitting on my coffee table right now?

Despite my clumsiness?

Despite my geeky Anglophile ways?

Despite my inherent awkwardness?

Despite it all?

“I want you, Carter Montgomery,” she whispered against me. “Can I have you?”

Well, that answered that.

I instantly missed the heat of her mouth. I bucked my hips and pressed the tip of my cock to her lips again, cupping her head. “You have me, sweetheart. You so have me.”

And I meant it.

This girl enraptured me in her light. I’d never met anyone like her. She worked two jobs to keep a roof over her head and went to school. Waitressed and changed sheets for a living. Liked to read and eat and hang out on the beach. All such ordinary things, but she was far from ordinary—colorful and candid, brave yet vulnerable, uninhibited and wild but an idealist at heart. A palette of yellows and reds and greens and blues, all bleeding into one another, but so distinct when you looked at them up close.