He touched his forehead to hers, whispering, “Come home with me.” His thumb stroked her lower lip, blazed a trail over her jaw and down the side of her throat. “Stay with me tonight.”
Still drunk with his kisses, she let her eyes flutter open and tried to think straight. “I thought you didn’t like girls spending the night.”
“I don’t.” He licked his upper lip, then bent to kiss her again, pausing at the corner of her mouth. “But I know once won’t be enough for either of us.” When she shuddered against him in clear desire, he gripped her thigh, pulling it around his hips as he ground his erection against her aroused flesh in a slow rotation. “I want to make love to you, Bobbi. Then I want to wrap you in my arms and fall asleep while I’m still inside you. I want to bury my face in the curve of your neck and breathe you all night long.”
Letting her head tip to the side, she groaned loudly, beyond caring about the dozens of patrons a stone’s throw away.
“Say yes,” he murmured with another lazy thrust that undid her.
“Yes.” She couldn’t have said no if she wanted to. This was more than animal lust. She needed this man inside her, filling and completing her on a primal level, consequences be damned. In that moment, she’d sacrifice anything—even her career—to join her body with his, to spend the night in his powerful embrace, and she couldn’t wait another excruciating second to make it happen.
“Yes,” she repeated with all the certainty and passion in her heart. “Take me home.”
Trey shifted his Chevy into third gear as he navigated Main Street, then shifted his erection away from his zipper before he busted through the copper teeth. He’d never been so hard in his life. It was like his johnson knew it was about to enter the promised land and had already stowed its tray in the upright position. What it failed to understand was the copilot was still two car lengths behind, observing the speed limit and coming to a complete stop at each friggin’ intersection.
Please, sweet baby Jesus, don’t let Bobbi change her mind before I can get her home
.
He wished Bobbi hadn’t insisted on driving separately. He’d hoped to pull her close and put his free hand to good use during the short trip to his place. But she’d had a valid point—everyone in Sultry Springs knew that purple hatchback, and it would get back to Luke in a flash if she left Bruiser on the curb all night. Better to hide it inside his garage.
Trey didn’t know how they were going to explain Bobbi’s absence to Luke, and a faint twinge of guilt pricked at his stomach. There wasn’t enough blood left in his head—not the one on his shoulders, anyway—for a full-on attack of conscience, but he knew he’d feel like shit in the morning when he had to face his best friend on the job site. Especially with the night’s debauchery fresh in his mind. And he would debauch Bobbi, make no mistake. He wasn’t even sure if they’d make it to the bedroom for round one. Maybe he’d peel off her shorty-shorts, lift her onto the kitchen counter, and spend the first twenty minutes with his face between her thighs. The mental image made his pants even tighter, and he punched the accelerator, hoping the owner of those thighs got the message and quit lollygagging.
When he reached his driveway—after the longest five-minute ride of his life—he hit the garage door opener and pulled inside, making sure to leave plenty of room for her car. He was already out of his truck and almost twitching with need when Bobbi pulled in beside him. Would it be wrong to lay her across the hood of her hatchback and do her right there? Yeah, probably. Besides, he’d waited so long, dreamt about her night and day since she’d come to town, and he wanted to do this right—take his time and savor every smooth inch, binge on her sweetness…and hopefully get her out of his system.
He opened her car door and she peered up at him tentatively, as if equally afraid he’d changed his mind. Bending across her lap, he unfastened her seat belt and gave her a kiss that left no doubt about his intentions. Her mouth was hot and responsive, her tongue eager to please, and he tugged her to standing before nudging the door shut with his hip.
“I need you,” she sighed against his mouth, wrapping one leg around his waist, “inside me, right now.” Then she started grinding against his hard-on.
He moaned loud enough to wake the dead. “You keep doing that, and our first time won’t last very long.” Pulling her other leg around his waist, he hoisted her up and held her by the ass as he stumbled toward the door to the kitchen. After nearly tripping over an old paint can, he reached the entrance to the house, managed to get the door open, and rushed inside, hoping the place wasn’t too messy. He was pretty sure he’d picked up all his dirty underwear and returned the girly mags to their rightful place beneath the bed.
Just as he crossed the threshold, Bobbi licked his earlobe, and he knew it was no use trying to get her to the bedroom. Setting her gently on the kitchen island, he began sucking and nibbling his way down her neck while reaching beneath her shirt to massage her firm breasts. They filled each of his palms to perfection, taunting him beneath a layer of lace. He lifted one breast to his mouth and softly bit Bobbi’s nipple through her bra. She fisted his hair, groaning a litany of sensual curses and reaching down to stroke him with her fingertips.
He stilled her hand, in serious danger of finishing before they officially started. “Darlin’, I wasn’t joking when I said—”
All of a sudden, a new sensation pierced Trey’s fog of lust and froze him in place. An overwhelming scent, warm and chocolaty, filled his nostrils, so thick it must’ve saturated the entire house. It smelled amazing in here, which didn’t make sense. When he’d left several hours ago, the slightly acrid odor of Tex-Mex chili from last night’s dinner had clung to the kitchen walls. Wrinkling his forehead, he glanced at the oven, noting the digital display that read
350
bake
. Bake? Had he left the oven on all day? He barely used the thing—didn’t even know how to bake since his mother had never taught him.
Wait a minute.
He sniffed the air a few times, stomach lurching against his ribs as the puzzle pieces clicked into place.
“Oh, no. No, no, no.” He recognized that smell. It was his mother’s legendary double-fudge brownies, and since he doubted a burglar had broken in to whip up a tasty treat, that meant Mom was in here somewhere.
“Hey.” Bobbi took his face between her hands, turning his gaze to her heavy-lidded, green eyes. “Where’d you go?”
Into his worst nightmare, that’s where. “Let’s get outta here.”
“What?” She squinted in confusion. “But we just got—”
A shrill voice from the other side of the room yelled, “Great Caesar’s ghost, Trey!”
Bobbi brought both hands to her chest and screamed, while Trey hung his head and fought the urge to bang his skull against the countertop. Why, God, why? What had he done to deserve this level of cosmic cockblockery?
Mom clutched the silk fabric over her heart, mouth agape as she took in the scene: a drenched, barely clothed Bobbi perched on the counter with her legs still wrapped around Trey’s waist, his hand paused mid-grope beneath the front of her shirt.
Bobbi worked her way free from Trey’s grasp and hopped down, clutching his bicep as she moved to hide behind him. Realizing Mom hadn’t seen him with a boner since he was three, Trey repositioned himself strategically behind the island and asked, “What the holy hell are you doing here?”
After stammering for a few seconds, she smoothed her blouse. “Visiting you, obviously.”
“You couldn’t have called first?” The instant the words left his lips, Trey cringed inwardly, remembering he hadn’t picked up in days. He should’ve known there was no escaping her. Damn it, why had he given her a key all those years ago?
“I did call! And left plenty of messages, which you clearly ignored.” She bitched at him with the same voice she’d used since he’d worn Batman Underoos, making him feel four feet tall. One hand gripping her hip, she scoured Bobbi with that cold, signature Lewis family glare. “Now I know what’s been keeping you so busy. Or rather,
whom
.” In a tone that oozed disappointment, she prodded, “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your…little friend?”
His “little friend” beat him to it. “Hi, Mrs. Lewis. I’m Bobbi. It’s nice to meet you, though I’m a little embarrassed by the circumstances.” She released a nervous laugh, pinching him hard on the back in retribution.
“I see.” Mom did that thing where she lifted her face, so she could look down her nose at everyone. Trey knew it was born from insecurity and she didn’t mean anything by it, but Bo wouldn’t understand. He shot his mother a warning glance, which she coolly ignored. “Do you have a last name, Bobbi?”
Uh-oh. Warning bells chimed inside Trey’s muddled brain, but he couldn’t summon a believable cover-up before Bobbi announced, “Gallagher.”
That did it. Mom associated the name Gallagher with all things evil, similar to the way Trey felt about the St. Louis Cardinals. Her eyes wrenched to his, widening just enough to warn him a shit storm was brewing.
“Turns out Luke has a sister,” Trey said slowly, sending Mom a clear message to tone it down. “She’s spending the summer in town filming a…documentary.” No way was he fessing up to his role in
Sex
in
the
Sticks
. Mom would have a conniption duck fit.
“Is that so?” His mom gave Bobbi a hesitant once-over, as if reserving further judgment for now. “On what topic?”
“Uh…” Bobbi clearly understood—she’d made her feelings for this project clear and wouldn’t advertise her involvement on a regular day, let alone when meeting Trey’s mother for the first time. “It’s…um…well, you could say it’s about interpersonal relationships within the rural community.”
Nice one.
“And,” Bobbi continued, “Trey’s helping me out.”
“Oh, I can see that.” Wrinkling her nose in distaste, Mom strode into the kitchen, making a
shoo-fly
motion at them with one hand. “My brownies are almost done.”
It was clear Mom wasn’t leaving any time soon, and as much as Trey wanted to, he couldn’t hoist Bobbi over his shoulder and carry her into the bedroom to pick up where they left off. Wrapping an arm around Bobbi’s shoulders, he pulled her to the end of the island, whispering, “This isn’t over. I’ll tell her I’m driving you home, then we’ll get a room somewhere.”
She nodded in agreement. “Let me use your restroom first.”
“Sure.” He pointed to the hallway. “First door on your left.”
As soon as Bobbi was out of earshot, Mom shook her head and chided, “Really, Trey.”
“Don’t start.”
She began rifling through the kitchen cabinets and drawers. “Where’re your oven mitts?”
“Drawer to the left of the stove.” He scrubbed his face with one hand, trying to will the blood flow away from his crotch.
“Another Gallagher,” Mom continued without missing a beat. “Why am I not surprised? You’re drawn to those people like a dog to garbage. How many
are
there, anyway?” From the inflection in her icy voice, you’d think she was discussing vermin with an exterminator.
“Just the two of ’em.” Or at least, that’s what he assumed. “And be nice. I like Bobbi.”
“Well, of course you do.” Quilted mitt in place, she opened the oven and bent to retrieve the square Pyrex brownie pan, filling the kitchen with dry warmth. “You’re just like your father, a magnet for easy women.”
Trey’s spine stiffened. He didn’t know which was worse, being compared to his father, or the implication that Bobbi was a slut. “Don’t go there, Mom—”
“Why can’t you find a nice girl for once? Like Mindy?”
“Sure, that’s just what I need. Someone to sleep around behind my back and dump me.”
Mom pressed two quick fingers against her dessert, seemingly satisfied with the results. “I’m sure it wasn’t like that.”
It was exactly like that, but Mom wouldn’t listen. Mindy had been Trey’s high school girlfriend, and more importantly, she hailed from one of Chicago’s wealthiest families, which made her star wife material in Mom’s eyes.
He tried changing the subject. “How long are you in town?”
Mom brushed a strand of silver hair away from her face, shoulders drooping as if offended by his question. “As long as you can stand having your mother around. I’m lucky if I get to see you twice a year.” Great, she’d embarked on another of her intercontinental guilt trips. “You know, one of these days when you have children of your own, you’re going to understand—”
“I didn’t mean anything by it, Mom.”
“Sure you didn’t.” Tossing the hot pad onto the counter, Mom huffed a sigh. “Just do me a favor, and listen for once.”
He gave a mental eye roll. “I’m listening.”
“Life doesn’t usually give second chances, but you’ve got one—to clear your name and start from scratch. Don’t let another Gallagher ruin your future. Don’t be like your father and give up everything that matters for a few quick rolls in the hay.” Her voice thickened and her eyes welled with tears she wouldn’t allow to fall. She never did. “I promise she’s not worth it. They rarely are.”
Under any other circumstances, Trey would have shown her the door for her flagrant criticism of Bobbi, but he couldn’t kick Mom when she was already down. “She’s not like that. And besides, you’ve got nothin’ to worry about. I’m not changing my mind about Dubai.”
“Promise me.”
“I promise.”
A minute later, Bobbi padded into the room without meeting his gaze. She raised one hand in an awkward good-bye to his mother. “Nice meeting you.”
“Mmm-hmm,” Mom said, facing away. “Tell your brother hello. You remind me a lot of him.” She turned, flashing a smile that didn’t reach beyond her lips. “It’s the eyes, I think. Such a lovely green.”
The backhanded compliment wasn’t lost on Trey, but fortunately, Bobbi didn’t seem to catch on.
“Thanks.” Hooking one thumb toward the door, Bobbi told him, “I’m gonna go. I’ll have…um, Nathan…call you tomorrow.”
“Who’s Nathan?” he asked, following her into the garage. “And I want to see you home.” He’d said the last part extra loud for Mom’s benefit. What he really wanted to do was find a dark, private place to make love to Bobbi like the world was ending.
Once they’d stepped outside the kitchen, she whispered, “That’s Bong’s real name.” Then, shaking her head, added, “Just stay. I’ll be fine.”
“Stay?” He walked Bobbi to the driver’s side door, but when he leaned in to kiss her, she turned her face to the side, pressing one firm hand against his chest.
Trey stroked her hair, noticing the barest sliver of blond beginning to grow along her part line. It was the first time he realized she wasn’t a natural redhead.
From out of nowhere, it occurred to him that if they had a son, he would likely be blond—a towheaded little boy with blue-green eyes and a gap-toothed smile. Trey’s lips twitched into a grin against his will, but he banished the image. The last thing he needed in his tumultuous life was a baby. He didn’t even like kids.
“C’mon.” He leaned in to nip Bobbi’s earlobe. “We’ll stop someplace along the way.”
“No.” Ducking from the circle of his arms, she nudged him aside and pulled open the car door. “Stay with your mom. She’s hurting. That’s why she came. Go be a good son.”
“I’d rather be bad…with you.”
“Your mom needs you.” Plunking into her seat behind the wheel, Bobbi delivered an abrupt, painful blow before slamming the door shut. “I don’t.”
While Trey stood there slack-jawed, Bobbi started the car and pulled out without so much as a glance in his direction. He watched the purple hatchback turn onto Main Street and fade away, wondering what the hell had just happened.