Edge of Midnight (McClouds & Friends #4)(85)

But like everything else she thought she knew about sex, that turned on its head when Sean was concerned. Being twisted into a pretzel was great if a girl was relaxed to virtual bonelessness from multiple orgasms, and Sean’s lapping, lashing, trilling tongue was so unerringly skilled at keeping her in a state of quivering delight.

It was perfect, twining and luscious and ravishing. Each inspired the other to more sensual, ravenous excesses with each suckling stroke, each voluptuous caress, his pleasure amplifying hers and vice versa until they melded into a shining whole; his hardness to her softness, his rough to her smooth, offering satisfaction to every secret, wordless yearning. They crested the wave, exploded into crashing foam together.

She lay incapable of moving while the light in the room slowly brightened, inhaling his warm man musk smell. She was petting the gilt tipped hairs on his muscular thigh when she noticed something that looked like a small, irregular bruise. She looked closer. It was a tattoo, written crookedly on his thigh in small, blurry, letters. SEAN.

She traced it with her finger. “Did you do this yourself? It doesn’t look like a professional tattoo.”

He grunted. “It’s not. Dad put that on me when I was about eight, with a hot needle and a ballpoint pen. Bottle of Scotch for disinfectant.”

Liv froze, her hand tightening on his thigh. “Eight years old?”

“Yeah. He was pissed at me and Kev for playing tricks on him. That was back when it was real hard to tell us apart. Dad didn’t have much of a sense of humor. I think that’s the first thing to go, when a person is mentally ill. So he labeled us. He did Kev first. When I saw what was in store for me, I took off for the woods. Took him days to track me down, but I let him find me, in the end. I got hungry.”

“My God.” She stroked the mark with her finger, horrified. “Sean, that’s awful. You poor baby.”

He looked uncomfortable. “I’ve had worse experiences. I’m just glad my name didn’t have more letters. Kev only had three. Cured me of any impulse to get a tattoo, I’ll tell you that much.” He pondered for a moment. “Maybe that’s why I hate Scotch,” he added thoughtfully. “Even the smell of the stuff makes me gag.”

She wondered if he even knew how much that confession revealed about his childhood. She could see so clearly the little boy he’d been, hiding in the woods. Hungry and scared. It made her chest hurt, but she sensed that her sympathy would embarrass him.

She wiggled closer, and gently kissed the faded tattoo. Silently grateful that all that pain, all that darkness, had not put out his light.

In spite of everything, he still shone so bright.

“How romantic. Nuzzling each other’s genitals, like puppies.”

The cool voice issuing from the stairwell made them jump. Liv scrambled to wrap the sheet around her naked body, her face heating.

Sean sat up and glared at her. “Holy shit, Tam. You could knock.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Her head and shoulders poked up over the stairwell. She sniffed the air. “Hmm. I see you two have been busy.”

“Disappear, Tam,” he snarled. “Wait for us downstairs.”

She laughed, and vanished down the hole. “Since when have you gotten so prissy?” her voice floated up from below. “My sources led me to understand that you liked kink.”

“Your f*cking sources led you wrong.” He yanked on his jeans and clattered down the spiral staircase after her.

Liv hastened to pull on her T-shirt, longing in vain for her under-pants. She started down the stairs, bracing herself for anything.

Tam propped a taut buttock on the edge of a couch as she lit up a cigarette. She was dressed in black jeans and a silver-gray tailored blouse. Her hair was swept into a roll that looked both careless and perfect. She took a deep drag on her cigarette, nostrils flaring in disgust as Sean rooted through cold leftovers from last night’s dinner.

“Garlic, at this hour?” She shuddered delicately. “God.”

“Something tells me you’re not going to serve us coffee and croissants,” he said, dropping a slice of filet mignon into his mouth.

He twitched the cigarette out of her mouth, and scowled at it. “What is this, Tam? Your breakfast?” He ground it out in the empty taboulleh container. “Are you trying to starve yourself to death?” He grabbed a sourdough roll, smeared butter onto it and held it out. “Eat a goddamn piece of bread, already.”

Tam recoiled. “Carbs. Ick. Back off.”

“Why should I?” He took a bite of the roll. “If you’re going to be rude and invasive and in my face, I’m going to return the favor.”

She sniffed. “That’s gratitude for you. I got up early and went shopping this morning, for your friend.” She turned her gaze up, and ran it over Liv. “Morning sex becomes you,” she said, her tone approving. “Makes your lips red and puffy. You barely need the makeup I got. There are your new clothes. Have fun.”

She gestured towards a cluster of shopping bags near the door.

Liv stammered for a moment, bemused. “Um…thanks.”

“No need.” Tam shrugged. “I wouldn’t have bothered doing it if I didn’t enjoy it. Shopping is relaxing. Particularly when someone else is paying. Which reminds me.” She pulled a handful of credit card slips out of her jeans pocket and held them out to Sean. “These, I believe, are yours,” she said. “Pay me back in a timely manner, please.”