Misadventures of a Curvy Girl (Misadventures #18)(15)
Out in the circle of lamplight, Ben watches Caleb slowly go still, and they both let out a long breath.
“She must be something,” Ben says, the heel of his palm still hard against his fly. He’s just as affected by the unfiltered and brutish sight of Caleb coming as I am, but he seems to have more control. Me, I’m on the edge of my own orgasm, my eyes still riveted on the sight of Caleb’s unflagging erection. But Ben is still all cool words and careful, catlike posture. Only his palm pressed to his covered cock gives him away.
“She is,” Caleb rumbles, still catching his breath. “I can’t wait for you to meet her.”
“Oh, I don’t think I’ll have to wait long,” Ben replies coolly. “She’s right here in the barn with us. Aren’t you, Ireland?”
Chapter Six
Ben
I saw her the moment I walked in.
It’s a good hiding place, I’ll give her that, and with the storm trapping the barn under a dark bowl of clouds and rain, I’m not surprised Caleb didn’t notice her in the gloom. Although it’s also not hard to get past Caleb. He assumes everyone is as good and honest as he is. That everyone will play by the rules, wear the right uniforms, charge from the front. He made a great football player… Thank fuck he was never a soldier.
But me—I was an excellent soldier. Staying alive in the Korengal meant expecting no one to play by football rules. It meant knowing exits and potential cover. It meant knowing where people were hiding and why they were hiding. Five years hasn’t been enough to break me of it—I don’t know how many years it will take—and mostly I don’t mind the ways the army’s changed me. It makes it easy to keep my bar free of brawls and assholes, and right now, it’s netted me a gorgeous woman currently staring at me with a bitten lip and wind-mussed hair.
She hesitantly steps out of the stall, a flush high on her cheeks—one I know will be matched on Caleb’s face. Thirty-three years old, and he still blushes like he did in grade school when a teacher would call on him and he didn’t know the answer.
He tucks himself away, zipping up with an embarrassed rush of breath. “Ireland,” he says but stops after only her name. Which I understand, because really what can you say when a woman you like has just seen you beat off? In front of his best friend, no less? I’m not sure how much Caleb has told her about how we operate, but this is a much more dramatic introduction to our dynamic than usual.
However, dramatic or not, I was willing to take the risk. When I walked in and sensed her presence, glancing over to see her completely enraptured by Caleb’s unintentional display of lust, I sensed she might be into whatever else I threw her way. And sure enough, I can see the evidence on her body plain as day as she comes closer—nipples like little bullets under her camisole, jeans unbuttoned, a certain breathlessness over and beyond the shock of getting caught.
And immediately, I know. I just do. Even without Caleb already wanting her, even without seeing the real and throbbing evidence of that want, I know this Ireland could be her. The one.
The one to break the spell of one-night stands and empty nights. The one to see us as more than just a fun joyride or a novelty.
The one to stay.
It’s not just her looks, which are gorgeous, or her body, which is perfect, lush and soft and jiggly in all the places we like. But there’s something about her gaze, her bitten lip, that suggests an adventuresomeness under the surface. A wildness that’s been pinned down and glossed over but that’s ready to break free. I’m fascinated. Hooked. I want to crack that glossy surface and tumble down into wild delights together.
Ireland stops a few paces away and tugs on her hair. “Um, hey. I was just…”
She’s about to lie. I can see it in her eyes, which are all tensed up around the corners and refusing to meet mine. But I’m not going to let her lie. The stakes are too real, and it’s been so long since I’ve felt anything other than tired and lonely, and I’ve learned the hard way that being a three takes much more honesty than being a two. Even when it comes to the little things.
So I step forward, grab her hand, and gently lick at her fingertips.
“Oh,” she mumbles, her eyelashes fluttering closed. “Oh fuck.”
Responsive too. I smile to myself as I give the pad of her finger a little scrape with my teeth and watch her shudder. I can already imagine having her and Caleb in bed with me, both of them following my orders…
She realizes too late why I’m licking her fingers and yanks her hand back. Her cheeks go redder than ever.
I run my tongue over my lower lip, tasting the lingering sweetness of her in my mouth. “You were ‘just’ nothing, Ireland. You were touching yourself. You had those pretty fingers in that sweet little cunt, didn’t you? Watching Caleb and me?”
She swallows, blinking fast, but her stare doesn’t leave mine, which I like.
“I—yes,” she admits in a rush. “I was doing…that. What you said.” And then she lets out a little snort of shocked laughter, as if she can’t believe she just uttered such a thing out loud.
I’ll have her more than simply talking about dirty things before I’m through with her, but I take this as a sign she’s ready for something different. Ready for us.