Rock Chick Renegade (Rock Chick #4)(95)

Um.

Yikes.

“Crowe –” I tried again.

“I want to know you understand me,” Vance kept going.

“Crowe –”

“Do you understand me?” he asked. He sounded supremely pissed off now and edging toward impatient.

“Please listen to me –” I started.

“None of it. Watchin’ TV together. You curled up to him on the couch and definitely not his tongue in your f**kin’ mouth and his hands up your f**kin’ shirt.” His voice was getting dangerous or, I should say, more dangerous and his face was no longer blank.

“If you’d just –”

“Jules, do you f**king understand me?” He was keeping his control but I could tell just barely. I could tell this because his eyes had gone hard and his mouth had gone tight.

That was it.

I sat up and shouted, “Shut up, Crowe!”

He came up with me, face like thunder, eyes flashing and I knew he was ready to blow.

One look at his face and I thought, f**k it. It was now or never.

I stood next to my barking, snarling Rottweiler, ripped the plastic off a big, huge, juicy steak with a thick, meaty bone in and threw it to him. He nabbed it in mid-air, settled down and started gnawing.

Then I pounced.

And finally I surprised Vance Ouray Crowe.

In the beginning he thought I was going to fight him. Couldn’t really fight someone with your tongue in his mouth.

Well, you could but it wasn’t my style.

I was all over him. My hands were all over him. My mouth was all over him.

He was na**d which, if I wasn’t in desperation mode to get him to shut up and pay attention to me, I would have thought was kind of brazen considering the fact that we were over.

Instead I thought it was good. A time saver.

When he realized I wasn’t attacking him, his arms went around me with a force that squeezed my breath out of me and that was it.

It was hot, heavy, lots of everything like we hadn’t seen each other in three years rather than three days. I got astride him and lifted up, pulling my nightie over my head while he watched. When I was done, he rolled me over and tore off my underwear.

Then we went back at it.

Within minutes I was at Grade Nine.

“I want you inside me,” I said breathlessly in his ear.

He started to pull away.

“Where are you going?” I was no longer breathless but sounding loud and a little bit shrill.

“Condom,” was all he said.

Oh.

That.

I yanked him to me and rolled on my back, opening my legs and his h*ps slid between them. “In a minute,” I said.

“Jules –”

“In a minute.”

His head came up and he looked at me, hair around his shoulders just as beautiful as ever.

Then I could swear I saw a hint of a grin before his face disappeared in my neck.

Then he slid inside.

* * * * *

After we were done and once Vance had come back to me after going to the bathroom and dealing with the condom which he did finally use and showed me how to put it on (which gave a new dimension to birth control that I liked very much and I got the impression that he liked even better), I laid in his arms, we were side-by-side, my face tucked into his throat.

I had no ridiculous thoughts about my wardrobe or summer camp because my Rottweiler had looked up from his bone and had begun to growl.

Hush, I whispered.

My Rottie cocked his head, whined a bit then went back to his bone.

Through my mental turmoil Vance was silent.

I was wondering about his mood. Okay, I was worried about his mood. Okay, I was scared to death about his mood.

“I need to go to work,” I whispered against his throat, the fear and hope were back. The longer he stayed silent the more the fear was winning.

Vance’s arms went loose and he moved a bit away.

The fear took further hold. I couldn’t remember a time when Vance so easily let me go.

I looked at him and couldn’t read his face.

Damn it all to hell.

“You going to work?” I asked in an effort to force him to speak.

“Been up all night. I’ll go to the down room and crash.”

I kept watching him but my throat was beginning to feel funny, like it was going to close up on me.

I knew how important what just happened was to me. I didn’t know what Vance was thinking and from the look of him it wasn’t good. Wasn’t good as in wasn’t anything, which was definitely not good.

“Okay,” I said and it sounded kind of croaky.

I sat up, taking the sheet with me and holding it to my chest. Vance moved, getting ready to exit the bed. I grabbed his hand. Do not ask me why but I did. He stilled and looked at me.

And before I could stop myself I whispered, “You can crash here.”

Vance didn’t speak.

“You can shower here too,” I went on quickly so as not to arouse my Rottie.

He kept looking at me.

My jaw started hurting with the effort to keep the fear and the tears at bay.

“Whenever you want,” I said, “crash, I mean. And… um, shower.”

I thought what I just said was huge.

Vance gave me nothing.

“I’ll give you a key,” I told him, the last ditch effort to get my point across.