Lick (Stage Dive, #1)(51)

“Agreed.”

Without a word he stepped back from me, crossing over to the stairwell. “Mal?”

“What?”

“Close the door down there and lock it,” David yelled. “Don’t you come up here under any circumstances. Not till I tell you it’s okay. Understood?”

There was a pause then Mal yelled back. “What if there’s a fire?”

“Burn.”

“Fuck you.” The door downstairs slammed shut.

“Lock it!”

Mal’s reply was muffled but the pissy tone carried just fine. These two were more akin to actual brothers than David and his biological sibling. Jimmy was a jerk and just one of the very good reasons we should never return to LA. Sadly, hiding out in Monterey wasn’t a viable long-term solution.

School, band, family, friends, blah blah blah.

David reached for the back of his T-shirt and dragged it off over his head. “Rule number two, if I take my shirt off you have to take off yours. The shirt-off rule now applies to these sorts of conversations. I know we need to talk about stuff. But there’s no reason we can’t make it easier.”

“This’ll make it easier?” Highly doubtful. All that smooth, hot skin just waiting for my touch and my fingers itching to do so. Keeping my tongue inside my mouth while his flat stomach and six-pack were revealed tested my moral fortitude no end. All that beautiful inked skin on display, driving any attempt at a coherent thought straight out of my mind. Good God, the man had some power over me. But wait up, we were married. Morally, I was obliged to ogle my husband. It would be unnatural and wrong to do otherwise.

“Get it off,” he said, tipping his chin at my offending items of clothing.

The stairwell sat calm and quiet. No signs of life.

“He ain’t coming up here. I promise.” David’s hands gripped the bottom of my T-shirt and carefully pulled it off over my head, rescuing my ponytail when it got caught.

When he reached for my bra I pressed my forearms to my chest, holding it in place. “Why don’t I keep the bra, just in case …”

“It’s against the rules. You really wanna go breaking rules already? That’s not like you.”

“David.”

“Evelyn.” The bra’s band relaxed as he undid the clasp. “I need to see your bare breasts, baby. You have no idea how much I f*cking love them. Let it go.”

“Why do you get to make all the rules?”

“I only made that one. Oh, no—two. We have the cheating rule as well.” He tugged at my bra and I eased my grip, letting him take it. No way was I moving my arms though.

“Go on, you make some rules,” he said, running his fingers over my arms, making every little hair stand on end.

“Are you just trying to distract me from the conversation with the no clothes thing?”

“Absolutely not. Now make a rule.”

My hands stayed tucked beneath my chin, arms covering all the essentials, just in case. “No lies. Not about anything.”

“Done.”

I nodded, relieved. We could do this marriage thing. I knew it in my head, my heart. We were going to be okay. “I trust you.”

He stopped, stared. “Thanks. That’s big.”

I waited, but he said no more.

“Do you trust me?” I asked, filling the silence. The minute the words left my lips I wanted them back. If I had to demand his faith and affection, it didn’t mean a damn thing. Worse than that, it did damage. I could feel it, a sudden jagged wound between us. One that I’d made. Of all the stupid times for me to get impatient! I wished it was the middle of winter so I could go stick my head in a snowdrift.

His gaze wandered away, over my shoulder. There was my answer right there. Honesty had already shown me who was boss. How about that? I suddenly felt cold and though it had nothing to do with losing my shirt, I really wanted to put it back on.

“I’m getting there, Ev. Just … give me time.” Frustration lined his face. He pressed his lips together ’til they whitened. Then he looked me in the eye. Whatever he saw didn’t help matters. “Shit.”

“It’s okay, really,” I said, willing it to be true.

“You lying to me?”

“No. No. We’ll be fine.”

In lieu of an answer he kissed me.

You couldn’t beat a well-timed distraction. Heat rushed back into me. His regret and my hurt both took a back seat when I placed my hands on top of his. With fingers meshed I moved our combined hands to cover my breasts. We both groaned. The heat of his palms felt sublime. The chill of disappointment couldn’t combat it. The chemistry between us won out every time. I had to believe more feelings would follow. My shoulders pushed forward, pressing me harder into his hands as if gravity had shifted toward him. But also, I wanted his mouth. Hell, I wanted to crawl around inside him and read his mind. I wanted everything. Each dark corner of him. Every stray thought.

Our lips met again and he groaned, hands kneading my breasts. His tongue slipped into my mouth and that fast and easy I ached for him. Needed him. My insides squeezed tight and my legs wrapped around him, holding him tight. Let him try and get away now. I’d fight tooth and nail to keep him. Thumbs stroked over my nipples, teasing me. My hands slid up his arms, curved over his shoulders, holding steady. Hot kisses trailed over my face, my jaw, the side of my neck. Half naked or not, I don’t think I’d have cared if my high school marching band paraded through the room. They could bring baton twirlers and all. Only this mattered.