A little on the wild sid.., p.10
A Little on the Wild Side, page 10
part #3 of Wild Thing Series
She ran her finger over the group photo. They were probably the most beautiful gathering of people she’d ever seen. Not that Trapper was beautiful—no, he was way too masculine to ever be considered pretty. Gorgeous, yes, sexy as sin, yup, and his body was a work of art. Still, his imperfections made all the rest of it work. Sure, he had a dimple, but the scar by his eye spoke of a bad-boy past. His nose, before she’d re-broken it, had been a little crooked. His lips… She swallowed just remembering the feel of them on her body. His lips were full, almost feminine, if they didn’t twist into such a sardonic grin whenever he looked at her. His green eyes with golden starbursts held so much heat and emotion, they were enough to steal a woman’s breath and heart. And when he got angry, the gold in them sparkled like freshly minted coins. Anger colored his face, highlighting his sharp cheekbones against the ever-present golden brown stubble. Trapper Kincaid angry was enough to make her want to piss him off on an hourly basis.
She set the picture down. Drooling over him wouldn’t help the situation. She looked at the other picture and caught her breath. It was one of her at the lodge from last summer. She was laughing at something. He must have taken it when she wasn’t looking. Just when she thought she had Trapper figured out, he went and surprised her. Why would he have a picture of her in his bedroom? She put it back exactly where she’d found it and sat on the bed. It was a gorgeous bedroom full of impressive pieces, but then everything about Trapper was impressive.
The house was beautiful, stunning really, in a totally Trapper way. She hadn’t known what to expect. Part of her wondered if he’d have deer mounts hanging on the walls with his collection of cowboy hats dangling off the antlers. But when she’d walked in, she realized the house was just like him—simple, comfortable, with relaxed charm and understated elegance.
The kitchen was something out of a magazine. The man was either a gourmet cook, or he expected to marry one. Well, it wouldn’t be her. She couldn’t boil water without a microwave and a prayer.
She pulled off her clothes—the clothes he’d brought to the hospital. It seemed like a lifetime ago but was only yesterday. At least they’d matched. All black. With her recent state of constant nausea, wearing black made her look like a ghost. She would have thrown a scarf around her neck to give her some color, but then Trapper hadn’t thought of that. James would have, though, and had even offered to lend her his when she saw him on the plane before she’d left.
She missed James already. He was her only friend, and now, he was almost three thousand miles away. Tears threatened to fall. Damn, she really hated these pregnancy hormones.
She dressed in Trapper’s sweats and cinched the waist, happy she still needed to, and smoothed out the wrinkles on the bed. She really didn’t want to sleep with Trapper. Okay, she wanted to sleep with Trapper, but not. She was huge and ugly and well, not attractive. Besides, they were together for a few weeks, and that was way longer than seventy-two hours. Shit, she could barely hold her own for three days. What the hell was she going to do for three weeks? She couldn’t play house with him; it would be too painful once she had to go home. And with him in bed with her, there was no way she wouldn’t be all over him. It would be like putting a diabetic with a sweet tooth in a candy store. It was bad enough she dreamed of him. If he was right there beside her, she didn’t have a prayer of controlling herself.
She rolled up the sleeves of the sweatshirt and realized that it smelled like him. Just wearing it made her horny. She didn’t think it possible to feel as bad as she did and still want to jump someone’s bones, but then pregnancy changed everything—especially her sex drive.
There was a knock on the door, and then it swung open. Trapper carried a tray with a bowl of soup, a glass of milk, and a sleeve of crackers. “Dinner is served. Mom makes the best chicken soup this side of the Mississippi—don’t tell her, but I’ve had better in New York. There they put matzo balls in it—hers has homemade noodles.”
Trapper had taken his hat off. A precaution? It wasn’t as if she didn’t feel bad enough for barfing in his beloved Stetson. He should have hat-head, but he didn’t. His hair curled in the back and almost hit his shoulders, and the smile he shot her showed off his dimples, beautiful lips, and his white teeth. His rolled sleeves exposed strong forearms. His feet were bare. Shit, the man even had sexy feet. And his jeans were worn to the point of being bleached on the fly and hugged him like a desperate lover. He was dangerous to her peace of mind.
“Do you want to get in bed, or do you want to go lie on the couch?”
“The couch.” It would be safer, but then she remembered all the things they’d done on her couch. Maybe the table. Nope, that wasn’t safe either.
“Grab a few pillows and follow me.”
She did and then got to stare at his ass the whole way across the house. By the time they made it to the family room, she was drooling, and it had nothing to do with the soup. She tossed the pillows on the couch, pushed one behind her back, and stretched out, hoping he’d take the chair.
Oh, no, he sat beside her, placed the tray over her lap, and rested her feet on his thighs.
Bianca was just about to take a tentative sip of the soup when his thumb pressed into the instep of her left foot and ran toward her toes, stopping at the ball to massage some more. He hit every pressure point before moving on to the other foot. She’d never realized that her feet were directly connected to other parts of her body—the girl parts. Her mouth dropped open, and her toes curled in pleasure. She’d dated a world-class masseur who wasn’t as good with his hands.
“You’re supposed to be eating.”
She was too busy trying not to groan in ecstasy. He slid his hands up the leg of her sweats and massaged her calf while rotating her ankle and releasing stress she didn’t know she had. It turned her on in ways that were all new to her. His thumbs caressed the back of her knee, and it felt as if it was connected to her nipples.
“You need to stop that.” Her face flushed, she sounded breathless—maybe because she was—and her voice deepened, passing the point of recognition. She was strung so tight; one more touch, and she might just explode.
His gaze met hers, his eyes widened, and he picked up the tray with her uneaten food and put it on the coffee table. “God, Bianca.” He lifted her foot, kissed the instep and dragged his teeth across it, while his other hand played havoc with the back of her knee. “You were always so responsive, but damn, you look as if you’re about to come.”
She was. It was all she could do not to. She pressed her legs together.
Trapper kissed her instep and slid his hand farther up the inside of her sweats and between her legs.
“You’re so hot, so wet.” He slipped his fingers beneath the elastic of her panties, pressed his thumb against the swollen bundle of nerves. Her hips rose of their own accord, her thighs flopped open, and she groaned.
“I’ve never seen anything more beautiful than you coming.”
His deep, gravelly voice increased her need, her heart rate, her desire.
“Come on, sweetheart, just let go. You know you want to.” He slid a finger into her, then two, and curled them hitting the target like a master marksman. Between that and the pressure of his thumb circling, she was a goner. She rode his hand, her heart raced, and she felt every muscle in her body strain toward release until she couldn’t hold back. She flew apart, her back arching, her body quivering under the onslaught, and he didn’t let up. If anything, he doubled his effort, making the orgasm last for what seemed like forever until she was limp, wrung out, and breathless.
Trapper groaned, and when she opened her eyes, she swore her heart skipped a beat. She’d never seen anyone look at her with such heat, such desire, such desperation.
A door slammed. “Trapper, we’re here with the luggage. Where do you want it?” Two pairs of boots stomped across hardwood floors, and Bianca’s eyes shot open.
“Fuck.” Trapper pulled his hands out of her pants, stuck his fingers in his mouth, and licked them clean as if he’d just finished a messy ice cream cone. “It’s Dumb and Dumber. I’ll get rid of them.” He stood and pulled his shirttails out of his pants, probably hoping to hide the telltale bulge. It didn’t. His face was flushed, his cheekbones stood out sharply against his taut skin, his eyes were dilated, and his breathing was uneven. They were so busted. “Just put them in the bedroom,” he hollered before kissing her full on the lips.
She hadn’t expected that. Hell, she hadn’t expected the way his tongue swirled in her mouth, and she definitely hadn’t expected the little meteor shower that lit her up like a sparkler on the Fourth of July.
“Damn, sweetheart, you’re not helping me here.” He adjusted himself, blew out a breath, and put her food tray over her lap. “Eat. Believe me—you’re going to need the nourishment.”
***
Trapper took a few cleansing breaths, stuffed his hands in his pockets, and walked to the kitchen, stopping at the doorway. He leaned against the woodwork, wrapping the entrance, and caught his brothers eyeing the soup and sniffing the pie. Hunter held the lid to the Crock-Pot and met his gaze. “Damn, how’d you rate?”
“I had nothing to do with it. Mom made it for Bianca, and you’re not welcome to join us. Just put her things in my bedroom and get out.”
Fisher looked at Hunter with a raised eyebrow and checked his watch. “You owe me a twenty.”
Hunter turned on him with a look of disgust. “Shit, Trapper, you couldn’t even wait an hour and give the lady time to settle in?” He pulled a bill from his pocket and slapped it on Fisher’s palm, ignoring Trapper’s growl. “Damn, Fisher. How’d you know?”
Fisher rocked back on the heels of his boots, “A man learns a lot about women when he does a round in obstetrics and gynecology. Just you wait until you and Toni start down that road.”
Trapper had heard enough. “Bring Bianca’s things in, and don’t let the door hit you in the ass on the way out.”
Fisher looked him up and down, and a cocky grin split his face. He cleared his throat “Oh, so it was one of those.” Fisher slid into his Bill Cosby voice doing his best impression of Dr. Cliff Huxtable, OB-GYN. “Don’t worry. You can have normal sexual relations without hurting Bianca or the babies. Sex is good for all of them. Just watch the positions—”
Trapper held up his hand, cutting off his little brother. “I’m not talking to you about my sex life, thank you very much.”
“I just thought—”
“Don’t. Just bring in Bianca’s things and leave. And be quick about it.” He turned on his heel, and then stopped. “Oh, and don’t you dare touch that pie, or I’m calling Mom.”
Hunter grunted, “Shit, I hope he gets some soon. He’s been a bear. At least now we know why. The man’s gone without for months. I think that’s a record.”
Trapper didn’t wait for Fisher’s reply. He didn’t need to. He had been a bear. If he didn’t get his hands on Bianca soon, he’d go nuts. It had taken all his control to watch her go over and not come in his pants like a teenager. When he stepped into the family room and saw the mortified look on Bianca’s face, he knew two things: Bianca had heard every word, and it was going to be a long night. “Bianca, I’m sorry—”
Fisher popped his head in. The man was either very brave, or very stupid.
Right now, Trapper was going with stupid. “I told you to leave.”
Fisher held up his medical bag. “I want to get Bianca’s blood pressure before I go.” He shot Bianca a wink that made her blush even more and sat down beside her. “Come on, sunshine, roll up a sleeve for me. I’ll get a reading and let you two get back to whatever it was you were doing.” Fisher put his stethoscope around his neck, and Trapper was tempted to use it as a garrote, but was more afraid of his mother than any grown man would ever admit. Fisher knew it and took full advantage.
Trapper would get him back for the hell Fisher put him through, and paybacks were a bitch.
“Look at that. Your blood pressure has improved. It’s still a little high, but nothing like it was earlier. Being here seems to agree with you. I guess Trapper’s doing something right.” He stood, put his things away, and snapped the bag shut. “Get plenty of rest, drink lots of fluids, and call me when you get up in the morning. I’ll stop by and check on you before I head to the hospital for rounds.”
Trapper had just about enough. “Is that really necessary?”
Fisher put his hand on Bianca’s shoulder, gave it a squeeze, and morphed into his doctor persona. “Until Bianca is seen by her new ob-gyn, yes, it’s necessary. I’ll be over in the morning.”
It was hard to be proud of the little shit and be pissed at him at the same time. Trapper shook his head and walked Fisher out. When they got to the back door, he grabbed Fisher’s shoulder to stop him. “Is she really okay?”
“For sex or in general?”
“Both.”
“She needs to eat. See how her stomach is afterward, and if everything stays down, I’d say she’s fine. If she’s sick all night, there’s a cold shower in your immediate future.”
“Hell, I know that.”
“Well then, my job here is done. I’ll see you in the morning. Good luck. You’ll need it.”
“Yeah, thanks to you and Hunter. Where the hell is he anyway?”
Fisher smiled. “He’s out in the car. He doesn’t have a doctor’s bag to hide behind.”
“Smart man.” Trapper locked up after his brothers left and turned down most of the lights. He wasn’t in any rush to get back to Bianca. He needed to get a hold of himself. He dished out another bowl of soup. When he returned, she was staring at her food. “I brought you a hot bowl. I’ll just microwave that one, and I’ll eat it.”
“No, I’m not very hungry.”
“You heard Fisher. You need to eat. Doctor’s orders.”
“Yeah, I heard everything.”
He sat beside her and replaced one bowl with the other. “I know. I’m sorry.”
“They took bets on our sex life?”
Shit, she had really good ears. “They’re morons. What can I say?”
“Did you have to tell them?”
“Sweetheart, I didn’t tell them a blasted thing. I just told them to get lost.”
“Then how did they know?”
“Guys just know these things. Look, they’re my brothers. We give each other shit on a daily basis. Don’t you razz your siblings?”
She shook her head. “I’m an only child.”
“Oh.” How could he not know that? “I can’t imagine not growing up with Ben, the twins, and Karma. It must have been lonely for you.”
She shrugged and stirred her soup. “It’s all I knew.”
He ate a spoonful of his. Damn, it was good, and he was starving. “You’ll get used to it.”
“That’s what Jessie said, but I don’t see that happening.”
“It might surprise you. Jessie is an only child too, and she’s survived the Kincaid family welcome. Hers was far worse than yours, believe me.”
“How could it be worse?”
“Everyone thought Jessie was a man.”
“A man? How is that possible? She’s one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen. I was tempted to ask her if she was interested in modeling.”
“It’s Karma’s fault.”
Bianca looked like she was fighting a smile. “Karma’s pure evil. You know that, right?”
He couldn’t help but laugh. “Yes, but she means well. Usually. We hope.”
“You know what she’s like, and you still fall for her stunts?”
“Every freakin’ time. Maybe we’re all morons. What can I say? The girl’s really good at playing us. She’s been practicing her entire life.” He stilled Bianca’s hand that was stirring the soup. “Eat that, and I’ll tell you about what happened with Jessie and Fisher. If Jessie can get past her introduction to the family, you should have no problem.”
Chapter 9
Bianca woke with the feeling of being lifted. She just missed hitting Trapper’s nose again when she startled and screamed.
“Shh. I’ve got you.” He held her against his chest, the way he’d carry a child.
She clung to his neck.
He’d stepped away from the couch where she must have fallen asleep after eating.
She remembered he’d been telling her a funny story about the family walking in on Jessie and Fisher in bed, and then it was as if someone had just cut the tape—there was nothing else. “Put me down. I can walk.”
“No need. I’m taking you to bed.” They were moving out of the family room, and if she remembered correctly, he was headed straight for the master bedroom.
Great. Just what she’d tried to avoid. She made the mistake of looking at his face. If the heat in his gaze wasn’t enough to make her raging hormones take their positions at the starting line on the race to completion, the pheromones he emitted warranted a meteorological warning. Bianca was woman enough to admit she fought a losing battle, especially when every fiber of her being wanted to hold up a white flag, possibly green—go full-speed ahead.
Trapper set her on the bed with a gentleness that belied the sexual urgency pumping out of him in waves. The tension in the room spiked, and she didn’t know how much more she could take. She wasn’t sure why he wanted her, but it was clear he did, and damned if it wasn’t mutual. She didn’t release his neck. She held on, pulling him over her.
His arms braced his upper body above hers.
She tugged him into kissing range. If she was going to have sex, she wanted to do it now before she lost the unusual spurt of energy that hit her upon waking.
She smiled when she realized that kissing a man with Trapper’s injuries needed to be done carefully. Or that’s what she thought until their mouths met, and he stole control of the kiss. The man was like a master pickpocket. She didn’t know she’d even lost it until his hand cupped the back of her head, tilted it to his satisfaction, and then hit her with the sonic boom of his groan.
His tongue filled her mouth, and she tensed, waiting for the inevitable gag reflex to start. It didn’t.
