Shoot Out (The Baltimore Banners Book 7) Page 8

  “I need to get inside.”

  “Please. Stop. That’s not—I didn’t mean it that way. I didn’t think—fuck.” She stepped around him, not even listening. “Nicole, please. Would you please just stop and listen to me? Please?”

  Maybe it was the pleading in his voice. Maybe it was something else. He didn’t know and didn’t care, not when she finally stopped and turned to face him. She folded her arms in front of her and looked at something just beyond his shoulder. He had hoped that maybe she would look at him, meet his eyes so she could see his guilt and torment, but he’d take what he could get.

  He ran a hand through his hair, his mind searching for the right words, not knowing if they even existed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for you to take it that way. I wasn’t thinking. I just…I thought—”

  “You thought what?”

  “I—sometimes I don’t think, that’s the problem. It was just a tip. That’s all. I swear.”

  “So you just go around leaving two hundred dollar tips everywhere you go?”

  “Uh, no. Not exactly—”

  “Then why me?”

  “Because I…because…” Fuck, now what? He took a deep breath, wondering what to tell her that wouldn’t make him look like a complete ass.

  “I’m not a whore.”

  “I know that! God, I would never think that. Never. And I didn’t think you’d think that I thought that.” And Christ, could he make this any worse if he tried?

  “In a place like this, a tip like that usually means something else.”

  “No. Nicole, please, you can’t really think that. I didn’t know, didn’t even think—”

  “Then why?”

  “Because I…because—” Mat took a deep breath and shook his head, no longer able to look at Nicole. He focused his gaze on the neon sign above the door, the bright letters blurring as he stared at them. “Because I thought you could put it toward your next trip to New Orleans. You said you wanted to go back and I thought…”

  Fuck, it didn’t matter what he thought. He’d blown it, about a hundred different ways. Blown it in ways he hadn’t even imagined. He jammed his hands into his back pockets and finally pulled his gaze away from the sign. He couldn’t look at Nicole, not yet, so he stared at the cracked asphalt at his feet.

  “I’m sorry. I don’t think you’re a…that you’re—” Christ, he couldn’t even say it. “I don’t think of you that way. I never did. I’m sorry.”

  He turned, figuring the best thing he could do now was just leave. He reached his car and looked down, his gaze resting on the two crumpled bills. He paused for a second. No, let them stay there. If Nicole didn’t want them, someone else could take them.

  His hand curled around the door handle, ready to pull it open, when he heard footsteps behind him. Hesitant, unsteady.

  “Why did you come here tonight?”

  The question surprised him enough that he turned around, that he actually looked at Nicole. Her arms were still crossed in front of her but the angry defiance was gone from her face, from her eyes. She watched him, her head tilted to the side, simple curiosity on her face. Should he lie? No, let her know the truth. Maybe it would take the sting out of what she thought before. Not for himself, for her. No woman should ever think that way about herself, ever. And if him feeling like an ass made her feel better, then that was a small price to pay.

  “I forgot to get your number last night for our date. I thought that maybe I could get it tonight. And, well, I just wanted to see you again.”

  Her eyes widened as she watched him. Mat told himself to leave, that leaving would be better for both of them, but he couldn’t seem to make his feet move. Nicole uncrossed her arms, crossed them again, uncrossed them once more.

  “My number? You wanted my phone number?”

  “Yeah. For our date.”

  “That was it?”

  Mat shifted, not quite sure what else to say. Hadn’t he already said that? “Well, and to see you again.”

  Nicole stepped closer, still studying him with curiosity and something that looked like surprise. The corners of her mouth twitched and she cleared her throat. They twitched again and her mouth curled into a smile, a bright smile that Mat felt deep in his gut. And then she laughed, the sound clear and musical.

  Mat wanted to smile in return, fought his answering laughter. Because fuck, what if he laughed and it turned out he was laughing about the wrong thing? He didn’t want to do anything else wrong, whether he meant to or not.

  Nicole stepped closer, reaching for his hand. Her touch was soft, warm, reassuring. But Mat didn’t move, not until she tugged on his hand and pulled him away from the car. She paused, bending down to scoop up the bills, then led him back toward the club.

  “My number. Only I could screw something up that bad.”

  Mat thought he heard her but he couldn’t be sure, not when she was turned away from him. And he certainly wasn’t going to ask her to repeat herself. But he did pull on her hand, not stopping until she turned to face him.

  “Uh. Where are we going?”

  “Back inside. I’m going to treat you to a few drinks while we talk.” Then she leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth, that bright smile lighting her eyes.

  She pulled away, leading him back inside. And Mat suddenly couldn’t think of a better thing to do.

  Chapter Seven

  Pain shot through his elbow, sending a shooting tingle that was anything but funny up his arm. Mat bit back a gasp. Of pain, of pleasure. Fuck, he didn’t know. He could barely think, barely breathe. Not when Nicole was touching him that way, not when her mouth was searing a hot trail of wet kisses down his chest, his stomach.

  And fuck, they shouldn’t be doing this. Not here, not like this. Not when he had a house with a fucking king size bed and all the privacy they’d ever need.

  He wasn’t a lanky teenager anymore, looking for a secluded area to make out and maybe get lucky. And his sports car was a far cry from the old Chevy pickup he’d used for dates back home, even with his seat reclined back as far as it would go.

  But it didn’t matter, not now, not with Nicole’s body stretched across the console, leaning over him with her short skirt pushed up to her waist. Not with her mouth and hands all over him. He hadn’t planned this, hadn’t thought things would go this far when she asked him to take one turn then another and another, ending at a dark secluded lot filled with overgrown weeds. But here they were, their clothes astray, getting as close to each other as they could in the small confines of his car, the windshield steaming in spite of the open windows.

  Mat gasped again as she swirled her tongue around his navel. He fisted one hand along the doorframe, the other anchored to her sweet bare ass, caressing, squeezing, clenching. She moaned and thrust her hips, reached back for his hand and dragged it lower, down past the cleft of her ass, down to the hot opening of soft sensitive flesh.

  He ran his finger along her clit, back and forth as she worked the zipper of his jeans. God, she was so wet, his fingers, his palm, slick with her moisture. He slid one finger inside, then another, in and out as she twirled her hips, her breath teasing his skin with each soft little moan.

  She arched her back, driving that sweet ass up higher. Mat pumped his fingers inside her, once, twice, then slid them up, grazing the cleft of her ass before spreading his hand along one firm cheek, squeezing. Back down, teasing the delicate folds, sliding two fingers back inside.

  She moaned, shifting, then dragged the zipper of his jeans down. Mat lifted his hips, helped her ease the jeans down to his thighs. Helped as much as he could, with only one hand and a mind on the verge of disintegration.

  Her hand closed around his cock, stroking, squeezing. Her hair brushed against the tops of his thighs, his balls, the soft strands teasing the hypersensitive flesh. He tossed his head back, a low groan escaping from between his clenched jaw.

  “Nicole, baby, we shouldn’t—”

  “Shh. I w
ant to do this.” Her breath was hot, her voice sinfully seductive against his chest as she kissed her way up to his neck.

  “You don’t have—”

  She cut him off, her mouth closing over his, her tongue thrusting against his, teasing. And God, she tasted so good. Sweet, spicy. Temptation and redemption all rolled into one. But then she pulled away, her eyes dark with passion, with need. He moaned—or maybe it was a whimper—when her hands left his cock, his chest. She sat up, thrust her hips forward, up and down, riding his fingers, her gaze locked on his the entire time.

  “You are so fucking wet.”

  “You like that?”

  “Fuck yeah.” And fuck, was that really him talking, saying those things? Yes, it was.

  And he meant it. God, she was so beautiful, with her hair tangled around her, her full breasts bared to his gaze. With her skirt shoved high around her waist, her bare tanned pussy satiny slick, riding his fingers, his hand. She reached up and grabbed her hair, pulling it behind her and twisting it. Then she reached down and grabbed his wrist, sliding it away with a sigh.

  “Nicole—” Her name was a soft growl, the sound surprising him.

  But she didn’t say anything, just smiled a sweet seductive smile as she guided his wet hand up, brushing it across her nipples, up along her throat, to her mouth. Her gaze steady on his, she flicked her tongue out and slid it along his middle finger, up around his index finger. Licking. Tasting herself. Then she took both fingers into her mouth, sucking, teasing, nipping.

  Holy fuck. Shit. Mat reached down and closed his hand around his cock, stroking his hard length as he watched her. Her eyes glistened in the faint light, her pupils dilating until all he could see was black. She twirled her tongue around his fingers again then slowly, so slowly, eased them from her mouth. But she held onto his hand, stopping him from touching her again. Instead, she guided his hand to her hair, wrapping the long strands around his fingers, closing each one until his hand was fisted in her hair.

  Her gaze slid down to his lap, her mouth parted as she watched him fisting his cock. Fuck, what the hell was he doing? He started to pull his hand away but she shook her head.

  “Don’t stop. I like watching you.”

  And holy shit. Much more of this and he was coming to cum, right here. But he didn’t stop, just stroked his cock, long strokes, back and forth. He tilted his head back and swallowed a groan.

  What the fuck was he doing? They couldn’t keep doing this. Not here. He took a deep breath, forced himself to slow down, to think.

  “Nicole. I—I don’t have any condoms with me. They’re back at my house. We should—”

  “We don’t need them.”

  He blinked, trying to understand the words. Why didn’t they need them? He blinked again, his gaze following Nicole’s hand as it trailed across her body. She pinched her nipples, her gasp sharp in the heavy air. Down, down across her stomach, lower until her fingers reached her clit. He watched, hungry, enthralled, as she rubbed her clit. Her hips thrust against her hand and her head fell back, soft moans escaping her parted lips.

  Mat’s hand tightened in her hair, pulling as he watched, as he stroked his cock harder, faster. Nicole gasped again, the sound different, a little sharp as she moved her head. He immediately loosened his grip. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

  “Do it again.”

  Holy fuck, was she serious? The breath hitched in his chest, short shallow breaths that barely filled his lungs. He hesitated, then gently tightened his fist and tugged, just a little.

  She gasped again, then moaned, a deep throaty sound that ignited something primitive inside him. He tightened his hand even more around his cock, each stroke harder, faster, bringing him dangerously close to the edge. He dropped his gaze, watching as Nicole’s fingers slid along her clit, faster, faster. Her hips thrust, searching, over and over.

  “Again. Please.” A soft whimper, filled with desperate need. Mat clenched his jaw and tightened his fist once more, tugging her hair, a little harder this time. Her hips bucked, once, twice, reaching. Then she screamed his name, a throaty rasp as she rode her fingers, her hips dropping down, over and over in time to each breathy moan.

  And fuck, he wasn’t going to last much longer. He held his breath, stroking his cock faster, harder. He couldn’t—he wanted—

  He threw his head back, his jaw clenched, searching for control. Fuck. He didn’t want control. He wanted to let go. Here. Now. With Nicole watching. “Nicole, I’m going to cum.”

  Her hand was suddenly on his, her slick fingers wrapping around his and pulling them away. Mat groaned, a sound that was almost a growl. And then her mouth was on him, her hot mouth, sucking. And shit, he hadn’t meant for her—

  “Fuck!” His orgasm ripped through him, tearing a howling groan from his lips. His hand was still fisted in Nicole’s hair as her head bobbed in his lap. He held her in place, thrusting his hips up. Harder, faster, deeper, her sweet little moans and moist sucking sounds drawing his climax out.

  He fell back against the seat, his lungs bursting with each breath he struggled to pull in. His body and his mind were both limp, completely spent. Time slowed, stilled. Seconds, minutes, he had no idea. He only knew he couldn’t move even if he wanted to.

  He felt Nicole stir, felt her shift as she eased her hair from his fist. Reality slammed into him, freezing the air in his lungs and the blood in his veins. Holy hell, what had he just done?

  Mat bolted upright, his hands reaching for Nicole, an apology on his lips as he helped her sit up. But she shook her hair out and fixed him with a shy smile.

  “Nicole, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

  “I’m not.” She leaned forward and pressed a shy kiss against his mouth. He moaned and reached for her, pulling her closer as he deepened the kiss, sweeping his tongue inside. He took his time, teasing, tasting, enjoying each touch of their tongues, each little whimper.

  He gentled the kiss, slowly ending it. Then he eased Nicole away from him, watching her for any signs that he’d crossed some line, that he’d accidentally hurt her. But she just sat there, stretched across the console as she curled against him, that same shy smile on her face.

  “I—I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

  “No.” Her smile broadened, just a tiny bit. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

  Mat laughed, he couldn’t help it. He shook his head, turning serious once more. “No, you didn’t hurt me. Are you sure you’re okay? I’ve never—I mean, I haven’t—” He cleared his throat and forced himself to meet her eyes. “I’ve never done anything like this before so this, uh, was a first for me.”

  The shy smile on her face changed, growing, becoming brighter. She pressed a kiss to the hollow of his throat then looked up at him, her eyes sparkling in the faint light.

  “Good. This was a first for me, too.”

  Chapter Eight

  Nicole read the email for the third time, hoping the words would somehow miraculously change. But the message was the same, no matter how many times she blinked or squinted or tilted her head.

  The message was always the same.

  Thank you for your interest, blah blah blah.

  Admire your work, blah blah blah.

  Not interested at this time, blah blah blah.

  She closed the email then backed out of the program before disconnecting from the internet. Disappointment surged through her. The short email hadn’t been worth the hassle of trying to get connected, of waiting for the ancient dial-up to actually work. She should have waited and used the wi-fi at the hospital, or taken the bus to the coffee shop or even to the library. Any of those things would have saved her time instead of fighting with the old system. But it was all she had, and that just barely since it was always a crapshoot whether or not or her mother remembered to pay the phone bill with the money Nicole gave her.

  Just another lesson learned.

  Had she really expected to hear anything different? No, not really. Not when the answers had be
en the same for entirely too long. Everyone liked her work. Her photography had promise. She had talent, a unique eye. But everyone seemed to be looking for someone with more experience, more published credits, and that was the one thing she didn’t have. Not even freelance experience.

  Well how was she supposed to get experience when everyone wanted her to have experience before giving her a chance? One break, one shot. That was all she needed. Just one tiny little break, one tiny little chance.

  Volunteering at the hospital, taking the pictures, broadening her expertise with the different computer programs out there…all of that had helped. But she couldn’t use those pictures—wouldn’t use those pictures. They were private, meant for the kids and their families. So none of that counted. Which didn’t matter, because that wasn’t why she was doing it.

  But everything else had come at an expense. The expensive laptop, the different programs and add-ons, all of it. And even though they were expenses she couldn’t really afford, they had all been worth it.

  At least, that’s what she kept telling herself. But she couldn’t afford anymore expenses, not when she was trying to save enough to move out, get her own place. The divorce had cost more than she thought it would. And the trip to New Orleans had been a splurge she probably shouldn’t have taken. But she wanted to celebrate her new freedom, wanted to visit someplace exotic and different and exciting. So she didn’t regret it—couldn’t regret it. Any of it.

  But God, how she wished it was easier to save. She wanted her own place. Some place nice, that didn’t have holes in the walls and floor or rust stains in the toilet and tub. Some place that didn’t smell of stale cigarettes, cheap perfume and even cheaper booze.

  Guilt weighed down on her as soon as she had the thought. Her mother was trying, in her own way. Nicole knew that. Just like she knew her mother didn’t have to let her move in here. It was an adjustment, for both of them.

  No, her room wasn’t much, barely large enough for her single bed and makeshift desk. But she didn’t have much, and it was a hundred times better than living on the street. A thousand times better than where she’d been before.