Good Girl Gone Plaid (8 page)

“No?” He arched a brow. “How do you intend to fix it then?”

“I don’t know. But I don’t want to be indebted to you. Don’t you understand? I had no intention of even seeing you during this visit. This is a complete nightmare for me.”

For some reason her impassioned, maybe unintentionally barbed words, hurt.

“Aye, I understand.” His lips curved into a mocking smile, even as the urge to touch the tempting softness of her cheek suddenly overwhelmed him. Using his knuckles, he brushed a caress over the round apple of her cheek.

Touching her had always been his crack. Nothing had changed. He wanted to unwind that colorful scarf and expose the delicate skin of her neck. He could almost see between the folds of purple fabric the curve of her breasts.

There was so much he wanted. So much he’d be stupid to try and explore.

“Why is seeing me again so hard?” The question tore from him, quiet and confused. “Because of what happened?”

The panic across her face surprised him. So did the fact that she hadn’t pushed his hand away.

“Please, let it go.”

“For the moment, I suppose I’ll have to.” He glanced over her shoulder and noticed the tow truck pulling up in front of her wrecked car. “Just as it seems you’ll have to accept my help.”

The ride to his shop was only about five minutes, but in Sarah’s mind it may as well have been an hour.

She was tucked into Ian’s Camaro, speeding through the back roads of Whidbey Island. It was entirely too familiar. Too comforting—which she wasn’t about to analyze why.

She’d held her breath more often than drew one in. She just wanted to be invisible.

Right. A hysterical laugh—one that had been lingering for the last hour—built low in her throat. Of course she kept it restrained.

She closed her eyes again and drew in a slow breath. That didn’t help in the least; instead it filled her nostrils with the smell of his soap. He’d never been a cologne guy, but she recognized the familiar soap he’d been so fond of buying from a local vendor on the island.

She’d been with him the first time he’d purchased it at a street fair. Beer soap, it had been touted. Not like it had smelled like a brewery or anything, it had been subtle, almost a faint nutty scent. But the word beer combined with soap had been just too cool for a teenage Ian. And apparently the grown Ian too.

She liked the smell, though. Always had. Unfortunately now it was bringing back too many memories.

The tires of the Camaro crunched over gravel, and she opened her eyes to see them arriving.

Who knew what she’d been expecting, but it wasn’t this. The garage was located on the outskirts of Coupeville. A restored garage painted a bright vibrant blue. The words above the garage
: McLaughlin’s Auto and Classic Car Restoration
.

Her lips fell open on a silent sigh. This wasn’t a rundown auto shop by any means. Not the way she’d been expecting. It looked authentic. Tasteful. With a handful of employees working hard inside the garage.

“Here we are.”

Unfastening her seatbelt, she offered a grudging, “This looks like a nice place.”

“That’s because it is.” His gaze met hers, and the hard glint in those amazing green eyes both captivated her and made her flinch. “Come on inside. I’ll show you the place.”

After a brief tour of the garage and meeting some of the employees—all of whom seemed pretty nice—Ian took her into what appeared to be his office.

There was a door that locked and shutters that were closed. A computer sat on the desk, some kind of spreadsheet on the screen. She averted her gaze, but tried not to look at Ian either.

The office wasn’t small, but it felt downright closet-sized with just the two of them inside it. Especially when he closed the door behind them.

Feeling his gaze on her—hot and heavy—she did her best not to squirm.

“So, how long have you had the garage?”
That probably sounded like the lame and obvious stall tactic that it was.

“Six years.” He moved toward her and her heart leapt into her throat. But he strode past her and dropped his keys on the desk instead. “Da fronted me the money to get it off the ground since the bank wouldn’t lend to me.”

“They wouldn’t?” It didn’t really surprise her all that much, though it did disappoint a little.

“No. I didn’t have the best credit history. And I’m sure the felony on my record didn’t help.”

Hearing him say the words aloud were a bit of a punch, and she could feel her eyes rounding. She’d known about the felony, but had always tried to not think about it. Wanted to believe it had been some kind of mistake.

Ten years ago she’d had a momentary lapse of sanity and had decided to try and contact Ian again. When her father had discovered what she was about to do, he’d presented her with Ian’s latest background check—the felony conviction highlighted in yellow.

Ian seemed to be waiting for her shock and disgust. One brow was arched and his lips were curved into a slight smile, but his eyes were hard. They were always hard. As if the weight of the world, barbed and vicious, sat on his shoulders.

“Aren’t you going to ask what the felony was?” His words were soft. His steps deliberate as he approached.

This time she knew his destination truly was her and not his desk.

“It’s none of my business.” The words came out on a croak.

I won’t step back and let him think he scares me.
No, it wasn’t really him that scared her anyway, but her response to him.

“Second degree assault,” he answered anyway. “I beat a man nearly to death.”

Bile churned in her stomach, and there was no disguising the shock in her eyes now. She blinked and jerked her gaze from him, staring instead at the wooden panels of the wall.

But along with the shock, there was such heavy sadness and disappointment. Not only had Ian not changed since he was a teenager, but his life had gone down a darker path.

“I’m not sure that’s bragging rights.”

“I’m not bragging, I’m warning you that I’m dangerous.”

“You think I don’t know that?” She gave a harsh laugh of disbelief and swung her attention back to him. “I tried to stay away from you, and yet you’ve dragged me back into your life.”

He stood just inches from her, and despite her intent to stay strong, she wanted to scurry back another three feet. Put at least a bit of distance between them.

“You needed my help, doll. Which reminds me. We should talk payment.”

Was this a joke? She’d already told him she was broke. “I don’t have—”

“I don’t want your money.” He reached out, so quickly she hadn’t seen his hand move, only felt it against her cheek.

Despite his large, calloused hands, his touch was surprisingly gentle. And it still had the ability to turn her body to mush. Made her mind a little foggy.

“I want a kiss.”

Chapter Six

She blinked and wet her lips. “W-what?”

“You heard exactly what I said.” His gaze honed in on her mouth and his eyes darkened. “A kiss. It’s not that complicated.”

Oh, it was definitely that complicated.

“Not a chance.”

“Why?”

“Are you high? Because we’ve got a history—a pretty complex one where I made it clear I wanted nothing to do with you. And beyond that, I’m not for sale, dammit.”

Ian laughed. The sound so deep and sexy, she hated the way it heated her blood.

“I’m not asking you to suck me off. Though I sure as hell wouldn’t protest if you tried. It’s just a kiss.”

The imagery. Oh, God, the imagery those words created. She shoved it aside, and sputtered, “You’re disgusting. You kiss your mother with those lips?”

“Not since she moved back to Scotland with Da. And the only kissing I’d like to focus on is between you and I.”

“It’s not going to happen.”

When she stepped back, he followed her. A deliberate dance of seduction. Of intimidation.

“It will happen, Sarah, because I want it to and I’m certain you do too.”

“Arrogant much?” Her mouth went dry. “I was done with you the day I moved to Japan.”

Okay, that was a lie. She’d never forgotten him—it would be impossible to. And each suggestive little sentence he uttered was turning her body to liquid heat. Which pretty much made her think she needed to have her head examined. Any normal woman would’ve reacted by slapping that smug smile off his face.

“And that’s just the thing, doll. I wasn’t done with you.” His head dipped. “Not even close.”

And before she could fire back a response, not that she had one after his explosive admission, he muttered, “I’m collecting my payment.”

His mouth claimed hers.

Instinct demanded she fight him—push him away, but her mind reasoned that she could fight him another way. By not responding. By not giving him any indication that she still harbored any emotion except disdain to him.

But his kiss wasn’t hard—wasn’t aggressive. It was slow and sensual. Gentle even.

His mouth brushed over hers in a soft caress, again and again, before his tongue teased the seam of her pressed lips.

His shocking change of tactic tore down any walls she’d maneuvered between them. Emotions she’d thought long dormant stirred deep within her. Physical needs she hadn’t realized she could experience anymore came to the surface.

The combination of the two was a bit terrifying.

She wasn’t a twenty-eight-year-old woman anymore, but a seventeen-year-old with a stomach full of butterflies again.

The urge to part her lips, to kiss him back struck her with a ferocity that made her lightheaded.

She slid her hands up his chest, clinging to his shirt to keep herself upright. Though there was no real danger of falling, not with the way he’d backed her up against the door.

Ian lifted his head a tiny bit. “You always were so damn sweet. Open your mouth for me, Sarah. I’ve got to taste you.”

She shook her head.

“Do you want me to stop?”

Again, she shook her head, couldn’t manage any reply except a small whimper. He used it. Once more his mouth took hers and his tongue slid past her parted lips. The moment his tongue touched hers the fight left her.

Just one more time, she bargained with herself. One more time to remember how good they’d once been.

Clinging to him now, she met the teasing flicks of his tongue with hesitant strokes of her own. Tasting him.

Heat and need spread through her blood like wildfire. Catching and crackling, making every part of her come to life in a way that hadn’t been matched in eleven years.

Pleasure exploded through her when he slid a large palm past her scarf and into the V neckline of her dress. The sensation of his calloused hand cupping her breast had her nipple hardening instantly.

His growl of appreciation rumbled between them as he squeezed her flesh. He seemed to be eager to rediscover her shape and texture. His hand squeezed and lifted her breast, strong fingers swept in to pinch her nipple.

Sparks lit up in her head and she cried out, her knees most definitely buckling now.

So wrong. She knew it deep in her heart. This was so very wrong. It was nothing but lust at its deadliest. And because it had been so long since she’d experienced passion, she couldn’t bring herself to push him away. Even with the reminder banging down her conscience at just how much was at stake. At how horribly he’d hurt her before.

An ache grew between her legs and she could feel her flesh slicken. The need made her want to do all kinds of crazy things. Hike up her dress and just jump him. Wrap her legs around his waist—ignore the consequences—and just let her hormones rule her mind.

Right now she wasn’t a stressed-out mom wondering how she was going to pay her rent and the lawyer. She was a woman who had needs that had been far too long ignored.

That’s the only reason you’re feeling like this.
The voice of reason managed to infiltrate her cloud of lust, but it didn’t make her pull away.

When Ian’s mouth lifted from hers, she nearly pulled it back down, but then she realized where it was headed and moaned low in her throat.

He tugged the stretchy fabric of her dress to the side and pulled the breast he’d been exploring free from her bra. His head swooped down, just before she felt the wet heat of his mouth close over her nipple.

A cry ripped from her throat and she arched into him, driving her fingers blindly into his hair.

So good.

Ian grabbed her waist with one hand, pulling her closer to him. Then she felt the nudge of his knee between her legs as he moved his other hand beneath her dress and up her thigh.

He brushed his fingers over the heated flesh between her legs—was just starting to slip beneath her panties—when a loud pounding had him stilling.

“Hey, boss. Someone’s here to see you,” a muffled voice called through the door.

Ian lifted his head and locked gazes with her. The heat in his eyes had her mouth drying up.