Tank (Blue-Collar Billionaires #1) (13 page)

“So what about you? Did you and Finn grow up around here, too?” I take another sip of brandy feigning calm.
 
I’m way too interested in his story.
 

“Yeah, we were raised in Norfolk. Mom tried her best to do it all but she could only do so much.” He sits back and folds his hands behind his head. “I just found out I have three half-brothers, too. My dad was busy after he left us. I didn’t even know they existed until recently.”

Everything he’s saying sounds so foreign from the Maxwell Marshall that I know. How could he not have even known his brothers? Did something happen and they lost contact? It just doesn’t sound right.
 

 
“Wow. I can’t even imagine not knowing my sister.”

His eyes remain on the storm.
 
“It sucks but that’s life.
 
I’m over it.” Lightning streaks across the sky again and he’s illuminated in the sudden flash of light.
 
He looks tense despite his relaxed pose, the lines around his eyes and mouth more prominent.
 

I turn away and look out at the rain.
 
It seems unfair to watch him in such an unguarded moment, like catching him with his clothes off.
 
Tank Marshall naked in any sense is not something I can handle right now.

I reach for the bottle of brandy on the table and pour a little more in my glass.
 
I usually don’t drink hard liquor but under the circumstances I don’t think it would hurt to have seconds.
 
If I’m going to be stranded in the dark with Tank, I need a little liquid courage.

I hold up the bottle and Tank nods. He holds out his glass for more.
 
Even being careful, a little of the dark liquid splashes out onto his hand.
 
He lifts his hand to his mouth and licks up the drops.
 
I can’t look away, the sight of his tongue sliding over his skin igniting a million different fantasies.
 

“See something you like?” His brown eyes soften as he watches me, his eyes lingering on my mouth.

I flush, the heat in my cheeks going straight between my thighs.
 
It’s bad enough to have these fantasies about him.
 
It’s unbearable for him to know about it.
 
A man like Tank can have any woman he wants and no doubt has plenty, probably more than one at a time.
 
I’m a goody two shoes, former Honor Society president who had only one boyfriend until college.
 
Not exactly a good match.

“Like I was saying, you’re just not what I expected.
 
You seem, more normal than I would have thought.”

He leans closer until our shoulders are almost touching.
 
“You thought I was an arrogant meathead.”

“You are arrogant.
 
It would take a sledgehammer to chip through that ego of yours.”
 

 
“I’m confident.
 
There’s a difference.” He shrugs and smiles, a slow easy grin that makes my heart bang an extra beat in my chest. “It’s not my fault I’m always right.”

“Modest, too.”

He winks sending a tingle of awareness down my spine.
 
“You’re not exactly as you first appear either.”
 
He reaches over and takes the drink from my hand, setting it carefully on the table behind us.
 

“You’re always so prim and proper but your hair tells the real story. It’s wild and untamed. You try to control it with these grandma hairstyles but it doesn’t work. This is goddess hair.”
 
His hands thread through my strands, tugging until the band restraining the thick locks falls away.
 
My hair falls in a damp golden mass around my shoulders, a tangle of waves spilling into his hands.
 

“And these plain clothes.” He pops the first button on my shirt free revealing the lace at the top of my bra.
 
I suck in a hard breath at the sudden look of stark need on his face. His eyes are fixated on the gap in my shirt. The rise and fall of my chest makes my breasts strain against the confines of my bra.
 
I put a shaky hand over my heart and rub my breastbone.
 
It feels like I can barely breathe.
 

“But that’s not who you are, is it?
 
There’s so much more inside of you.
 
I can almost see it there beneath the surface, like the first embers of a fire that could rage out of control at any moment.”
 
He leans closer until he’s directly in front of me, his big body between my legs completely invading my space. His scent curls around me, a rich heady aroma mingled with the crisp scent of rain.
 

I whimper softly as his fingers thread through my hair, skimming over my scalp and awakening a myriad of sensations.
 
My head falls back, vulnerable and open to the soft probing lips that trail over my face and neck.
 
He nips at the delicate skin right below my ear, licking and biting all the way down to the base of my throat.

“Open for me love.
 
That’s it.” He lets out a soft growl when my mouth falls open on a pant.
 
He takes advantage, his tongue dipping into my mouth.
 
I love the invasion as he takes control. I can feel him all over.

I grip his arms, my nails digging into his biceps, caught between pushing him away and pulling him closer.
 
He feels just like a man should, his firm muscles flexing beneath my fingers.
 
And he’s so strong. I take shameless delight in his obvious strength as he sits back and pulls me on his lap. I take the opportunity to run my hands all over his broad shoulders and over the hard muscles in his chest.

I press forward rubbing against his chest.
 
The friction is delicious, and every time my nipples brush against his chest, something clenches deep. He’s hot and hard beneath me and I can feel the stiff length behind his zipper.
 
I want him inside, on top and all over me. I want to lose myself in him.

He pushes my skirt up, his fingers running up the insides of my thighs. I moan out loud when he presses his thumbs against my heat. Even through my panties, surely he can feel how wet I am already. Then his thumbs slip past the cotton barrier and brush over my naked sex. I shudder at the touch. It suddenly feels like I’m aching between my legs. And empty. So empty.

With that thought, I launch myself over his chest, fusing my mouth to his.
 
He falls back with a soft grunt, wrapping his arms around me to keep us upright.
 
A second later he has me under him, his hard body sliding in the cradle of my legs.
 
His weight is a welcome distraction, all that delicious muscle on top of me.
 
He kisses me like he can’t get enough of my taste, licking and biting and sucking. I’m helpless to stop it even if I’d wanted to.
 

He holds me captive with his hands in my hair, his mouth insistent as he explores my lips, neck and throat. I’m suddenly not sure how we’ve gotten to this point, when we stopped talking and started kissing.
 
I’m not even sure if I’ll regret this in a few hours.
 

Oh my god, this is happening so fast.

My logical mind tries to intervene but is quickly overridden by the exquisite sensations racing through me.
 
I grip his shoulders and push back some, trying to put a little distance between us.
 
I can’t think when we’re wrapped around each other.

His gaze drops to my mouth again and he licks his lips, like he’s remembering my taste and missing it already. I groan. Everything about him calls to me, his broad shoulders, his nimble fingers, his tormenting mouth and most of all, his knowing eyes.
 

I want him, whether it’s a mistake or not.
 
And all the logic in the world can’t stop this.

Standing in the middle of my room, some of my reason comes back. Tank followed me down the hall and now reclines on my bed, his arms folded behind his head. The silence is a little unnerving. I think he’s waiting for me to change my mind.

But that’s not what I want.
 

The past eight months of my life have been like walking through fog. I have panic attacks at the simplest things and constant uncertainty over what I should do, where I should go and what the future holds. But right here, right now, I’m not uncertain and I’m definitely not afraid.
 

I’m alive. Only Tank makes me feel this way.

“Come here,” he whispers.
 

From anyone else the order would annoy me but from him, yeah I’ll come anywhere he wants me to. I crawl across the bed, newly aware of how my body moves. His eyes follow every movement, taking in the arch in my back, the placement of my hand between his legs and then my thighs as I straddle him. When he looks up at me, his eyes are hooded. I’m slammed with a sharp ache deep in my belly at the raw, carnal desire in that look. He sees something he wants.
 

And it’s me.

“You are so beautiful. So perfect.” His hands skim over the skin of my arm and up into my hair. He always seems fixated on my hair. Now he’s gripping it, twisting the long strands around his fist. I whimper, taken off guard by how hot it is to have him holding me like this. He’s turned my hair into some kind of leash and the idea of him taking control that way is … startlingly arousing.
 

He pulls me forward and leans up at the same time until our mouths meet again. I can’t think with his mouth on mine. Suddenly, he turns us over, so I’m on the bottom and the weight of him settling on top of me is so good that I groan out loud. His jeans rub right up against my panties causing the fabric to slip and slide through the folds of my sex. My head falls back and I grind against him shamelessly. Every rock of his hips brushes against my clit and it’s got me right on the edge. My skirt is around my waist at this point and when he looks down, he can see the white cotton and the wetness on the inside of my thighs.
 

“Look how wet you are for me. For this.” He hooks a finger in the panties and pulls them to the side. Then his finger slides deep, pushing through my clenching muscles all the way up to his knuckle.

“Tank. I need…”

He bites my bottom lip and his eyes fix on mine, hot and hard. “I know what you need. You need this,” his finger plunges deep again, “and you need me.”

He pulls away briefly to yank his shirt over his head and push his jeans down. I take the opportunity to shed my shirt and wiggle out of my skirt. When I look over at him again, he’s completely naked. As I watch, he rolls a condom over his thick shaft, his eyes holding mine the whole time. My breath leaves my lungs on a helpless sigh. His cock curves up, long and thick almost to his belly button. It’s built on a large scale just like the rest of him.
 

“Wow. You’re big everywhere, huh?” There’s nothing but pure feminine appreciation in my voice.
 

He leans over me and whispers in my ear.
“And you’re going to take every inch.”
 

I shiver at the erotic promise in those words.
 

When he climbs back on the bed, he settles himself between my legs and this time, there’s nothing to shield me from the heat and hardness. It feels amazing, being surrounded by him.
 

Then he does something with his hips that nudges his cock right where I need him. My toes curl and my fingers grab helplessly at the sheets. His eyes don’t leave mine as he flexes his hips again, this time thrusting deep.
 

“
Fuck
, Emma. You feel so good. So tight and wet.”

His big body presses me into the mattress so I can barely move. All I can do is grip his shoulders, my nails digging into the muscles as I’m forced to accept what he gives me. His eyes are on mine the whole time, watching my every reaction, my every whimper, my every shudder as he takes me with long, forceful strokes.
 

I can’t speak. I can barely even keep my eyes open when he’s looking at me like this. It’s too much. Too much sensation and too much intimacy. My muscles grip him tightly as he thrusts again, then once more. He’s so deep, so incredibly deep that I know I’ll be feeling him all day tomorrow and maybe the day after that. He’s doing more than just making love to me, he’s
branding
me.
 

The savage intensity in his eyes as he drills into me sends me over the edge.
 

I scream when I come. I can’t hold back the sound as my orgasm tears through me, splitting me apart. Pleasure explodes, radiating out from where he’s buried deep within me and all the way down to my toes.
 

As I clench around him helplessly, shaking with the last tremors of my orgasm, he hooks his hands beneath my knees and pushes them back toward my shoulders. The position spreads my legs and forces my pussy to open up to him, drawing him even deeper.
 

His mouth settles near my ear and the things he’s saying as he thrusts into me,
oh god
, the things he’s whispering to me. He tells me how warm and soft my pussy is, how tight it is, how wet it is. No one has ever talked to me like this and I’m melting, just disintegrating as he mindfucks me in a way that I’ve never experienced.

His deep growl of satisfaction as he comes pushes me even further away from sanity. It sounds animalistic, primitive.
 

Then again there’s nothing civilized about Tank Marshall. And there never will be.

The following evening, I stand in the kitchen at Claire’s house stirring a pot of spaghetti sauce. Tank stands next to me awkwardly chopping onions. So far this has been an incredibly strange Saturday afternoon. I wish I could say I was all modern and sleeping with a guy is no big deal but I’m completely unsure how to act around him now.