Three Ways to Wicked (3 page)

Bottom line, he owed it to Ty—and Kayla—to do his part in ensuring nothing bad came of this close proximity they were all forced to share.

He unzipped his duffel and pulled out the dog-eared spy novel he’d brought with him from home. Tucking the paperback under his arm, he crossed to the mini fridge in the corner and grabbed one of the frosty longnecks he’d stored in there earlier.

“I’ll take one of those while you’re buying,” Ty called out as he aimed the remote at the flat screen.

After grabbing another brew, Gibb ventured to the chaise Ty was stretched out on and handed over the spare beer. “Didn’t think of it ’til now, but I could have asked Reese if she’d put us up. She probably wouldn’t have cared.”

Ty scratched his bare belly, and Gibb did his best not to fixate on the deeply defined V lines disappearing beneath the low-slung waistband of Ty’s navy boxer briefs. When Ty glanced up at him, Gibb quickly looked away with a rough clearing of his throat.

The beer bottle clunked onto the tile floor, followed by the gentle swoosh of the chaise cushion deflating slightly as Ty shifted around. “Your sister still hasn’t forgiven me for subjecting you to the Simpson twins.”

“Neither have I.”

“For shit’s sake, your dick’s fine now. Quit your bitchin’.”

He gave Ty the stink eye and settled on the opposite chaise-quasi-bed before cracking his book open. Five minutes into reading, he lost his concentration as the volume on the TV increased to a level that could be heard two counties over. Growling under his breath, he hefted from the cushion, collected his beer and stalked toward the French doors.

“Where you goin’?”

He shot Ty a dark look over his shoulder. “Somewhere quiet.”

“Christ. You on your period already?”

Flipping Ty the bird, Gibb stepped out onto the pool deck and closed the door, sealing off Ty’s obnoxious chuckle. As if it possessed a will of its own, his gaze trekked overhead to the main house. Soft light splashed from the trellis chandelier over the kitchen island.

I’d hate for her to get lonely.

Deliberately tuning out the taunting echo of Ty’s words, Gibb headed for the far end of the privacy fence. Releasing the latch, he let himself past the gate and followed the planked path toward the dunes. Other than a few shell seekers and joggers, the beach was unusually dead for a Sunday.

Perfect.

Swigging a mouthful of beer, he scouted for a prime spot to watch the tide come in. A few yards down the beach, a familiar blonde occupied a blanket spread upon the sand.

For a few seconds Gibb stood entranced as he watched the evening breeze flirt with Kayla’s curly locks. She pulled her knees up toward her and clasped them, her attention set on the foamy waves breaking in the distance. Pensiveness radiated from her. Odd, considering the tranquility of her surroundings.

He hesitated, every instinct warning him that approaching her while she was in a vulnerable state would only trigger his protective instincts and ultimately feed his raging attraction to her.

He’d learned the hard way where his weaknesses lay. Four years in a marriage that’d been doomed from the start gave him ample opportunity for self-analysis. His penchant for taking in the lost, wounded and damaged had reeled him right into Lorna’s arms. Too bad she’d spent a good portion of her free time in other men’s arms while they were married. After his divorce, he’d held firm to one promise—to never open himself to that level of hurt again.

Holding tight to his resolve, he took a step backward. Kayla brushed one of the wind-whipped strands away from her eyes, awarding him an unobstructed view of the sadness stamped across her face.

Aw damn.
His sigh weary, Gibb unlocked his feet from their rigid stance on the sand and strode toward Kayla. “Up for some company?”

She gave an almost imperceptible jolt before glancing in his direction. Her expression cleared with a quick, wavering smile. “Sure.”

He kicked off his sand-encrusted flip-flops and copped a squat. Roughly a foot and a half separated him from Kayla on the blanket, but it might as well have been a centimeter, considering his physical awareness of her. Every subtle shift of her bare legs. Wiggle of her toes. When he began wondering how sensitive the arch of her foot would be if he kissed and licked it, he knew he was in some seriously deep trouble. He stole another gulp of beer before corkscrewing the bottle down into a makeshift cubby he’d dug in the sand. Kayla’s scrutiny felt like a warm ray of light prickling along his skin. Giving in to the draw, he moved his focus to her.

There was a softness to her expression that immediately alerted him to where the conversation was most likely headed. “Bailey told me your divorce was rocky. I’m sorry.”

“No more so than my marriage.”

She winced. “Sorry again.”

“Thanks. I’m okay now.” Mostly. There were sections of his soul that Lorna hadn’t completely eviscerated. Eventually time would scab over the few remaining flesh wounds, and he’d be able to think of his ex without the words
heartless
,
she-devil
and
cheater
constantly hovering in his mind. “Enough of my sob story. What excitement have you been up to all these years?” He did a fast tally in his head. “Jesus. I think the last time we saw each other was your sophomore year of college. You stopped coming to the beach after that.”

She eyed him for a brief spell. When the familiar blush he was so enamored with reappeared, it took every ounce of his control not to lean forward and ravage her mouth. As it was, watching her nibble her bottom lip made it all too easy to imagine sinking his teeth into that pillowy softness. Nipping. Biting. Leisurely licks and suckles. Capturing her sweet, intoxicating moans as their tongues glided together.

The fantasy was so real it took a moment for reality to crash into him. Jogged from his erotic trance, he angled his thigh, hoping it’d hide the obvious tent in his boardshorts.

His thoughts immediately retraced to the pretty blush that’d entranced him seconds ago.
Leave it be, you moron.
Even as he gave himself that stern warning, the words edged past his lips in a betraying mutiny. “What were you thinking just now while you were looking at me?”

The blossom of pink deepened on her cheeks. “Nothing.”

Liar.
Much as he wanted to push her on it—confirm that she’d indeed been indulging in some equally racy thoughts about
him
—that kind of knowledge wouldn’t help him keep his hands off her. Considering it was his job to ensure Ty did the same, it’d be fucking hypocritical of Gibb not to make a valiant effort of guaranteeing his own dick stayed in his pants where Kayla was concerned. He wisely chose to steer the conversation to safer waters. “Still waiting for you to fill me in on what you’ve been up to.”

“I’m a writer.”

“No shit?” He wagged his head and smiled. “Not surprised. You always did have your nose buried in a book.”

She swatted his shoulder playfully. “Hey, I seem to recall you being a bit of a bibliophile too.”

He stared at the hand she still had absently draped on his arm. The touch was perfectly innocent, but it didn’t stop his dick from perking up again with an eager salute. He forced himself to ignore the stirring in his groin. “Yeah, but I sure as hell don’t have any talent for writing. Have anything published?”

“Yep.”

“Damn. You mean I can make everyone jealous by saying I know a famous author?” He grinned. “I’m going to buy your entire backlist and have you autograph them for proof.”

Dropping her hand back into her lap, she developed a sudden interest in a grainy patch of sand on her knee. Despite her attempt at hiding her face, he spied the pink glow on her cheeks. “I’m not sure my books would be to your taste.”

Intrigued, he studied her closer. “Why?”

“They’re kind of…” she dragged in a deep breath and finally looked at him, “…sexy.”

Well hell. Now he was for sure buying everything she’d ever written. “Nothing wrong with that.”

“Then you would be one of the few people in my life to think so.” Weariness and a hint of the pensiveness he’d noticed earlier descended in place.

“Afraid I don’t understand. Why would anyone have a problem with what you write?”

She rolled her lips together, the tension radiating from her palpable. “Because they think it’s immoral and cheap and reflects badly on me. Or more to the point—them.”

“Them?”

Kayla met his eyes briefly before glancing away. A few relevant clues he’d overlooked before suddenly stood out in glaring evidence. In all the years she’d been coming to Wicked Shores, she’d never stayed anywhere but at her parents’ exclusive North Shore summer residence. Pretty damn telling that she’d decided to change her routine. Or maybe she’d been given no other choice. He’d only met her mom on a handful of occasions. His immediate impression could be summed up in three words—beautiful, cold and superior. It required minimal perception to determine a woman like Belinda English would be ridiculously ruled by appearances.

A slow anger built inside him, tightening his muscles. “Kay, whatever your mom said—”

“It doesn’t matter.” She pasted on a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Like hell it doesn’t. What you’ve achieved is something to be proud of. If she can’t see that, then that makes her a pretty fucking lousy parent.” He grimaced when her eyes widened a fraction. “I didn’t mean to be insulting. But your mom spouting that sanctimonious bullshit to you royally chaps my ass.”

“In her defense, it probably didn’t help matters how she ultimately found out about my alter ego. I’m at least partially to blame for hitting her with that unexpected whammy.” Kayla sighed in response to his arched eyebrow. “I write under the pen name Ella Kay. Up until six months ago, no one knew what I really did for a living, including my fiancé. You’d think me writing under a nom de plume and no one being the wiser of my real identity proves that my mom doesn’t have to worry about me sullying the family name. But she’s still convinced my dirty skeleton will tumble out of the closet.”

It was damn difficult for him to concentrate on the whole of Kayla’s conversation when his brain had stalled after she’d thrown the word
fiancé
out there.

A strong flash of jealousy streaked through him. Stupid, yes. He should be goddamn thrilled that she was emotionally committed to someone else. It made her that much more off-limits, and helped safeguard him from doing something as astronomically boneheaded as stretching her out on the blanket and burying his mouth in her pussy for an hour or two. “You kept it secret? Why?”

“Deep down, I always suspected the reaction I’d get if I came clean. My mom…well, she’s pretty opinionated when it comes to literature. Comes with the territory of being married to one of the literary greats. She’s always viewed the romance market as tacky and tawdry, so I had a good idea what she’d think of
erotic
romance. I know it makes me a coward, but I wanted to put off seeing the censure in her eyes for as long as I could.”

He tipped her chin so she was forced to look at him. “Kay, it’s multi-shades of fucked up that you had to worry about that happening in the first place.”

“It’s reality. I love my mom. I…loved Jeremy. But I also know the social expectations that come with being a part of their lives. I broke the rules by tainting them with what I do for a living.”

He didn’t fail to notice the past tense she’d used when referencing her fiancé. “You’re no longer with this Jeremy guy?” He deliberately omitted the
fucking asshole
tag that belonged at the beginning of the dude’s name.

She shook her head. “I knew if we were going to spend the rest of our lives together, I had to tell him the truth about my career. That instead of being a bored socialite who spends her days shopping and arranging charities, I write kinky romance novels.”

Whoa.
Kinky?
Fuck, he really needed to get his hands on her books.

“Jeremy’s reaction was—” Her knuckles whitened as she gripped her knees again. “Let’s just say my big reveal didn’t go over well. Our relationship became strained, to put it mildly. By week two following my admission, I could no longer fool myself that he would get over it and accept my career choice. I ended things with him, but he got the last word in by outing me to my mom.”

Fucking asshole was too mild of a label for the douche bag. “You were right to dump his ass.”

Kayla fell into a broody silence. He pried her fingers loose from her kneecap and squeezed them. “This is completely his loss, sweetheart. One day he’s going to look back and see the colossal fuckup he made. If he doesn’t? Clearly he’s an even bigger assclown than I suspect.”

A portion of the clouds dispersed from her gaze, and she gave a small smile.

“There’s my girl.” His thumb brushed her cheek. Fascinated by the silky texture of her skin, he skimmed his fingers toward her jaw. Her lips parted. An illicit and oh-so-tantalizing sparkle of awareness shimmered between them. His heart pounded with enough adrenaline, he swore she’d be able to hear it.

She continued staring at him. “Gibb…” A fluttered breath hitched a ride on the tail end of his name.

It wasn’t necessarily an invitation, but his body instinctually accepted it as such. Stroking the baby-fine tendrils of hair near her temple, he coaxed her closer as he moved in. Their mouths met somewhere in the middle. A soft, exploring caress of lips convinced her to allow a deepening of the kiss. The first welcome glide of her tongue along his tore a groan from his chest. The second wet velvety sweep raised his internal thermostat by a few hundred degrees.