Turning Point (The Kathleen Turner Series) (20 page)

I snorted with laughter. “Blane,” I said, once I had my amusement under control, “meet my three fairy godfathers. Jay, Hal, and Rick.”

The men all gave each other a grudging nod.

“Come on, Kat,” Blane said. “Let’s go home.”

“Just a second,” I said. Turning to the men, I gave them each a kiss on the cheek. “Thanks for listening.”

“Anytime,” Rick said with a grin, then turned a more serious expression on Blane. “Now you take care of our little girl here, you understand? I don’t wanna see her in some bar by herself again ’cause you’re treatin’ her bad.”

“Yes, sir,” Blane replied evenly. That seemed to placate Rick.

“This should take care of her tab,” Blane said, pulling a few bills out of his wallet and tossing them onto the bar.

Another song came on the jukebox, and I started singing along, weaving my way to the door. Blane was next to me in an instant, supporting my back while tucking my jacket and purse under his arm.

The cold air had a sobering effect, clearing some of the cobwebs from my mind. Blane steered me toward his car, but I twisted away.

“Where’s my keys?” I asked. “I can drive.”

“You are in absolutely no condition to drive,” he retorted, opening the passenger door and tossing my purse and jacket in the back. “Get in.”

“You can’t order me around, Blane,” I shot back, then stumbled and nearly fell flat on my face, which robbed any seriousness from my words.

Blane snorted with derision, hooking an arm around my waist and pulling me back to the car with ease.

I slapped ineffectually at his hands. “Let me go,” I huffed. “I don’t want your help. Or Kade’s. Or anyone’s.” I shrugged off his coat and shoved it at him.

“Well, that’s too bad,” Blane gritted out, tossing the coat into the car, “because you did something stupid tonight, and I’m here to bail you out of it.”

“That seems to be a recurring theme, don’t you think?” I sneered. “Kathleen’s in trouble again. Time to swoop in and save the day! And nearly get killed doing it. I bet you thought you were done with that shit after you left the Navy.”

Blane just looked at me. “Is that what this is about? You think I’d lay my life on the line for just anyone?”

I swallowed. “Isn’t that what you do?”

His hands closed over my upper arms and he jerked me into him. “I don’t lay my life down for anyone but my brother,” he hissed. “The Navy was different. The men I fought with, they were my brothers, too. I’d die for them. But I’m not some comic-book hero, Kat. I watch over those I love, and that’s all.”

I heard him, but the feel of his hands on me, the press of his body against mine made my head swim, and I forgot anything I was going to say. My eyes dropped to his mouth, and I couldn’t look away.

Blane swore, spinning me around, pushing me unceremoniously into the car, and slamming the door shut before I had even realized what was happening.

Moments later, we were speeding down the road. The heated leather of his seats made me sigh in comfort.

I loved his car. I loved being with him in his car. It was sleek and powerful, just like him.

“Is that so?” he asked, amusement lacing his voice, and I realized I must have spoken the words aloud.

“Absolutely,” I purred. It also did fantastic things to my libido, which I made sure I didn’t say. The alcohol had had the usual effect on my inhibitions, and I found myself contemplating some wicked scenarios.

“It’s hot in here,” I complained. Blane obligingly turned down the heat. “Still hot,” I murmured, unfastening my jeans. Blane’s hands tightened their grip on the steering wheel as I slid my zipper down. The sound was loud in the quiet car.

“What are you doing?” he asked, his voice menacing. If I’d been in the proper frame of mind, it would have frightened me. As it was, it only served to make the blood flow faster in my veins.

“Cooling off,” I said simply. A lift of my hips and a quick shove down my legs, and the jeans were off, taking my shoes with them. I sighed in pleasure, reaching down to move the seat farther back so I could put my feet up on the dash, one ankle crossed primly over the other.

“You get like this when you’re drunk,” Blane said flatly, his eyes darting to my legs and quickly glancing away.

“Like what?” I asked, all innocence.

He just looked at me. The look I gave him in return had him muttering a string of curses under his breath when he looked back at the road.

Reaching across the small confines of the sports car, I pried one of Blane’s hands from the steering wheel. He reluctantly let me, and I caressed the rough callousness of his fingers and his palm. When his hand finally relaxed, I placed it on my thigh. His whole body stiffened, but I ignored his reaction, moving his hand so it stroked my skin. I hummed with approval at the sensation. After a moment, I saw with satisfaction that I was no longer forcing his hand to move, it did so of its own accord.

Soon, it wasn’t enough. Taking control of his hand again, I brought it between my thighs. I uncrossed my ankles, letting my knees fall open. His hand pressed against the silk of my panties and I moaned, feeling the heat of my arousal through the thin layer of fabric.

“Take them off,” he rasped, and I wasted no time in obeying him, mewling in pleasure when his hand returned between my legs. “Christ, you’re wet,” he growled.

I watched, unable to take my eyes off his hand, as his middle finger slipped inside me. Another moan fell from my lips at the sensation.

“Touch your breasts,” Blane ordered.

My cheeks burned, but I did it, pulling the fabric from the tape attached to my skin and allowing my breasts to spill into my hands. I squeezed, my thumbs flicking over my aching nipples. This wasn’t something I normally did, and it
didn’t do much for me, but judging by Blane’s reaction, it certainly did a lot for him.

His hand moved faster, pumping in and out of me, my hips lifting in time to his thrusts. Glancing over, I saw the strain of his erection pressing against the denim of his jeans. Abruptly deciding on a new course of action, I yanked his hand from between my legs and pulled my knees up underneath me.

“What are you—”

His voice abruptly cut off when I leaned across the seat and started undoing his pants. Thankfully, I was short enough to accomplish this position in his car, though it did leave my bare ass in the air and my breasts hanging out. Judging by the beads of sweat on Blane’s forehead, he wasn’t going to complain.

I freed his cock from his jeans a moment later and wasted no time taking him into my mouth. I moaned as a strangled sound escaped Blane’s throat. I took as much of him as I could, loving the feel of satin-encased steel. I was startled when I felt Blane’s fingers thrust inside me again, then I quickly took up the same rhythm as his fingers, wrapping my hand around the base of his erection since I couldn’t fit all of it in my mouth.

I had no idea how Blane was able to drive, and I didn’t want to know how fast we were going. I was much more consumed with the feel and taste of him against my tongue, and the roughness of his fingers as they fucked me.

“Stop, Kat,” I heard Blane grit out.

I wanted no part of him trying to make me stop. He always made me stop. Just this once, I refused to let him.
Since one hand was on the steering wheel and the other was buried inside me, he couldn’t force me to release him.

His fingers moved a certain way, curving and pressing, and I shattered, my scream muffled by his cock deep in my mouth. Then Blane was cursing, his hips jerking upward and his erection thickening, pushing down my throat as his orgasm overtook him. I gagged and my eyes watered, but I stayed with him, swallowing until the spasms eased and stopped.

Sitting up, I gasped for breath. Blane reached into the backseat, rummaging in the gym bag he always kept there until he unearthed a towel, which he handed me.

“Thanks,” I muttered, wiping my mouth.

Glancing around, I saw that we were stopped, parked in Blane’s driveway. Huh. I didn’t say anything, just reached down and pulled my jeans back on, forgoing the underwear in favor of speed. I wouldn’t say I was sober by any means, but I wasn’t drunk enough to saunter into the house with my ass hanging out.

“Is that what you wore tonight?” Blane asked, watching me as I tried to readjust the halter enough to cover Thing 1 and Thing 2.

I didn’t see how answering that question was going to lead anywhere good, so I ignored him.

“Why did you bring me here?” I asked instead. “We broke up. You’re not obligated for a sleepover.” I couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of my voice.

“I don’t give a shit if you say we broke up or not,” he shot back. “God knows how much you’ve had to drink tonight, and I’m not leaving you alone to choke on your own vomit.”

“What a guy,” I retorted. “Be still my heart.”

The look on Blane’s face said he didn’t appreciate my attitude, so I smiled.

His face turned to granite, but I kept my smile in place. I’d be damned if he was going to intimidate me. After all, I could still taste him on my tongue.

Blane was out of the car and around to my side before I could savor my victory. Although I was a bit wobbly on my feet, I managed to extricate myself from the Jaguar without falling over.

Pressing my body against Blane’s, I tucked my panties into the pocket of his shirt. Blane sucked in a breath, his eyes burning.

Giving him another sweet-as-sugar smile, I turned and sashayed my way up to the front door. I didn’t hear Blane following, but I wasn’t surprised when his hand shot out to open the door for me.

I didn’t bother thanking him, instead just strolled inside. I pushed my hands into the back pockets of my jeans, which thrust my breasts forward. Blane’s eyes were glued to my chest as I made a slow circle around the foyer before coming to a stop.

“It’s rude to stare,” I said.

His eyes jerked up to mine and I saw a muscle twitch in his jaw.

I raised an eyebrow. Spying the tray Mona always left for Blane on the sideboard, I walked over to it. As I’d expected, the ice bucket had been filled. Picking up a piece of ice, I turned around, leaning against the wall.

“Thirsty?” I asked. I licked the ice, wrapping my lips around it and sucking lightly. Blane watched avidly, his hands fisting at his sides. Keeping my eyes on his, I dragged
the piece of ice over my lips and down my chin. Tilting my head to the side, I traced the ice slowly down the skin of my neck, between my breasts, and down my stomach.

A pained expression came across Blane’s face. Popping the remaining ice in my mouth, I bit down, my lips turned up in a satisfied smile.

The next moment, I was gulping the ice down as Blane pinned me to the wall.

“You’re playing with fire, little girl,” he hissed. “Isn’t that what they called you? ‘Little girl’?”

I instinctively cringed, then straightened my spine. I’d make him see me as a woman, and his equal, if it was the last thing I did. No more biting my tongue against words that might upset the balance between us or make him angry. No more assuming he was going to leave me if I did this or didn’t do that. If he left me, so be it, but it would be on my terms.

I lifted an eyebrow. “I thought I was just using you for sex.” My hand traced the outline of his erection through his jeans.

Blane’s head lowered, but I twisted, ducking under his arm and quickly sidestepping his reach.

“Good night, Blane.”

I felt his eyes burning a hole in my back as I climbed the stairs to my old bedroom.

I fell asleep almost immediately, waking at some point during the night because I was cold. Everything was fuzzy, and for a moment, I didn’t know where I was. Groping for a
blanket, I suddenly found one being dragged up to my shoulders.

The shadowy outline of Blane stood over me. He said nothing, and I closed my eyes with a sigh, too tired and drunk to even think. Prying my eyes open a few moments later, I saw him sitting in the chair by the window. The light filtered in through the blinds, slashing moonlight in silver streaks across his face. His gaze was captivating. I knew he was there to watch over me, silent and steady in his vigil. It made my chest ache.

I squeezed my eyes shut and knew no more.