Sexy Designs Read online

  She nodded. “All right.”

  They sat together in a quiet that didn’t seem to need words until it was time for him to climb up on the stage again.

  “Don’t forget.” He lifted her hand and kissed her knuckles. “I’ll be singing just for you.”

  He headed back to the stage with an easy, loose-hipped gait and picked up his guitar.

  “Last set of the night, folks,” he announced. “And last call. Thanks for coming to see me. I’ll be heading out in the morning. Got folks waiting for my music someplace else, but I hope to get by this way again.”

  He was leaving? Tonight?

  Erin’s hands tightened around her glass. No, he couldn’t leave. Not when she’d just found him. Maybe found the key to unlock the shambles of her life. No, no, no. Maybe she could find out where he was going next.

  And what, idiot? Trail after him like some groupie? Some camp follower?

  But she couldn’t let him go.

  Then she heard him say, “I’m singing this last set for someone really special. Someone who looks like she needs music in her life.”

  He picked out the opening notes of a song, eyes focused directly on her. Erin stared at him, hypnotized by his music, as his fingers picked out the first notes of a song and he began singing about a lost soul and the home it searched for. He was right. He could have been singing directly to her. He wasn’t a man who played for others as much as for himself. And now her.

  The music was so sweet, so magical. She let it wash over her like warm rain cleansing her. It almost transported her to some other time, some other place, where the thing with Cal had never happened and the wedding of the century wasn’t scheduled for the next day. Sudden applause roused her. When she heard him say, “Thanks for comin’ out folks. I appreciate it,” she realized the troubadour was finished for the night, even though she wasn’t half-ready for him to be done.

  She slid from the tiny booth, fished in her purse, and dropped some money on the table for her drink and the tip. Dragging her feet, she headed for the door, unwilling to break the spell the music had woven around her. When a hand touched her arm, she jumped skittishly and automatically tried to pull away.

  “It’s just me, sugar,” the smoky voice said.

  And, inexplicably, inside her body, she relaxed.

  “Thank you for the song,” she told hm.

  “My pleasure. Thanks for sticking around.”

  He pushed open the back door of the building and guided her out into the parking lot.

  “My truck’s over there.” She pointed to the far end of the lot.

  “I’ll walk you over to it.”

  But she couldn’t make her feet move. Couldn’t take the steps to lead herself away from this man. Grady Sinclair was danger but a different kind than she’d been swallowed by. There was safety in this danger, as paradoxical as it sounded.

  Without warning, he stopped and pulled her gently into his arms. His hands stroked her back while his lips brushed her mouth. There was something about being wrapped up in him like this, something about the signals her body was sending. About the heat they were generating. She wanted to plaster herself to him and never move. Grady Sinclair would never hurt her. Deep in her gut, she knew it with a certainty.

  “Listen.” He dusted kisses over her forehead. “I can’t believe I’m doing this. You’re so far above the women I’m with these days. But here’s the thing. I want you. You can smack me or run screaming if you want, and it wouldn’t surprise me.” He pulled her tight against him so his erection pressed into the softness of her tummy. “I’ve got a room I’m renting outside of town here. Not much. Just a house where a woman lets itinerant musicians like me crash when we need a place. But I would love it if you’d come home with me. For a little while. Let me make you feel good. Not so sad.” He tilted her chin up. “Make me feel good, too.”

  Go home with him? Was he crazy? Was she crazy? They didn’t even know each other. The possibilities as well as the ramifications battled in her mind. And what assurance did she have she wasn’t jumping from one frying pan into another? There were so many, many reasons why, if her brain had been working, she shouldn’t do what he suggested. Should run as far and fast as she could.

  “You can trust me.” His fingers stroked the side of her face. “Whatever you’re afraid of, I won’t hurt you. I promise. Listen, why don’t you text someone. Tell them what you’re doing. Give you a safety net.”

  As he spoke, she was startled by the absence of fear, of the panic she’d have expected at the thought of being in an enclosed space with a strange man. Any man except good old T.J.

  Maybe magic was at work here because common sense sure wasn’t. But something about Grady Sinclair called to her. Pulled at her. Touched her at her core. Maybe because she saw in his eyes the signs of a kindred tortured soul.

  “All right,” she told him.

  His eyes widened, as if he’d expected her to refuse him, and the slow crooked grin crept over his face again.

  “You can follow me. So if you change your mind, you can peel off and go home. Or wherever.”

  “Give me a minute,” she told him and pulled her cell phone out of her purse.

  Lili, I am going home with Grady Sinclair. Can’t go through with wedding. Lie like a trouper. You’re the best.

  She sent the text then put the phone away.

  “I’m ready. And I’ll ride with you.”

  “Are you sure? I want you to feel safe. You seem like someone who’s afraid of every shadow.”

  Maybe going off with a stranger was a stupid thing to do, but she was finally learning to trust her instincts. And they told her she’d be safe with Grady Sinclair.

  “Not tonight.” She smiled at him. “Let’s go.”

  He held out his hand and linked his fingers with hers. An incredible sense of rightness flowed over her, wrapping around her like a blanket. A peace she hadn’t felt since…well, just since. When they reached his pickup—dark gray and definitely well used—Grady leaned her against the passenger door. He stood there for a moment, one warm hand on her knee.

  “You sure about this, darlin’?”

  “I am.” Oh, yes. Inexplicably, unbelievably sure.

  Raw, edgy lust etched his face. “Your name. Tell me your name.”

  Tell him her name? But that made this so personal.

  Well, dummy, this is personal! He’s taking you home to his bed where he’ll probably fuck your brains out. How can you be so stupid? Don’t you ever learn?

  But she didn’t feel the risk. Not like there had been with Cal. She felt almost…protected. What was that all about?

  She wet her lips. “It’s Erin. Erin Braddock.”

  Damn. Should I have told him my last name? What if he’s heard of my daddy and calls him? Everyone kisses Rance Braddock’s ass. No. That’s not who he is.

  “Erin.” It sounded musical on his lips. “Beautiful. Like you. Maybe I’ll write a song about Erin. You’re so damn sweet. I have to kiss you.”

  He cupped her head, his hands gentle as his mouth lightly touched hers. He seemed to be kissing her by degrees, waiting at each step to see if she’d bolt and run. To see if she could fall into this. Muted sounds from the crowd filtered outside, joining the song of crickets and passing traffic. None of it mattered. Just her and this man—a total stranger yet not a stranger. Someone who seemed to have been waiting in her heart to come out at the right time.

  Grady kissed her, gentle at first. But then passion, the wily beast, gripped them both, and he sent his tongue deep, drinking her sexy sigh, loving the feel of her breath on his face. They were alone in the night, so he drew her against him, loving the way her breasts settled against the worn cotton of his T-shirt.

  At last, when they were both gasping, he opened the door of the truck and handed her up into the seat as if she were a piece of precious cargo. He grinned, swept a kiss over her mouth then checked her seat belt and closed
the door.

  They rode in silence, neither of them seeming to need conversation, comfortable with the quietness. Grady’s room was in a huge old-fashioned house in an older neighborhood in San Antonio.

  “I was lucky,” he told her, leading her quietly up an outside flight of stairs. “I got the room with its own entrance. And the only one with its own bathroom. I think it belonged to her son once, or something.”

  He unlocked the door, reached inside to flick on a light switch for the bedside lamp, and ushered her into a large bedroom furnished with sturdy, timeworn furniture. The only modern touch was a small television on the dresser.

  Erin pointed to it. “Yours?”

  He shook his head. “The landlady provides one for every room. She’s great.” He leaned his guitar case carefully in one corner then turned to face her, his hands gentle on her shoulders. “Are you sure about this, Erin?”

  Mutely, she nodded.

  “I can still take you back to your truck. Say the word.”

  So different from Cal, who’d never seemed to give her a choice. Or T.J., who tiptoed around her as if she’d shatter any minute. Grady was making it plain he wanted her, but the choice was hers.

  “I don’t want to go back,” she told him.

  “Good.” He let out a long, slow breath. “Because, I have to tell you, I can’t wait to get you in that bed.”

  She twisted her fingers together. “Will you turn out the light?”

  “Why?” He frowned. “I couldn’t see you.”

  And thank heavens.

  “I-it’s better in the dark.”

  “No, sugar, it’s not,” he drawled. “I’ll prove it to you.” Then, his face sobered. “Still not too late to change your mind, you know.”

  She took in a deep breath and shook her head.

  “Then be warned, I intend to look my fill of every inch.”

  Please don’t let him turn away. Please don’t let him care.

  He undressed her as carefully as if he were opening a gift, slowly removing each piece of clothing and kissing every part of her skin as he exposed it. When she stood in front of him naked except for a flimsy bra and her sandals, he stepped back and took a long look at her. His hot eyes traveled from her face down her body to her feet.

  She shut her eyes in anticipation of what was sure to come.

  “Erin? What happened to you? Were you in an accident?”

  “S-sort of.” She clenched her fists at her sides. “That’s why I wanted the lights out. You shouldn’t have to see my scars.”

  “They don’t look too recent.” He followed the line of one on her hip. “When did it happen?”

  ”A while ago.” But not long enough to stop turning my dreams into nightmares.

  “It doesn’t matter. You are so beautiful,” he breathed. “Every man’s wet dream, darlin’. I have to touch you everywhere.”

  She forced herself to relax as he traced the line of her jaw with his fingertips, the column of her neck, the slope of her shoulders.

  I don’t have to be afraid. I don’t have to be afraid. I don’t have to be afraid.

  And then, unaccountably, she wasn’t. Everything disappeared—her father, T.J., Cal. All gone as desire swept through them both.

  When he reached her breasts, he cupped their fullness and chafed the nipples through the thin satin. She shivered as delicious sensations skittered over her. As his hands skimmed her ribs and slid down past her waist to her hips, tracing the line of their flare, she could almost pretend the past had never happened. When one hand moved to the thatch of curls covering her mound, she closed her eyes to savor the feel.

  One long finger—a musician’s finger—followed the line of her drenched slit, pausing to massage the swollen nub. The walls of her cunt quivered with hungry need. She widened her stance the slightest, and he slid the finger insider her hot channel, curling it to scrape the tip against her sweet spot. Desire and hunger shot through her.

  He continued to stroke in and out of her pussy until, clutching his shoulders for balance, she moaned. “Stop. I want to see you naked. Please.”

  He slipped his finger from her wet grasp and painted her nipples with the cream on it. “All right.”

  She opened her eyes again and watched as he unbuttoned his shirt, his gaze never leaving hers. The hard wall of his chest was covered with swirls of dark hair arrowing downward toward his waist. The jeans were next, the pop of the snap and the grate of the zipper very loud in the still room. He toed off his boots, carefully maintaining his balance, then pushed his jeans and boxers off together.

  Erin swallowed a gasp.

  He was perfection—lean and hard muscles, with a thick nest of curls surrounding a cock standing impressively at attention. Tentatively, she reached out and wrapped her fingers around his shaft and stroked him from root to broad tip. A bead of fluid winked from the slit in the head and her thumb rubbed it over the soft velvet. Her other hand reached down to cup his sac, lying heavy against his thighs, caressing the soft, fine hair. He sucked in a breath.

  She felt the tension radiating from his body, pleased he was willing to stand there and let her keep touching him without….

  No! Don’t go there.

  “Erin?” His voice was strained. “I need to get you on the bed, darlin’.”

  Without waiting for her to answer, he scooped her up and laid her on the coverlet. Spreading her legs wide, he knelt and licked her cream, his tongue the brush of a flame on her hot, hot cunt.

  “Ohhh,” she sighed. “You don’t have to—”

  “I do.” He lifted his head. “Yes, darlin’. I do.”

  And he went back to his task, licking and nipping, tugging at her clit with his lips and his teeth, fucking her pussy with his tongue, fingers stroking over her labia. She was drifting on a cloud of pleasure, lost in sensation. But when one finger drifted down to touch the tight ring of her anus, the cloud dissipated, and she flinched.

  Grady stilled. “Erin? It’s all right, darlin’. We won’t do anything you don’t enjoy.”

  He returned his attention to her pussy, eating at her like a starving man, working her clit and her quivering tunnel until she was rising toward the peak once more.

  “Ohhhh.” The sound slipped from her mouth. “Oh, Grady.”

  “Right here, darlin’.”

  He rose and lifted his jeans, pulling out his wallet and fishing for a condom. It took him only seconds to roll it on, and then he was pressing at her opening, the thick head of his cock pushing into her.

  “Now, sugar,” he rasped, and drove into her.

  “Yesss,” she cried as his hips pistoned, moving in a strong tempo.

  His forearms were braced on either side of her, and she clutched them for dear life, riding the wave of erotic desire. Again and again, his cock thrust into her, the muscles of her pussy tightening around him. Her orgasm rose up like a tidal wave and engulfed her, just as Grady shouted, “Now, Erin. Now.”

  And they fell into a vortex of fireworks and sensation, bodies shaking, lungs struggling for air with the fierce explosion of their shared climax. Finally, as the intensity faded, black velvet wrapped itself around them, and they tumbled into sleep.