Strong Read online

  Hmm.

  Since I couldn’t sleep, I drank some more champagne, because why not? That’s unfortunately when the bad thing happened.

  “Heard someone was seen skulking out of the pool house this morning in the early hours.” The drummer grinned. Most likely the housekeeper had ratted me out. For some reason she thought Mal was delightful. “Fast work, Marty. You go, girl.”

  Jimmy just seemed amused at the news. But David and Ben gave me startled glances. Hypocrites. As if neither of them had copulated in the history of space and time. My brother had even rather infamously impregnated Mal’s then twenty-one-year-old sister-in-law. It had caused all sorts of trouble within the band and their entourage. Sam and I getting it on barely rated as news compared to that scandal.

  With three children under the age of three running around, telling the man to go fuck himself was out of the question. Sadly. Still, my smile was all sharp teeth. “Why, thank you, Malcolm. You know how I value your input into these things.”

  Gibby, along with Jimmy and Lena’s twin girls, were building and destroying towers of blocks faster than I could keep track. The creative and destructive power of small children was awe-inspiring. Also the range of floor space they managed to spread their toys across. I sat on the ground nearby, doing my best to try to keep it contained to one general corner of the room. But alas, I was no match for their sheer exuberance. Blocks were everywhere.

  Since the band had been putting the finishing touches to some new songs, everyone was in attendance. Even Adam had been running around, acting as both errand boy and roadie. He tuned guitars and fetched things, all while avoiding my gaze whenever possible. Suited me fine. The less said about last night the better. At least Sam had been busy organizing security for a show next week for charity and hadn’t yet made an appearance.

  But of course, Mal wasn’t even remotely finished. “Poor Adam. Did you get any sleep at all, man? How thin are the walls out there in the pool house of love?”

  Adam just gave me a worried look. “I didn’t say anything.”

  Oh, God.

  “You didn’t say anything about what exactly?” asked Mal, twirling a drumstick in one hand. “Not holding out on us are you, dude?”

  The kid froze.

  “Can’t hold out on your fellow band members. That’s not cool.”

  His brows drew in. “I’m a solo act.”

  “Yeah,” said Mal. “But I’m playing on your album under my awesome new secret name, Sticks McGee. Ingenious, right?”

  “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.” Ben didn’t even bother to look up from where he was busily making notes on a pad of paper. “You’re playing uncredited like we decided. I don’t want any of the attention taken away from Adam. It’s his debut album.”

  “Fine, whatever. But he still has to tell us what he knows.” Given they were both around the same height, Mal couldn’t quite loom over the kid. But he certainly tried. Peer pressure at its finest. “Is Marty a screamer? Likes to make farm animal noises in bed? Or no, did she say mean things during sex and make Sam cry? C’mon, what went down? You can tell me.”

  My hands bunched into fists. “Mal…”

  “What? No,” stammered Adam. “She just…I mean, it’s not even a big deal and…it was just an accident.”

  “Not another word.” Normally, violence wasn’t my thing. But I might punch someone. “I mean it.”

  Ben just shook his head.

  David looked vaguely confused.

  Jimmy, meanwhile, was now wearing quite a broad smile. “What did you do?”

  “Nothing,” I lied with much vehemence. “Nothing happened!”

  “Adam, my boy.” Mal continued to twirl the stick in a vaguely threatening manner. “Don’t make me use the drumsticks of death on you. It’s not a nice way to go.”

  The children laughed and clapped at the idiot drummer’s display. Like he needed any encouragement. But Adam’s gaze kept darting between me and Mal, trying to decide whose wrath would be mightier and scarier. And since Mal stood closer, I lost.

  “She just got the room wrong, is all,” Adam blurted out, finally. “Thought mine was Sam’s and stumbled in a little drunk.”

  I hung my head and covered my face. So I missed seeing Sam stride into the room, assessing the situation in an instant. Or perhaps our voices had carried.

  Mal’s hyena cackle filled the big room. “Oh. My. God. You poor young innocent thing to have to face down Marty’s lusts all alone in the dark like that. Were you terrified? I know I would have been. Tell me more.”

  Sam sighed, crouching down behind me. What should have been a comfort was not on account of how he actually fucking told them. “Then she slapped him on the ass and declared it was booty call time. Fortunately I had, however, heard her enter the building and intervened.”

  “What’d you do, Sam? What’d you do?”

  “I threw the slightly intoxicated lady in question over my shoulder and told young Adam to go back to sleep since I’d be dealing with the situation,” said Sam, who I now officially hated. Unfortunately, ex-Navy SEAL. So when I tried to jab him with my elbow, he simply caught it and gave me a smile. “Sorry, love. But I’m afraid that story was always going to get out. Especially once Adam opened his mouth and Malcolm caught wind of it. Best that they hear about it now, have their laugh, and then get on with their lives.”

  “How could you?” I growled.

  “It’s going to be all right.”

  “They’re never going to let me live this down.”

  My brother shook his head, mumbling something about neither wanting nor needing to know about my sex life. I hadn’t wanted him, or any of the others, to know either. And I couldn’t even bring myself to see what expression David had on his face. But while Jimmy had the manners to at least turn his head away to chuckle, Mal was outright crying from laughing so hard. “We really aren’t. We’re going to give you shit about this forever and ever.”

  “No, you’re not,” said Sam simply. “Because if you do, I’ll accidentally hurt you sometime when you least expect it.”

  “Y-you’ll hurt me?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are we talking really bad like blood and stuff?” asked Mal. “Or just a little bad like a stubbed toe or something? Because that would probably be worth it.”

  “The first one.”

  At this, Mal’s joy up and disappeared. “Good God, that’s harsh. Also, I don’t see how you can do it accidentally.”

  “Never you mind. I’ll find a way.”

  “It’ll never work. We’re totally untouchable. We’re protected by this kick-ass bodyguard. You know the guy I mean. What’s his name again? Help me out here.”

  “You pay me to protect you from other people,” growled the bodyguard. “Not from myself. And I don’t like anyone upsetting my woman, is that understood?”

  My shoulders stiffened at his words.

  “Right then, so this is never to be mentioned again.” Sam set a hand on my shoulder, rubbing lightly. “We all make mistakes. Time to move on.”

  “Well, this isn’t cool. I don’t think I like you and Marty getting together after all,” said Mal, the edges of his lips turned sadly downwards. “I’m still telling Anne all about what happened last night and you can’t stop me because it’s hilarious. After that, I guess I’ll let it go. But only because I’m a wonderful caring human being and not because you threatened me with bodily harm.”

  “Thank you, Malcolm. Knew we could rely on your discretion.”

  There was multiple clearing of throats and eventually they got busy doing their own thing again. Sam, however, stayed crouched at my side. “You have marker on you.”

  “Gib decided he wanted to draw on me,” I said. “Give me tattoos like his father and friends.”

  Sam leaned in, inspecting the artwork. “An interesting idea. Though your face was pretty enough without whatever that’s meant to be.”

  “It’s a tractor, apparently. I c
an’t believe you told them.” Hands rubbed at my shoulders, trying to soothe. And failing miserably. “Anyone could have made that mistake. I wasn’t even very drunk. It was just really dark and I didn’t want to turn on the lights and wake anyone up. How was I to know it was the wrong ass I was slapping?”

  Sam nodded in sympathy. If there was some sign of amusement in his eyes, I chose to ignore it. This time, at least.

  “This thing between us was supposed to be secret,” I said. “Private.”

  “Have you ever known anything that happened around this bunch and managed to remain private?”

  I just scowled.

  Music started up and children played and my mind was a fucking mess. But Sam waited, as patient as ever. Whatever we were, this wasn’t the place to discuss it. Not that I particularly ever wanted to discuss the situation between us. After all, nothing wrong with being fuck buddies.

  “You’re not ashamed of me, are you?” he asked.

  “No,” I said, mildly outraged. “That’s not it at all. I just…and you called me your woman. What was that about?”

  “Oh, I was just using terms they’d understand to make sure they didn’t give you any crap.” He waved the words away like they were little more than a pesky bug. “No big deal.”

  Only it kind of was. Yet there’d been enough drama today without me going off. Me being the center of attention here was not what I wanted, contrary to popular opinion. My particular brand of bitch might be all about me getting my way. But it wasn’t all about me getting my way with every damn person watching. A fine yet important distinction in my life.

  At least Gibby and the twins had been too busy playing to pay attention and learn any new and fascinatingly inappropriate words. One small relief.

  “Don’t frown, love. Everything’s fine.”

  With a sigh, I chilled, easing up on whatever pissy expression I’d been wearing. I couldn’t even particularly be bothered getting angry with him about the endearment, though I did manage a mumbled “Stop calling me that.”

  “Sorry.”

  I took a deep breath. “And I’m not ashamed of you. I would never be ashamed of you. That’s a ridiculous idea.”

  “Holy hell,” said Mal, breaking off from the song with a clatter of percussion, and pointing at us with a drum stick. “Did you guys see that? It’s like he’s the Martha Whisperer. Could have sworn she was going to go off and he just totally talked her down. Not even you used to be able to do that, Davie.”

  “Malcolm,” said Sam sternly.

  “Sorry, sorry. I’m totally minding my own business.”

  “That’ll be the day,” said Ben. “Can we get back to work now?”

  Sam planted a kiss on top of my head. In front of everyone. I could feel curious eyes on us. But they could all be ignored. Talk about a situation getting out of hand. And it hadn’t even been twenty-four hours since we’d had our pseudo relationship whatever discussion. Things were happening too fast. All I’d wanted was to crawl all over him and use him as my very own personal sex toy. God, talk about complicated. Maybe we should slow things down.

  “We’re fine, right?” I asked. “I mean, we’re still friends?”

  “Of course we are. You even know which bedroom’s mine now when you’re feeling in the mood.” His thumb brushed over Gib’s artwork. Then he gave my fading black eye a quick grimace. “I’ve got to get back to work. Will I see you later?”

  Ziggy came in then and called him away on some business. Just as well. I didn’t have an answer.

  CHAPTER SIX

  The first problem with Sam was that every time I got even close to pondering the possibility of there perhaps being an “us,” he did something to freak me out. The second was how he refused to play by the rules. My rules.

  “We agreed I’d be in charge. But I don’t feel like I’m in charge,” I panted, hitting the boxing bag thingy with my carefully wrapped hands. Liz and Ben had taken Gib out to see the latest kid’s movie. Even Adam had taken himself out for the night. We had the house to ourselves and Sam had decided we should spend our time in the gym. “If I chip a nail, I will not be happy.”

  Standing behind the bag, Sam held it steady. “Your nails will be fine. Wouldn’t make much sense you being in charge during your self-defense classes though, would it?”

  “’spose not.”

  “Don’t pout. You can be in charge after.”

  “I’m not pouting.” I half-heartedly flung my fists in a one-two type motion at the bag. “Will this be the same as when I was supposedly in charge, yet you dragged me out of my room to come do this?”

  “I didn’t drag you out of your room. After all, it’s not like you were in there hiding from me, is it?”

  “No,” I lied. “My arms are tired. My shoulders hurt too.”

  “You’ve done very well.” He smiled, turning me around so he could massage my back. Something he was exceptionally good at. “What are the three attack points again?”

  “Eyes, throat, and groin.”

  “And what do you do with the handbag?”

  “Let the mugger take it without a fight.”

  “Good girl.”

  With my back to him, he couldn’t see my scowl. “It wasn’t that I valued the handbag more than my life, you know. It’s just that it was mine. You have to fight to protect what’s yours in this world, or people will walk all over you.”

  “Fair point.” Followed with silence.

  “But?”

  More silence. Then, “You ever read anything by Miyamoto Musashi?”

  “Should I have?”

  “Seventeenth century warrior poet. Samurai.”

  “Oh, that Miyamoto Musashi. Sure, of course. I have his collected works upstairs in my suitcase.”

  He ignored my sarcasm, and continued on with the massage. And, apparently, the history lesson. “There’s some debate about whether Musashi was the greatest swordsman of all time. But what nobody questions was his judgment. He studied his rivals for years, only challenging them when he was good and ready, and never letting his ambition cloud his choice. Because one wrong decision of opponent or timing and he would die.”

  “There’s a lesson here, I just know it.”

  “If one of the greatest warriors of all time needed to learn to pick his fights, then maybe you can too.”

  I sighed. “Okay. Message received.” His thumbs dug into something particularly needy in my neck and I groaned in bliss. “Why couldn’t you have done this last night in the pool house?”

  “Because you were drunk and needed to sleep it off.”

  “That’s what irritates me the most about Adam opening his big mouth and telling them. It’s not even like anything happened afterwards,” I said. “There’s a reason why they call it a booty call instead of a spooning call, Sam.”

  He chuckled, talented fingers moving down one of my arms, working the sore muscles. Of course, this necessitated him fitting his front to my back. Goosebumps raced up and down my spine at his nearness. If only his body against mine didn’t feel so good. Made holding out against him nearly impossible.

  “Where’s all this tension coming from?” he asked, rubbing at my wrist before moving onto the palm of my hand, undoing the tape as he went. “Have a rough day, my love?”

  “You’re going to insist on calling me that no matter how many times I ask you not to, aren’t you?”

  “Sorry. It just slips out. Does it really bother you?”

  I shrugged, unwilling or unable to answer. I didn’t know. His slick mouth teased my neck while he massaged my fingers before moving on to the other arm. Teeth nibbled at the sensitive lobes of my ear. It made me all tingly. “I’m sweaty.”

  “I like you sweaty,” he said, voice lower than usual. The man was definitely turned on, as the hardening cock against my butt signalled. Made it impossible not to press back against him. His arm muscles flexed, holding me tighter while keeping up with the massage. No doubts regarding Sam’s ability to multi-task. “Sor
ry for holding out on you last night.”

  “You and your annoying morals. Though it probably was the right thing to do given how drunk I was.” I sighed, reaching back to stroke my fingers over the stubble on the back of his shaved head. The thick muscles of his neck. Every chance I did some grabbing and kneading of my own. Honestly, my own body’s reaction to him was crazy. Already, my core ached with need as if I hadn’t had sex in ages.

  “Still,” I said. “Maybe I should hold out on you just the same.”

  “You don’t really want to do that, love.” His voice sounded far too confident. “We have far too much fun together when we play nicely.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Definitely. I like your sports bra.”

  “It’s nothing special.”

  “Maybe not,” he said. “But the woman in it is.”

  “Smooth line, Sam. I’m impressed. Is there a lock on that door?”

  “Brilliant minds think alike. I locked it when we came in.” He kissed a line down the side of my neck, his hand slipping beneath the waistband of my shorts. While his fingers might have been thick, they certainly were dexterous. First he cupped my mound, petting those lips lightly. “You have such a sweet cunt, love. How lucky am I to be the man who gets to play with it?”

  I smiled. “Sweet? How would you know? You’ve never even tasted it.”

  “Now that’s a very good point.”

  Strong arms lifted me, laying me on a bench press or whatever you call those things. My shorts and underwear were whisked down my legs. Only sneakers are kind of a pain in the ass to get clothes over. So they needed to go too. With an impatient growly noise, Sam dealt with them and the socks, and then the clothes. All of it was thrown haphazardly over his shoulder. I’d never seen a man in such a hurry to get at me. In the end, all I still wore was the bra. He knelt at the end of the bench, parted my legs with his hands, and stopped.

  Just fucking stopped.

  “What are you doing?” I asked, craning my neck to see.

  “I don’t want to rush this.”