Tank (Blue-Collar Billionaires #1) (7 page)

I hold up a hand before he goes into a detailed account of the type of food he has here. All I really want is to crash but I’m not exactly sure how this is going to work. His couch looks really comfortable but he’s sitting there now and doesn’t look like he’s planning on moving anytime soon.

“Truthfully, I’m exhausted. If I wait any longer, I’ll fall asleep on my feet.”

“Right. Follow me.” He stands in one fluid movement and grabs my hand. I’m so stunned that I don’t even yank it back. His palm engulfs mine and when I look down to where our fingers entwine, the size of his hand makes mine look like a child’s.
 

“Let me just strip the sheets for you.” He drops my hand as we enter a bedroom and I rub my palm absently, already missing the contact. Tank doesn’t look like the kind of guy who does housework but he strips the bed of all the linen with the efficiency of someone who’s done it a thousand times in his sleep. He disappears and I’m left standing next to the bed with nothing to do. Shouldn’t I be helping?
 

I look at the book on the night table next to the bed. There’s a picture of a soldier on the front. The comforter at my feet is a dark hunter green. The closet is open slightly, revealing several sets of fatigues and black combat boots. He hasn’t come back yet so I wander over to the dresser and pull open the first drawer. It’s filled with boxer briefs. I slam the drawer shut.

“Find what you were looking for?”

I turn around slowly. “This is your room!”

He laughs softly then bends to spread the clean sheets in his arms over the mattress. “What gave me away? My superior design skills or was it that warm, cozy feeling from the military fashions on display?”

“I didn’t mean to kick you out of your own bed.”

“Unless you’re willing to share it then I’ll be on the couch.”

“I could take the couch. I’m smaller and I don’t need as much room. That makes way more sense.”

“Yeah, no.”
 

I want to argue but then he picks up my hand and puts a folded towel and washcloth into my arms. My stomach tightens as our fingers brush. The warmth of his hands linger even after he lets go.

“There’s no way I’m putting you on the couch. I’ve slept worse places, believe me. I’ll be fine. Let me know if you need anything else.” He backs away slowly, holding my gaze the entire time.
 

My blood heats at the intense look in his eyes. His shoulders are so broad they take up the entire doorway. All of a sudden, I remember him fighting off those guys. There was no hesitation on his part. He just jumped in front of me and took control of the situation. No one has ever done anything like that for me before.
 

Just before he hits the hallway, he says, “I’m glad you’re here Emma.”

I should be saying that to him. The weirdest thing is, I have the sense that he really is glad I’m there. We don’t know each other that well and probably have nothing in common.
 
He took out both of Paul’s thugs tonight and a bunch of those drunk guys, too without breaking a sweat. I can’t pretend his brutality doesn’t scare me but he took those hits
for me
.
 

So in this moment, I’ve never felt safer in my life.
 

When I wake it’s still dark and my heart picks up rhythm as I take in the unfamiliar environment. Then memory returns and I know where I am.
 

I’m with Tank.

Strangely enough, I’m completely comfortable. I smile at the thought. I never thought I’d be so comfortable in a random guy’s bed. I turn over and collide with a warm, incredibly wide chest. A naked chest.
 

“Whoa, it’s all right.” Tank’s deep voice grumbles through the darkness.
 

I should be pushing him away, climbing out of the bed. Instead I’m shocked into stillness. His hand travels up the bare skin of my arm and stops at the base of my neck. Goosebumps follow the path of his fingers. The man can turn me to mush with just one touch.
 

“What are you doing in here?” My voice comes out as a high-pitched squeak. He’s so close that I can feel the soft puff of his breath against my hair. Part of me wishes it wasn’t so dark so I could see for myself if he’s just as built as he looks under all that leather.

“Don’t get your panties in a twist. I have shorts on. You were having a nightmare.”

“I was?”
 
I wrap my arms around myself and curl up into a ball. I haven’t had nightmares since my parents died. I used to dream of my mother and what she was wearing that day. All dressed up for a night on the town with my dad. You’d think the fact that she was so happy would be a comforting image. Instead, it tormented me for months that she could be so happy and have it all taken away in a matter of moments.

“Yeah. I wasn’t trying anything, I swear. I just wanted to make sure you were okay. You seemed to sleep better with me here, so I stayed.”
 

In my sleep-muddled state, I answer with more candor than I otherwise would have. “What girl wouldn’t sleep better next to you?”
 

His chest rumbles beneath my palm. “Miss Shaw, are you flirting with me?”

Before I can think of an answer, there’s a soft snore. He’s asleep again. The soft rumbling sound lulls me to sleep and I don’t wake again until the next morning.
 

When I open my eyes, Tank is watching me. It’s an odd thing to look at someone this close up. His dark hair is spiked up all over his head and his eyes are still heavy with sleep. He doesn’t try to pretend like he’s not looking either. His eyes take in the full image of my face and what I’m sure must be messy hair then down to where my breasts mold against the thin fabric of the T-shirt I borrowed.
 

Most of the girls who wait tables at the Black Kitty are used to those types of looks from men. Guys aren’t that picky, especially when beer goggles are involved. They all do the same thing: they squint as they picture what’s under your clothes and then there’s that slightly glazed over look as they imagine what they’d do to you. It’s usually the grossest feeling ever.

But with Tank, it’s different. My body reacts immediately, my nipples blooming and pressing against the fabric. His gaze is like a touch; it awakens every one of my nerve endings. Heat blooms out from my core and spreads throughout me. Within moments I’m completely wet and ready for him.
 

“Were you watching me sleep?” I whisper.
 

When his eyes raise to mine, I see the answering desire there. There’s a tension in his big body that tells me he can deliver on every inch of the promise his eyes are making.
 

“Good morning, buttercup.” He kisses me softly, one hand sliding into my hair to cup my head. I’m so shocked that I don’t do anything at first. Then he kisses me again and my hands drift up to his hair. I curl my fingers through the thick strands. He makes a soft sound in the back of his throat.

He likes that.

I pull him down on top of me and then my hands are in his hair again.
 
He’s so warm and everything about this feels so right. Waking up, sleepy and soft with this gorgeous hunk of man in my bed.
 

He shifts, allowing the full weight of his big body to press me into the mattress. It’s all chemical, the insanely seductive way he smells, the erotic taste of his tongue in my mouth and the ache between my legs as he presses right up against my core. I’m burning up and surely he can feel it. My arms wrap around his shoulders and trace over the muscles that flex under my touch.
 

“I shouldn’t be doing this,” he mumbles. “But I’m no angel and you are so beautiful.”

He inches down, his lips leaving soft kisses on my neck, my breastbone, then my stomach where
 
the shirt I borrowed has ridden up. I squirm beneath the soft touches, especially as they get lower. His tongue dips into my belly button and then bites the swell below gently. I shudder under the assault, my hips pressing up with a will of their own.

He looks up at me, his eyes so dark and intense they look black. Then his head dips and his mouth settles over my sex.
 

“Tank!” I cry out again as he nips me through the fabric of my panties. He grabs the sides and pulls them down. The slide of the fabric against my skin is so erotic, especially when he sits back slightly and then looks at what’s between my legs like he’s never seen anything he wants as much. His eyes fall closed and he takes a deep inhale.

“I want your taste.”

“Yes, please.” I can’t even think let alone understand anything he’s saying. All I can see is that intense look in his eyes as he leans down and his tongue curls around my clit.

He settles himself between my knees, his big body pushing my legs out to make room for him. It’s the most shameless feeling, being in his bed with my legs spread while he tongues me. But I’m not sure how much shame I have left, whatever I started with slowly dissolving as he pushes his tongue into my pussy. I can’t do anything except splinter into a million pieces as he explores the lips of my sex and his hands cup my ass, pulling me forward for each thrust of his tongue.
 

I’m still shivering when he kisses my belly and then my neck. As he settles on top of me again, I soften beneath him, ready for him to strip my shirt off and finally have me completely naked. He kisses me and I can taste myself on his tongue. It just makes me hotter, sends my desire skyrocketing. I’m ready for him to make me come while he takes me. There’s nothing I want more than to watch those incredible eyes as he finds his own pleasure.

I’m mindless and I want him to do something, anything that will put me out of this misery. But even as I arch under him, pressing upward, rubbing myself against him, he’s slowing things down. The frantic coupling of our tongues changes to soft, suctioning kisses. His hands slide under my bottom but not to pull me closer, to hold me still.

“Tank, please.” It should embarrass me that I’m essentially begging. But I’ve never felt this before, this all-consuming heat. This blinding desire to have him inside me. I’ve wanted men before but I’ve never felt this out of control. This needy.

“So sweet,” he mutters. “So damn sweet.”

He rolls to the side and pushes his face into the pillow next to me. I can hear his gasping breaths and I can definitely feel the iron-hard rod pressing against my thigh. What I don’t understand is why he’s stopped? Then as my heart rate slows down some, my reason returns. I put a hand over my mouth.
 

I just dry humped him like I was in heat.
 

“I’ll get out of here so you can get ready.” He pulls back and rolls over, presenting me with his back. I watch as he stands and then pulls on his jeans. Then he’s gone.
 

This is the most awkward thing I’ve ever experienced. How do you handle a morning after that isn’t really a morning after? Tank has now seen me with mascara trailing down my cheeks and hair that’s snarled into a bird’s nest of knots and we haven’t even gone on a date.
 

After texting Ivy, I grab the towel and washcloth that Tank gave me last night and barricade myself in the bathroom. My hair is a wild tangle and I have little smudges of mascara beneath my eyes. I’m suddenly really grateful to Sasha for offering me her makeup remover last night. Clearly I didn’t get it all but I hate to think of how bad I’d look this morning if I had gone to sleep in full war paint. I splash my face with water and then run my damp hands through my hair, trying to finger comb the tangles.
 

I don’t have time for a long shower so I jump in and scrub at lightning speed. Then I dry off and towel dry my hair. There’s a new toothbrush below the sink which I make use of and then do my best to slap some color into my cheeks. The makeup I wore yesterday was a lot heavier than the kind I have in my purse so I’ll have to make do.

There’s a soft knock at the door. “Emma? Let me know when you want me to take you home.”

“Uh, just a second.” God, this is embarrassing. I don’t regret what happened this morning but it’s definitely awkward since we’re not dating. Or even friends. Now I’m supposed to talk to him like nothing happened?
 

After one last glance in the mirror, I open the door. Tank has dressed in jeans and a long sleeved black shirt. He looks edible. And so does the bagel he’s holding out to me. I snatch it and take a huge bite. He chuckles.

“Yeah, I thought you might be hungry.”

I’m slightly appalled at the way I attacked him for his food but I’m too hungry to care. “Starving. I didn’t eat breakfast yesterday and my lunch was just a salad.”

“What happened to dinner? This is why you need to go out with me. Clearly you don’t understand the importance of the last meal.”
 

I can’t help but laugh. His determination is impressive. Plus, he has a point. But I can’t think about that now.
 

“Anyway, I don’t need a ride. My sister is coming to pick me up.”

He’s watching me carefully and it’s obvious this is just as awkward for him as it is for me. It’s strangely comforting that he doesn’t know what to say. It would be worse if he was completely blasé about waking up with a random chick in his bed.

My phone beeps. “That’s probably her now.” I check my message and see that Ivy is waiting in front of the building. Part of me rails that the first time Ivy is on time for something is the one time I wish she was at least a little late.
 

“I’ve got to go. My sister is out front.” I gather the few things from his room, my clothes from yesterday and fold them into my messenger bag.
 

Tank grabs his keys off the table near the front door. We ride down the elevator together in silence. Ivy is parked right in front of the building, illegally blocking in several cars. When she sees Tank, she rolls down the window and stares at him shamelessly. Her eyes widen when she gets a good look at him. The broad shoulders, the muscles. The sexily rumpled hair.