the wood floor with a thump. “Oh, shit. I didn’t know, man. Shit. Shit. Shit. When Tony asked, I told him you two were just friends. What’d she say? Littlebit joining the family?”
“She said no.” Stabbing the enchilada, Bastian shrugged. “But I don’t listen well.”
A laugh rumbled beside him. “Hell, I know that. Charlie’s holding her own, but if you want, I’ll go tell Tony to back off.”
He didn’t have to. Charlie sauntered up the stone steps toward him, escaping both roaming hands and baking heat. Two other women joined her and soon the shaded table was surrounded. Hiding behind the excuse to make room at the table for four, Bastian pulled her toward his lap. He deliberately let his palm slide across her stomach under her halter hem. Possession gripped him with sharp claws and he glared at Tony.
The swarthy man stopped on the steps, noticed the hold and sighed. “Didn’t know.”
“Now you do.” Bastian glowered until a chastised Tony joined a few people leaving the yard, hands raised in farewell. At last, it was just the five left on the veranda.
“Oh, jealousy. I kind of like that.” Low and purring, Charlie snuggled into his lap. “Next you’ll want your name tattooed on my ass.”
“No more tattoos,” Bastian grumped.
The hand from her stomach slid to the small of her back, touching more than supporting her. He glided his free palm along her thigh, cradling her closer. He had a sudden flash of comprehension into Caz’s addiction. Touching Charlie was addictive.
“You get new ink?” Caz asked, yanking the elastic out of his hair.
Before he could reloop it, the pale redhead was behind him, running her fingers through the shaggy locks, doing it for him. She was taking an exorbitant amount of time, her fingers trailing down his neck and around his ears. Under the table, the busty blonde woman kept bumping Bastian’s feet as she used her toes to stroke Caz’s leg.
Dear Lord, he’s got girl groupies.
“Just one. Plus, I had color added to my cherries.” Charlie jerked up her flowy skirt and extended her leg to show off the now bright-ruby-red cherry cluster on her ankle. The tiny design accented her delicate bone structure. Bastian cupped her thigh to prevent her falling off his lap. The feminine satisfied smirk showed him he’d fallen right into her trap. She’s good.
“Oh, I like that design,” cooed Girl Groupie Number Two.
A comparison of body art flowed while Bastian ran his thumb slowly back and forth high over her inner thigh. Two can play this game . Sapphire eyes caught his in a challenge seconds before her behind shimmied deeper into his groin. Bastian stiffened. Or I could be out of my league.
“What’s your new tat, Littlebit?”
“Betty Boop. Bastian thinks I look like her with this haircut. Want to see it?”
Bastian tightened his grip on her leg. “No, he doesn’t want to see it.”
The steel in his voice made his brother laugh. “I take it you got it someplace covered?”
“My butt.”
Caz laughed. Bastian found nothing amusing in his brother’s fascination with body art.
“I haven’t got up the nerve to drop my pants for a needle yet. Does that make me a pussy? I should be able to handle a little ass-ink.”
“Anyone with full sleeves can handle it, no problem,” Charlie encouraged. “The pose is a bit embarrassing, though.”
“Stop giving him ideas,” Bastian interjected. “He’s got more color now than Crayola.”
Charlie rolled her eyes. “Butt out, Bastian. Just because you went single color doesn’t mean the rest of us have to.”
Caz jerked forward, ripping his head from the groupie’s fingers and jabbing a finger at Bastian. “You got a tattoo? You gave me a three-hour lecture on Hepatitis C, HIV, malignant skin tumors and dirty needles, and then you got a tattoo? No fucking way, you hypocrite.”
The angry words brought an unwelcome chill to the sunny afternoon. Charlie stiffened in his arms.
“Bastian
Elizabeth Moon
Georgina Guthrie
Sahara Kelly
Paula Harrison
Delilah Fawkes
Ari Bach
Ken McClure
Rhys Bowen
Karice Bolton
Lord Tom