Wicked Knight (4 page)
She had read many romance books about how one felt when one was in a situation like this, now she knew.
Erotic
.
Still, her body yearned for more—of his touch and the pressure of his body against hers. She wanted to know more. And there was only one way to find out.
Julie raised her height a bit by tipping her toes. Her pubic bone pressed against his cock. The simple movement caused little shooting sparks of thrill to creep slowly from her breasts down to where she ached to be touched, between her thighs. She should be embarrassed for her boldness, but wasn't. Instead, she felt reckless and loved it.
Tristan tightened his grip on her waist, pulling her against him. His thigh, unintentional or not, wedged between Julie's legs.
She nearly mewled from the sweetness of it. Her pussy throbbed and her clit tingled when he lifted his thigh a bit to rub it against her. Julie trembled when the smile in Tristan's eyes showed banked sensuous flames.
His finger traced little circles on her exposed skin where her Levi's and green sleeveless blouse barely met. She should stop, but the pleasure of having her body glued to his was a temptation she couldn't resist. Desire coursed through her whole body. The combination of the faint scent of beer on his breath, manly scent, and his touch made her senses spin.
As if her fingers had a mind of their own, they crept slowly up his nape to brush the hair flattened by his sweat. Julie watched his hungry eyes turn deep blue. His breathing, she noticed, turned shallow and faster.
Tristan's splayed fingers slowly moved up and down on her skin.
“Tristan.”
“Julie.”
His head inched down a little closer while his thumb went up to caress the sides of her breast.
“Oh, God.” She shivered from pure delight.
“Julie, you have no idea—”
“Just kiss her, man.”
Julie squeaked in surprise. As if a bolt of thunder had struck them, they both took a step back. She looked at Gawain chewing on a chicken breast. How could she forget they weren't alone in the kitchen? What if she had started thrusting her hips on Tristan's thigh? Or worse, Tristan cupped her breasts? Oh God! What would Gawain think of her now?
“I've been nibbling this chicken for five minutes and you haven't kissed her. Damn, you're slow, bro. See? I told you. If you get into a profession that requires wearing gloves, you become meticulous and move like a sloth. Strike at the opportunity, man—such as kissing a girl.”
“You're an ass, Gawain,” snarled Tristan.
“Me? What did I do? The chicken and I were just minding our own business when you two started making out.”
“We didn't,” Julie and Tristan said at the same time.
“Oh, yeah. Right. You didn't. You were just ogling each other. For a moment there, I thought I was looking at the cover of a
Hallmark
Valentine card. So sweet.”
“Oh, God. Uhm, excuse me. I need, want...fresh air.” Julie went past Tristan. Gawain's laughter followed her.
Stupid. Stupid. You really are an embarrassment to your family, Julie Parrish. What a dummy.
Chapter Two
* * * *
Out in the backyard, Katherine gave her the job of preparing Caesars and pea salad, while Kirsten got the easy job of dumping chips in bowls. She thought it unfair she had to cut and mix vegetables while her friend just hugged the bags of chips. She understood though. If she was addicted to green apples, the brothers were crazy about chips. She'd seen the men fight for a bag of Fritos like starving warriors gone from years of battle.
As soon as Kirsten popped the
Doritos
bag, the men started reaching in the bag, grabbing handfuls of chips. Kirsten—she bet from years of practice—could block her brothers’ long arms using her body. At one point, she even kicked her legs to keep her brothers from getting closer.
“Come on, you guys! We have to wait for the hotdogs.” Kirsten tried to sound upset, but ended up laughing.
“Just a handful of
Fritos,
Kirstie. And I'll leave you alone.”
“No, Bors. Mom!”
“Boys, help your father move the tables,” Katherine ordered.
The huge brothers stopped reaching for the chips at once. It never ceased to amaze Julie how the men, without delay, obeyed their mother as if she was a goddess they must follow. Katherine didn't have to raise her voice. The men, and even Kirsten, respected and heeded her calls as if they were God's own commands.
Julie was never an obedient child.
The men—except for Tristan and Gawain, who were still inside the house—put two picnic tables together to accommodate the big family. She stood beside Kirsten, holding two salad bowls. She watched the whole process of moving the tables, but her mind wandered back in the house. Tristan would most likely grill her again about the caller when he came out. Or maybe he'd let the topic go. Julie tapped her finger on the rim of the bowl. The little encounter in the kitchen had left her insides trembling spasmodically. And Gawain—she bet he'd never leave her alone after what he witnessed. Lordy, he'd most likely tell the others about the way she plastered her body against Tristan's. If he did, her secret infatuation with Tristan would be out in the open.
Chips of all kinds, hotdogs, fried chicken wings, sausages, buns, a variety of salads, drinks, and condiments covered the long picnic table. One would think a big party was about to take place. However, since she'd known the family for over six months, she knew better. The men could eat!
She had already found a cozy spot, sandwiched between Percival and Bors when Tristan emerged from the kitchen.
“Hey, Doc!” called Bors. “Cook the Polish sausage. Julie won't eat the ‘ole traditional wieners. She wants a big one.” Bors’ double entendre earned him loud responses from his family.
Everyone was busy eating and laughing, no one noticed, at least Julie thought no one did, that she only ate her salad and pushed the tiny tomatoes around with her fork. She hated tomatoes, but she forced a couple of the red pulpy vegetables down her throat. What she wanted was the juicy Polish sausages Tristan was barbecuing.
Hearing the sizzling sound the sausages made, Julie's stomach rumbled loud enough for Percival and Bors to hear. They laughed again. This time Percival yelled at Tristan.
“Hurry up there, Doc. Julie's stomach is rumbling so loud I can't even hear myself talk.”
“Give her more salad,” Tristan yelled back, casting a glance at Julie.
Crud, can they tell I have the hots for Tristan? Is that why they tease me so much?
No. Of course not. Paranoia could make one think stupid things. Yup, she was paranoid. That was all.
Down to her last tomato, thank God, Gawain appeared at the kitchen doorway. When he smiled at Julie, her heart dropped to her stomach. She didn't trust that smile at all. The hunk was up to no good.
“Someone called for you, Doc.” Gawain grinned at everyone.
“Are you going to tell him who called, son, or does he have to guess?” Arthur asked, while serving his wife potato salad.
Julie couldn't imagine how the mild mannered man was able to produce four such rowdy boys. As much a gentleman as his legendary namesake, he treated his wife as fragilely as a porcelain doll. Julie's father, Paul, had ignored her mother and flaunted his young girlfriends around, even when Laura was still alive. He'd been on his third wife, Marla, since her mother died. The man was a total ass.
“Who called, Gawain?” Tristan shot his brother a don't-piss-me-off-or-I'll-pound-you-to-the-ground look, then turned his attention back to the red-hot sausages. Grease-scented smoke billowed around him.
“In a bad mood, are we? Is it because I interrupted—”
“Darn it, Gawain!” shouted Tristan, before he cast Julie a look. His mouth set in a thin line, obviously annoyed with his brother.
Julie's stomach knotted. She covered her mouth with a fist and pretended to clear her throat.
“No need to shout, man. I think you need to get laid, bro. You're easily irritated, like an old—”
“Shut your mouth, Gawain. Or should I shut it for you?”
“Son, don't irritate your brother. Just tell him who called. Come sit down and eat with us,” Katherine patted a space beside her.
“It was Pamela.”
Julie choked on a Dorito she was munching, but Bors saved her when he whacked her back. The chip, thankfully, didn't fly out of her mouth. She murmured a
thank you
and looked at Kirsten, who wriggled her brows, smiling from ear to ear.
Pamela? She called back?
Gawain glanced at Julie. A flash of humor twinkled in his eyes and then he winked. “I told her I'd get you, but she said no. She sounded surprised to hear you're around. My ear still hurts from her screaming. She's mighty mad, bro.”
Bors leaned in to whisper in Julie's ear. “Remember what I told you? If a woman called using the landline, that means she's not hot enough to make it on Tristan's cell phone list of fave fives. I'm not, although I'm hot.”
Julie giggled, stealing a look at Tristan. She was nervous and at the same time, anxious to see how he would react to her latest prank. Pretending to be his wife on the phone was a riot and she enjoyed it a lot. She enjoyed irritating him, period. And she'd bet her green apples the feeling was mutual.
“What's the message, Gawain?” asked Kirsten, obvious eagerness in her tone.
“Pamela said...” Gawain continued, “
tell your brother he's an asshole
—excuse the language, Mom. I don't owe the curse jar money because I am just relaying the message here.”
“I know, Gawain. Is that all?”
“No. Pamela also said Tristan deserves to be jailed—”
“What?” Tristan and his parents echoed the question.
“Yeah, she said you deserved to go to jail.”
“For what?” Tristan gripped the tongs so hard Julie could see his knuckles turning white.
“For beating your
pregnant wife
.” Gawain punctuated the last two words and ignored the questions erupting around the table.
“My pregnant wife?”
“Yeah. Your pregnant wife told her on the phone...” He smiled at Julie. “That you beat her up.”
“And this wife of mine, did she say
why
I beat her up?” The tone of Tristan's voice sounded like rumbling thunder ready to explode.
“Yes. Because she refused to have sex with you.”
“Really.”
Julie's uneasiness increased under the laughing eyes of the Knights. Suddenly, she felt so hungry for tomatoes.
“I can't imagine why I would say no to sex with my wife. She's mighty attractive. A goddess on earth.”
“Well, she told Pamela you are suffering from...”
“From what?”
Julie looked at Tristan and guessed his face wasn't red from the smoke.
Oh, dear.
“Gonorrhea.”
Bouts of laughter exploded from the table. Soda pop burst from Kirsten's mouth. Gawain bent over, smacking his thigh with his hand. Percival and Bors both shoved Julie that she felt like a smashed pancake in the middle. For the second time, Bors smacked her back none too gently. Her salad fork nearly went all the way down her throat.
“Good one, Julie.”
“Congratulations, Julie, you scored,” said Percival, his shoulders shaking from laughing.
All stares directed at Julie. They knew she did it. “Guilty,” she mumbled, then shrugged. She looked at Tristan and saw his annoyed look break into a wicked smile. Julie bristled. Lord, she could almost read his mind. He was thinking about retaliation.
“Gonorrhea! Hey, Doc. No wonder you look flushed and are sporting an unsightly bulge down there. Nuts swollen?” Bors continued to laugh.
Tristan replied with a fisted hand behind his back, the middle finger up in the air.
Julie shook her head. Doctor Knight had a bad side to him.
It took a while before the hysteria about her prank died down. Julie was having a great time exchanging jokes with Bors when she saw, through her peripheral view, Tristan coming toward her.
She looked up in time to see Tristan's heart-stopping, jaw-dropping, sexy strut. He was staring at her with a tight grin, holding a plate.
Her heart felt like a pair of wings flapping in her chest. The look he gave her would make any woman want to take her top off and rub herself all over him.
Suddenly the air grew thick. She couldn't breathe.
Bors stood up and left his spot. She didn't want him to leave. If she remained in between brothers, she'd be safe from Tristan and his retaliation. She tried to stop him, but by bad luck, her tongue seemed to double its size. She couldn't say anything.
With Tristan's eyes fixed on hers, he sat in the vacated spot, then leaned forward until their noses touched. Julie stopped breathing altogether.
Oh God, oh God! I've wondered about him kissing me. Would he do it in front of his family? Is it going to happen now? Is he going to kiss me in front of them?
“Here are your Polish sausages,
my pregnant wife
.” He placed the plate in front of her.
Julie looked down. Two of the blackest, charred Polish sausages she had ever seen sizzled on the plate. She groaned.
There goes my favorite food.
Such a waste.
“What's up with the groan? Having some symptoms, love? Gonorrhea's contagious,” he whispered before standing up again to give Bors his spot back, but not before he squeezed her side.
Julie shivered. She definitely had symptoms. Parts of her were hot and swollen, but not from a social disease. As she stared into those unforgiving blue eyes, she wondered if lust was considered contagious.
Chapter Three
* * * *
Wearing oven mitts, Julie opened the oven and pulled out the baking pan. The brownies looked perfect and smelled delicious, too. She made three batches to make sure everybody got their share. Now, they'd just have to wait for them to cool off.
“Your helpers deserted you.”
Julie didn't have to look. She knew who just walked in. “Nah. We're done here.”
