Beautiful Ruin (Nolan Brothers #1) Page 5

  By high school, Phoebe had become the biggest bully of them all, and Mina one of her favorite targets.

  Punishing memories bubbled up of an incident junior year. With their school lockers assigned alphabetically, only one locker separated Phoebe Taylor from Mina Winslow, that belonging to the cute and popular Josh Vanderwall.

  Josh and his entourage often hung out at his locker between classes while Mina tried to blend into the scenery. On this particular day, as Mina gathered the books she needed for her next class, Phoebe basked in the spotlight of the boys’ undivided attention.

  Phoebe’s voice carried over the clamor of noise in the crowded hallway. “Who would you say is the prettiest girl in school?”

  The boys all agreed Phoebe was. Of course.

  Mina rolled her eyes.

  “Who would you have sex with?” Phoebe pressed.

  This elicited a few snickers and excited murmurs before Phoebe received the honor. Mina might have told the boys Phoebe was also the one most likely to sleep with each of them in turn, but Phoebe’s next question stunned her to silence.

  “What about Mina Winslow? Would any of you sleep with her?”

  “Who?” Mark Sadler had asked.

  “The redhead with the big tits,” Josh said.

  The crude description whipped color into Mina’s cheeks while a dark smile curled Mark’s lips.

  “Sex with a chub has its advantages,” he’d mused. “They’re so desperate for affection they try harder.”

  Male laughter erupted. Sick and humiliated, Mina fled while Phoebe’s cruel laugh hounded her down the hallway.

  Oh, and only four months ago, Phoebe had slept with Mina’s then-fiancé.

  Needless to say, Mina realized she wasn’t getting the loan, even before Phoebe perched on her mahogany desk and said, “I’ll keep this brief. We won’t be able to approve your application at this time.”

  Mina’s grip tightened on her purse strap. “Was that Mr. Renshaw’s decision or yours?”

  “That’d be the decision of any sane person.” Phoebe’s light blue eyes raked over Mina. “You have no income, pitiful savings, and your only real asset is thirty percent ownership in an old house. Do you honestly believe any bank would give you this loan?”

  “The beachfront property alone is valued at almost five hundred thousand dollars.”

  Phoebe sighed. “It’s a rundown old house you’d be lucky to sell for half that.”

  “Hence the need for the loan,” Mina ground out. “With a few repairs—”

  Phoebe held up a manicured hand. “The answer is no.”

  Waves of anger poured through Mina, washing away any clever words or parting shots. Her fingernails dug into the soft flesh of her palms as she rose.

  At the door, Phoebe’s sarcastic drawl stopped her. “You might reconsider your spending habits. All those designer labels can’t be cheap, even if they are last year’s collection.”

  Noah found the carriage house tucked away in a copse of oak trees. Oblivious to the sun warming his back and the birds chirping away in the shrubberies, he stalked across Mina’s side lawn, a mix of unease and expectation whirring through his body.

  In the three days since he’d last seen her, she hadn’t been far from his mind, and that pissed him off. He didn’t want to spend his time thinking about Mina Winslow. Deliberating all the ways he wanted to explore the curves of her body, or how in the hell he might prolong his own arousal so as not to peak before concluding his leisurely voyage. Before he sniffed out and exploited every one of her desires.

  Nor did he wish to ponder the cause of her strange behavior on the hill. He didn’t care if she’d forgotten or regretted or was embarrassed by the way she’d treated him all those years ago. It didn’t change a goddamned thing.

  A narrow porch attached to the west end of the carriage house and led him up to the second story. At the door, he lifted a hand to knock but froze when he spotted her through the screen. Her back was to him, her head bent over a mass of papers spread out across the dining table. Absorbed in her task, she hadn’t heard him approach.

  She wore cut-off blue jeans, which hugged her heart-shaped ass. A punch of lust hit him in the gut.

  He frowned. He needed to stay focused this time. At least until he got her damn signature. He’d designed an entire course around the Winslow property excavation, and classes started in two weeks.

  He rapped on the wood doorframe and she whirled.

  The blood left his brain and surged to his groin at the way her T-shirt, loose at the waist, strained heroically across her glorious breasts.

  Christ, but her body was built for sex, and Noah’s body well knew it.

  She tugged at the jumble of papers behind her, as if to hide them. Charmed by her tits, he almost missed the interesting behavior.

  He forced his gaze to her face, where deep blue eyes brimmed with apprehension.

  He showed his palms. “I come in peace.”

  A small smile peeked through the wariness. “Where’s your flag?”

  “No flag.” The door closed behind him with a soft thwack. “Only paperwork.”

  She winced. “You’re not helping your cause.”

  He pulled the folded documents from the back pocket of his blue jeans. “Nothing scary. Just a formality.”

  “What kind of formality?” She accepted the papers from him.

  “A disclosure form. I’m required by law to provide you with a list of project objectives and a timeline for the work.”

  “That’s all?”

  “I need your signature. I can’t conduct an excavation without your written consent.”

  She snuck a cursory glance at the cover page. “Mind if I read them over first?”

  “Of course not. I’ll leave the number to my cell, in case you have any questions.”

  Visibly relieved, she stretched across the table and fumbled for a pen that lay on the far side. The desire to palm her rounded bottom surged, and he tamped down his lust with vicious resolve.

  She turned and stuck the pen and a slip of paper under his nose. He scrawled his number.

  Her scent drifted over him. Fresh and flowery, it reminded him of the flowers his mom had planted in their garden in Ireland when he was a kid. White jasmine.

  It’d been one of his favorites.

  When he handed the paper and pen back to her, her cheeks flushed a furious shade of pink, and he feared his lustful thoughts showed on his face. She fidgeted from one foot to the other, and her chest rose and fell with her shallow breaths.

  She was so fucking hot, the way she lit up around him. The way she tried to hide her reaction to him but couldn’t. His cock pressed against the fly of his jeans.

  Focus, Nolan. “Do you use that shed out back?”

  “The white one?” She shook her head. “No, I was going to have it torn down. Why?”

  “Can I use it? I need some temporary storage.”

  “Sure.” Her brow crinkled. “I think there’s a key around here somewhere.”

  She moved past him, and he turned to follow, getting his first real look at the interior of her home. It was small, not more than six hundred square feet, he’d guess, and open-concept. In one corner, a kitchen with white cupboards and wainscoting featured an island counter that fit two barstools.

  In the living area, exterior walls of exposed brick and crumbling mortar stood in sharp contrast to overstuffed furniture drowning in floral pillows. Taken together, the place was rustic with a whole bunch of girly-girl thrown on top.

  Two doors split off from the main room, and she disappeared through one of them. At the doorway, he faltered.

  Her bedroom.

  The wide-plank hardwood floors in the rest of the house extended into the bedroom. A small chandelier dripping with teardrop crystals hung above her cast-iron bed.

  He was powerless to stop the visions of Mina lying naked among the sheets, her thighs parted in welcome.

  “Aha!” She held up a key.

/>   He jerked to attention.

  She shoved the dresser drawer closed with her hip and crossed to him. When she offered the key to him, he saw that her hand trembled.

  She saw that he saw, and alarm flashed in her eyes.

  He only just caught the cool metal key when she dropped it and pushed past him.

  He’d been dismissed.

  He retraced his path to the table, where she now studied her mysterious papers with renewed interest.

  “You don’t like me.”

  Her weary gaze snapped to his face. “What?”

  “I suppose it’s not essential that we like one another.” He came to stand before her.

  “I like you.” Her tongue darted out to lick her lips. “It’s just...”

  His gaze fastened on her mouth. “It’s just what?”

  She swallowed with difficulty.

  He realized something then. “I make you nervous.”

  She refused to look at him. “That’s ridiculous.”

  “Is it something I said? The other day, on the hill—”

  “No.” The word burst out, and she sucked her lip between her teeth, as if to pull the denial back. “There was nothing. It’s nothing.”

  She peeked at him from beneath the sweep of her eyelashes, and when she saw his face, she took a small step back. She bumped into the table.

  A ripple of vulnerability disturbed the twin pools of her blue eyes.

  Drowning in cobalt, he reached out and took a wayward curl between his thumb and index finger. Even the unusual shade of her hair fascinated him. With strands of auburn and gold, chestnut and russet, the unique mix defied classification.

  Her lips parted on a soft gasp and she stared up at him.

  “What color do you call it?”

  Her gaze darted to the hair in his grasp and back to his face. “B-brown.”

  He shook his head. “No, it’s more than that.”

  He pushed the strand off her forehead. His hand fell away, his fingers tracing along the delicate line of her collarbone. “Your heart’s racing.”

  Her head moved with an infinitesimal shake.

  “Tell me why I make you nervous.” The question slipped through his lips even though, he reminded himself, he didn’t care. “Is it because of what happened in high school?”

  Shadows chased across her face, and Noah’s chest tightened with sharp regret at having invited them. Before he could find the words to make them go away, a light came into her eyes and banished the darkness.

  Then, she leaned back and, pressing her hands to the tabletop behind her, arched her back. Her breasts heaved upward toward him.

  His balls tightened.

  “I don’t want to talk anymore. I can’t explain how I feel when I’m with you.” She parted her thighs. “But I can show you.”

  Chapter Seven

  The outrageous copper of his eyes sparked, and the fire in her belly spread lower.

  She had no answers for the questions in his eyes. Even if she did, she wouldn’t give them to him. She couldn’t.

  So she offered him her body instead.

  A sound like a growl vibrated in his throat.

  With her hunger, the memories of the night Noah had led her into the woods and made love to her under the stars surged. Though awkward, the way sex between young, first-time lovers must be, it’d been the most special experience of Mina’s life up to that point. He’d been tender and gentle in all the ways that mattered.

  It was the only time a man’s touch hadn’t turned her stomach. Indeed, with him, she’d enjoyed intimacy. Relished it.

  He’d be better now. More experienced and refined.

  Was it possible sex with Noah was just what she needed to awaken her lethargic libido?

  She’d never wanted someone so much as she wanted him in that moment. Never been so wanton, so bold. So hungry. She wanted Noah.

  She wanted him to fix her, after which, she wanted him to leave.

  The soles of his boots scuffed against the wood floors when he stepped between her thighs. His warm hands slipped beneath her knees, where his fingers traced tiny circles while his sharp gaze fastened on her face. Searching.

  Her voice wavered when she spoke. “Don’t doubt me, Noah. I want you.”

  And had for as long as she could remember.

  “Are you sure?” His voice sounded rough. “This won’t be a repeat of high school.”

  She couldn’t attend to the wounded hitch in his words. “Forget about high school. That has nothing to do with this. W-with us.”

  With urgent hands, she sought the waistband of his cargo shorts.

  Hunger flared in his eyes and he gave a soft yank on her legs. His erection came up hard against her core. She inhaled his masculine scent and explored the warm skin and rigid plane of his abdomen.

  Until his hand found one of hers and hauled it under his gaze. He frowned and his thumb smoothed over a sore spot on her palm, where a blister had recently formed.

  Hot molasses melted to tenderness.

  Her heart hammering in her ears, Mina balled her hand into a fist and tucked it behind her back. She shifted her hips and rubbed against the hard evidence of his arousal.

  Noah groaned and pitched forward. His mouth burned a trail down the column of her throat, and the soft catch and release of his breath teased her ear. Her awareness narrowed until she registered only heat and hunger. Hers or his, she couldn’t say. Her head fell back to grant him unfettered access.

  The pads of his thumbs brushed over the smooth skin of her inner thighs, then nudged under the frayed hem of her shorts. Mina clutched at his T-shirt, gathering fistfuls of fabric in both hands.

  His thumbs inched higher, to the edge of her panties, and slipped beneath the cotton to brush along her slit. She almost leapt off the table. She gasped, choking the emotion that threatened to overwhelm her.

  His touch was foreign and shocking, and perfect.

  With dark eyes, he watched her face as he stroked her wet heat. Her flesh swelled and tingled, and she strained toward him. He eased a finger inside her, and her legs fell farther apart, unabashedly begging for more.

  “Noah.” His name on her lips sounded too full and thick, too desperate to her own ears. She clutched him to her and arched into his hand. “Please. Oh, please, Noah. Please. Please.”

  Color burst behind her eyelids as her orgasm crested. Waves of sensation rolled through her, one on top of the other, with achingly exquisite torment.

  As the last tremors shuddered through her, he took a small nibble at the corner of her mouth. He pulled his fingers from her body and peered down into her face.

  His brow puckered, but his heavy-lidded gaze masked the emotion in his eyes. A wayward strand of hair fell across her forehead, and he brushed it back.

  Her pounding heart squeezed in her chest.

  Behind her, a male voice punctured the air. “I hope I’m not interrupting.”

  At the sound of the man’s voice, Mina’s expression closed instantly.

  She was still perched atop the table before him, her cheeks flushed pink.

  Christ, but she was a hot, needy thing. His balls ached. He couldn’t wait to fuck her properly. Still reeling from those moments of lust and loss of control, Noah stumbled from between her thighs on weakened legs.

  Mina slid off the table. “Drew, what are you doing here?”

  The newcomer let himself in, and the screen door banged shut behind him. He was in his mid- to late-thirties, and with a well-cut suit draping his tall, lean frame, dirty-blond hair, and light eyes, Noah supposed some might consider him good-looking.

  In a punk-ass, pretty-boy kind of way.

  “I wanted to check in on you.” His almost translucent gaze slid from Mina to Noah and back again. “Find out how you’re doing.”

  Mina appeared trapped, panicked even. “That isn’t necessary.”

  That earned her a bemused smile from Pretty Boy. “It’s the least I can do after everything we’ve been th
rough together.”

  She held her body rigid and Noah sensed the tension vibrating off her.

  He stepped forward and positioned himself between Mina and the man she’d called Drew. “We appreciate your concern, but as you can see, Mina is doing quite well.”

  “Oh, uh, Drew, this is Noah. Noah, Drew Alexander.”

  “Nolan, isn’t it?” Drew’s tone carried the unmistakable pinch of distaste, and he sized up Noah for admittance into a club Noah had zero interest in joining.

  “Reputations,” Noah said. “Pesky things, aren’t they?”

  Drew’s practiced smile rang hollow, but his shoulders relaxed. “I played football with your brother, Shea, in high school.”

  “If he plays football the way he plays hockey, then I’m sorry for you.”

  “It’s impressive what he’s done with the pub in only a year,” Drew said. “After your dad’s first heart attack, I thought he’d close the pub down for good.”

  The pub? First heart attack? Noah slid a mask of ease over his face, preferring not to show Drew Alexander anything he could interpret as weakness.

  Noah chose to remain silent rather than reveal his lack of knowledge of his own damn family.

  “He’s been a welcome surprise.”

  What Drew said without saying it was that he was surprised at least one of Daniel Nolan’s five rowdy sons hadn’t grown up to be a clone of their father.

  Alcoholic. Deadbeat. Convicted felon.

  “Guess you didn’t know Shea all that well,” Noah said.

  With a smirk, Drew’s pale gaze slid back to Mina. “The renovation’s going well?”

  Mina’s mouth pinched. “Well enough.”

  “I still can’t believe you bought this old place.” An arrogant smile curled Drew’s lips. “I thought I’d talked you out of it.”

  “I just stopped discussing it with you.”

  Drew’s light eyes turned glacial. “I see.”

  A beat of silence followed. Mina shifted closer to Noah.