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by Tessa Bailey
Her nod was subtle, thanks to his hold, but her parted lips and stained cheeks gave him the answer before she spoke it out loud. “Yes.”
His dick was almost embarrassingly engorged as he took it out of the restraining denim. His growl of agony snapped Rita’s spine straight on the bed, those big eyes riveted on the swollen, aching wet-tipped flesh he presented. And damn if a little more fluid didn’t seep out at her awed reaction. “Still hard to tell if I want to bang you, Rita?”
“No,” she breathed.
“No, it ain’t,” Jasper rasped. “It’s pretty obvious I want to strip you naked, fuck you mindless, and leave you whimpering in a pile of sweaty sheets, no idea if you want round two or a week to recover. Isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“Good, beautiful. As long we’re on the same page.”
Pretty sure he would die from the agony of stuffing his turgid cock back into the jeans, Jasper managed the feat, nonetheless. Not without a few pained groans, however. Rita was staring up at him in total shock from her position on the bed’s edge, which he half loved, half detested. They’d learned a lot about one another tonight, but he appeared to have overshadowed some of that progress with his naughty presentation. Best to get an agreement out of her before she wondered who the hell she’d let walk into her motel room.
Jasper crouched down with a grimace to plant a kiss on Rita’s mouth. “Now, I’m going to see you tomorrow, Rita. Whether you come to me or I show up here, that’s your call, beautiful.” Another, slower, wetter kiss that made him ponder the merits of standing back up and seeing if Rita would unfasten his jeans again and give that same kiss to his cock. That’s your cue to leave, man. “It’ll be early in the morning when I come looking. Or when you show up.” He gripped his erection. “Either way, I’ll still have a nasty need to come in Rita’s name.”
He left Rita swaying on the bed, and prayed like hell he wasn’t pressing his luck.
Chapter Twenty-One
So. Wedding planning, huh? That must be…rewarding.”
Rita took a long sip of her scalding coffee, not minding the burn one bit. Maybe it would debilitate her tongue enough to prevent any more lame attempts at conversation with Sage. The apple of Belmont’s eye didn’t seem to mind, however, as they walked along the dusty road, back toward the Hurley Arms.
Turned out, Rita and Sage were both early risers. They’d walked out of their motel rooms at the same time, going through caffeine withdrawals and no longer satisfied by the motel-provided Sanka. Belmont—as if he had some kind of Sage bat signal—had appeared out of nowhere to follow behind them in silence, eyes glued on Sage as they ventured half a mile down the road in search of a buzz. Neither Rita nor Sage had commented on his presence, saying it all by trading a half smile of understanding. Or nonunderstanding, as it were, because to know Belmont was to accept that you might never understand him. And that appeared to be fine with both of them.
“Rewarding is a perfect way to describe it,” Sage murmured after a time, smiling over at Rita, the rising sun forming a halo on the crown of her head. Some of Rita’s nerves over having to walk a half a mile while making small talk faded into the desert grit on either side of them, as if Sage had decreed Rita’s relaxation. Make it so! “When the couple climbs into their limousine or carriage and everyone is cheering…” Sage closed her eyes and blew onto the surface of her brew. “It makes you believe in fairy tales, you know?”
“Uh…sure,” Rita answered, eliciting a clear, clean laugh from Sage.
Rita didn’t know what compelled her to look over her shoulder at Belmont, but when she did, he paused in his step—one second, two—before resuming.
“Have you had any strange theme requests? Like—I don’t know—a RoboCop or Laser Cats wedding?”
“Not yet,” Sage said, after swallowing a sip. “But I’ve organized seventeen Star Wars weddings, three Cinderella themes, and one Brady Bunch.” She looked over. “The couple had been through separate divorces before meeting each other, three children each. That was a fun one. Their maid of honor dressed as Alice.”
“No way.” Rita shoved her available hand into her pocket, a grin stretching her mouth. “Did they throw footballs at the bride instead of rice?”
“Ohh, my nose,” Sage said with a snort, doing her best Marcia Brady impression before turning a touch self-conscious, shooting a quick glance back at Belmont. “I wish I’d thought of that.”
“Ah, there’ll be a next time,” Rita sighed.
A few beats passed. “There won’t be a next time.”
“No, probably not.”
Up ahead, the motel came into view and Rita squinted, wondering why someone appeared to be pacing in front of her door. As they drew closer, however, the flannel tipped her off to the pacer’s identity. Jasper? They’d left to forage for coffee before the clock struck eight. It couldn’t be more than a quarter to nine now. It’ll be early in the morning when I come looking.
Apparently, he hadn’t been playing around. And, ironically, he appeared to be holding two paper cups of coffee in his hand, one of them obviously for her. If she’d just waited, she could have avoided coming outside. Life was so unfair sometimes.
There was a window of about thirty seconds where Rita was close enough to make out Jasper’s face but he didn’t see her approaching. He appeared to be upset. Very upset. One of the flaps of his flannel shirt had come untucked, and his hair stood at odd angles. Concern ticking along her spine, Rita increased her pace toward the motel, only drawing up short when Sage’s soft voice called to her.
“Rita?” Sage’s shoulders lifted as Belmont came up behind her, stopping about two feet away. “Um. Sometimes fairy tales look different than climbing into carriages. Sometimes.”
Not knowing how to respond, Rita gave the wedding planner a graceless nod and continued on, feeling an urge to jog for—literally—the first time in her life. Jasper threw both cups of coffee into the garbage can with serious force just when Rita hit the parking lot and almost simultaneously turned to find her closing in. “Rita?”
“Yeah.” She slowed to an easier gait, her pulse’s rhythm erratic not over the brisk power walk, but because of Jasper’s stricken expression. “Uh…you better have a good excuse for wasting earth’s most precious resource.”
“I thought you were gone. Left.” He propped a fist on the motel wall, raking the opposite hand down his face. “No one answered and I don’t even have your fucking phone number, Rita. And…Jesus, you know?”
Two walls on either side of Rita smacked together, flattening her in the middle. One brought a warm, welcoming infusion of—belonging. Here was a man who would miss her presence. She’d actually made a little mark in this big, broad, place, even if it were only with one person. One man. Because that man was so huge himself, wasn’t he? There was no avoiding the purity of his strength as she watched him deflate, baked concrete warming the soles of her boots.
The other side of the smacking wall turning Rita into a pancake was hearty rejection of his panic. His distress. Seeing it turned a wrench in her chest, and she was springing forward to connect with him before the mental command fully formed. Although Rita’s arms didn’t get the memo, because they hung at her sides as she pressed her face into his heated flannel chest, muscles tensing and shifting beneath her mouth. “I just went for coffee.”
“I was bringing you some damn coffee, woman.”
“I didn’t know.”
“Well.” His arms wrapped around Rita, jerking her close. “Now that you’ve scared a handful of years off my life, the least you can do is come with me somewhere without giving me any lip.”
It was excitement that flooded her system, full, flavorful, and a little wild. She regretted a lot of things in her life, but she refused to regret not taking advantage of her time with this man. In this place. “Let’s go.”
* * *
Jasper figured he must be a marvel of modern science, because his heart had relocated to his throat. It bea
t there as he drove Rita—where was he taking her, again? The mesa. Right.
Around five miles outside of Hurley, the flat mountain gave a vantage point to the next town and the surrounding desert. When half the nature-made structure had eroded in the late eighties, a local politician had commissioned a roadway be built to the top of the now restored section in the hopes of bringing tourists through the smaller New Mexico towns on their way to somewhere more interesting. So far it was frequented mostly by the Hurley teenagers looking for a place to make out.
Which—and Jasper would take it to his grave—is how he’d gotten the idea to bring Rita. This morning, while purchasing the now deceased coffee, he’d overheard the young clerk flirting with his sweetheart over the phone, asking if they could go to the mesa later. And then Jasper remembered. It had been the place to bring girls when he’d been in high school—the place for everyone else, that is. He’d never been required to create a romantic, star-blanketed atmosphere to win a girl over. But now? Efforts would be made, and, unfortunately, he didn’t have an array of sexy locations at his disposal to bring Rita to. So they were going to the mesa.
And as of now—or back at the motel, rather—Jasper was done holding back.
Good Christ, when he’d thought Rita was gone, he’d been dead set on going after her. Dead set. All the times he’d put the brakes on getting physical had flown through his head like winged monkeys, cackling at him. He’d lost his chance. She’d needed him, trusted him to touch, kiss, fuck her body—and he’d said no? Was he goddamn crazy? His mission to be a decent man in Rita’s eyes had seemed stupid and insignificant when compared to the seismic pull in her direction. Why would you pass up the chance to have her any way you could?
No one like Rita would pass through this place again, and she’d gifted Jasper with her time. She wouldn’t be sorry about that. He wouldn’t let her be.
Jasper’s truck reached the mesa’s flat top and he threw the car into park, leaving it running so their air conditioner would remain on. “I won’t make you go outside, indoor girl.” Having given himself permission to act on his body’s needs, his voice sounded rough as he slid an arm around Rita’s shoulders. “We can stay in here and look just fine.”
Wow. Apparently his smooth talk had been downgraded to high-school level—along with his choice of date spot—because now that he knew sex with Rita was on the horizon, his tongue weighed about eight pounds. Right along with his cock. The damn thing could have reached up and honked the horn if directed.
Rita leaned forward in the seat, releasing a slow breath as she looked through the windshield. “This is amazing. How high are we?”
“Around two thousand feet, if I recall.” The way she’d pushed toward the dashboard to look out the window had created a gap at the back of her pants, giving him a nice view of her nude-colored thong. “Rita—”
Rita got out of the truck.
Jasper’s surprise kept him in place a moment as he watched her walk to the front bumper, but he finally followed. The wind whipped at her hair, throwing it into chaos around her face, but thankfully the sun was behind clouds that morning, leaving them surrounded by shadows. “I think I need to…get out of the car more often.”
His throat—the one scientists would study when he eventually keeled over from lack of Rita—wanted to question that statement. Ask her what it meant. Examine it from seventeen dozen angles. But he’d brought her there with a mission. Urgency the likes of which he’d been battered with at the motel didn’t fade easily. So Jasper found himself blocking Rita’s view of the scenery, nodding when she correctly interpreted the want in his gaze.
“Oh,” she breathed. “Hi.”
Jasper curled a finger in Rita’s waistband, tugging her up against his body—slow, languid—maintaining eye contact as he walked her backward toward the rear truck bed. The way she stumbled and whispered a curse under her breath, forehead creasing, struck him like a fastball to the sternum. She could have been gone and he’d have missed this chance. No more. No more waiting.
“Jasper…”
He unlatched the tailgate, letting it drop with a bang, then taking her startled gasp as his opportunity to get kissing. God, how long had it been since their mouths had been together? Couldn’t have been just last night when he was immediately drowning, fighting against the need for air. His hands wove through her hair, holding tight as he sat back on the lowered tailgate, pulling Rita up onto his lap, her knees thudding on the steel at either side of his hips. Smooth as smoke, they melded together, Jasper taking hold of her ass, urging her to rock against his pained dick, which she did, groaning up at the sky.
“Back of a truck ain’t ideal, Rita,” he rasped. “I know it. But no matter where you ride it, beautiful, it’s going to satisfy you. That’s what I do.” One-handed, he reached between them and set to work getting his belt unhooked, gritting his teeth over the blinding pressure behind his fly. “I need to do that for you. No idea…you have no idea how bad.”
Rita’s eyes were at half mast, her chin reddened from his stubble. She couldn’t seem to stop kissing him long enough to get her pants off, though, and the longer it took, the more Jasper’s pulse slammed in a critical rhythm.
With a gritted oath, he abandoned his own zipper in favor of Rita’s, ripping it down, hoarse commands issuing from his mouth without warning. “Need to get you naked from the waist down, need you on my cock.” Through the thin material of her T-shirt, his mouth closed around her tits, sucking through the cotton, nipping with his teeth. “What was I thinking, making us wait? I’m sorry. Jesus, I’m—”
“Stop.” Rita threw herself forward, whimpering into his neck, taking hold of his busy wrists between them. “Jasper, no. This isn’t all you do. We…let’s…hold on a second.”
His brain had a hard time catching up, because every spare pint of blood in his body was visiting elsewhere. “I have condoms. Three of them.”
“Good. That’s good, but…” Her face was flushed when she straightened. Whatever his expression put across caused her to sag, even as breath raced in and out of her swollen mouth. “Jasper, I got into your truck this morning to be with you. I’m here—in the actual outdoors—to be with you. I like you.” She pressed a kiss to his mouth, then another, those hands sliding through his hair like ocean water. “We’ll be together like this. Right now, though…” Unable to completely hide her sexual frustration, Rita winced and sucked in a breath as she shifted off Jasper’s lap. “You think we could just talk a while?”
Jasper turned his face away before Rita could see how her question—posed in her typical self-conscious fashion—affected him. Every time he swallowed, someone fed a new golf ball into his mouth, until he finally stopped trying. Had any man in history ever gotten choked up over being turned down for sex? Leave it to him. Make no mistake, his willpower was being brutally tested. If Rita hadn’t said the word no, he might have spread her legs wide and used his mouth until she turned willing. But damn if lying there under the huge sky, talking to Rita—knowing she wanted conversation with him, of all people—didn’t take a mighty big bite out of his thwarted arousal.
When Rita lay back, stacking both hands beneath her head, Jasper followed suit. She looked in his direction and every cell in his body went racing.
“So, Jasper Ellis.” Seeing Rita comfortable enough to flirt with him—without hesitating or rolling her eyes—made Jasper ache to pull her close. “What is your—”
Jasper stared at his hand, which had reached toward Rita without prompting to brush a stray hair from her lips. “You ruined the sky for me today, Rita,” he said gruffly. “It’s flat-out mediocre without you up against it. I reckon it always will be now.” He took back his hand, using them both to prop up his own head, his booted feet hanging over the tailgate, beside Rita’s. “Now what were you going to ask me?”
She appeared dumbstruck for a time, which Jasper decided was a good thing, before answering. “What is your favorite song?” Her breath rushed out. “I tho
ught we were starting slow.”
He smiled. “That would be ‘Great Balls of Fire’ by Jerry Lee Lewis.”
Laughter shattered her pensive expression. “That’s a good one.”
“Isn’t it?” He laid his hand down in the truck bed and Rita took it slowly, intertwining their fingers.
I have to make an impression on this woman.
I have to try and give her a reason to stay.
Maybe…I even have a chance to accomplish that.
“Your turn, Rita,” Jasper murmured. But in his mind—after the ledge she’d just pulled him back from—he was thinking, Now it’s my turn.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Was it self-destructive for Rita to find herself walking along Hurley’s main avenue that afternoon, toward the Liquor Hole? Absolutely. She should have been in the waiting room with Peggy, reading People magazines from the Bush era while Aaron went through his dental procedure. Or perhaps an even better use of her time would be trying to get the goods from Belmont regarding his obvious infatuation with Sage. These were the people she would be spending the next two thousand miles sharing Suburban air space with. And yet. Here she was. Probably resembling the roadrunner-pursuing coyote, her eyes trained on the establishment ahead.
With the Clarksons Plus One leaving tomorrow—for real this time—she and Jasper were at the end of their plank, leaving very little room to explore the relentless samba in her stomach when she thought of him. But after he’d dropped Rita back at the Hurley Arms—claiming the bar needed his attention—she couldn’t have sat still with a boulder on each shoulder.
Pretty much a first for her.
After his attempt this morning to rush them into what surely would have been brain-cell-depleting sex—even if was outdoors—she continued to replay the story Jasper told her last night about what he’d overheard in his own establishment two years ago. The bride-to-be asked if I was going to be the paid entertainment. If one thing was clear, as she marched toward the Liquor Hole, it was that she couldn’t leave Jasper with that impression of himself. Perhaps she’d made a point this morning on the mesa, but it didn’t feel like enough. No amount of time felt like enough.