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by Tessa Bailey
But he stopped. He stopped just a breath away, blue eyes lifting to slay her. “You’re gorgeous sitting there, Rita. And I can see you squirming in that seat. God knows I can.” His low growl was one of frustration. “But would you mind if we went somewhere and talked a while? Before we give each other that kiss?”
Confusion and chaos rippled in her bloodstream. He’d asked to talk? She shouldn’t feel like her body had been dipped into warm oil, but there was no mistaking the wicked bottoming-out of her stomach. She’d heard of a thing called woman’s intuition where men are concerned, but she’d never experienced it. Jasper definitely wanted to do more than talk, but he seemed to be holding back. Why?
Behind them, a chorus of voices hooted Jasper’s name, and he flinched. And that flinch kept Rita from turning around. His gaze didn’t stray from hers, either, gaining gravity instead.
Something akin to disappointment dinged in his expression when she hesitated over his offer to talk, and some of his leash appeared to unravel, right before her eyes. “Come with me, Rita. I want to be with you where no one’s watching.” The very tip of his tongue made contact with her lower lip and her brain nearly atrophied. If his echoing groan was any indication, he was just as affected. But that was impossible, wasn’t it? This was her he was kissing. Rita Clarkson. The underachiever of the family, her career summed up in a thirty-second YouTube clip. Nary a romantic prospect to boast of.
“Come with you where?” she breathed.
“Just to my office.” Obviously having interpreted her question for a yesyesfuckinghurry, his big, callused hand closed around her smaller one. “I promise not to keep you back there long enough for anyone to assume I’m taking advantage.” His wink was raw sex with a sense of humor. “And I’ll do my best to bring you back in one piece.”
In somewhat of a daze, Rita allowed Jasper to tug her off her seat. She had the presence of mind to make eye contact with Peggy, who gave her an enthusiastic thumbs-up amidst the crowd of men who’d gathered around her. As she was tugged through throngs of bar patrons, Rita’s attention snagged on the dance floor. And the rare sexual confidence she’d been experiencing thanks to Jasper plummeted with a vengeance. Women—sexy women, women in miniskirts—whispered behind their hands as they watched Jasper pull her through the crowd. It was a flashback to high school. To culinary school. To everyday life. She didn’t belong with this charismatic man in this place. God. Had he just grown bored with the local flavor and wanted some strange?
Her feet dug into the saw-dusted floor, but when Jasper turned with obvious concern on his face, words refused to emerge. She couldn’t very well admit out loud that she felt like a fish out of water. That she didn’t understand what the hell he wanted or expected from her. It would make her twice as pathetic as she already felt.
Warm hands clasped the sides of her face, tilting it up. Jasper’s hands, dragging her out of the rocky chasm she’d fallen into. “Sweet Lord. I’ve never had to ask someone what they’re thinking so many times in one day.”
“Why are you so interested?”
The question had fairly burst out of her, but Jasper didn’t even flinch. “If I don’t know your thoughts, how can I get inside them?”
She was being drawn back under his spell. But even her total awareness of the fog descending couldn’t get her to pull away or heed the warning signs on the road to destruction. “You’re there,” she murmured. “Doesn’t mean I don’t want to kick you out.”
“I can be stubborn when I have a mind to. You just wait and see,” he responded, completely undeterred. “Are you coming back to my office so we can get to know each other better? Or do you want to be carried?”
Carry me. “Don’t even try it.”
His answering smile probably dropped panties from Hurley all the way back to California. “I’ll ask you again later, when your knees are feeling weak.”
She glanced down at their joined hands, noticing his tight grip for the first time, probably because she’d been ready to make a dash. His knuckles were white, the unbreakable hold so at odds with his casual demeanor. “We’ll see if you can make them weak.”
“Here’s hoping I get the chance,” Jasper muttered, turning once again to lead her through the masses. They’d only made it five steps when two dancing miniskirts sailed into their path. It was like that moment at the end of a concert when the lights go on and the atmosphere is obliterated. One second you’re in a dark, magical place with musical notes painting the air, and the next? You’re in a sweaty room with strangers and spilled beer on your shoes. Jasper visibly deflated with the women’s arrival. And that reaction twisted Rita’s stomach into a pretzel.
“Jas-per. Where you off to?”
“Excuse us, please, Gina,” he responded, voice weary. “Just showing Rita the new eatery addition out back.”
“Oh right, the addition.” Miniskirt Number Two elbowed her friend. “You know, you can try and clean this place up, but it’ll always be dirty. Just like you, isn’t that right?”
“Mmmhmm. You come find us when you’re done with this little tour,” said Miniskirt Number One, putting air quotations around the word tour. “You’ll still have enough energy for the both of us, if memory serves.”
They started moving again—fast—but Rita’s feet had transformed into sandbags. She wanted to pull her hand out of Jasper’s grip but didn’t want to be left standing like a loser in the middle of the bar, so she all but jogged along behind him. The few sips of beer she’d taken were like ball bearings in her stomach, rolling around and knocking together. She was used to being treated like she was invisible, but not in front of a man with whom she’d been making a sad attempt to flirt. Those women hadn’t even spared her a passing glance, that was how nonthreatened they were by her. She just wanted to go back to the motel, crawl under the covers, and die a slow death.
“Let go of me.”
“Can’t.”
“You can.” Seeing what she assumed to be the office doorway up ahead, she attempted to free herself and failed. They were inside the office with the door closed a moment later. With the music’s volume muffled, their heavy breathing took precedence in the room. She waited for him to turn on a light, but he didn’t, just paced in front of her, his frustrated profile highlighted by the street lamp just outside the window. “I need to get back to—”
“Why did you come here tonight?”
She threw up her hands. “You asked me to.”
He stopped pacing, irritation clear in the lines of his hard body. “Rita, I’ve known you less than a day, and I know you don’t just do things because someone asked.”
Okay, fine. So what did he want to hear? She’d come because he fascinated her? Because she was attracted against her will? She’d rather draw and quarter herself with a carving knife after that scene with Miniskirts One and Two out in the bar. “My sister made me.”
“Wrong again.”
Rita ground her teeth together. A rebellion took place inside her, building and building in intensity. He wanted the truth, did he? What did she care? She’d already been humiliated, and tomorrow morning they would leave this nowhere town and never look back. Revealing her secret motivation might be embarrassing, but she’d survived worse. Internet notoriety. Her restaurant burning down. Life in general.
In fact, what if she went one step further with that line of reasoning? This man wanted her, whether it was a simple hankering for something new or genuine interest. What did she have to lose? At least it would feel good. At least she would feel something other than the failure and self-pity that had been dogging her lately.
Rita sucked in a breath. “I came here so you would fuck me.”
Chapter Nine
There it was.
To be fair—although what the hell did fair even mean?—when he’d asked Rita why she’d come, he’d been flat-out begging for this answer. She’d come for the sex. Of course she’d come for the sex. What did he think lured her here? His dynamic personality? His oh
-so-impressive career? Maybe he should ditch his new plan to be a decent human being and just take out an ad in the Sunday paper.
Come on down to the Liquor Hole. Tuesday is 10-cent wing night. Don’t miss your chance for meaningless sex with the no-account owner.
There might have been a chance for Rita to see more. He’d vowed to himself they would stop at kissing. Just enough to fulfill the promise he’d made earlier outside the garage. Just enough that his every other thought wouldn’t be What does she taste like. …What does she taste like. …Oh, GOD, what does her mouth feel like? Then his past had popped up and bitten him in the ass once again, the suspicions she clearly already had about him confirmed in the space of thirty seconds.
Well, fine.
Fine.
If that was the way fate wanted to play, bring it on. Common sense might be loitering in the back of his head, telling him his next move was a mistake, but he was too pissed off to heed the warning. And, yeah, he was ashamed. Probably even more than he was mad, actually. He’d been ashamed for a long time, though, and right now blocking it out seemed like a damn fine idea.
I came here so you would fuck me.
Didn’t matter that Rita appeared desperate for the world to swallow her whole now, flames blooming in her cheeks. The words had been said, intentions made clear. “Jasper, I shouldn’t have—”
“That is why you came, isn’t it?” Talking dirty to a woman was just like riding a bike. Jasper rubbed a hand over his stubbled jaw and gave Rita a deliberate, head-to-toe once-over, watching her thighs flex under his notice. His cock gloried in the sight, hardening in his briefs. Right, beautiful. I’ll fit myself between them with enough force to show you who’s taking the lead. “You’re an up-against-the-wall kind of girl, aren’t you?”
“All girls are up-against-the-wall girls,” she whispered, then look surprised at herself for having spoken. “I-I think.”
Damn her for making him want to laugh when he needed to break something. “You have me there. Why do you think that is?”
Jasper propped one hand high above her head, tracing the waistband of her black jeans with the other, back and forth across her belly button. Slower. Lower. “Um…” Her stomach hollowed underneath his touch and shuddered back out. “There’s nowhere to go?”
“That’s right. You have nowhere. To go.” He flicked open the button of her pants. “Maybe every girl does like it against the wall. But not every man can keep her up there long enough to call it fucking. It’s only fucking when a man finishes the woman, in my book.” He sucked his lower lip through his teeth. “That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? You need a good, leg-shakin’ finish and decided I’d be up for the job.”
She opened her mouth to answer, but he eliminated whatever her response might have been by shoving a hand into her jeans and roughly cupping her pussy. Jasper groaned into the space above her head. Fuck yes. She’d be a tight fit. Rita almost collapsed, a sob wrenching from her throat, kicking up an ache in his chest. No hiding, no pretense in her pretty features. Just—pain. Need. Gorgeous, breathtaking need. It slapped the edge off his anger, brought him back to the present. Almost, anyway.
“How long has it been?”
When she flinched, he realized he’d barked the question. “I-I’m not answering that. It’s none of your business.”
He should have left it, but there was a driving need for knowledge about this woman that wouldn’t be satisfied, despite her disinterest in anything apart from how he could get her off. So he went about getting information the best way he knew how.
Pressing his open mouth over her ear, he teased the edge of her underwear with his knuckle, letting it slip under just a touch. “You know you want to tell me. The longer it’s been, the harder I’ll set to work between these legs.”
“Why do you want to know? So you can laugh at me like those women did? So you can write me off as a charity expense on your taxes?” Her breath puffed against his lips. “Screw you. I don’t care what you think.”
Everything inside Jasper seized. With denial, surprise, anger. All of them leapfrogging to be in the lead. “Whoa, now, Rita. Hey. You just wait one damn second there—”
She kissed him. It was such an unexpected move that his mind drained of anything but the soft curves of her lips interlocking with his. The subtle taste of original-flavored ChapStick. A pounding began, loud and dramatic, between his ears, growing louder when she opened her mouth to invite his tongue inside. There was a reason he should pull back—clarification of one pretty fucked-up misunderstanding was sure-as-shit necessary—but he couldn’t fathom a way to stop. Not when she kind of fell into him like his mouth held the key to eternal happiness. For the first time in his life, he forgot he had his hand between a woman’s legs because her mouth took precedent. Her breath, her scent, the way she sighed. If he could carve it with a chisel on his memory, he would’ve done it with gusto.
It took her fingers stroking down his forearm to cover the hand cradling her pussy for him to regain awareness of the intimate touch. Oh, and he remembered with a goddamn vengeance. She put pressure on his hand, moaning into his mouth with the universal language for More, keep going. With their tongues tangling together, lips slanting for frantic tastes, he had no choice. He yanked down her panties and slid his middle finger between her wet folds—so wet he tore his mouth away so he could curse.
“God. I would mouth-fuck this little sweetheart for days.”
Rita moaned, her legs clamping around his hand. “Oh, you can’t say things like that. Or this…will be over really fast.”
Her honest reaction sent a delicious throb straight to the base of his cock, making it grow to the point of agony. So acute he felt liquid spill from the tip. Condom. Where were his condoms? Were they even in date? He had to get inside her and ride out the pleasure their bodies were begging for. No. There was a reason he couldn’t be inside Rita, but he just needed longer to remember why. Why? His mind questioned while his mouth worked on its own. “You like hearing what I want?”
“No.” Her eyes were closed as he worried her clit. “Yes.”
His wrist was loose, his fingers working her in light circles, but he felt anything but loose and light. He felt like a dying man who would receive a free pass to heaven if he could relieve the pressure he felt inside Rita. Her hot body was whip-tight, her need obvious in a way he knew all too well mirrored his own. “I want to treat this tiny bud between your legs so special that she pays attention when I walk into a room. I want her to remember my tongue so well you have to excuse yourself when you see me coming because she needs a rubout.”
Rita’s eyes flew open at that—whether in shock or in the hopes of encouraging a more detailed explanation—and those glazed, golden-brown orbs slammed him back down to earth. He regained a slight handle on reality just in time for her to say, “I w-won’t be here long enough for that.”
“That’s right, isn’t it? You won’t.”
The ugliness from before began crawling out through the crack in his foundation, even though he wanted to stomp on it, keep it at bay.
Jasper took a pull from her offered mouth, drawing deeply of her healing balm, but that somehow only made it worse, as did the slickness coating his fingers. So delicious, so fucking ripe. But she wouldn’t be here past tomorrow. Hell, she didn’t want to be. Everyone thought of him as a fucking truck stop, but it was too much coming from this woman he’d been dying to convince otherwise. One shot, one failure. “You came here tonight for your turn with the town tramp,” he said against her mouth, steel in his tone. “That’s all this is. Good ol’ Jasper, at your service. Just filling a need.”
Her gaze cleared faster than a summer storm, parting for sunshine to break through. There was a dawning understanding in her eyes, tempered with denial. Alarm, even. He’d said too much. Way, way too much.
“No.” She shook her head. “That’s not right at all.” Before he could process her apology or her devastated expression, she shoved his hand from be
tween her legs and zipped her pants with shaking fingers. “I’m sorry I let you think that.”
Then he remembered. Remembered why he shouldn’t have allowed himself to be pulled under by her kiss. Why do you want to know? So you can laugh at me? His throat dried up at the memory of how she’d said it. Ah, Jesus. How was it possible they’d both gotten the wrong idea when his intention had been to finally behave right with a woman? Were they fighting different versions of the same demon?
When she plowed both hands through her dark hair, he reacted to the misery he sensed. “Hold on, now, beautiful Rita.” Fuck, he was practically wheezing with the need for more of her taste. More of her skin beneath his hands. More, just more. “We got ahead of ourselves and that’s my fault.” Desperate for contact, he gripped her hips, positioning her back against the wall. “Let’s just stand here a minute while my brain remembers how to operate—”
“No, I have to go.”
She knocked his hands free and lunged for the door, but he beat her there. Her stricken face brought him up short. What do I do here? He’d never distressed a woman before, never felt like the ground might open up if he didn’t coax a smile, make her happy. So he fell back on what he knew, even though he suspected he was damning himself in the process. “Rita. Two more strokes of that sweet clit and I’d of had you shaking in my palm. You walk out of here hurting because of me, I might die.” He slid a hand over her pussy and rubbed. “Don’t take this away from me, beautiful. It needs me.” And I fucking need you.
When the door banged shut behind Rita a moment later, he slammed his head against it. Only a few seconds passed of him courting denial before he went after her. But she was gone. No way that just happened. No way in hell. Had he forgotten how to treat a woman in the last two years? Even as his mind posed the question, he knew the answer was moot. Rita wasn’t just another woman. A reality he felt in the marrow of his bones, no matter how soon into their acquaintance. And she was leaving. Before he could correct his massive fuckup. God, he would no sooner laugh at her than he would go canoeing into an erupting volcano. He had to make sure she knew. Once he made it clear to her tonight had been about his own hang-ups, he would formulate his next move.