by Taryn Quinn
He started to deny it. He wasn’t that guy. Sex ranked pretty high on his list of priorities, but he’d never be so crass as to put his wants—his extremely inappropriate wants—above his friend’s safety.
“I should get you home,” he said instead, only half-aware of his fingers digging into the soft, fleecy material of her pants. “If you refuse to seek medical attention, your boyfriend”—he almost choked on the word—“can take of you. I’m sure he’s worried.”
She let out a sound caught between a laugh and a hiss. “I really fucking doubt it.” Her gaze rose to his. “What about you? Can you take care of me?”
Before he could come up with an answer, she fisted her hands in the lapels of his jacket and jerked his mouth down to hers.
He didn’t react for a moment. Two. Hard to move away when what he hadn’t dared to want had come to him.
Finally.
Her lips were inferno hot, backed by enough purpose to have his rock-hard cock leaping. Before her tongue could slip into his mouth and rip away the last shred of his defenses, he gripped her shoulders and gently drew her back. “You must want Rob right now. Let me call him.”
“No.” Her blue eyes gleamed defiantly in the crisscrossing spill of light from their snowmobiles. “I don’t want Rob, Justin.”
What could he say? He wanted to lay her in the snow and pull down her fleecy pants to see if the rest of her was as soft and needy as her mouth. But he couldn’t. She was hurt, and they were standing around talking in the middle of a snowstorm when she needed medical attention.
“C’mon,” he said after a pause. He slipped the glove out of his pocket and put it on her bare, shaking hand. “Let’s get you looked at.”
Kylie whimpered and rolled onto her side, pushing her face down into the nubby material beneath her cheek. The fabric smelled faintly of detergent and strongly of Justin’s spicy soap. Yum. She burrowed into the pillow and drew her knees up to her chest, trying to ignore the pain slicing through her ankle. All she wanted to do was sleep. If she could drift back into the dark, she wouldn’t hurt anymore. She wouldn’t be alone, and today would never have happened.
“Sit up.” Justin’s gentle voice sounded near her ear, and his warm breath tickled her neck. A strong hip pressed against her backside a moment before she felt a cool glass bump her lips. “Time for more medicine.”
She didn’t protest as he urged her halfway into a sitting position. She sipped the potent liquid, already craving the burn that sped through her system. His hand cupped the back of her head, his broad, calloused palm steady and supportive.
He’d made her go to the ER anyway, which had turned out to be a smart idea. She’d twisted her ankle and had a multitude of contusions, but she didn’t have a concussion. They’d been ready to give her a prescription when she informed them she was allergic to most OTCs and painkillers, which left her with only one thing to use to numb the pain—alcohol.
“You know I don’t drink,” she said between gulps. Already the artificial warmth was chasing away the cold.
“You do tonight.”
She couldn’t argue with that logic.
She eventually nudged the glass away. She licked her lips to catch every stray droplet of brandy and sank back against the pillow. Even narrowing her eyes to study Justin took a lot of effort. But she didn’t need to see the details to know exactly how he looked. God knows, he sat across from her at the bar often enough.
Thick dark hair, firm jaw, intense blue eyes. The cutest little worry lines fanning out from those eyes, though she’d never once seen him upset.
And oh, his mouth. Now that was a mouth made for long kisses.
His body worked for her too. He was tall, rangy. Nice shoulders, even nicer ass. Incredible ass. She blew out a breath that ruffled her bangs. She should probably feel guilty for noticing so much about Justin, but she didn’t. Especially after tonight.
Once upon a time, she’d done more than notice him. They’d been friends, then lovers, then back to friends until they’d drifted apart. When he’d walked into her bar years later, she’d been shocked. Rough and Ready wasn’t far from the college they’d attended, just a couple of towns over, but still.
Fate was a quirky bitch. She had to be. Because what were the chances she’d start to fall for a guy she’d missed the boat with years ago? A boat she hadn’t wanted to take a cruise on at the time for a lot of reasons.
But that was then. Now? A guy who offered a pleasant, low-intensity ride between the sheets fit her needs perfectly.
“Are you trying to get me drunk?” she asked, hoping her face didn’t transmit her thoughts. He was great at reading expressions. Part and parcel of his job as a high school guidance counselor.
His lips twisted slightly. Normally he smiled so easily, one of the things she loved about him. She’d been around one too many men who didn’t know how to laugh, and that Justin did was refreshing. But tonight he’d been so serious. So focused.
On her.
Her belly fluttered. Justin Norton was one fine piece of man chocolate. Maybe she’d been wrong to appreciate his body while she’d been coupled up, but now that she was single, she couldn’t see any reason not to go for it. He wasn’t oblivious to her either. From their all too brief clinch on the trail, certain parts of him seemed interested, even if the rest had yet to follow suit.
Yep, just what she loved from a guy—mixed signals.
“You seem to have the alcohol tolerance of six sailors, so no. Though I have to admit I like seeing your eyes blurry with something other than pain.”
“I’m okay.” Dwelling on what couldn’t be helped wasn’t her style. She dealt and moved on. Always had, always would. “Did your neighbor go back and pick up my snowmobile?”
“Yeah. It’s out back. Mostly scratch-free. If you wanted to learn, I’d’ve been happy to give you some lessons.”
Figured he’d teach her how to snowmobile, but he wouldn’t kiss her. She didn’t give a hoot about snowmobiling. What she needed tonight was a carnal distraction. Somehow she had to burn the image of what she’d seen at Rob’s out of her mind.
“I hadn’t planned on taking it out. It was an anniversary present. I’d never been that excited about learning, but Rob thought we’d have fun.”
Enough about Rob. Enough about the accident. She’d escaped with nothing but bruises, so she’d just count her lucky stars and move on.
His thumb worried her painful cheekbone. She couldn’t hold back the wince. “Hurts, huh?”
She shrugged off the question. Her body ached, but luckily the soreness had started to lessen. Excellent brandy, a soft, sunken couch, and the warmth of the crackling fireplace across the room had gone a long way toward healing her. As had the attention of the man sitting beside her outstretched legs.
“Why didn’t you kiss me back?”
“That again.” He tapped her lips. “You’re like a dog with a bone. Every time you wake up, same damn question.”
“It’s a good question. I’m a decent kisser. Not that you’d know.”
“Hello, we kissed several times.” His grin warmed her inside out. “And other things.”
“True enough. So did you forget to tell me you’re not into women?”
He cocked a brow. “Hardly. I think you felt just how…into you I was.”
That she had. “So? What’s the problem? Are you seeing someone? Someone you’ve conveniently forgotten to mention to me?” She punched his arm playfully, as she always did when he sat across her bar. She’d worked at Rough and Ready for close to five years and considered the place home. More of a home than anywhere else, actually, especially now that she’d been left effectively homeless.
Your choice. You could’ve played Rob’s games. You have before.
She winced again as she imagined the scene she’d witnessed that evening. No fucking way.
Justin laid his hand on her thigh. Even with the layers of cotton between their skin, his heat branded her flesh. “Friends don’t k
iss. Not with tongue.”
His came out to rub at the dip in his lower lip she’d imagined nibbling more than once. She thought she glimpsed a flash of silver in his mouth, then dismissed it. Her thing for him, for lack of a better word, had proven to be as persistent as a sunrise, despite her efforts to pretend otherwise. He’d never given her any reason to think he felt similarly—at least during the current incarnation of their friendship—but that hadn’t shut down the fantasy machine where he was concerned.
Which was crazy. She knew what she’d get with Justin. Decent sex. He was decent, all the way around. Good, responsible, built to last.
Except he had so much more to him than the sum of those particular parts.
Justin knew how to make her laugh on her roughest days. Always had. He loved sports, college basketball in particular, and always brought her a card for every holiday. Along with being an excellent conversationalist, he was a wonderful listener.
He was just plain nice, as proven by the fact he hadn’t berated her for taking out the snowmobile when she hadn’t had a clue what she was doing. Bottom line, she really liked him. A lot.
As for his body…well, she had no complaints. If she’d hoped way back when that he’d do a little more with what he’d been given, that was a small flaw.
And besides, who was good at sex in college anyway? Even if it wasn’t usually her flavor preference, after Rob, vanilla sex sounded perfect.
She just wanted to forget everything Rob related. Hit the big ol’ Pause button and spend the evening with Justin.
Tomorrow she’d restart her life and figure out what came next.
“Especially when one of those friends happens to have a boyfriend,” he added when the silence extended. “A boyfriend she’s had for a very long time.”
Yeah, since not long after she and Justin had shared a bed senior year. She’d been so eager to experience…well, everything. And Rob had been wild, dangerous, and sexually way out of her league.
But she’d learned.
Should she tell him Rob was no longer a factor? Maybe his reluctance to push their boundaries was a good thing. She’d just ejected herself from a volatile relationship. Yes, she was single, but only for a handful of hours. If she rebounded any harder, she’d end up in the basketball record books herself.
Kylie smoothed her hands down her stomach. It was amazing how at ease she felt in Justin’s home, on his couch. She glanced down, noting the plaid boxers and faded SU T-shirt she wore underneath the very frayed comforter he’d wrapped her in. Even wearing his clothes seemed perfectly natural. Maybe sex between them would still be comfortable too.
She’d longed for sparks once. Now she just didn’t want to get burned.
“Hey,” he said, reaching for the folded newspaper resting on the coffee table. “This should cheer you up. There’s a game tonight.”
“Shit, yeah. What time is it?” She had no clue how long she’d been there. She’d drifted in and out of sleep for what felt like hours between bouts of Justin feeding her soup from a take-out container and pouring his liquid cure-all down her throat. “Did we miss it?”
“Almost two a.m.” At her squeal of distress, he patted her thigh. “Don’t worry. Would I ever contribute to you missing a game?” He picked up the remote beside the paper and aimed at the huge plasma TV on the opposite wall. “DVR’d it.”
Forgetting her injuries, she scrambled to sit up. “Did we win?”
He flashed her a grin. “I didn’t watch it. What fun would that be?”
“You’re a gem.” She frowned. “Don’t you have to work tomorrow? Day before Thanksgiving and all?”
“Nope. We had unused snow days last year, so they tacked on an extra day for the Thanksgiving holiday. Works for me. What about you? You have a shift at the bar?”
“No. I’m off till Friday.” She pulled her knees up to her chest to make more room on the couch for him, then bit her lip as her sore lower back protested. “Uh, guess I’m not ready for my usual position yet.”
“You have a usual? I do have my favorites, I’ll admit.” As if he didn’t realize she was gaping at him, he gently lifted her legs and draped them over his lap as he sat back against the cushions. “There. Okay?”
Whoa. He didn’t normally throw out innuendos. That was her job. She flung flirty comments his way while slinging drinks, and he lapped them up with a laugh without responding in kind. Part of his allure was that he seemed safe. She’d be able to handle a man like him. His needs wouldn’t be overwhelming, and she wouldn’t come up lacking when she couldn’t fill her expected role in her lover’s sexual Olympics.
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
Kylie huffed out a breath as he adjusted the comforter to cover them both. She’d been a little chilly, but the shiver that rippled over her skin had nothing to do with lack of body heat. Justin was so warm, his thighs muscled and hard. Almost as hard as the other part of him she’d rubbed against earlier.
That too was another aspect of him she couldn’t file away with the rest. The Justin she knew didn’t find her so arousing, especially not when she was disheveled and wet after taking a tumble into the snow.
Unless maybe she had him pegged all wrong. It had been years since college. Very long years.
“Need another drink?”
She shifted slightly. He’d donned a pair of shorts in deference to the simmering fire, and the bristly hair on his legs rubbed against the back of her calves. Why that sensation seemed so sexual, she didn’t know. “I knew it. You are trying to get me loaded.”
He eyed her speculatively as the opposing centers faced each other onscreen for the tip-off. “Actually, I’m not, but I think I’d like to see you drunk.”
“Why?”
“No inhibitions.”
She stiffened. She simply couldn’t help it. Damn, had he been peeping in the window of Rob’s place tonight? “I’m pretty uninhibited to start.”
He shrugged and let his gaze wander back to the TV, though he didn’t seem particularly interested in the game. “So you claim.”
Now wasn’t the time to argue the point. Why should he care about her inhibitions? He’d been all about straight-up missionary the one and only time they’d had sex. For God’s sake, she’d kissed him, and he’d pushed her away as if she were a magazine subscription and he wasn’t buying.
True, the situation hadn’t exactly been created for romance. But she wouldn’t have complained if passion overcame him.
His goading was just that. Maybe he was trying to distract her from her pain. Besides, there was a game on, and she didn’t have anything to prove.
Especially not to another pigheaded man.
They watched the first half in companionable silence. During halftime, he heated some more soup and brought her a mug of hot cocoa complete with marshmallows. After a bit more of the obligatory brandy, she settled in to enjoy the second half with Justin’s hands hooked around her ankles. Occasionally he fingered the ACE bandage on the left one, but he didn’t ask her again if she was all right. His gaze never left the TV until SU won.
“God, that was great.” She released a happy sigh as he aimed the remote and the screen went black. “Thanks for waiting to watch it with me.”
“You’re welcome. I’ve gotten used to watching them with you.”
“Mmm. Ditto.” Without the noise of basketball to fill the cavernous, mostly empty living room—apparently Justin believed in the minimalist look—the silence seemed even thicker. She didn’t get it. They never had problems talking normally. “So what now?”
He sat back and draped his arm over the back of the couch. “Kylie, what’s going on? Why haven’t you asked to go home yet?”
Because I don’t have one anymore.
“I thought we were having a good time.” She shrugged and tried to pull her legs off his lap, but his wide, rough palms held them in place. The guy was a high school guidance counselor. What did he do that left his hands so calloused? “If you want your space, I’ll go.
No problem. It is awfully late.”
“Tomorrow is the day before Thanksgiving,” he said gently. “Don’t you have a turkey to buy or something?”
“No. No turkey. No something.” She pushed her hair behind her ears and made herself meet his entirely too sympathetic gaze. She hated pity. Hell, she’d rather be ignored than have someone who mattered look at her as if they were afraid she’d break. “So unless you intend to make me forget exactly how alone I am right now, I think it’s best if I leave.”
He stared back for so long she wondered if she’d crossed some line that couldn’t be erased. She almost apologized, almost tried to explain her shitty evening and what she’d come upon at Rob’s house after leaving work early with a headache.
Before she could, he lifted her legs, bending them toward her chest so he could slide closer to her. This time, her back didn’t complain. Maybe it was his careful touch. Or maybe she wanted him too much for anything else to even register.
Her heart stumbled as he reached out to grip her chin between tense fingers. “You think you know what you’re asking for,” he said in a gruff voice that only excited her more. “But you don’t.”
“So give me what I don’t know I want,” she whispered, caught in his hot blue eyes, shades darker than her own.
His face hovered near hers for another moment. But even with the extra time to prepare, she wasn’t ready for the heat that poured over her when his soft mouth brushed hers. He kept the contact light until she grasped his worn flannel shirt. Lean muscles coiled beneath the fabric as he picked up the pace. Silky lips, rock-hard pecs. She needed to see what that barrel of a chest looked like now under the plaid shirts and hoodies he usually wore.
Shit, she just needed.
She dug her nails into his shoulders and opened her mouth at his quick exhale. Half expecting him to push her aside as he had earlier, she was pleasantly surprised when his tongue swept between her lips. He was a good kisser and always had been. But the pleasant tingle in her breasts swiftly turned into a brush fire between her legs as something hard and smooth scraped her tongue. He repeated the move, and she moaned, simultaneously shocked and thrilled.