by Gorman, A.
Abby threw herself into her tasks. A sense of peace enveloped her as she became too busy helping Jarrod. They worked side by side, arms brushing, electrifying her skin better than a current from the nearby fence. Things she’d never noticed before, like his scent and the heat of his body, engaged her thoughts. The way said body moved elicited images in her head that had no right to be there.
Her face burned, embarrassed by the turn her thoughts had taken. She should be trying to recall what had happened to Hank, but all she could focus on was Jarrod and their changing relationship, frustration tinging at the edge at not being able to recall the night Hank died. Her fear was that she wouldn’t remember—or worse—that she would.
Abby didn’t see it coming, but suddenly her clothes were wet and Jarrod stood with an empty bucket.
She gasped, more surprised than anything else. “What the hell did you do that for?”
“Thought you could cool off.”
“Oh, really? What about you?”
She ran toward him, but he ducked away, laughing. Abby followed, determined she’d get him. She caught him around the middle, and they both went down in the mud where the excess water had mixed with the soil.
Landing on top, the air was knocked from her lungs. He struggled beneath her, unexpectedly flipping her over onto her back.
He leaned back, straddling her thighs, and grinned, flashing white teeth. She scowled when he held up a handful of mud pulled from the earth and hovered it above her face.
The strong scent of wet dirt tickled her nostrils.
“Don’t you dare!”
She knew he would do it. That was just Jarrod.
Abby squirmed as the cool, thick paste was smeared across her cheek.
He would pay.
He’d taught her a few tricks to discourage overzealous truckers. Jarrod was not exactly thrilled when she took the waitressing job at the roadhouse. He was worried about her dealing with the rough and raggedy crowd who frequented it. She wouldn’t go as far as actually hurting him, but a few nips wouldn’t hurt.
Jarrod bowed when she sent a fist to his stomach. Shaking off the numbness from the impact, Abby used his diverted attention to roll him off her.
The moment he hit the ground, Abby pulled his arm high behind his back and applied pressure with her knee to keep him down.
He blew out a breath, the dusty paddock grains fluttering on the rush of air dancing before him.
“Using my teachings against me?”
“Uh-huh.” She let him loose, panting slightly. Putting Jarrod on his ass took effort, and he easily outweighed her.
He rose to his knees. She caught his ear and twisted. That one she’d learned from his mother.
“Jesus, Abby. I surrender.” She let him go, and he backed away. “You play dirty.” He glanced down at her shirt and smirked. Abby followed his gaze. Mud had absorbed into the cotton.
“Serves you right.”
Swiping at her cheek, she did little more than spread it around.
“Let me try.” He took pity on her and helped. Her skin rejoiced. She may not be a girly girl, but still she hated the feeling of mud caked to her body.
“Now back to work. Still lots more to do.”
“I wasn’t the one making mud pies.”
He smiled at the memory. “You needed to lighten up.”
She rubbed the back of her neck. “I know. But you don’t know what it’s like being on my end. Wondering. Worrying.”
“Yeah, I do. You’re wrong if you don’t think I’m right there with you. You’re my best friend, Abs. We’ve been through so much together. We’ll get through this, too. I’m not about to give up fighting.”
Abby blinked, the world slowing around her. He’d never spoken so passionately before.
“How can you be so calm, then?”
“Because I trust everything will be okay.”
“You believe that much in the system?”
“No.”
“But you just said—”
“I said I trusted. I didn’t say who or what. The answer, by the way, is you. I know you. The person deep down. The one you hide from everyone except me. That person allows me to trust because I know you couldn’t do a cold-blooded act in your life.”
She didn’t know what to say. He’d made it clear before he was on her side, but damn, that speech brought tears to her eyes.
“Thank you.”
“Nothing to thank. I’m betting if our positions were reversed, you’d be standing here saying the exact same thing.”
Abby nodded weakly. Her insides melted, jumbled. Her throat tight, she couldn’t form a reply. She’d always known their friendship was pretty special, but nothing had prepared her for just how much.
Jarrod, not needing a response, turned and stalked back to Thunder, who grazed nearby, and gave him a pat. “We should head back. Soon it’ll be too dark to ride.”
Her gaze went to the horizon, to the sun’s descent, and she nodded her agreement, her body stiff from working, not accustomed to the hard labor like Jarrod. Now she understood why he looked so good.
Whereas she most likely resembled something which had been ridden hard and put away wet, Jarrod appeared sexily rumpled, the kind of man who looked good in anything anytime.
Where had this newfound appreciation for his body come from? Not once in their twenty-plus years of friendship had she ever seen Jarrod as anything but her best friend, the boy who’d rode horseback with her, taught her how to fish, and how to annihilate the men down at the pub in a game of darts.
He didn’t wait for her to make a decision; instead, he bent at the waist, and the world tilted. Abby found herself upside down with a spectacular view of his ass. He clamped his arm around her legs to hold her steady.
“Put me down!”
“Nope.”
“You overbearing, overly muscled—”
“Hunk?”
Abby grunted. She wasn’t about to say that. He might get the wrong idea.
What wrong idea is that, Abby? The man was fine. Every girl in town—not to mention three towns over, knew it.
The world blurred…reds, oranges, purples, and blue melted into one until he placed her back on her feet.
Stumbling, she grabbed his arm to steady herself. The muscles beneath the fabric of his shirt bunched. Her mind blanked.
Jarrod’s lips moved. She focused on their fullness and how they formed shapes. She’d never noticed his top lip was a fraction thinner than the bottom.
His finger against her chin raised her head, and her gaze caught his.
Had he always smelled so masculine? She couldn’t remember, but it was as though he’d bathed in pheromones. They called to her, putting her nerve endings on notice, and had her belly quivering.
Her body no longer felt her own. She hadn’t lost this much control since puberty.
Abby couldn’t get away from him fast enough, scrambling a little in her haste. Ever since she’d woken up, Abby had felt different, seeing the world through another lens. Particularly Jarrod. He’d gone from her best friend to a man. Before, the two had been separate in her mind. Her heated body and wild thoughts both thrilled and scared her.
She wet her lips.
Lord help her, she was in lust with her best friend!
Worse, he didn’t have a clue.
Is it simply because he’d held her naked in his arms? His strong, capable, and comforting arms? More and more memories of Jarrod from the previous night returned, of him pressed against her, his heat liquefying her tension.
All she knew was she wanted more. But she was too afraid to ask.
Chapter 4
As if on instinct, Abby headed into the kitchen. Jarrod caught her shoulders. She stumbled back into his chest. Thankfully, she was much shorter than him; otherwise she would’ve ended up hitting her head on his chin.
He gently massaged the skin beneath his hands. “Why don’t you go have a shower? It’ll help soothe some of those aching muscles.�
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She threw him a look. Oh, yeah, he’d noticed. Abby had always been one to suffer in silence. Well, not while he was around.
“But dinner…”
“Can wait. I’ll get it going while you get cleaned up.”
“Okay.”
She retreated, and he turned his attention to dinner. He decided on something quick and easy and had spag bowl ready by the time Abby returned.
His mouth went dry at the sight of her in another of his shirts. It was decent, yet not, at the same time. He shook his head. She was his friend. She was vulnerable. He shouldn’t be thinking of her like that.
Like what exactly? A woman? That’s exactly what she is. A woman who just happens to be my best friend.
“Better?”
“Yes. Thanks.” She sniffed approvingly. “Smells great.”
“Yeah, but does it taste as good? Dig in.”
She sank into the chair across from him, her hair damp, leaving a wet patch against the fabric of his shirt and over the swell of her breasts. He swallowed hard, his heart thumping and his blood heating. Rubbing the back of his neck with his hand, he questioned his sudden appreciation of Abby. He’d always known she was pretty in a country way—dusty and maybe a little rough around the edges—but she’d been his friend first and a girl second. Now, it seemed his ignored libido was telling him he liked more than just their shared past and friendship; he liked the woman beneath.
Could it simply be a natural reaction to stripping her bare in the shower, seeing her naked, or his need to protect her?
Or was this the natural progression? He didn’t dare risk finding out.
Standing, he headed to the fridge, returning a few minutes later laden down with two glasses, one of beer, the other water, knowing Abby’s distaste for his choice of beverage.
Focusing on her, he noted the tense lines on her face that told him no amount of hard labor could erase the worry that she’d hurt someone.
“How is it?” His voice, gruff with emotion, surprised him.
“Delicious.”
“Good.”
She scraped her fork against the plate, then buttered a slice of tiger bread and chewed thoughtfully.
“How long do you think it’ll take for them to complete the investigation?”
Shrugging, he answered, “No idea. Depends on how many questions they have, I guess.”
She nodded, collected their plates, and began filling the sink.
He rose. “Leave it. I’ll do it.”
She glanced over her shoulder. “You cooked. It’s only fair I wash up.”
“I’ll wipe.”
Taking the dish towel from its allocated spot, he dried and put away the dishes, all the while keeping her mind from drifting, reminding her of days filled with laughter and joy. Of the night they’d discovered his parents’ sheep had escaped and decided to graze alongside the road and the bugger of a time they’d had rounding them up.
She laughed until happy tears escaped her eyes with the memory. “Those damn sheep.”
He agreed. While a source of entertainment now, they’d been crafty buggers and caused their share of grief.
Her head dropped as silence filled the air.
“You’re thinking about it again.”
Her mouth twisted up on one side. “You know me so well.”
“I do. Which is why I know you’re torturing yourself.”
Turning, she leaned against the counter. “What’s going to happen if the investigation reveals I did kill him?”
He took her hands and held them captive in his own against his chest. “Hank was known as an abrasive man. That and coupled with his treatment of you should go a long way for self-defense.”
“A part of me says I didn’t kill him, but the evidence seems clear enough. I just can’t imagine what he’d done to make me do something so horrible. What if I never remember?”
“I think it’ll be a good thing if you don’t remember. It’ll take a lot for someone like you to go to such extremes. Do you really want to know what it took for you to snap? The beer bottle could be the least of his crimes against you.”
“I guess.”
Taking one hand from the group, he cupped her neck, stroking his thumb against her soft cheek. He wished he could do something to take her pain away, to give her the answers she sought.
Something inside him clicked as she stared up at him.
He couldn’t seem to resist and leaned forward to do the very thing that had been in the back of his mind since she’d arrived on his doorstep. His feelings toward her had to have always been there. For what he felt was strong and sure and couldn’t have manifested itself in a little over twenty-four hours.
No, this thing brewing between them had been there for years, buried beneath friendship. She stared at him, trust in her eyes as his lips settled over hers. She never hesitated with him, though Hank had given her plenty of reasons to be wary of men. Her mouth opened, lips parting, and gave him access to her sweetness.
Desire swirled around, igniting quickly and bound to burn them both. He reached beneath the shirt she wore and settled his hands on her soft skin, lifting her. Her legs locked around his waist as he devoured her mouth, his tongue grazing sensuously against her own, building the heat.
Placing her on the kitchen table, he kept himself between her open legs, pressing her back against the tabletop, his weight pinning her down.
He could barely think beyond the moment. Though one thought pushed past the sensual haze. They were about to cross a line they couldn’t go back from. He didn’t take it lightly, nor could he stop, and from the hold she had on him, it appeared neither could she.
He guessed he’d only been waiting. It was why he’d remained single all these years. No woman had ever measured up to his ideal, which he now realized was her to a tee.
Gently removing the shirt, he took his time staring at her, ensuring not an inch was missed. The light blaring above acted like a spotlight, highlighting her for his enjoyment. Her breasts moved as her breathing increased.
He hungrily ran his gaze over her exposed skin. He’d been right about those curves. Her breasts were plump, no more than a handful. Certainly, no less. She squirmed beneath his scrutiny, a flush rising from those gorgeous breasts he longed to taste.
Jarrod’s nostrils flared as he stared down at her.
Opening her mouth to protest, he forced himself to look away from her enticing body to soothe her. He sealed his lips against hers and slipped his tongue inside to coax at her own, the texture feeding their desire.
“Sorry. You’re just so damn beautiful.”
“Surely you would’ve gotten your fill last night?”
One side of his mouth hitched up. “I was the perfect gentleman. Didn’t even peek.”
Though he did cop a feel. Accidentally. Now his mouth watered at being so close to sucking on the bead which had haunted him throughout the day and many hours during the night.
Her hot gaze did a sweep of his body, making him wonder how his clothes didn’t burn off. A certain part throbbed from the intensity, and all the moisture in his mouth evaporated.
He bit back a growl.
“My turn.”
He met her eyes. He swallowed hard at the desire he read in her eyes, in the harsh breaths she took.
She leaned forward. So enchanted by the sway of those breasts, he missed what she’d said.
“What?”
She smirked, knowing his brain had been otherwise occupied.
“Clothes. Off. Now.” She tried to be demanding, but the word morphed into a moan.
His cock jumped within its confines, making the denim just a step below unbearable.
Almost frantically, she tore at his clothes. Desperate to be skin to skin, his movements were jerky as he rid himself of all the barriers between them. A button or two popped from the fabric in his haste, but he didn’t care. He wanted to be naked with this woman. His best friend. His Abby.
He glanced up to fin
d her mouth agape as she unabashedly stared at him. She readjusted her position, squeezing her thighs together, which only served to draw his attention to her glistening apex.
Fuck me! He fisted a hand on his expanding cock, pre-cum beading on the head.
There wasn’t a time before he could recall being so turned on. Taking a step forward, he opened her thighs wider, then dropped his head.
Abby sucked in a deep breath. As he lowered his mouth to her, the last thing he saw was her eyes rounding. Her scent enveloped him. Heady. A hint of spice. Her hips rose at his first touch, and she squirmed against him, equally trying to get away and move closer. He held her tightly as he devoured her, her scent and taste intoxicating.
He teased mercilessly, getting lost in the action of giving pleasure as he was anticipating their joining. His tongue plunged, stabbed, then fluttered against her labia, repeated until her thighs quivered and nonsensical words flowed from her mouth—in abandon this time, not shock.
He gripped her thighs hard, just short of punishing. His blood hummed and his heart hammered, delighting in the sounds he pulled from her. So wrong, yet so right. So unbelievably right. His mind cleared of everything except the pleasure he created within her, ensuring he gave her more with each passing moment.
Never before had he thought about being in this position, and yet everything fell into place as though this was always meant to happen.
Abby panted, the sound rough.
She squealed as he dove deeper, driving her higher. Her honey so delectable he could dine on it forever.
After she came against his tongue, he waited her out, allowing her to ride the sensual waves.
While his own body demanded release, he wanted her with him when they finally became one. Stepping back, he rummaged through the junk drawer near the kitchen sink and retrieved a strip of condoms he kept there should, like now, the mood strike.
Her eyebrow rose and her lips curled. When he made no move to go to her, Abby moved restlessly.
“Please…”
She reached for him, dragging him up her body to kiss him soundly, her tongue rubbing against his.