Lexi digs keys from her front pocket — three jingling on a small ring with a tiny pale-pink stone hanging from a three-link chain.
I dig out my own — one large ring, eleven keys, no adornment — release her hand to point at my blood-red Ford Bronco parked on a slant thanks to this parking lot being wonky. Top off. Windows down.
“No way, Cherry, you may have driven this train from the station, but I’ll drive the truck that carries us home.”
She stops walking, fists landing on her hips. “Cherry?”
“That’s right.”
She considers it, scrunching her face in the decision, drops her hands and smirks, “I like it.” Looking at my truck, her head tilts. “That Ford is yours?”
“Yep.”
“You didn’t park in an official spot.”
“Nope.”
She locks eyes with me, fire shining. “I like that, too.”
We walk up and I open the door for her, leaning on it. “Hop in.”
But she doesn’t. Instead, her gaze travels down and back up my body like she’s surveying the goods. I’m holding back a smile, amused as fuck.
“Like what you see?”
“Mmhmm.”
“Me too.”
She nibbles her bottom lip — totally subconscious but a huge turn on — spins around and takes a slow stroll around my prized possession.
All the way around.
Twice.
“This is a classic.”
Each time she passes me with hips naturally swaying in those tight jeans — no effort, just fuckin’ hot.
“It’s a 1976.”
Her hand slides down the length of one of the bars, admiring how smooth it is. “You have this restored, or did you buy it like this?”
“Neither.”
Lexi wraps her hands around my driver’s door since the window is down. “What d’ya mean, neither?”
“I mean, I didn’t have this restored and, when I bought it, it was a rusty hunk of junk.”
“You restored this yourself?”
“Wicked and smart.”
She laughs, running her index finger lightly across the hood on her way back to me. “I wouldn’t say my figuring that out indicates intelligence.”
We’re staring at each other.
Standing together.
Less than a foot apart.
Sizing up what’s going on.
What’s to come.
Who’s to cum.
If that’s even a good idea.
She didn’t think this through.
I know that for sure.
But I’m enjoying myself.
I’ll wait to see how it plays.
“I might not get in the truck.”
“Your choice, Cherry.”
Naked lips tug up, creating a little dimple in one cheek I hadn’t noticed until now. Looks like she’s only got the one. “I’m thirsty, Gage.”
“You like my name?”
“Yes.”
“Don’t want me to go back to Ira?”
She grins, “No.”
“Wanna go back inside?”
She blanches, “No way,” face softening as she looks at me. “But I am thirsty. You see…my beer went to someone else.”
“I appreciated it more than he did.”
A grin flashes, filled with vengeance. “Me too.”
My gaze drops to her lips.
Hers drops to mine.
I hook my arm around her.
Draw her close.
“You holding your breath?”
“No,” she lies, suddenly inhaling.
“Yeah, you were. Listen Cherry, if we’re gonna do this one-night-thing to get you over that guy, you’ve had enough lies. And I don’t find them interesting. Life’s too short for ‘em. I like to know where I am.”
She searches me, unsure if she should tell me to fuck off or kiss me.
I solve her problem, claiming her mouth in a kiss that’s slow.
Deep.
Mutual.
Pressing her yielding body into my taut muscles, arms holding her tight, cock rising to the occasion, we lose ourselves.
No more parking lot.
No more Local.
No more questions.
Just this kiss.
“Lexi?”
We break free, look over at the approaching uniformed police officer whose frowning hard.
She sighs, “Oh shit. Let’s go!” and runs around me, jumps in my Bronco.
He grins, “Oh no you don’t,” still not in a hurry though. One of his hands is on his gun belt, other one waving the universal stop-gesture.
Despite that gun, I stroll around the back and hop in. “Another boyfriend?”
“Cousin.”
“Got it.” I hit the engine.
Lexi stands up, holding onto the black frame of my windshield, ass eye-level to me and I sure don’t mind.
“Wyatt, I told your brother, I’m not your sister so don’t pull this shit. I’ve already got three brothers who want to cage us!”
Wyatt’s his name, huh?
It sticks in my head for some reason. Same with Nate, Sam and Zoe. They’re like a song on repeat as I cock an eyebrow at him to see if he’ll give me room to leave with her, or continue to blockade our exit.
Wyatt chuckles, shaking his head, “This is Brad, isn’t it. I finally get to see Brad in the flesh.” He steps aside. “He doesn’t seem so bad. Nice ride. Normal looking. Why the secret?!”
“No more secrets. He’s not Brad.” She slides into her seat as I drive away, holding up her arms and yelling, “And I’m going to fuck him tonight!”
Through the rearview I see Wyatt laugh, cupping his hands to shout, “You’re a Cocker alright, but you should’ve been born a boy!”
Lexi wiggles in her seat and smiles, “As if there was ever any doubt.”
Chapter Five
LEXI
I love driving with wind in my hair on a warm southern night like this one, every now and then receiving the gift of night-blooming jasmine filling my lungs with fresh sweetness.
But jasmine is elusive. That’s one of its charms. Ever since I was a little girl I’ve always turned my body to capture it for as long as I can, happy it wasn’t possible, the chase making it special.
Speaking of special - that kiss was incredible.
I was enjoying the flirtation, too. How confident he was just leaning on that door, watching me with this sexy look in his eyes.
Also loved that Gage was down for escaping Wyatt before even knowing who my cousin was! My kind of crazy.
He’s hot.
Ridiculously sexy.
Mmmhmm.
Dark and stormy Gage with shiny raven-black hair, super smooth skin, high cheekbones, and a sharp masculine brow over crocodile-green eyes.
I’m a big fan of his black fitted t-shirt combo of black slacks and shiny boots, one silver bracelet and a slender black-leather rope necklace that’s gotta have a pendant I can’t wait to fondle.
Rockstar meets CEO.
What little hesitation I’d had in moving forward with this rebound plan vanished as he held me with zero insecurity.
What I absolutely adored — and it took me off guard, I have to admit — is that he just went for it with that kiss, yet also worked off of me. It was the sexy conversation it's meant to be.
After the first two or three seconds neither of us were in our heads. At least, I wasn’t and it sure felt like he…
Hmm…
Maybe he was never in his head.
Now that I’m thinking about it, since I’ve got time as we drive through the sleepy roads of Virginia Highlands neighborhood, it was probably just me in my head for the obvious reasons: I don’t know him, was still furious, and my pride was a bit stung.
A bit?!!
Bastard.
What a complete fucking sonofabitch, lying, no good, hateful piece of shit, full of himself, no good (I said no good, didn’t I? Well, he is no good!), cow
ardly, sneaky, conniving, dastardly (dastardly? Have I ever even used that word?) Lexi cut it out!
But fuck him.
Fuck him!!!
Texting that to me while he was with her! Did he type in the bathroom where she couldn’t see him tapping away with fingers that'd touched us both with neither of us knowing?
Gross.
And there’s me faking myself into feeling all lovey-dovey-happy that he’d thought about me even though he wasn’t with me — by his choice! — when what I really, really wanted was for him to be playing darts by my side.
Who doesn’t want her man playing darts with her on a Saturday night?
Just the girls is fun, sure, but a crowd of seven, nine, twelve — including the girls and your boyfriend — is a blast!
I don’t go to places like that, Lexi, he’d said with his perfect nose in the air. Can you really see me at The Local?
I just did see you, you lying sack.
Why'd he even go when he knew I was going to be there?!
Oh, wait.
I’d told him we'd been invited to a house party in Sandy Springs. And we did, but promptly left after finding a quiet cocktail party too docile for our desires.
Or mine, at least.
The girls always follow.
I’d wanted to get rowdy.
Glancing to Gage, I tilt my head and watch him silently driving, right hand on the wheel, left on his thigh, thumb absently tapping to a beat in his head.
He meets my eyes long enough to send tingles of expectation behind my jeans zipper, then returns to the road.
Hmmm…
This is going to be fun.
We don’t just want to be kissed hard, we want a dance of tongues, a blending of skin, a sensual conversation.
A great kiss is like listening and talking at the same time.
Gage did that.
He was holding me with this perfect, warm pressure, arms making me feel…
Safe?
No.
That’s not it.
Wanted?
No. I knew I was wanted.
Present!
That’s it.
We were present.
Really there with each other.
I even forgot about Brad.
Holy shit! I can’t wait to tell Paige. She’s always laughing at how I can’t wrap my moving-too-fast brain around the whole ‘Zen’ thingy she teaches at her yoga studios. Even though I run the books for Om This LLC, I’ve never quite gotten down with her jam.
But I got it tonight!
We were in The Now!
Speaking of where we are…
“Why're we still in The Highlands?”
“I live in this neighborhood.”
Twisting in my seat, I ask, “Really? Since when? My parents live on this street. It’s where I grew up.”
“Just moved here a year ago.”
“From?”
“Brookhaven.”
“Oh, so not far.”
“Nope.”
I wait for him to say more, watching his handsome profile, and notice a bump on the slope of his nose. “Get that broken in a fight?”
“This?” he points to it.
“Mmhmm.”
“Born with it.”
“Born looking like a badass?”
A smile flickers. “Somethin’ like that.”
“That’s their house!”
Gage twists his broad torso to see it. “That one?”
I turn in my seat, too, as we pass, “Mmhmm,” and scan the oh-so-familiar windows for a light. “They’re probably at Dad’s studio.”
“Studio?”
“He’s a music producer.”
“A music producer?”
“You know, the people who puts songs together?” Gage stares ahead without a sign he understood or even heard me, his relaxed face momentarily lit by one of the antique street-lamps I love so much. “He arranges the vocal and instrumental tracks, has a vision for where the song should go and creates that for the vocal and musical artists.”
“Don’t know much about music, Cherry.”
“Huh.”
We pass a man climbing out of his Lexus who straightens to admire the Bronco lazily drifting by him at a respectable pace for sleeping residents. I watch the guy drinking in its pristine exterior. He nods to himself and walks up his driveway.
Smiling, I twist back to face front, prop my right boot-heel on the black glovebox, leg bent but not spread. “What do you know about, Gage?”
He cuts an unhappy glance to my boot, and I carefully pull my leg back so as not to scratch his precious truck, sitting upright again, clasping my hands in my lap like a kid caught fucking up.
Can’t blame him.
I wasn’t thinking.
Must’ve been countless hours of work making it look this good. Perfect restoration, slick, detailed, shiny, clean. Probably should’ve thought twice before throwing a foot up on it.
But I like riding that way, and I was starting to feel comfortable. Not comfy now.
“Sorry.”
“All good, Cherry.”
We slow to turn left off of my old street, and right onto the next.
I’ve walked this two-lane road hundreds of times, and it’s equally peaceful with just as many oak tree roots pushing through asphalt and making the sidewalk impossible for skateboarding.
“So… what do you know about?”
“You said he puts songs together?”
“Yes.”
“I put things together.”
I’m admiring the pride in Gage’s expression, the cut of his shoulders, and his steady and sharp Adam’s apple. My voice is quieter as I ask, “Like what?”
“Things.”
“Wanna be more specific?”
“Can’t be.”
“What?”
“I put together things.”
“Yes,” I smile, “Got that.”
“Cool.”
I frown and face forward, unwilling to press further.
With all the Cocker men that are forever in my life — uncles, brothers, cousins and don't forget Grandpa, I’m used to short answers and silence when they don’t want to explain any further.
Not from my dad though. He’s always willing to talk things through.
But his twin? Uncle Justin can zip his lip better than anyone.
Except maybe Uncle Jaxson.
No, wait.
Ben has them beat.
I feel Gage looking at me, so I lock eyes with him. “Hi.”
He smiles, “Hey,” and focuses on turning into the driveway of a two-story craftsman home of twilight blue with white trim and three steps leading up.
Quick as a lightning bug I take note of its screened-in porch, two large windows on the first floor, three medium-sized on the second, and one tiny window in a tower that may or may not be a small attic. Which would make it a three-story.
Four, if there’s a basement.
I always think that counts.
No lights on here either.
Roommates not home?
Good.
I wait for Gage to jump out, come around the car to open my door — don’t even go for my handle — and when he does, I hold out my hand. Our fingers slide together and I’m pleasantly surprised to be taken into his arms for another, “Hey,” this time throatier.
I whisper, staring at his parted lips, “Hi there.”
He licks them as I watch, and inspires an ache between my upper thighs that pulls them together.
What’s he gonna do?
Kiss me?
I’m waiting to see.
Not breathing again.
His eyes are so intense.
I get lost.
Gage’s warm fingers apply more pressure into my back like they did before, when we kissed. There’s no moon out, only an antique streetlamp in the distance lighting our skin as we gaze at each other.
Watching him think is hypnotizing me. How his crocodiles flicker, eyela
shes pitch black. How his cheekbones tighten. I count three tiny moles, two of them close to the sharp line where his jaw meets his neck on the right side, one by his eyebrow on the other.
My breath hitches as I’m lifted up, his hands wrapping my legs around him.
He carries me up the driveway, turning on a small path lined with darkened solar lanterns that must have their batteries out, keys jingling.
Gage rasps, “Hang on to me,” giving me a quick, rough kiss before reaching to swiftly unlock the deadbolt.
I tighten my legs, gripping onto his hard body, arms clasped around his neck, burrowing in to kiss his throbbing jugular vein as we walk inside.
He kicks the door closed, locks it while locking lips with me.
We go absolutely nuts, making out with me wrapped around him like a spider monkey, grinding my crotch against his and pulsing more in my pussy than I have in a long time.
Gage is kneading my ass and flips me around, pressing me up against his front door to get a better grind on.
“Oh my God,” I moan, crashing my lips with his again.
His hips really know how to move.
Fuck!
Wow!
I break free from the kiss, drop my legs, and go for his zipper while Gage chews on my neck, groaning, “You smell good, Cherry.”
I reach into his pants, and gasp as my fingers wrap around the widest girth they ever have.
Gage looks down.
He locks eyes with me.
“Too much?”
“I…I…we’ll see!”
Brushing his lips against mine so softly they send a shiver, he rasps, “Yes we will…”
Chapter Six
LEXI
I haven’t been with a ton of guys. My number is over five…and under ten.
Not one this big.
Gage closes his eyes, enjoying as I give his trunk a slow, stunned stroke, fingertips unable to touch each other. I’ve got small hands, but this is crazy.
And yet…
My legs feel limber.
More inclined to open.
Knees definitely weak.
Willing to spread.
In fact, my cautious pussy is becoming by every passing second one incredible throb of need.
She’s wondering why I’m hesitating. It’s because I have a brain and I’m good at math.
This cock equals ouch!
“Feels good,” he rasps, and he’s right. It does. It’s not incredibly long, which my cervix just whispered she’s grateful for. It’s the width that has my brain arguing with my crotch, Are you sure about this? You can back out now!
Lexi Cocker (Cocker Brothers Book 25) Page 3