Leakage: A Friends-to-Lovers Romance

by Harley, Karen

"Interesting theory. Anything else you want to say to Jasmine before you leave?"

  "Nice meeting you," Regan said to Jasmine. "Maybe we could meet up if you're ever on campus."

  "Um. Yes."

  "Don't come here again like this," Matt called. "And Friday nights are always bad."

  The door closed hard behind Regan, leaving a silence thick with her presence.

  "Goddamn," Matt said fervently. "Another minute of that…." Slowly at first, then firmly and steadily, his hand began making circles over Jasmine's front. Around and around. Almost hypnotic. She wasn't sure who was being hypnotized, though…her or him. One thing she was pretty sure of; there was nothing sexual about his touch. He was petting her the way you'd rhythmically pet a cat.

  "I didn't know you had a sister."

  "Mm." She became aware that his heart was pounding like a train over old tracks. She could feel it through her back and hear his ragged breathing. He's really upset.

  "Does she do that a lot?"

  "Do what?"

  "Freak you out by coming here?"

  "No, thank God."

  This was like pulling teeth. "You don't get along with her."

  "We get along fine when we're not in the same room together."

  "Like you and me," she pointed out.

  "Nothing like you and me. Regan tries to get away with anything she can. You…you just try to get away."

  "So." Jasmine turned her head to look at him, then took the plunge. "When did your mom die?"

  His hands stalled. "Last July."

  "Last summer? My God, Matt. You didn't say anything to anyone."

  "Not a good topic, Jas. Then or now."

  "So you're not going to tell me what that was all about?"

  "Don't make me talk about my parents, Jasmine. Tonight is supposed to be about your sweet, sweet pussy."

  "Could I make you talk about it?"

  "Oh, yes."

  "Why don't you want to talk about it?"

  "If I tell you, then I'll be doing it," he said reasonably. "Are you hungry?"

  "Sometimes you're the most maddening person."

  "Do I madden you?" He mimicked her.

  "All week," she confessed.

  She heard the smile suddenly in his voice. "I made the tiramisu. Will you have some?" So I can watch you eat it. She could practically hear his thoughts.

  And then, belatedly, she registered his comment about her pussy.

  Now his hands were splayed across her chest. This time it was sexual. Or at least, she was. She felt relaxed and soft.

  The brunette was his sister. Not that she'd doubted—for long, anyway—that he'd been honest with her. But it was nice to know.

  And she would make him tell her more about his parents. If she really could. She couldn't imagine anyone having that kind of power over Matt; she hadn't needed Harrison to tell her he was a private person.

  Another time.

  "All right," she said.

  But after he served it to her on a plate, moist and golden and cocoa-dusted and syrupy, handing her a fork and napkin, it wasn't the sweet, tender cake with its bitter coffee bite that made a winding skein of bliss uncurl in her viscera. It was watching him pluck off a piece of his own dessert and put it in his mouth. He didn't so much chew as move his jaw and savor it. His swallowing was a thing of beauty.

  "What?" One brow rose as he scooped out another bite.

  "You're using your fingers," was all she said.

  "Mm. Sticky." He sucked on his long fingers. Nodded at her fork and plate. "Be grateful for those civilities."

  "Why? What else would you do?"

  "Eating-wise, or feeding-wise?"

  She caught her breath. "Either."

  "The ideal way to eat this occurred to me as I was tasting the mascarpone. I'd lay you on the counter, spoon it into your pussy, and then scrape you clean with gusto. As for feeding…well, this." He snagged a chunk, then used it to brush her lips until she opened her mouth like a puppet. And then her tongue was exploding with the sweetness and zest of his fingers and the cake, tasting him, swirling about his flesh.

  "Oh, Jas. That." He turned them both, edged her closer, prying her legs apart with his knee, pressing that knee up inside her skirt to her crotch, and fed her another bite of tiramisu.

  Jasmine whimpered. The orgasm bloomed, starting right where his kneecap dug in, and blossomed up her gut and into her throat and mouth where her taste buds were overwhelmed with flavors and temptations.

  And now his tongue was inside her mouth. Her body quaked, and he laughed softly. Like the dessert, the peak was bittersweet.

  "Beautiful, Jas."

  Somehow, she was on her back. Dreamily she looked up at him, at the semi-tender, semi-bland look that was so uniquely Matt, aroused. He lay over her, kissing her mouth, his tongue warm, gentle and exploring, just kissing, but the bulge of his cock was incised between her legs, thrusting, and Jasmine cried out, coming again helplessly.

  When she opened her eyes again, she was on her back on the floor and her skirt was hiked around her waist, her sex graphically exposed. Matt was naked, propped above her, doing things to her with his fingers. Those fingers left her forlorn.

  "Yeah, I'm working on it." As soon as the condom was on she pulled him impatiently by his cock until he was fitted to her, demanding, "In, now," as though she owned him.

  He didn't even hesitate, filling her to bursting all the way. Her tiny muscles grasped him from within when he pulled out, then in again, his weight landing on her completely, taking her breath, but who needed air with pleasure rippling through her parts like that….

  "This is not how I was going to do it," he gasped.

  "What's the—matter with it? It's perfect." And her head tapped the couch's skirt panel.

  "That." He rescued her head. "Plus rug burns on—my knees—and your butt. Problem—is getting to the bed. I'd have to—pull out. Not—happening."

  This was new between them. Fuckplay without the foreplay. Pumping was the least of it; she had no idea this man could move his hips so sinuously. With the same kind of leisurely pace with which he'd eaten his dessert, his cock caressing the walls of her passage in easy rotations was just like being stroked and massaged in the best places, everywhere, a thousand hands working her body.

  She told him that much later, when they were both panting on their backs, the sweat cooling off their bodies, hands locked.

  He smiled. "We had seven days' priming for this."

  "Maybe that's why I liked it so much."

  He rolled over and stroked her cheek. "Did you? Even though we're dusty and disgusting?"

  "That's what showers are for."

  "God, Jasmine. There's only one problem with you."

  "What's that?"

  "You're not naked. Be naked now."

  She unbuttoned her blouse. He stopped her from pulling it off, parting the fabric. With a casual flick, he slipped out the front closure of her bra and eased the cups away to expose her breasts.

  The way he looked at them made her realize exactly why Matt could get any woman he wanted in his bed. His emotions might be a locked safe, but his worship of a woman's body was utterly transparent. What woman could resist knowing that for a short amount of time at least, she was the most beautiful woman in the world to him?

  Right now, Jasmine could even imagine she was Matt's born ideal. She knew for a fact she wasn't; curvy blonds were disproportionately high on his list. They might be his native preference, but he didn't seem picky about colors or languages or fashions, and she'd even seen him with women who had to be twenty years his senior.

  From what he'd said in the past, he selected his partners for three things: they must be sexually sophisticated, they couldn't do drugs, and they practiced safe sex. Everything else was gravy.

  And now he'd fixed on her. His interest would vanish soon, any day now in fact, if he was true to type. But for now, his blue-eyed gaze said that she was everything he'd ever wanted. And there was even the po
ssibility that he believed it.

  He smiled, tracing a circle around her nipple, then her navel. "Do you know where I'd like to be right now?"

  "In the bedroom," she said prosaically.

  "On an uninhabited island," he countered. "Somewhere we could walk naked. Except—no, I think there'd be children. Dozens of them. But you'd still be naked. They wouldn't mind. A peninsula might be okay, except no computers allowed. You'd need a boat or helicopter to find us."

  "What would all those children be doing while we'd be frolicking on the beach?"

  "Not frolicking on the beach. Too much grit." His tongue slipped over the nipple nearest to him. "The kids would be doing kid stuff, probably flying drones. Picking violets."

  "You're kidding."

  "This is an idyll, not Lord of the Flies. You'd be cooking on a campfire. I'd be chasing the bears away."

  "Sounds pretty caveman."

  "Sadly, yes."

  She swallowed. "Matt, do you…when you talk like this. Do you…"

  "Yeah, Jas?"

  "Do you mean it? Or is it one of your teases?"

  "I mean it," he said. "I always mean it."

  Oh, God. He confused her so much. And she'd thought she'd had it all straight.

  "Is that a tease?" she rallied.

  His smile dimmed. "Whatever you think, Jas."

  "I don't know what to think." Suddenly, she wanted him to know. As when they were walking around Green Lake, she took another step into dangerous territory. "I've never known what you really think of me."

  He sucked in a slow breath. "Haven't you? I've told you a million times, Jas, I lost my heart to you the moment I laid eyes on you."

  "Now that was definitely teasing," she said, almost angry that he would flirt with her now. "I'm serious. What do you think of me, Matt?"

  Dead silence.

  Then:

  "You really want to know?"

  No. No. No.

  I don't want to know that I'm the only one in love here.

  And if it's not true…if you are serious about me…that's even scarier.

  So no.

  She pulled herself to a crouch. Her chest was in panic mode.

  "Yes." Her voice was thin. "Maybe."

  Now all expression was gone from his face.

  "Okay." His eyes swept her up and down. "Take off your shirt and bra."

  Her heart hurt her chest, it pounded so hard. She stood up and removed the rest of her clothing.

  He held out his hand. She gave hers to him and braced herself the moment it hit her he was going to use her as a boost. When he was standing, he let go and slowly backed up, putting as much distance between them as the room would allow. Why this made her so conscious of her nakedness and his, she didn't know.

  "It's a loaded question," he said finally, leaning against the wall. "What does anyone think of another person? If there's something you want to know, ask it another way."

  She nodded. "All right, let me think." Think of a way to word this question so I don't get hurt.

  "Take your time," he said ironically.

  "Do you…think of me as a friend."

  "Yes."

  "Have you always thought of me that way?"

  "No."

  "So you thought of me as an enemy before that?"

  "No."

  That bewildered her. "That makes no sense."

  "Jasmine, Jasmine, Jasmine." He crossed his arms. That tone of voice made her abdominal muscles clench; she prepared for the emotional slap.

  "Matt—"

  "Regrets already? But Jasmine, if you know nothing else, you know I've wanted to fuck you from the moment I saw you. That's not news. Everyone knows it. Even the dude that hustles for change outside the coffee house knows it. What is it you really want to know?"

  For Jasmine, time stretched as she absorbed the implications of his words. When she did, a jumble of thoughts percolated into a thousand others in the matrix of her mind, leaving her nonplussed.

  "I didn't," she said. "Know that."

  "Then you're tremendously naive. Which you're not."

  That infuriated her. "How was I supposed to know? You were the one who told me to fuck off in the first place."

  He went still.

  Her nails dug into her palms. "I remember that day very well. Sara was kidding around with you in the hallway and you looked over at me and you said, 'Who's this?' and Sara said 'That's my roommate, Jasmine,' and you repeated my name like it was some kind of a brainstorm you'd had and then you said, 'Make you a deal, Jasmine, love. I won't jump on you if you don't jump on me.' And you obviously were telling me to keep my distance. I assumed because of being neighbors or whatever."

  He gave his head a little shake, as though to clear it. "Sorry. I'm, uh…."

  "Why are you acting all surprised?"

  "I don't remember any of this. Not the way you're talking about it. You'll have to spell it out."

  "Sex, Matt. That's what this is about, isn't it? Honestly, it's a good thing. I just rolled my eyes, 'cause it was cool. Fine." She lifted her chin. "It's never really mattered. I knew I'd be loony to even think of doing anything about it. I'd seen you around enough to know you weren't someone to get involved with. I wasn't even in your class. I never thought you actually wanted me. You flirted. Just like you flirt with Sara and every woman under ninety."

  "Ah. So I've been the very devil to you."

  She didn't answer.

  "That's not how I remember meeting you," he said distantly. "I don't know where we were. It might have been outside in the hallway. Sara might have been there. I have no idea. I just remember you…high-strung, like a cat about to jump off a ledge. Your eyes were terrified. I thought you knew I had a hard-on the size of the Space Needle. You trounced me, Jas. Your claws were out." He looked at her unsmilingly. "Does that answer your question? About what I think of you?"

  She expelled a breath. No. It just raises a hundred more. "Kind of. You think I'm a coward."

  "Maybe. Smart, though. You were smart to stay away. I would have hurt you. Guaranteed."

  By not being faithful. By not loving you back.

  She'd always known that. When had it not been true for anybody in her life?

  "As it is, I think…" His voice sounded shaky. "I think I did anyway?"

  At first she was confused. Then she realized. He thought he'd hurt her because, despite all her efforts to keep it close, he knew somehow she was vulnerable to him. Needed him too much.

  Tell him he's right.

  Sure, and watch him show you how little you matter to him. When they know, they use it.

  Jasmine shrugged one shoulder and gave him her best derisive look. "How could you hurt me, Matt? Notwithstanding your opinions about nipple piercings…I mean, you're good-looking and all, but it's no big deal. I've been attracted to lots of guys. It's not like I'm in love with you or anything." And that was the biggest lie she'd ever told him. Because of course she was, and she'd known it almost since the beginning. She added silently, So now you know you can't hurt me, you won't.

  "I see." His arms pressed out to the sides, palms against the wall. "Then we're good. We know where we stand. You didn't feel anything. You have an itch to scratch, and I'm here to scratch it."

  "Basically. You're a cute guy. Naturally I'm attracted." No, no, no. I'm lying. A coward. Afraid of being hurt, losing my nerve…again.

  His voice was mellow. "Now I get why you agreed to the Challenge. Curiosity. Simple. Obvious now. But it leaves me wondering. Why the jealousy? Why the extreme caution? Why all the insults? Why did you…"

  He tipped his head, eyes shut. There was no warning. Just a crash, and Jasmine jumped. His fist. In the wall. Big crack.

  His eyelids slowly lifted open. His body straightened. He glanced down at his knuckles, rubbing them absently. Then he looked straight at her across the room. And smiled.

  Not a nice smile.

  "Jasmine, you want to go now."

  "Matt." She was paralyzed. What h
ad happened?

  "No, you definitely want to go."

  "You hurt yourself."

  "I know you're smarter than that. Get out if you don't want something to happen."

  "Not if you're going to do that again."

  "No. No, that's not what you do when somebody goes off." His voice was still soft. "You go away. This is probably your last chance." He walked across the room, to stand right in front of her. Dropped a tender kiss on her lips. "Go away."

  "Why? You're not going to hurt me." She didn't understand why she knew that, but she couldn't move in any case.

  "Oh, right. I can't hurt you. You told me. You just want my cock up your hungry cunt."

  She'd never raised a hand to another human being in her life, but she only just managed to stop her palm short of his cheek.

  "Go ahead," he said. "I told you. You can do anything to me."

  "Stop it. Why are you doing this? What's wrong with you?" What did I say?

  "Guess it's been a bad day," he said, and slid his arms under her and lifted her up.

  She jerked with the shock of it, her hands flying to his neck to catch her balance. It was unreal. As if she weighed nothing, as if it were a loving embrace, he carried her into his bedroom, kicked the door shut, and set her gently down on the bed. She sat up immediately.

  "Don't get off," he said. "Stay there, please."

  She'd been here before, she thought dizzily. Matt in a crazy mood in his bedroom. Only this one was dangerous. He'd said so. But she couldn't feel fear. Just frantic. He was hurting, and somehow she'd done it to him, and she didn't understand any of it. She'd thought herself the one hurt.

  Somehow she wasn't surprised when he planted himself in front of his computer. Or when, minutes later, a huge stack of warm paper fresh out of the laser printer was shoved into her hand.

  "Have a look-see," he said pleasantly.

  It took her a few minutes to get that what she was looking at was court documents. Legal documents. All sorts of documents. Pages and pages of them. IRS. Other government agencies.

  "That's dad." Matt nodded at the paperwork. "Prosperous man, till he wasn't. Here's a tale. He stole my identity when I was twenty, scammed money out of the government, and implicated me in tax fraud. Mom wasn't too thrilled about the jail time or the restitution but, hey, at least her druggie habits couldn't be blamed for Regan's screw-ups anymore. Alas, she thought the best way to tackle the whole mess was to extort her son—that's me—to crusade on her behalf. Even my draining what was left of my cash reserves couldn't rescue her from fuck. Luckily, she found a way out last summer. Deliberate overdose. So, happy ending."