Until the Next Time (Give Me Shelter Book 1)

by Josie Kerr

  Until the Next Time

  A Give Me Shelter Novel

  Josie Kerr

  This is a work of fiction and does not in any way advocate irresponsible behavior. This book contains content that is not suitable for readers 17 and under.

  Any resemblance to actual things, events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Names, characters, places, brands, products, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademark status and ownership of any location names or products mentioned in this book. The author received no compensation for any mention of said trademark.

  Edited by Bethany Pennypacker

  Cover image: Bigstock.com # 203989711

  Copyright © 2018 Josie Kerr

  Published by Hot Words and Cold Coffee, LLC

  All rights reserved.

  Digital Edition

  To the lovers of awesomely bad movies

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Preview from A Moment in Time (Give Me Shelter #2)

  Acknowledgements

  Also by Josie Kerr

  About Josie Kerr

  Prologue

  Three Years Ago

  Jason Richards had been watching Meghan Sullivan all night. Something was different with her this evening. Oh, they’d done their usual bicker-flirting, but tonight, there was more heat behind her words, more lingering touches and looks. Even so, he was pretty shocked when she’d asked him—no, informed him—that he needed to hang around after Foley’s Public House closed.

  Jason had absolutely no problem handing his twin brother the keys to his truck. After all, he was pretty sure whatever was going to happen later would be worth the cab fare.

  Now, they were alone in the closed bar and Jason sat in a chair in the middle of the pub’s dining room and watched the raven-haired beauty stalk toward him while unbuttoning her white cotton dress shirt. That shirt had tantalized him all night because he thought he could see the barest glimpse of a black bra underneath it.

  He was right.

  “Are we doing to do this, or are you going to be a bitchtease, Richards?” she asked, challenging him.

  Between the black lace bra that exposed more than it covered, her bossy tone, and the fact that she’d dropped the thong she was wearing on the floor as she walked toward him, Jason, usually never at a loss for words, was dumbstruck, so much that he could only nod.

  A little half smile formed on her mouth and she pointed at his obvious erection. “Take it out,” she ordered.

  He didn’t have to think twice about obeying, and no sooner than he’d exposed himself, Meghan produced a condom from the pocket of her jean skirt and ripped the mylar wrapper open with her teeth. She leaned forward and rolled on the condom in one smooth move.

  “I’ve been thinking about this for months, Richards,” she whispered in his ear, her hand still gripping his dick. “Are you ready?”

  “Fuck, yeah,” he replied, and caught her mouth in a hard kiss.

  Meghan groaned into his mouth as he stroked his tongue against hers. She straddled the chair and Jason could feel her heat hovering over him. He eased her jean skirt over her hips so he could wrap his hands around her bare flesh, and she sank down, painfully slow, until she completely engulfed him.

  Then they commenced fucking right there in the middle of dining room of Foley’s Public House. They were both still fully dressed, which only made it hotter in Jason’s opinion. Seeing Meghan writhe around in her blouse, jean skirt, fishnet thigh-highs, and short booties was a million times hotter than any naked lap dance he’d ever gotten.

  Then she flicked the front clasp of her bra and loosed her breasts, offering them up to him. When he’d hesitated—not because he didn’t want to partake, but because he couldn’t decide what to do first—she twisted his nipples and demanded he do the same for her.

  So insanely sexy.

  After the first round, they’d moved to one of the booths, where he’d taken her flat on her back and she’d bitten him hard enough to leave a mark while trying to muffle her scream of pleasure. he was never going to be able to look at that booth the same way again. Hell, he wasn’t going to be able to look at the dining room the same.

  And when it was all over and they’d straightened their clothes, she leaned against the mahogany bar and gave him a little smile.

  ““This is the first and last time we’re doing this, Richards.” Meghan’s smile told him she knew she was lying.

  “Sure thing, Sullivan.” Jason leaned over and kissed the hollow of her throat where her pulse still thrummed. “The absolute last time, at least until the next time.”

  Chapter 1

  Jason Richards had not been this drunk this early in a really long time. He squinted one eye and watched his family as they gathered around his brother, Ryan, and Ryan’s new husband, Junior, congratulating them on their recent elopement. Everyone was smiling and laughing, and Jason wanted to punch each and every one of them in the fucking neck.

  Not really.

  Okay, yes, really.

  He poured some beer into a glass from the half-empty pitcher left behind from the table’s previous occupants and swallowed the lukewarm swill before blowing out a noisy breath. He wasn’t generally one to sulk and he truly was happy for Ryan, but damn, did they all have to be so . . . perky? He growled deep in his throat and drained the rest of the beer from the glass.

  “Jeez, this is awful.” He made a face at the glass, as if the sour, watered-down beer were solely responsible for his foul mood. He really didn’t want to be That Guy—the one who sat by himself, sulking, because he was single and lonely and had no one to blame except himself—but it sure seemed as if he was determined to play that role, at least today.

  As if on cue, another one of his happily paired-off friends spied him and motioned him to where he was sitting. Dammit. Jason didn’t really want to talk to his teammate—he just wanted to sit and sulk, but Dan obviously had other ideas, so Jason gritted his teeth and ambled over to the booth.

  “What’s the story, morning glory?” Jason tumbled into the booth with a grunt, almost knocking over the glass of beer that sat on the table.

  “I would ask how you’re doing, but that’s pretty apparent.” Dan took a sip of his own beer and moved to shift his ever-present sketch pad out of the way of his drunken menace of a friend. Of course, just because Jason was drunk as shit didn’t mean he was any less curious than he normally was, so he snagged the sketch pad just before Dan moved it out of his reach.

  “This is really good. They’ll like it,” Jason remarked of the candid sketch of Ryan and Junior. He scratched at the back of his head and changed the subject, lest Dan be tempted to start in on the topic of
anyone’s domestic bliss. “Business is picking up. I was thinking about getting in touch with some of the crew, seeing if they need work.”

  “ ‘Jason’s House of Wayward Marines’? That has a nice ring to it.” Dan grinned.

  Jason barked a laugh. “Nah. Gunny called last week. Said he and Cash have been knocking around San Diego but are looking for a change of scenery. I told ’em about the rehab business, and they said they might check it out. We’ll see.” Jason shrugged. “But if they do come out, I know you and Cash have had your differences . . .” His voice trailed off. “Differences” was an understatement. Their buddy, William “Cash” Cashton had always been uneasy with Jason and Dan’s less than orthodox relationship, though Jason didn’t know if it was because Cash was uncomfortable with homosexuals in general or because it was men he was serving with in particular. Regardless, Jason and Cash were going to have to have a big talk, but that could wait.

  “It’s all good, Jase. Everyone needs a second chance. Speaking of . . .” Dan nodded toward bar, where Meghan was busy serving drinks. “How’s she doing?”

  And that was the million-dollar question wasn’t it? Jason had no clue how she was really doing because she’d shut him out six months before.

  “I have no idea,” Jason finally admitted. “We had a huge blowout the morning after the wake, and she’s not talked to me since.”

  “Dude.”

  Jason closed his eyes. “I know. I know. I’m an asshole, but Meghan Sullivan is the most bullheaded, stubborn”—he laid his head on the table with a thunk—“beautiful, caring, smart, sexy pain in the ass I’ve ever met, and I can’t figure out how to convince her that I’m not a complete idiot. Jesus!” Jason jerked upright and flopped back against the booth.

  Jason still wondered how long Meghan could stay angry with him. It had been six months since her beloved father, Sully, had passed away, six months since Jason had bundled her into his truck and taken her home after her father’s wake. He’d wanted to do something nice for her. At the time, he thought he was being supportive but in hindsight, all he was doing was being his usual bossy, overbearing self, and Meghan wasn’t having it. He didn’t blame her at all. After all, who the fuck was he to tell her how to grieve?

  Jackass.

  Dan looked at him with pity in his eyes, and Jason couldn’t stand it. “I’m really fucking drunk,” he deflected, hoping it would distract Dan from any well-meant advice that would make Jason want to strangle his close friend and former lover.

  Dan chuckled. “You are. Lemme get you a cab.”

  Jason waved him off. “Nah. I’m gonna have some water and go be by myself for a little bit, then I’ll be right as rain.” He clapped his hands together. “Good talk, Bojangles,” he said, using Dan’s nickname.

  He was about to head back to his own table when the crowd shifted, and Meghan came into view, pulling Jason’s attention toward the bar. A big guy whom Jason had never seen before had one hand gripping Meghan’s bare upper arm and the other pawing at one of the strands of hot pink that streaked through her hair.

  “Oh, hell no,” Jason growled and stormed over to the bar when it didn’t look like anyone was going to intervene. He tapped The Groper on the shoulder, and the man turned around but didn’t loosen his hold on the pretty bartender. “Buddy, I don’t think Meghan appreciates you having your hands on her,” Jason ground out. The man scoffed and turned back to Meghan, who squirmed but didn’t meet Jason’s eyes. Jason tapped the guy on the shoulder again and leaned into his personal space. “What I mean to say is that I know I sure as hell don’t.”

  It seemed as if The Groper was going to back off, because he let go of Meghan, but then he bumped Jason’s broad chest with his own before calling Jason “Army Boy.” Then the guy patted Jason on the cheek, and Jason saw red. He drew his fist back, but when he tried to throw a punch, a hand caught his wrist, stopping him.

  “Hey, Marine, why don’t we dial it back a bit? I don’t think you wanna do this,” Ryan, murmured in his ear.

  Jason and The Groper stood chest to chest but didn’t make any further moves, while the bar grew quiet around them.

  “I think it might be time to pack it in, Jase.” Jason turned to his brother, who was looking at him with something that was too close to pity for Jason’s comfort.

  “Yes, Richards, I think we’ve all had enough tonight.” Meghan sighed, pushing her hair back from her forehead and suddenly looking exhausted. “You, too, bucky. This is your only warning—you pull that shit again and you’ll never set foot back in this pub. Now, both of you, get the hell away from me.” Meghan spun on her heel and headed toward the hallway that led toward the back of the pub.

  “Jason?” Ryan prompted.

  Jason grumbled and mumbled about handsy jackasses but went placidly back over to the booth. He picked up the same glass he’d been drinking from earlier, only to have it plucked from his fingers and to find himself being hauled from the slick seat. Jason reflexively began to struggle, but that only lasted a few seconds before being hustled out the door between two big guys.

  “What the fuck, Bubba?” Jason protested. “I didn’t do anything.”

  Ryan snorted. “I’ve known you thirty-eight years, Big Brother, and I can tell you’re about fifteen seconds from doing something you don’t need to do, so we’re going to take you home to Tori and Celine so you can sleep it off.”

  Jason turned to Junior, looking for an ally, but the big bald trainer shook his head. “No can do, dude. Ryan’s right.”

  Jason half-heartedly argued for a few minutes before thankfully being interrupted by Dan and his boyfriend, Alex, who were leaving the pub. After the one happy couple told the other fucking happy couple goodbye and Jason thought he was going to barf, he was surprised by both Dan and Alex shaking his hand and murmuring supportive words before they headed out, walking hand in hand.

  Good God a’mighty, Jason had never been so jealous in all his life.

  “Come on, let’s go.’ Ryan elbowed Jason, none too gently. Jason heaved a sigh and handed over the keys to his truck even as though Ryan steered him to the passenger side of Ryan’s SUV.

  “What the—” Jason asked in confusion as Junior shoved him in the passenger seat and shut the door behind him.

  Seconds later, Ryan appeared in the driver’s seat. “Junior’s going to follow us so you don’t have to worry about getting a ride back to Foley’s, but you have to promise me you won’t do anything stupid, like try to come back tonight.”

  Jason nodded his head. “Nah, I’m not going to do anything dumb.”

  “Okay, then,” Ryan said with a chuckle. “Let’s get you home.”

  ☆☆☆

  Jason woke up with a start, disoriented and wondering when Foley’s had gotten televisions and why they were playing a Lifetime movie, given Meghan’s hatred of Tori Spelling and general distaste of all things sappy and melodramatic. It took him a few minutes to realize he was in his living room on the couch, still fully dressed except for his shoes, which sat neatly under the coffee table.

  He flopped back on the couch, disgusted. He’d been in the middle of a very sexy dream involving Meghan and the last time they’d been down and dirty at Foley’s. Rock hard, Jason thrust his hand in his jeans and grunted as he slapped his dick faster and faster, the memory of how Meghan divided her attention between watching his reflection in the freezer door of all things as he kneeled, naked, between her legs and watching him as he gazed up at her while he drove her crazy with his mouth and fingers. So insanely sexy.

  “This is the last time, Richards,” she’d said. Of course, she’d been saying that since the very first time and it never, ever was. Over the course of three years, they’d had an amazing amount of fantastic sex. In the storeroom mostly, but in the dining room once more and in Jason’s truck twice. Oh, and once on Jason’s truck. They’d almost gotten caught that time, by Jason’s twin brother, no less. Ryan had seen Jason shirtless in the parking lot, after midnight, and just
shook his head, turned around, and gone back into the pub.

  Not that Meghan would have cared if Ryan had taken a few steps closer and had her riding Jason’s hand, hard. No, she would have probably liked it, because as much as Meghan liked to watch, she liked to be watched. Often when time was short, either she’d watch him jack off or he’d watch her pleasure herself, but mostly the former. Of course, Jason was open to just about anything. In fact, that last time in the storeroom, he’d been gearing up to ask about expanding their playtimes to something more official, but he never got the chance, because that time was really the last.

  Thinking about Sully and about Meghan’s utter devastation at his death killed any lustful thoughts he had. Jason and Meghan had the most complicated uncomplicated non-relationship he’d ever been involved in, because when it came right down to it, he didn’t do relationships. In high school he’d had dates to major school functions but didn’t actually date anyone in between. He left for boot camp three days after he graduated, and during the next sixteen years, he’d used his military deployments to avoid any serious romantic entanglements; in fact, his longest “relationship” to date had been a semisecret one with Dan, and that ended when he’d gotten out.

  During the five years since he’d left active duty, Jason divided his time between two women: a model named Chelsea, and until more recently, Meghan. His thing with Chelsea had been purely physical. He liked her, but they were on two totally different wavelengths, and in time, they’d stopped having sex and actually became friends.

  Meghan was completely different. While she was undoubtedly the sexiest woman he’d ever been involved with, with her inky hair and unusual gray-green eyes and that smoking-hot body, it was her frank attitude about what she wanted and needed that tipped her hotness factor to “thermonuclear.” And even from the beginning, their relationship had more to it than casual hookups or scratching an itch, and he missed that.

  Dammit, he missed her.