by Whitley Cox
Juney’s knees wobbled and threatened to buckle beneath her, but Rowan kept a tight grip on her ass as his lips encircled her clit and sucked. She wasn’t going anywhere. He hummed softly, and the gentle vibration sent new shards of pleasure swirling through her.
This man wanted her.
Not Hunter, not Amber.
Her!
She closed her eyes and pushed into his face, her hands coming down to rest on the top of his head. His face was buried beneath her skirt, so all she could see was the nape of his neck, but even that was dead sexy. He swept the flat of his tongue up through her folds, and Juney let out a low moan.
Damn, that felt good.
And only when he knew she was close, shamelessly pushing into his face, would he mix it up and suck again or twiddle her clit with his finger. She was on the edge, riding along that inch-thick ledge like a damn circus clown on a unicycle, and every time she thought she was going to topple over and fall, Rowan would bring her right back.
But this wasn’t all she wanted. She wanted him to take her, all of her, in here. In the dirty bar bathroom with dozens of people outside. They all probably knew what she and Rowan were up to, but she didn’t care. A part of her liked that. Juney had never done a spontaneous or wild thing in her life, and that had to change.
She pulled on his ears. “Not like this,” she said breathlessly. One last flick to her clit that made her knees nearly buckle and Rowan stood up, his knees popping like an old man’s as he brought himself to his feet with a slight groan.
His eyes were glassy, and his hungry lips glistened with her arousal. Juney lunged forward and tasted herself on him. She’d never tasted anything so erotic before. His need pressed hard and long into her hip, and the desire to taste him, to have him in her mouth, pleasure him the way he’d pleasured her, took over and she sank to the floor in a crouch, pulling Rowan’s zipper down along with her. She freed him from his boxers and cupped his balls, giving them a gentle tug.
Rowan watched her from above. With a smug smile, their gazes locked as she took him in her mouth.
Rowan had never met a woman like Juney before. So unbelievably amazing, sexy, gorgeous, smart, and yet, she had absolutely no idea she possessed any of those qualities. They hadn’t really talked much about their childhoods yet, or what it had been like growing up, but based on a few things she’d said in passing, Rowan guessed childhood hadn’t been easy for poor little Juniper.
But the woman had certainly made up for it in her adult years. Highly successful author and vintner, entrepreneur extraordinaire. And the fact that she was one of the most gorgeous women he’d ever laid eyes on made her the whole damn package. It’d broken his heart to see her face when the song with Hunter had ended. He thought someone had died. And now, his jealous blue-eyed beauty was on her knees in front of him, with his shaft in her pretty mouth as she cupped his balls and swirled that talented tongue of hers around and around.
Did she know what she was doing to him? Making him hers. He would do anything for this woman. Walk across hot coals, jagged glass. He barely knew her and yet she already had him by the balls, literally and figuratively.
His hands dove into the satiny strands of her dark brown hair, and he let his fingers comb through until he reached the base of her skull. Then he gathered it in his fist like a ponytail and guided her deeper. This wasn’t the first time she’d taken him in her mouth; he knew she could go deeper. He wanted to feel every inch of her hot little mouth, feel those plump lips at the base of his cock as her tonsils tickled his crown.
She blinked up at him and smiled with her mouth full of him. Jesus Christ, he nearly came on the spot. When a beautiful lone tear sprung from the corner of her eye as she deep-throated him again, her hand guided him to the back, where her throat muscles contracted around him. He was hitting her so deep, he could barely stand it.
Before it was too late, he reached under her arms and lifted her off the floor. “Fuck, Juney, that was incredible. That mouth . . . Dear God.”
“In-inside me, Rowan,” she panted, her eyelids hooded. “Now . . . please!”
He growled as he spun her around to face the mirror. He flipped up her skirt. Dear sweet baby Jesus, those socks, those boots, her delicious ass. It was all too much. With his hands on her hips, he angled himself at her core. Their eyes locked in the mirror ahead, and she smiled back at him. It was a wicked smile. A dirty smile. A smile that said, “Take me, big boy, and make me scream.”
She gripped the edge of the counter and lifted her hips up to help him. He notched himself at her center and drove home. A sharp cry fled her lips as he impaled her, hitting her deep on the first thrust. Damn, she felt good. Hot and slick and tight. And the way she gripped him like a fist, her pussy pulsing and squeezing him on every draw, begging him to come back deeper inside, desperate to hold on to him. She was pure sex, and she didn’t even know it.
“Rowan,” she said with a kittenish mewl. “Oh God, Rowan.”
Yes.
“Rowan . . . oh God. Don’t stop.”
I won’t. Not ever.
He bared his teeth and picked up the pace, hitting her deeper, hitting her harder, hitting her faster. The sound of flesh slapping flesh ricocheted around the small bar bathroom, competing with their groans and sighs. He was already close. She just felt so good. So right.
He wanted to feel more of her beneath his palm. Wanted to feel her clit swell and harden in his fingertips as he took her to the brink and then tossed her over. Releasing his grasp on her hip with one hand, he hunched over her body and wrapped his arm around her, lifting her skirt up to explore her folds. He felt himself sliding in and out of her, his shaft rock solid and soaked from her dripping pussy. He found her clit and tugged on it. She gasped, followed by a low and erotic moan as she pushed down into his ministrations. Begging for more.
Another tug followed by a sharp pinch.
“Rowan . . . ” She sighed. “I’m close.”
“Me too. Come, babe.”
She pushed back into him and let her head hang down between her arms, her hair falling in front of her face in dark chunky tendrils. He drew his tongue up the vein in her neck and nipped her earlobe. “Come, Juney.”
“Oh G-od . . . ” Her body went stiff, her clit swelled and hardened, and her cleft pulsed around him in unbelievable heat as she let go, her whimpers and sighs music to his ears.
“Yes.”
“Rowan . . . ”
“Juniper.” His balls tightened and drew up. He stilled, let out a loud grunt into her shoulder as he clamped down hard with his teeth, and allowed the climax to claim him. Blood rushed through his veins like a flooded river as the orgasm unfurled inside him and pleasure radiated out from his center in waves. He spilled himself inside of her, her sweet little pussy milking him, squeezing him, capturing his seed.
Yes.
No one but Juney.
Seconds later, she let out a sated sigh, and her back slumped beneath him, her breathing coming out in slow, ragged gasps as she fought to rejoin reality. He felt the same way. It was a euphoric experience being with Juney. Ethereal. Unreal.
He slipped from her, and she stood up. Like a gentleman, he ducked into one of the bathroom stalls and came out with a wad of toilet paper to help her clean up.
“Here,” he said, picking her sexy red underwear off the counter. “I’d love it if you kept them off for the rest of the night, but it’s probably safer if you didn’t.”
She smiled demurely at him and took them from him, her lashes fanning out against her rosy cheeks as she glanced down at her feet. She was embarrassed. It was sweet.
“I, um . . . ”
“I’ll leave you to freshen up,” he said with a chuckle, tucking himself back into his boxers and pants, taking extra care not to catch his slowly deflating johnson in the zipper. “But when you’re done, come back out. I think we should do a duet together. And I definitely want to spin this sweet ass of yours around on the dance floor.” He grabbed her ha
nd and spun her around right there in the bathroom.
She looked up at him and smiled. It was a smile that said a thousand words and made Rowan’s heart beat a thousand times and his stomach do a thousand somersaults.
“I’d like that.”
Chapter Fourteen
“So, turkey burgers tonight?” Juney asked the following morning as she and Rowan grabbed their coffees from the kitchen and wandered over to the couch to cuddle. The house was still quiet, and they were enjoying the solitude and view of the snow falling in big, thick, clumpy flakes as the sky slowly grew lighter.
“That’s the plan,” he yawned. “I’ll grind up the dark meat. I found a package of ground turkey in the freezer, too, so we’ll add that as well. And I’m thinking a mango salsa and papaya slaw with some brie melted onto the patties. I could whip up some Kaiser rolls, make some yam fries and potato chips. Sound good? I’ll call it ‘I like it when you call me Big Papaya. What do you think?”
Juney stared at him in awe as she brought her mug up to her chin and blew over the top, sending the steam coiling up and out into the air. “Sounds decadent for a burger.” Her lips lifted at the corner in a small smile. “And the name is hilarious. I can’t wait. Your culinary visions and creations amaze me. You’re exactly the kind of chef I’ve been looking for at my restaurant at the winery. Not afraid to take a classic and give it a classy and upscale twist, but without making it pretentious or unidentifiable. I swear every chef I interviewed wanted to do something deconstructed. What’s wrong with the constructed version as long as it’s done right? I don’t want a deconstructed filet mignon. I want a damn filet mignon!”
Rowan’s eyes lit up with laughter. He took a sip of his coffee. A sexy grin caught on his mouth as he swallowed. “What can I say? Food is my life. And I think that deconstructed nonsense is overrated and overdone.” He let out a defeated sigh, and his shoulder slumped ever so slightly. “Though, based on my current predicament, I’ll deconstruct the shit out of something if I have to to pay the bills. I’d love to have my own restaurant, but that takes capital, and with the way the country is going, I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to afford to own my own restaurant. I’ll just have to start hitting the pavement when I get back to Olympia. Or maybe move to Seattle.” He shook his head. “Yeah, I’ll probably have to move to Seattle. Silvio’s probably blacklisted me in Olympia. The guy has connections, and I didn’t exactly leave on good terms.”
She rubbed his thigh, letting her hand slowly trail its way up to the V of his legs. She could feel his heat, and it was making her head loopy. Removing her hand quickly, she cupped her mug again in both palms.
But Rowan grabbed her hand again and put it back with another big, sexy smile. He ran his finger along the back of her hand, encouraging her to begin rubbing. She did, but her head wasn’t in it.
Juney pursed her lips together and gazed out the window again for a moment. Was it too soon? Could she ask him? Should she wait a bit, see if he finds something here in Washington? Would he think it was weird, her asking him? She spun back to face him. “I’d like to offer you a job.”
That smoldering look he’d been giving her a second ago, the same look he’d given her in the kitchen Christmas day and again in the bar bathroom last night, a look that said, “I’m seconds away from stripping you naked and taking you here and now —hard,” was gone. And a look she hadn’t seen before, didn’t recognize and couldn’t place quickly enveloped him. When he removed his hand from hers, she stopped rubbing and slowly withdrew.
“You taking pity on me?” he asked with such accusation, Juney’s eyes went wide and her skin prickled. Red shot across his cheekbones, and anger alighted in his eyes.
“N-no. Th-that’s not it at all.”
“Then why are you offering me a job? Trying to hang on to me any way you can?”
A fist. An enormous, callused, muscular fist gripped her heart and squeezed while a boot, a filthy steel-toed boot, pressed hard on her lungs as the heel swiveled relentlessly, grinding out the air from her body in ragged gasps. What was happening? She couldn’t breathe. Was she having a heart attack?
He sneered at her and stood up. “I’m no one’s pity hire, Juniper. I’ll find my own way. Find a new restaurant or take out a loan from the bank. Do a food truck or something. But I don’t need you, someone who barely knows me, offering me a job in motherfucking Canada out of pity. Jesus . . . ” He ran his hand through his hair. “Is it pity or desperation?”
Tears, hot and plentiful, burned the corners of Juney’s eyes as she stared up at the man she thought she had been falling for. She couldn’t have been more wrong. Everything he’d ever said to her had been a lie. A ruse to get into her pants. She’d been a complete and total fool.
Swallowing past the hard lump in her throat, she set her coffee mug down on the side table, bunched her fists at her sides and stood up. He was at least four to six inches taller than her, and Juney was no slouch at five-foot-eight, so she had to tilt her head up to look at him. But she did it with grace and poise, angling her chin just right and clenching her teeth until she no longer felt the need to cry.
“No, Rowan,” she started, hating the slight quaver to her voice. “It wasn’t a pity offer. It was a genuine offer. I like your food. I like you and thought it could work. Even if we weren’t sleeping together, and I was matched with Will or Austin, I probably would have still offered you the job. Your food is delicious. As for desperation . . . ” Her lip turned up into a snarl. “I’m not desperate at all. In fact, I’m desperate for nothing. I can and I will achieve everything I want, and I’ll do it on my own. You could have called it hope. But not desperation. You see, I am at the top of my game. I’m a best-selling author, an award-winning vintner, and a successful entrepreneur. I’m not desperate at all, I have it all. But you, you’re a fucking unemployed chef who’s shot his mouth off one too many times and is desperate for work. And now, you’ve lost the opportunity to run your own restaurant, to fulfill your dream. And now it would seem you’ve also lost the girl.”
She turned away, ready to head down the hall, but then vengeance, running hot through her blood, caused her to turn back. “You know, I don’t think Rowarn needs a girlfriend after all. I think Junica will do just fine on her own. Maybe I’ll cut out his character altogether or kill him gruesomely. Toss him out the castle tower window down into the town square or have him mauled by rabid wolfenboars.” She grinned wickedly at him as emotion clawed at the back of her throat. “Yeah, torn limb from limb by a pack of wolfenboars. I like that idea. Rowarn is dead to me.”
Her lip trembled slightly on that last bit. Despite her attempt at being cruel and hurting him the way he’d hurt her, she just didn’t have it in her to be mean. She was in too much pain to be mean. But she managed to keep those tears at bay long enough to say what she needed to. So, with one last steely glare as her heart slowly shattered, she spun on her heel and stalked off down the hallway, willing her body to cooperate and keep the emotions in check until she was behind closed doors. She grabbed her doorknob, and a lone tear trickled down her cheek. Desperate? Yeah, Juney was desperate not to let this man destroy her heart, but she was beginning to think it was too late.
Fuck! Rowan was an idiot. A moron. A dumbass. What had he done?
Probably ruined and alienated the best thing that has EVER happened to you, you jackass.
She’d offered him a job, named a fucking character after him, opened up her HEART to him, and he went and stomped all over everything. Let his pride get in the way. Who the fuck did he think he was? Gordon Ramsay? Hell, even Gordon Ramsay would probably be telling Rowan what a giant fuck-up he was being right now. Then he’d tell him that he’d overcooked his scallops and needed to do them again.
Go after her!
Shaking his head to release the fog, he made his way down the hallway. It’d only been a few minutes, but even that could have been too long. What if she was beyond the point of forgiveness? He really couldn’t blame her if sh
e was, he’d been so cruel. Pity? Desperate? That was his anger at himself coming out. Anger at his situation. That he was jobless . . . again. After being overlooked at work . . . again. He’d gone and shot his mouth off, and now he had no job and no girl. But Juney had offered to change all of that. She’d offered him a job and her heart and instead he’d stomped all over both and her country. Would he forgive her if the roles were reversed? He wasn’t entirely sure.
His fingers came up, and he rapped on her door, nostalgia from four nights ago swamping him. He’d been just as nervous that night, but for different reasons. Now he wasn’t only nervous, he was terrified.
“Go away,” she said through the door. The faint sound of sniffles and tissues being drawn from their box made his chest tighten.
“Juney, can I come in? I’m really sorry. I . . . Can I come in, please?”
The door swung open a second later, and there she stood, with a tear-stained face and puffy red eyes. Both fists held wrinkly wads of tissues. A few others were strewn about the bed. “You come to tell me my books are crap, too?” she snapped, but her quivering lip told him she was seconds away from fresh tears. Tears he’d caused. Fuck if it was the last thing he did, he would never be the cause of Juney’s tears again.
He pushed his way inside and shut the door. She took a few steps back, eyeing him suspiciously, bracing herself for more vitriol.
He fell to his knees. “Juniper, I am so, so sorry. I . . . ” Inching forward until he was directly in front of her, Rowan grabbed her tissue-filled hands. “I honestly don’t even know what came over me. There’s no excuse. Everything I said, my reaction, my behavior, it was all wrong.”
She pulled her hands free and glared down at him. “Stand up, you jackass.”
He deserved that.