by Cathryn Fox
He holds his hand out. “James Beckman. Everyone calls me Beck.”
His name doesn’t ring a bell, which is good. I don’t want anyone remembering me. I’m risking enough with Sean as it is. Why again am I doing that? Because he’s giving me a good deal on renovations? Or is it because being around him makes me feel safe, even though it shouldn’t? “Nice to meet you, Beck.”
The wheels on his chair squeal as he pushes away from his desk. In typical guy fashion, he folds one leg over the other, resting his foot on his knee. “You have experience?”
I nod. “Plenty. I waitressed my way through college.”
“College?” His eyes narrow and he rubs his chin. “You think maybe you’re a little too qualified?”
“I’m a museum curator. Lost my job, recently moved here,” I say quickly before I blow this. “I’m a hard worker, and I won’t let you down.”
“Things slow at the end of the summer. Hours will be cut, you okay with that?”
“Yes, that’s fine.” I say. “Bought the old Wheeler house, fixing it up and probably won’t be here much past the summer season.” At least I hope not. I have a job in SoCal to get back to, once I figure out what it is my ex is after.
He opens his mouth to respond, but a noise at the door stops him. I turn and meet with familiar green eyes. My breath catches for a moment at the gorgeous sight.
“Hey, Beck. I’m taking off. Big brother is calling. Looks like he’s got a job for me already.” The man, a younger, more tattooed version of Sean, stops talking for a minute, and his gaze moves to mine, lingers a bit, then blatantly checks me out. His smile is that of the devil’s himself when he grins and turns back to Beck.
“Tyler, meet Jenna. She’s applying for the waitress position.”
“Jenna,” Tyler says, zeroing back in on me, my mouth specifically. The Owens boys seem to have a fixation with lips. “Nice to meet you,” he says in a sexy, lazy way that undoubtedly has women shedding their panties. He’s big, tough, and gorgeous, but he’s no Sean, at least not to me.
“Nice to meet you, too, Tyler.”
He flashes that bad boy grin again. “Talk soon,” he says, his eyes still on me.
“Later,” Beck says.
Tyler leaves and I turn back to Beck, my hands folded on my lap. “As I was saying, I bought the old Wheeler cottage. I even hired Sean Owens to work on it.” Why am I bringing Sean’s name into the conversation? Name-dropping because Beck is a friend of his brother? Or maybe I just want to hear it on my lips?
Jesus, Sean isn’t even here and he’s still messing with me.
“Already?”
“What?” I ask, dragging my mind back to the conversation.
“He just got in to town today, I didn’t expect he’d start working right away.”
I just nod, not about to tell him I know he’d just arrived in town because we had a “thing” at a sleazy motel last night. “Why not?”
“His dad just died, which is why he’s home.” He shakes his head, licks his finger and wipes something off the toe of his shoe. “I thought he’d at least take a day to mourn, but I guess we all grieve in different ways, and he’s got big shoes to fill, a lot of responsibility dropped on him.” He frowns, and looks back at me. “Anyway, about the job.”
“My hours are flexible and I promise if you hire me you won’t regret it.”
He goes quiet for a moment, then slides a piece of paper across his desk. “A friend of Sean’s is a friend of mine. The job is yours. Can you start Monday?”
“Yes. Monday is perfect.”
“Bring the papers back with you, and check with Stacey on your way out. She’ll set you up with a T-shirt and apron.”
“Thank you,” I say, and stand to shake his hand.
I check in with Stacey then make my way outside with a shirt and apron in hand. The warm air falls over me as I weave my way around the vehicles in the lot. Totally pleased with getting a job so fast, I decide to treat myself to a few new pieces of clothing, one being a bathing suit—a full piece, of course. I don’t want to do or wear anything to give Sean the impression that I want him again. I don’t. Well, I do, but I’m not going to do anything about it, no matter how delicious and tempting that sounds. I have to figure out my life, what Jack is after.
Jack.
God, why did I ever get mixed up with a man under my dad’s command? Oh, probably because he’d been so sweet and caring at the funeral, holding me close when I cried, and helping me take care of the arrangements beforehand. He and dad were close. I’d often heard Dad refer to him as the son he’d never had. Although in the end, there seemed to be some tension between them, but I never asked why. It wasn’t my business and I assume it was work related. But all that time Jack and I were together he hadn’t really been showing affection. He was getting close to me because he was after a damn ledger. So far I’m not seeing any signs of it. But if Dad had been here recently, and had given me lockbox with a key to the cottage, he must have been directing me here? Maybe I should have just gone to the police instead of running, although I had no proof other than overhearing the threat and no idea what ledger he was talking about. Once I find it, then things will be different. But at that point in time I ran, because fear makes people do crazy things.
Like sleep with old crushes.
I just hope when I get back home Sean isn’t there. Our two meetings today have already overloaded my senses, and if he’s hanging around in a tool belt, I might implode from want. My body warms at the image, but no way, no how am I going to fall in bed with him again.
I don’t think.
Chapter Six: Sean
From my aerial view on the roof, I see Summer coming down the main road, something in the back of her truck. It’s been five long days since I’ve started work on the house—Unfortunately her entire roof is in need of replacement—and I still can’t get used to calling Summer by a fake name. Nor can I ignore the heat arching between us. When not working at Winchesters, she’s been running around town like she’s in search of something. Of what I don’t know. When she’s here, she’s in short shorts and tank tops, washing the place down and scraping paint off the front porch, making it hard for me to concentrate on anything but getting my dick inside her again.
The big engine revs, announcing her arrival. Even if I hadn’t spotted her I would have heard her coming a mile away. I stand, my boots thumping as I walk to the edge to see her. Like my dick hasn’t been tortured enough today, right? I spot a mattress in the back of her truck, and I climb down the ladder, ready to carry it inside for her. Only problem is, a new mattress, Jenna alone in her bedroom—I see all kinds of trouble with that scenario.
I hit the last rung, and a loud oomph cuts through the quiet of the day. I turn, and when I see her struggling to get it off the back of the truck, I shake my head. Why the hell didn’t she have it delivered? Or ask me to pick it up.
Damn stubborn woman.
I hook my thumbs into my tool belt. “What are you doing?”
“I’m painting the ceiling,” she shoots back. “What does it look like I’m doing?” Her gaze drops from my face to my bare chest. “And why don’t you put a shirt on?”
I grin. She scowls and mumbles curses under her breath. I’m guessing the sexual tension is getting to her every bit as much as it’s getting to me. Either that or she can’t find whatever it is she’s looking for. Then again, maybe she’s desperate for a Starbucks fix. She’s been doing nothing but complaining about the coffee in this town. Seriously though, if I don’t fuck her soon, I’m going to do irreparable damage. Beating off every night isn’t doing a goddamn thing to ease the tension coiling tight in my cock.
Scowling back, I glare at her, and shake my head at her obstinacy. It must have killed her to ask me for help with the place, seeing how she likes to do everything on her own. “Looks like you’re trying to carry a big ass mattress inside, and having trouble doing it.”
“Can’t get anything by you, can I?” she s
hoots back.
“And I’m not in a shirt because it’s a million fucking degrees on the roof.”
Her gaze skirts to mine again, and my cock thickens as those sexy whiskey-colored eyes rake over my chest. I can almost feel the burn marks as her heat brands me. “Fine. Don’t put a shirt on then.”
“Need help?”
“No, I got this.” She waves me away, like she can’t take me standing there for one more second. “Just go do whatever it was you were doing.”
“Okay.” I stand back for a second, letting the noonday sun beat down on me, and watch her struggle. If she wasn’t so sexy in those frayed shorts, and a drool-worthy tank top, I’d find humor in the situation.
But I’m not laughing.
Nope, not laughing at all.
In fact, I’m sweating like a goddamn Saint Bernard in a heat wave—smack dab in the center of Death Valley.
She manages to get the mattress from the back of the truck, but then she stumbles. The mattress goes down, and she looks like a fallen angel as she spills across it. Arms and legs splayed, breathing hard, her hair in a tumbled mess—it’s more than I can fucking take. Her body beckons me, and it leaves me battered and broken like a Blue Bay fishing trawler caught in a violent Atlantic storm.
“Jenna,” I say, tasting her new name on my tongue and liking the flavor it leaves. With my resolve all but gone, moisture breaks out on my body, but it’s not from the afternoon sun. I swallow. Hard. My throat as dry as the Sahara, scratchy as hell, but the only thing that’s going to hydrate me is her. I take a tentative step toward her, and expect her to scramble backward. She made it perfectly clear that night in the hotel was a one-shot deal, but she’s not moving. Oh no, she’s not moving at all.
Her chest rises and falls as she breathes harder, and her legs inch open. The movement is slight but it doesn’t go unnoticed by me. At that sweet invitation, I look her over, my heart thudding hard in my chest. Jesus she is so pretty. I take in her curves, the jean shorts that are in my fucking way. I need my mouth on her, my fingers inside her panties.
A rush of sexual energy hits so hard, I’m unable to fight it anymore. As need overshadows sensibility, I drop to my knees at the foot of the mattress and a small sound catches in her throat. Her gaze shoots to my hands as I take off my tool belt and toss it aside.
“I need to fuck you,” I say, no games, just the straight-up truth. I brush my hand through my hair, and her gaze roams over me. She sits up, puts her warm palms on my chest, and I’m not sure if it’s to push me away or pull me closer. But then she traces my scars, my tattoo, and I resist the urge to climb to the roof and scream Halle-freaking-luliah. She looks dazed, lost in thought, her eyes imbued with lust as she trails her fingers over my flesh. My muscles flex, and harden, as she reacquaints her hands with my body. My dick aches to be inside her tight pussy. It’s a need, not a want.
I put my hand over hers, bring it to my mouth and brush my lips lightly over her fingers. “I need to taste you again. I need to put my mouth all over you.” I’m ready to tell her more, all the dirty things I want to do with her, but her hands are on me again, in my hair, raking across my shoulders, dragging skin on my chest.
I press my mouth to hers, and she opens for me. I thrust my tongue deep into her mouth, tasting the depths of her. So fucking sweet. But it’s not enough. Lust burns through my blood as I wrench my mouth from hers. I slip my hand under her tank top, the softness of her skin, the warm scent of her flesh sets off a chain reaction in my body.
With a little nudge she falls back, and her hair splays out. I take a second to look at her, admire what’s mine.
Mine?
Fuck, she’s not mine. We just have this sexual pull that a few more fucks will surely sate. I ignore the part of my brain that warns a few more fucks won’t be enough.
“Sean,” she whispers, and the sound strokes my cock. Hardens it. Turns it into fucking granite.
“Yeah?”
Her eyes open and close, her lids fluttering fast. “Please . . .” She reaches for me and I don’t even think she knows what she’s begging for as I fall over her, my body pressing hers into the mattress once again. I don’t give a shit that we’re outside, that anyone could stumble upon us. No. All I care about is tasting her, shoving my cock so deep inside, it will finally kill the obsession I can’t seem to shake.
I roll to my side, run my hands over her breasts, her stomach, and push the button through the shorts that have been driving me bat-shit crazy. I don’t take them off, not yet. Instead I push my hand inside, dip into her panties and roll my finger over her clit. It’s a little dirtier this way, and I want to get hot and filthy with this girl, as I get my fill and get over this fixation. Greedy with need, her hips come off the mattress, her eyes glazing with hunger.
“Yes,” she whispers.
I work my finger over her swelling nub, and she’s so wet and hot for me my dick jumps in my jeans. “Do you have any idea how torturous these last few days have been for me?” I ask as I sink a finger into her. So slick. Sopping wet.
Evading my question she moans, “Oh, that’s so good.” A keening sound rises in her throat as her hips rise up to meet my thrusting finger. I fuck her hard and deep, swiping the rough tip of my index over the tight bundle of nerves inside.
“I think you do know,” I say. “I think you’ve been walking around here in next to nothing because you needed my cock in you again, but you’re too much of a good girl to ask for it.” Her eyes widened with shock and denial, and she shakes her head. I grin. “Yeah, deny it all you want. I don’t believe it for a second and I ought to put you over my knee for that.” The hunger in her eyes grows. Well, well, looks like the good girl likes the idea of a spanking. I stab another finger inside her and she gasps. I finger fuck her a few more times, then pull out. She cries out at the loss, but it turns in to a moan of pleasure when I flip her over.
I grip her hips and lift, until her ass is in the air. Her tight shorts hug her beautiful backside and it’s all I can do to breathe as I tug them down to expose her creamy flesh. I gave her a slap and she yelps.
“No more teasing,” I say. “If you want me to fuck you, just ask.” Another slap, followed by another keen cry. It seeps under my skin and urges me on. “I’ll give you what you want.” I run my hand over her ass to soothe the sting. “Got it?” When she whimpers and moves, like she’s waiting for more hard slaps, I deepen my voice. “Got it?”
“Yes,” she whispers, so delirious with need I’m sure she’ll agree to just about anything. Maybe she’ll even agree to be my girl.
Wait, what? I’m not looking for long term, especially from a girl who’s lying to me. This is just sex. Plain and simple.
“Tell me,” I urge.
“I got it. When I want you to fuck me all I have to do is ask.”
Hearing her talk like that sends my need into outer space, to soar where the air is thin and nothing exists but time. Time that I’ll need kiss every inch of her sweet body until she’s flying with me. I flip her back over, take in the flush on her cheeks. I unhook my jeans, shove them to my thighs and release my cock. Her eyes widen in pleasure as I stroke myself, a long hard tug from base to crown. Precum drips from my slit, and I’m not even sure she’s aware that she’s licking her lips. Fuck this is going to be good.
“Look at me.” Her gaze lifts. “Do you need your mouth on me as much as I need mine on you?”
“Yes,” she says, her head nodding wildly. I touch her pussy, run my finger along the seam of her jean shorts. “I’m going to eat your sweet little pussy. I’m going to tongue you so deep you’ll still feel my mouth on you, long after we’re done. Then you’re going to take my cock in your mouth, little girl. You’re going to put your tongue all over me and take me deep, until you can’t breathe.” I push aside the scrap of material covering her hot sex, and run my finger over the crotch of her damp panties. “You’re going to show me how much you want my cock in here.”
I grab her shorts, t
ug them down her thighs until her gorgeous cunt is exposed. Heaven. Pure fucking heaven. She’s wiggling, trying to get her shorts down farther, to widen her legs. But I don’t let her just yet. Yeah, when I take her she’ll be wide open and begging for it, but watching her squirm, and having her at my mercy like this is too fucking sexy.
I climb over her, press a knee into the matters on either side of her trapped legs and take in her groomed pussy. “Did you do this for me?” I ask, stroking her mound, so soft and smooth, it’s going to taunt me for the rest of my life, even in sleep.
“Yes,” she murmurs.
A rough sound crawls out of my mouth. Son of a bitch. On some unconscious level she was playing with me, needing this as much as I do. “You’re a goddamn cock tease, keeping me in a state of arousal until I broke. Now it’s your turn to break, Jenna. Your turn to shatter completely around my tongue and cock.” She’s visibly vibrating by the time I finish telling her what I plan to do to her, and her nails are clawing at me as I dip my head, slide my finger along her tight slit, and free her clit.
I lap at her, then flatten my tongue for a long slow lick. She’s moaning and writhing, a hot mess, lost in lust. I fucking love it. I harden my tongue; whip her clit with accurate precision, until she’s pulsating, rocking against me, crying out my name. I tear my tongue away and go lower, to drive into her tight hole as I press my thumb to her clit. I fuck her with the soft blade of my tongue, and apply more pressure to her quivering clit as I ravage her.
“I . . . oh, yes, don’t . . . don’t stop.” She’s panting, tossing her head from side to side, and tugging my hair as she squirms.
I continue the dual assault, and she closes her hands over her breasts, so sexy. She makes a noise, hot sexy primal noise as she grinds against me. I fuck her harder, deeper, until she’s burning up. My cock throbs, a red-hot rod desperate to feel her sweet cunt wrapped around it. I glance up at her and her mouth opens, but no sound comes as she climaxes. Yeah, that’s it, that’s the look I love on her.