She’d been hovering near the edge, teetering on the crest of a mind-blowing orgasm, and with one more touch, and one more delicious slide across her, she was there, the pressure of her climax both exquisitely intense and freeing, as she called his name over and over. She grabbed his hair, pulling his face against her, as she came on his tongue.
She flashed back to their other times. He’d been rough and hard, and she’d loved that. But just now, she’d seen another side of his touch. He savored her, he delighted in her, he cherished her. She loved all these sides of him.
Soon, he rose, and though he looked pleased with his work, he also looked at her tenderly, and with such passion, she knew there was no turning back. Not from hope, and not from the possibility of heartbreak. She’d tried to keep him at arm’s length, but that had been all for naught. She craved him in every way, and while she knew this was ending, she wanted this time with him to be more than just sex.
Later, when they fell asleep together in his bed, she drifted off, thinking how very much she liked being in his arms.
That was the problem. It was absolutely the biggest problem she faced right now. She’d painted herself into a corner, and she had no idea how to get out.
Chapter Eleven
As she walked into The Panting Dog the next day, her heart fluttered at the prospect of seeing him there, and she wanted to tell the dumb organ to settle down. She had no clue what to do or say around him anymore. She didn’t know what they were, or whether they were coming or going. She was rudderless when it came to him, and that scared the heck out of her.
Focus on the friendship, she reminded herself. That was the most important part.
She found him quickly in the back of the bar, tools in hands.
“How did everything go with Diane?” she asked as she walked up to him, with her best friendly face on.
“Great. I think she’s going to be a tremendous help.”
“Good. I’m happy to hear that. I’m seeing her later for dinner at my parents’ house, so I’m sure she can give me more details.”
“Hey Jamie. I’ve got an idea,” he said, and she detected a touch of nerves in his tone, but he continued stroking her arm, as if that action steadied him.
“What’s your idea?”
“Why don’t you bring me along to dinner? I would really love it if you’d invite me to spend time with you and your parents and your sister,” he said.
Jamie froze. Like a computer with the blue screen of death. Her lips parted and she tried to speak but no words came. Then she knew. With blazing certainty. This was the line she didn’t want to cross. Because if she did, she’d be all in, and that was as good as asking for her heart to be broken. It was one thing to talk to Diane about his work needs, but entirely another to invite Smith into her world. Inviting him in meant they were real, and being real meant she’d get hurt. Sure, he knew Diane—Hidden Oaks was a small town—but they didn’t hang out together. If she brought him into her family as a romantic interest then she was admitting out loud that he was just that—more than a late-night affair. If he was more than an affair, he’d leave her in the dust soon enough.
Leave her with nothing to show for it.
She needed to move him back to the friend zone. Officially. It was better this way. Safer this way. At least they’d have something if they stayed friends.
Her chest felt heavy as she shook her head. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea. Let’s just keep this thing between you and me for now. Friends and all,” she added, as if to justify her reasons. She had to focus on the friendship simply to preserve it.
Something dark passed over his eyes, but then he nodded quickly, fixing a serious look on his face. He let go of her arm.
…
Smith prided himself on being easygoing. He tried hard not to let things get to him. And he certainly wasn’t known for a short temper. So it took every ounce of self-control not to say something hurtful to match what he felt inside.
Through gritted teeth, he spoke under his breath. “So let me see if I understand this. I’m good enough for you to get down on your knees in my hallway. To help with business. And you’ll even happily play Mad Libs in my truck,” he said, watching as she cringed with his reminders of all they’d done. “But having dinner with your sister is where you draw the line?”
“Smith,” she said, fidgeting with the cuffs of her sweater, as she tried desperately to look anywhere but in his eyes.
“Smith what?” he asked sharply.
“It’s not like that.”
“Then what is it like? Enlighten me.”
“We’re not doing a relationship,” she said, her voice cool and even. “So I don’t know why we’d do that. We’re friends, and I want to stay that way.”
“You told me you think I’m just fun and easygoing, but you also said you wanted serious. I’m trying to be serious by spending time with you and your family. To show you I can be that guy. I thought that’s what you wanted.”
“I do,” she said in a careful voice, as if it were a question.
The silence clung to him, and in the span of several painful seconds, the answer to her question dawned on him.
“Just not with me,” he said, and he didn’t bother to keep the anger from his voice this time. He hadn’t planned for this, but after last night, and the way they connected today, he didn’t expect this kind of brush-off.
“That’s not it.”
“Were you just slumming it with me in the bedroom?”
She furrowed her brows. “What?”
Anger and shame rolled through him, fueling his words. “You liked fucking me because I’m not proper, I’m not a poet, I’m not the romantic sensitive perfect guy. You like the wild side. But I’m never gonna be the kind of guy you want to take home to your parents.”
Her lips parted, and she tried to say something but nothing came out. Her mouth hung open as if she were struggling to find an answer. And that was all the answer he needed. It had been a week, and he thought he’d won both her heart and her body, but when it came right down to it, he was only the dirty-talking fireman to her. He was a joyride, a wild and dirty escape for her. He knew he shouldn’t be surprised—she’d laid down the rules, after all: one week of sex, and that week had drawn to a close.
He stripped the anger from his voice. He didn’t want her to know how much he cared. So much that her dismissal of him felt like a hard punch in the ribs. “I get it. It’s cool. And, I really appreciate the offer of help from your sister. But I have this under control. And, by the way, it’s been a fun week, hasn’t it? But it’s over now, so thanks for the memories, and I need to get back to work so I can finish this bar and get out of your way.”
“That’s not what I meant,” she said, her lips quivering, her eyes brimming.
He turned around, jammed the headphones back on his ears, and drowned out thoughts of her as he listened to music and forced himself to do nothing but work, work, work all day so he could be done with this project and have one less chance of running into Jamie.
Chapter Twelve
More games. More music. Maybe a live band.
That was as much as Jamie picked up during the impromptu meeting. Because her mind was elsewhere.
“What do you think, Jamie? You know this town well. Which of those ideas would work best?”
The question came from Becker, as he picked up his glass of beer and took a drink. It was the end of the night, The Panting Dog was closed, and Becker, Kaitlyn and Jamie were discussing final ideas for the Spring Festival.
Correction: Supposed to be.
Jamie kept replaying the afternoon run-in with Smith, trying to figure out where she’d gone wrong. Smith was so laid-back and cool, so devil-may-care, that it had surprised her to learn he did care. A lot.
“A band would be great,” she said, seizing onto the last suggestion. She wanted to play a vital role in the operations of The Panting Dog. She couldn’t let on that she’d been drifting off du
ring this whole conversation, thinking of Smith the entire time. The way he made her laugh. The way he teased her. How he understood her, and what made her tick, in ways no one else did. How he liked all sides of her, and how he had such a sweet, tender side too.
Had she been wrong about him and quick to judge? Was it possible that she could have a relationship with him? That he could commit the way she wanted?
She feared the answer was yes.
She’d been falling for him hard, but when he asked to spend time with her family, she balked. Not because she was embarrassed of him, but because she didn’t know how to admit that she’d gone all in. That there were no strings unattached anymore.
As she unlocked her door an hour later, she found herself wondering what Smith was doing without her. The last several nights they’d been together. Now they weren’t, and her house felt dreadfully alone.
She tried her usual techniques to busy her mind before bed. She picked up her favorite books. She thumbed through Browning, Donne and Shakespeare. She cued up Ron Burgundy. She even picked up the phone to call her sister, but she realized it was past eleven and too late to ring Diane. She scrolled listlessly through her phone, then noticed a text from Megan. “It’s over with Jason. I’m coming back to town.”
Jamie sat up ramrod straight and called her friend instantly.
“What’s going on?”
Megan told her everything—how she’d tried hard to make things work but Jason had been more in love with substances than with her.
“I’m so sorry, sweetie. That sucks. But can I tell you how happy I am to be able to see you again soon? Is that terribly selfish of me?”
Megan laughed. “No, it’s not selfish, because I can’t wait to see you, either.”
“You need to stop by the second you get to town. Plus, I want you to come see The Panting Dog. It wasn’t around when you were here and my boss is super hot.”
“You’re already trying to set me up,” Megan said. “Besides, if he’s so hot, why aren’t you after him?”
“Well, that’s the thing,” she said, taking a deep breath and deciding to lay it all out. She wasn’t embarrassed this time. She wasn’t hiding Smith anymore. She needed to talk about him because he mattered to her. “There’s someone else.”
She told Megan the whole story from start to finish. “What do you think?”
“I leave town and exciting things happen, that’s what I think.”
“So what do I do? I miss him,” she said, feeling his absence like an empty ache inside her.
“And you’re ready for a relationship with him?”
Her heart beat faster at the thought, crazy as it was. She’d be a fool to give up this chance at something more. She knew that now. “Yeah, I think I am.”
“Then there’s only one thing to do. Apologize. Lay it on the line for him.”
“How?”
“Think of a way that matters to him.”
Jamie mulled over those words, and within minutes she knew the perfect way to say she was sorry to the man who’d unexpectedly stolen her heart.
Nerves fluttered recklessly in her belly as she walked up the steps to Smith’s home. His truck was in the driveway, and she hoped so hard that he’d answer. She knocked and waited and waited and waited, the seconds stretching interminably as she shifted back and forth in her boots, hoping he would accept her apology.
When he opened the door, his face was inscrutable. He looked tired, but that wasn’t surprising. He’d been working late the night before to finish the bar. But he looked beautiful, too. As gorgeous as the times she’d lusted for him, and even more so now that her feelings had transformed from lust to something far deeper.
“Hi,” she said, the word coming out all jumpy sounding. But she soldiered on, unfolding the piece of paper in her hand. “I wrote you a Mad Lib. I call it Mad Lib poetry and I hope you’ll bear with me as I read it.”
The corners of his lips quirked up in curiosity and she began.
“I’m sorry—Name of Person—Sexiest and Sweetest and Funniest Man I’ve Ever Known. About the—Adjective—idiotic thing I did yesterday. I hope you’ll accept my—Adjective—heartfelt apology as well as some—Plural Noun—monkeys,” she read, and glanced up to see his eyes sparkling with recognition.
“Monkeys gets ’em every time,” he whispered, then tipped his forehead to the paper so she kept going.
“This is my way of saying I’m a—Self-Deprecating-Title—Dunce. And if you’ll still have me, I’d like to go on another—Adjective—wonderful, romantic, fun, fantastic date with you. And my big sister will join us for drinks because I’m not embarrassed of you. I was—insert words to describe how you felt when you were being a dunce—scared of getting hurt. And I really hope you’ll accept this attempt at saying let’s try with strings all attached,” she said, eagerly awaiting his answer.
“Darlin’, I have always been all in, and I could not be happier to give this a go for real,” he said, then pulled her in for a deep and devouring kiss that blotted out the whole wide world and turned her knees weak. Exactly as a kiss should do. “And incidentally, that was four adjectives rather than one for our second date tomorrow.”
“Then let’s make it four times as good,” she said.
“We will.”
Chapter Thirteen
Their first real date was better than the last one, and that had been a damn good one. This time, they’d gone bowling, drank beers, and laughed the whole time. He beat her in one game, and she beat him in the next, and then he’d finished off the final round with several strikes. She didn’t mind losing to him, because she knew she was winning being with him, and she was glad they were all in.
Now, they were at her house. She shut and locked her front door, took his hand, and led him back to her bedroom for the first time.
She turned on the light and watched him as he took in her room. The dark red comforter on her king-size bed, because she liked to sleep splayed out like a starfish, the well-worn books on her nightstand. Then the framed pictures of her and her parents, her sister, and Tennyson. Finally, there was the note card he’d given her, lying on her nightstand.
Another time.
“You kept it,” he remarked, with wonder in his voice.
“I did. Because it was from you. ‘The promise of another time, and that time is now.’” She reached for the bottom of his shirt and tugged it off. She’d seen him shirtless plenty of times, but now, here, in her bedroom, the sight of his naked torso—so muscular and cut—was a heady one.
He kicked off his shoes. She unzipped his jeans and let them fall to the floor. She’d seen him naked before but she didn’t think she’d tire of the sight. Every inch of him, every ounce, was the embodiment of masculine perfection. Strong arms, broad chest, abs she wanted to lick, fabulous legs, and then the pièce de résistance—that perfect cock, long, thick, and hard as a rock for her.
But he was more than just a beautiful body now. More than merely the man she’d lusted after for months, and then slept with on a whim one heady night in a bar. He was the man she’d let into her life, her family, her home. And though they’d had sex several times already, this time felt different.
“I kind of feel like this is our first time,” she said, whispering it like an admission.
“I feel the same,” he said, as he gently stripped off her sweater and unhooked her bra. She shimmied out of her skirt. He stepped back to look at her, taking her in, his eyes roaming every inch of her, and the look in them was heated and full of something more too. The more that she’d once tried to deny. But now wanted to embrace.
He’d spent so much time telling her nice things, sweet things, pretty things, and now she wanted to return his affection. To let him know this had never been a one-way street. She trailed her fingertips down his chest, watching as he hitched in a breath. “You’re beautiful to me,” she said. “All of you.”
His chest rose and fell, and his lips curved up. He closed his eyes briefly as
she traced a line from his hip to his butt. “I love the way you touch me,” he said in a hot, hoarse voice, and though she loved his dirty mouth, she loved this part too—the one that was patently honest. “And I need you now.”
She held up her index finger, raced into the bathroom, found a condom packet under the sink, and returned with it.
She pushed him gently onto the bed, then ran her hand over him, and his cock twitched against her as she rolled on the condom. She straddled him and he placed his hands on her hips as she lowered onto him, his eyes closing in pleasure.
…
She felt amazing. So wet, so warm, so tight as she surrounded him. She tensed briefly as she took him all the way in, then exhaled and sank farther down. He held her hips, moving her slowly on him. He wanted to savor the feeling of being inside her like this. The first time after admitting they were something more. He kept his gaze on her as she rode him, her long hair falling against her back, making her look even sexier, if that were possible. He hadn’t thought it was, but now he knew he’d been wrong. She was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, and she was his. The look in her eyes was one of desire, but he saw her vulnerability, too, the way she’d stripped bare her fears, finally letting him in. And he felt even more for her because of that. Because she trusted him, and he was never going to hurt her.
He was only ever going to make her feel good.
He held onto her hips, matching her rhythm, but he needed her body against his completely. “I want to feel you against me as you ride me.”
She leaned closer, her breasts brushing against his chest now, her mouth near his. She moved her hips slowly, up and down, like a tease. Making him groan, making him roll his eyes back in his head.
“Do you like it when I take you slow like this?” She asked, rising up on him, then taking him all the way inside her, and grinding her hips on him.
Burn for Me Page 8