Jump Start

by Lisa Renee Jones

  “I don’t want to know,” she said. “No memories.”

  “I remember how wet you get when I touch your breasts and lick them. If I tease them just right, you’ll come right here in the kitchen.”

  “I will not,” she gasped.

  He shoved both sides of her shirt down, bra along with it. Tugged on both stiff peaks. She moaned. “Want to bet on that?” he asked.

  “Yes,” she hissed on a soft sound of pleasure that defied her words. “I bet on that.”

  A low, desire-laden laugh rumbled in his throat. “Did you forget how much I enjoy a good challenge?” He picked her up, turned her and set her on the counter, spreading her legs in the process. He feasted on the sight of her high, full breasts and then pressed them together to lave on a nipple. “You still think I can’t make you come?”

  Jennifer was panting, her hands pressed to the counter behind her, holding her up. She bit her bottom lip. “It’s, no…if I come, it’s because—”

  He lapped at her nipple. “Because it’s me?” He framed her face with his hands. “Because it’s us?”

  She blinked up at him. “Stop using sex as a weapon,” she whispered.

  “Isn’t that what you planned to do?” he demanded. “Use sex to keep me at a distance?” And he couldn’t let her do that, not with only two weeks until the biggest decision of his life, since leaving Jennifer seven years ago. Reenlist or stay? “You should have known that wouldn’t work. We were too good together. We still are.”

  “You of all people should know,” she hissed, “that sometimes sex is a way to an orgasm. It’s just sex.”

  There it was—the gauntlet thrown down, the accusation that she’d meant nothing to him, which cut like a finely sharpened blade. “Is that all you think we were?” he demanded. “Sex?”

  Her chin lifted. “Wasn’t it?”

  Frustration mixed with urgency inside Bobby as the music shifted to a country song, voices suddenly carrying inside the house. An indicator the show was over and their alone time was ending.

  “No matter how we ended, Jennifer,” he told her, his tone guttural, “we were real.” Bobby kissed her, long and hard. “And I’m not going to let you forget that.” He pulled Jennifer’s shirt back into place. And not a moment too soon.

  Marcie’s voice bellowed from the near distance. “Jennifer!”

  “This isn’t over,” Bobby told her, setting her on the ground. “Not even close.”

  “Don’t bet on that one, Bobby,” Jennifer said. “You’ll lose.”

  “It’s time to play truth-or-dare,” Marcie said from the doorway, with an intoxicated giggle.

  Bobby leaned close to Jennifer. “I dare you to finish what we started,” Bobby said, and he wasn’t talking sex, though sex was fine by him. He was talking everything—the past, the present, the future. Bobby turned to Marcie. “Let the games begin.”

  MARCIE SHOUTED ACROSS the backyard to have the music stopped, ready to start the games. She giggled and turned back to Jennifer. “Let’s get ready to rumble!”

  Jennifer held her hand over her face. There was no rumbling in the game of truth-or-dare, but there was plenty of rumble to Jennifer’s nerves. Like it wasn’t enough that she’d already delved into the “sex as a weapon” game with Bobby and lost round one. Now she had a tipsy Marcie to contend with.

  Marcie grabbed Jennifer’s hand and tugged her onward. “Let’s go,” she said. “This is going to be so fun.”

  Fifteen minutes later, Jennifer hadn’t seen hide nor hair of Bobby. The game was about to begin, and this other game, the one between Bobby and herself, was clearly well under way. A huge circle of twenty guests sat on a carpet runner circling the dance floor, ready to play truth-or-dare.

  Marcie sat next to Mark, and patted the rug on her opposite side. “Come, Jen!”

  Jennifer sat down, scanning for Bobby, and silently scolding herself for the disappointment curling in her stomach at his disappearance. Had he left? And why? Why did she care? Because she wanted that orgasm he’d almost given her, she declared in her mind, refusing to allow any other answer to be considered.

  As if Bobby sensed her feelings, he appeared directly across from her, behind Scott Wright, a neighbor down the road, who was already seated. Jennifer’s heart charged into action as Bobby bent down and whispered to Scott. A second later, Scott got up and Bobby claimed his seat.

  Bobby arched a brow at Jennifer, letting her know he was ready for round two of “sex as a weapon.” Jennifer couldn’t move, the sound around her fading, the tension, wholly sexual, snapping between her and Bobby like a rubber band. Everything inside Jennifer melted like chocolate in the hot sun. She was the chocolate and he was the hot sun, when the opposite had been her plan.

  Marcie elbowed Jennifer, none too subtly. “It’s Bobby,” she whispered. “Did you see Bobby?”

  Jennifer cringed. Bobby looked amused, his eyes twinkling with mischief, the corners of his lips hinting at a smile. His really sexy lips, the ones that had been on hers only a short while back. Her nipples tightened, ached, her breasts growing heavy. Okay, those lips had been on a whole lot more than her mouth.

  Marcie rang a bell. Where had she gotten a bell? And a loud one, ringing near Jennifer’s ear. Jennifer reached for it and silently vowed to pour the rest of that chocolate mousse over the head of whoever gave it to her. “Give me that,” Jennifer ordered.

  “I need it,” Marcie said. Mark tugged Marcie close to him and took the bell.

  “Thank you, Mark,” Jennifer said, feeling relieved until Mark started whistling louder than the bell. Oh, good grief.

  The crowd quieted and Marcie waved like a schoolgirl. “Hi, everyone,” Marcie said, laughing as they all stared at her. She draped herself over Jennifer’s shoulders and ran her hand down Jennifer’s hair. “Tell them how the game words, Jen.” Marcie hiccupped. “I mean works.”

  Bobby’s stare, brimming with understanding, met Jennifer’s.

  Jennifer sighed and gently eased Marcie off her. “This is how the game works,” Jennifer told the crowd. “We have a board, dice and two stacks of cards that we pass around the circle. Odd number draws. One dare card. One truth card. You choose one or the other.”

  Marcie held up a finger and called out, “Adding a new rule!” She eyed Jennifer. “It’s the bride’s prerogative.” Then she peered around the circle. “If you don’t want either card, you have to strip off one item of clothing.”

  Jennifer gaped, shook her head. This was where she drew the line. She started to get up. Marcie grabbed her arm. “Oh, no, you don’t.” Then to the circle of guests, “The maid of honor is trying to run out on us, you guys.”

  Shouts rang out. Demands that Jennifer “be a man” and stay for the game. Like she wanted to “be a man.” Nevertheless, she was hogtied into staying.

  Marcie gloated, then announced. “The wedding party will go first! Come on, Jen, loosen up.”

  Jennifer had gotten plenty loose in that kitchen with Bobby, and she had no intention of getting loose in the middle of a crowd. She didn’t even consider looking in Bobby’s direction on that one. Instead, she lashed back at Marcie.

  “Bride and groom go first!” Jennifer yelled.

  Marcie’s eyes lit. “Okay!”

  So much for lashing back. Marcie rolled the dice. Even number. No card draw for her. She slid the board to Mark, who quickly rolled the dice. Odd number. He drew two cards.

  Marcie giggled in anticipation. “Read the cards to everyone,” she said anxiously.

  “Truth card,” Mark said. “Who is the best lover you have ever had?” He grinned and looked at Marcie.

  She smiled. “Read the other one.”

  “Dare card,” Mark said. “Perform a striptease for the room.” His eyes widened. “I’ll take the truth. Marcie is the best lover I have ever had.”

  Everyone booed, yelling that he’d gotten off easy. “I’m the groom,” Mark declared. “That’s how it should work. At least until I walk down the a
isle.”

  Marcie gaped and he grinned. “Just joking.” He bent down and gave Marcie a quick kiss.

  The next person was Sally, who was not only in the wedding, but the one Jennifer was pretty darn sure had ordered the dancers. Sally rolled an odd number. She drew two cards. “Truth. Have you ever used a vibrator?” She crinkled her nose. “Dare. Kiss the person to your right. Must use tongue.” That person was Mark. Holy crap. This was not going well.

  Marcie grabbed Jennifer’s arm, digging her fingernails through her bare flesh. “Aye,” Jennifer complained but Marcie didn’t let go.

  Everyone stared at Sally, the time ticking by in slow, excruciating seconds. Sally bit her lip and then said, “Truth. Sometimes a good vibrator is better than a man who doesn’t know what he is doing.”

  A general sigh of relief fell across the lawn. As if everyone knew how bad the bad would have been if Sally would have kissed Mark.

  It was the best man’s turn and he ended up with a dare. He mooned the circle. Another bridesmaid stripped off her shirt, leaving her in her bra. A grooms-man and bridesmaid who Jennifer thought hated each other kissed, with tongue action, and now it was Bobby’s turn.

  He rolled the dice. Odd number. His eyes met Jennifer’s from across the circle. Anticipation thrummed through her veins.

  “Truth,” he said. “What is the kinkiest thing you ever did with a feather?”

  A slow smile spread on his lips, but he didn’t look up. She knew exactly what he was thinking and felt her cheeks redden. Once, years before, he’d tied her facedown on the bed and, well, the feather had driven her insane. Surely he wouldn’t tell that story? Then again, he’d had seven years to use feathers in all kinds of ways she might never even dream possible. Her heart sank.

  “Dare,” he said, glancing down at the card. “Drink four shots of tequila.”

  He stared at the card and Jennifer’s stomach twisted. He wouldn’t drink four shots of anything stronger than Kool-Aid. The man could nurse one beer all night long and make everyone think it was his third or fourth. At least, the Bobby she’d known seven years ago.

  He’d said it was about control, but she’d always suspected it was about his father being a drinker. But he’d never talked about it, and shut down when she’d tried. He hadn’t talked about it, she repeated in her mind. He’d never really let her inside. It—they really had been all about sex.

  Several women started chanting at Bobby, “Shirt, shirt, shirt. Take off your shirt.”

  Slowly, Bobby’s gaze lifted to Jennifer’s, and he reached down and took off his boot. Boos followed. He took off a second boot. “That’s all you get,” he said sternly.

  Relief washed over Jennifer. She didn’t have to find out if his feather story would be about her or someone else. She didn’t have to endure sharing a view of that hot, broad chest with the crowd. Her relief, however, was short-lived as the shouts began, “Jennifer is next. Jennifer is next!”

  She ground her teeth. The history between Bobby and herself was far from a secret to many of the long-term friends at the party.

  Before Jennifer could blink, the board and dice were in front of her. Fine. She wanted this over with. She rolled the dice. Seven. Which used to be her lucky number. But it was an odd number. Of course. Not lucky tonight. She had to draw cards. “Truth,” she said, reading the first one. “When was the last time you…” She all but choked. There was no way she was reading the rest of the card or answering the question.

  Marcie grabbed the card and finished for her. “Had an orgasm, and who or what gave it to you?”

  If Jennifer admitted she’d given her last orgasm to herself, last night, Bobby was sure to assume it was while fantasizing about him. Which it was, or had been. And most certainly could be again.

  “Dare,” she said, snatching another card and reading it out loud. “Straddle the person to your right, male or female, while giving them tongue action.”

  “Or strip!” Marcie said. “And no boots like Bobby.” Marcie glared at Bobby. “That was a copout!”

  Jennifer’s heart lurched as she stared at that card, feeling the magnetic pull of Bobby’s stare, as he willed her to look at him. And realizing she didn’t even know who was sitting next to her—that was how fixated she’d been on Bobby. She looked to her right. To the guy sitting next to her who had chin-length brown hair, full lips and deep brown eyes. Good-looking.

  He extended his hand, as if she needed a formal introduction before cramming her tongue down his throat. “David,” he said. “Mark’s college roommate. Feel free to take advantage of me any way you please.”

  Jennifer stared at his hand, realizing she had an opportunity. A way to draw the line in the sand with Bobby. To make it clear she didn’t want, or need, fluffy explanations and conversation. Kissing David would let Bobby know she was over everything between them but the sex. Okay, so maybe, just maybe, a part of her wanted to lash out and hurt Bobby. The way he’d hurt her. Of course, damn him, she doubted she could hurt him. And that hurt her. Jennifer was going to kiss David. She slid her hand into his.

  7

  JENNIFER’S PLAN TO kiss David lasted all of thirty seconds before she was suddenly pulled into Bobby’s strong arms. Anger radiated off him, his voice low, serious, “If you’re trying to piss me off,” he declared, lacing his fingers in her hair, his blue eyes glinting with steel, “it’s working.” His mouth slanted over hers, punishing, hard, full of demand.

  Jennifer told herself not to respond, to shove him away, but the thrust of his tongue against hers, the spicy, primitive taste of him, ignited something inside her. So, instead of resisting, she kissed him back, answering the anger spilling through him, into her, with anger of her own. Kissed him with the kind of passion that could not be bred of mere physical attraction, the kind of attraction formed from an emotional bond, once built, and then torn down. Kissed him with every drop of emotion curled inside her, ready to explode—with seven years of anger and hurt, with the devastation of the night he’d left, and the determination to send him away again, but on her terms.

  Time stood still as she poured all the shattered pieces of herself into the slide of tongue against tongue. Her hands gripped his shoulders, one to his face. She took…and took; she demanded.

  It was Bobby who broke the connection, pulling back to stare down at her with dark eyes that stole a path straight to her soul. Jennifer could barely breathe, compelled by their intensity, in the certainty that whatever escape she’d believed the kiss had offered, had simply led her deeper into a trap.

  Bobby pushed to his feet and for the second time that evening, he scooped her into his arms. The crowd came back into focus, the hoots and hollers suddenly an invasion of privacy. Jennifer buried her face in Bobby’s neck, seeking refuge with the very man she should be hiding from. But what she felt, what she wanted, what she had to deal with—all of it ended right back at him and him alone, not to be shared with anyone else. Not a crowd, not even Marcie, who was like a sister to her.

  Jennifer let him carry her away, knowing full well they were headed to a bedroom to finish what they’d started seven years before. In bed. And she was going to enjoy every last minute of it—because she deserved it.

  BOBBY WAS ANGRY. No. Angry didn’t begin to touch on the wild emotions spiraling inside him, the possessiveness. Everything male in him wanted to claim her, had to claim her, though he knew he had no right—that he’d left, that he’d given her up. But reason didn’t matter right now. Feeling her close, holding her, being with her, making love to her—that was what mattered.

  At first, a little gamesmanship offered a good chance to use a few skydiving dares and he’d get to combine work with pleasure. It meant assurance that he could get out to the Hotzone, and investigate this ex-Army Ranger Rocky, without losing his leave time with Jennifer. He wanted his mission complete, done, over and quickly. But despite his urgency to get focused on Jennifer, Bobby was all about checking out this Rocky character. One thing Bobby couldn’
t stand was a man who fought for his country, turning against his country. And if Rocky was selling drugs, he was definitely working against his country.

  Bobby carried Jennifer up the stairs, taking them two at a time. He shoved open a spare bedroom, dim light flickering from a bedside lamp. He kicked the door shut behind them, locked it, and carried Jennifer to the mattress. They went down on the bed, her on the bottom, him on top. That was where he wanted to be. On top. For now. Later, she could be on top.

  “What was that all about down there?” he demanded. “On second thought, don’t answer that. You’ll just piss me off more than I already am.”

  “You’re pissed—” He smothered her words with a kiss, spearing his tongue past her lips with command. She was his, maybe not forever, but for now. He branded her with long strokes of his tongue, greedily taking until he tore his mouth from hers, hungry for more than her mouth.

  She gasped and shoved at his shoulders. “You’re pissed off?” she demanded. “I’m pissed off, Bobby!”

  “Good,” he hissed and pushed off the bed, unbuttoning his shirt enough to pull it over his head. “Then show me pissed off, Jennifer. Show me now.” He tossed the shirt on the floor. He remembered the fights and the makeup sex—passionate, hot, couldn’t-get-enough-of-each-other sex—he wanted that now.

  Jennifer pressed herself to a sitting position on the bed, her breath heavy, chest rising and falling, lifting her full, high breasts, as she declared, “This isn’t makeup sex, Bobby,” she warned, reading his mind. Proving she still knew him.

  Shackling her ankles, he pulled her to the end of the bed, her legs on either side of his, her back now on the mattress. Hands to her waist, Bobby pushed her shirt upward and made quick work of removing it. “Fine then,” he said, grabbing one of her boots, and then the other, insurance she wasn’t going anywhere fast. “It’s not makeup sex.”

  She sat up and pressed her hands to his waist, tilting her chin to stare up at him with a gleam in her beautiful eyes. “Then it’s settled,” she said, her hand sliding over his crotch, tracing the rock-hard ridge of his bulging erection before unsnapping his pants. “Just sex. Only sex. And I’m in charge.” She tugged his zipper down, then tugged at his waist. “Take them off.”