by Avery Flynn
“No.” His firm voice halted her feet.
Her head popped up as her pulse increased. “No?”
He put the coffee down on an empty shelf. A frisson of sexual heat sparked between them. His body called out to her like a siren, luring her toward a dangerous and rocky coast. Afraid her heart would be broken on the shore, she kept her eyes lowered.
“You promised we’d talk later.” He trailed a finger down her cheek. “I thought you were the kind of woman who kept her word.”
Blinking back unwanted tears, she forced her wobbling lip to still before gazing up at him. It scared her how badly she wanted to spend even a little more time with him. A vague picture formed of what a future with Jake would be like. Coming home to him after closing Harvest for the night. Crawling into bed and snuggling up against his warm body. Ruthlessly, she tried to push away those thoughts but they lingered.
She should walk away now and make a clean break of it, but she couldn’t do it. Missing this time with Jake would haunt her. She’d recovered from a broken heart before, she could do it again. Probably.
Heat enveloped her fingers as she intertwined them with Jake’s. Her hand looked so small and fragile in his, like delicate china laid atop an oak table. They shouldn’t go together, but they did. “Let’s go.”
Jake delivered a soft kiss to the top of her head and dumped the paper coffee cups in a nearby trashcan. Together, they strolled out the door, hand-in-hand, into the gathering dusk.
Chapter Twelve
How is it that you own a restaurant and don’t cook?” Jake took a pan down from the overhead storage rack in Harvest’s kitchen. They’d ended up at the restaurant after a short detour to the Stop and Sip because of Claire’s barren refrigerator at home. After the day they’d had, he figured they could both use some comfort food.
“I ignore the recipe and add in a little of this and a little of that.” Claire shrugged. “When I’m in the kitchen I just can’t follow directions.” She handed him half a dozen eggs.
He snorted. “Yeah, no shock there.”
“Very funny.”
Out of the corner of his eye, he watched her survey the ingredients on the metal prep table. Eggs. Bread. Cinnamon. Vanilla. Who didn’t like breakfast?
“You’re making French toast? And you mock me for not knowing how to cook?”
He raised an eyebrow. The girl talked enough smack to play in the NBA, but the give and take excited him, made him curious to find out what she’d say or do next. Until he’d met Claire, he didn’t realize how boring his dating life had been. The old man had been harping on him for years to look beyond the willowy blondes Jake had always dated, to find someone who had pluck and passion. His little fairy warrior didn’t have a passive bone in her delectable body.
He slipped his hand around her slender waist and pulled her to him until her back nestled against his chest. She snuggled in as he tucked her head under his chin. “Don’t knock the French toast ’til you’ve tried it.” She relaxed against him, molded herself to him. A perfect fit.
As if he’d been zapped with Viagra, he hardened instantly. He toyed with the thin, red spaghetti straps of her dress resting on her shoulders. He slid a finger under one, tracing its path across her warm, supple skin. He wanted to sweep the food off the prep table and eat her instead. As if reading his thoughts, her stomach growled its disapproval.
Damn.
He chuckled into her coconut-scented hair. The aroma launched a fantasy about lying on the beach next to her. Her string bikini would barely cover her heavy tits. A little paper umbrella would float in her Mai Tai. She’d wrap her luscious lips around the straw and suck while he rubbed sunscreen all over her decadent curves. It would be paradise.
Her stomach growled again, louder this time.
Reluctant to let go of the fantasy, he waited a beat before lifting his head. “Did you bring Onion with you?”
“Oh, shut up.” A flush rose above her neckline like a blinking neon sign declaring: Look here.
He squeezed her shoulders and laid a quick kiss on the top of her head, inhaling the tropics again. “Come on, go get me a bowl to whisk the eggs and I’ll satisfy your stomach. The rest, I’ll take care of later.”
“Yes, sir.” Claire winked at him. “Didn’t your mother teach you to treat the kitchen help with more care?”
A familiar ache squeezed his heart. He stared at the stainless steel prep table, not wanting her to see what ate at him. “No. She left when I was two. Haven’t talked to her since.”
Her small hand wrapped around his. “Jake, I’m sorry.”
Looking down into her face, he knew she was. No pretense lay hidden in her wide eyes or in the concerned twist of her mouth. If she said it, she meant it. He could get used to that. Part of him already had.
Uncomfortable with the realization, he turned away. “Yeah. They divorced. I grew up with my dad. It worked out great.” He knew this speech by rote. “Two guys in a guy house.”
She put the bowl down in front of him and handed him an egg. Her hand lingered, so soft and strong at the same time.
“I found her.” His voice cracked. He’d never told anyone before, not even his dad, but he wanted—no, needed to tell Claire. “I was seventeen and about to graduate high school. It seemed like something I had to do. I’d been working at Absolute with dad since I was old enough to file, so it really wasn’t very hard to do a records search.”
He remembered the excitement mixed with foreboding as his fingers had flown across the keyboard. He must have looked over his shoulder a million times to make sure his father couldn’t see the screen. It had only taken a few minutes and boom, he’d found her.
“She’d gotten remarried a few years after she left us. They lived on a ranch two hours outside of Denver. I told my dad I was going to a concert with friends and drove out there. I parked my truck on the side of the road, down a bit from their dirt driveway. There was a mailbox there. I figured she’d have to get the mail eventually. She did. She looked a bit grayer, heavier than dad’s pictures, but it was her.”
His gut had wrenched when she’d checked her mail. He’d looked down at his white knuckles wrapped around the steering wheel as hate and love spun around inside him in a confused whirlwind. Even now, the picture of her reaching into that battered metal mailbox put a hitch in his breath.
“Then I saw the school bus in my rearview mirror. She waved as it slowed down. A boy and a girl got out. Elementary-school age, both of them. And she smiled at them, hugged them. She loved them. I could see it.”
The profound sense of rejection had hit him like a slap across the face. Ever since, with every emotionless hookup and cold, calculating move, he’d distanced himself from the women who floated through his life.
Until now. Until Claire.
Jake looked down. He’d crushed the egg Claire had given him, the slimy yolk dripping from his fingers. “I must have left marks on the road, I took off so fast.”
She handed him a towel. “Did you ever go back? Contact her at all?”
He shook his head and tossed the dirty towel onto the prep table. “No. That part of my life’s over. Doesn’t matter anymore.”
Thankfully, she said nothing to that. He locked up his teenage-boy hurt and cracked the rest of the eggs into the bowl in silence.
He had breakfast-for-dinner whipped up in no time. Claire sat on the prep table eating with gusto. He forgot all about his food when a syrup-drenched piece of French toast left a trail of sticky sweetness on the corner of her mouth. Her tongue darted out to swipe at it. Unable to get it all that way, she wiped up the rest with her middle finger and sucked it off.
His body went on high alert. His pulse hammered and blood rushed through his veins, engorging his cock. He thought he had been rock hard before, now he worried his zipper wouldn’t hold.
She caught him staring with his fork frozen halfway to his mouth. Turning beet red, she dropped her gaze. Then a devilish smile tugged at the corner of her mo
uth.
Trouble. Just the kind he liked. He waited, food forgotten, anxious to see what she’d do next.
She parted her cherry lips and her gaze darted over to him. She blew him a kiss and then…she hummed.
What the hell?
Dumbstruck, he watched her eat the last bite of French toast.
She hopped down from the table, strutted over to the industrial sink and dumped her plate. She grabbed a tiny square package from a shelf and tossed it to him. Without looking his way, she slipped off her red dress and left it puddled on the floor. Claire sashayed down the hallway, her swaying ass framing the jade-green thong.
Jake could live to be a hundred and he didn’t think he’d ever see a sexier sight. Her voluptuous curves nearly overwhelmed his senses. He couldn’t wait to trace a finger across her peach nipples and slide into her wet folds. His balls tightened when her butt jiggled as she strutted away.
Then she looked back over her shoulder, a come-hither look in her chocolate-colored eyes.
“Coming?”
Was he ever.
He looked down in his hand. A condom. She must have snuck it into their grocery bag at the Stop and Sip when he hadn’t been looking.
He jerked his head back up. For a few beats, Jake watched her saunter down the hallway. Unable to resist the view any longer, he rushed to catch her.
She unhooked her bra and dropped the flimsy scrap of silky material to the hallway floor. Lust slammed into his stomach and then sank lower, making his cock harder than the cast iron pan he’d used to make the French toast. The brief side view of her heavy, round breasts as she turned into another room sent all his blood straight to his dick. His body reacted like that of an untried fifteen-year-old boy. It had been a long time since a peek of side boob had pre-cum staining his boxers.
Damn. Claire astounded him, body and mind. Even with the light-purple bruise on her cheek, half hidden behind her waves of red hair, she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. He didn’t know when or how, but he’d make sure Darcy paid for punching her after setting her Jeep on fire. But right now, Darcy was in police custody and a naked Claire waited for him somewhere down the hall.
He found her in the employee lounge. A leather couch lined one wall. Humming refrigerator, sink and counter lined the other. In the middle stood Claire, her inviting nipples pointing toward him. She crooked one red painted fingernail at him.
Jake crossed the room in two long strides and wrapped her up in his arms. Her puckered nipples poked his chest through his shirt and sent fire through his veins. He leaned down, capturing her sweet mouth with his. He teased her mouth open, the syrup lingering on her tongue promised of sweeter things to come. Nectar from the gods couldn’t have tasted better.
He ran his hands down her back, cupped her soft ass and pulled her against his groin. Pleasure so intense it almost hurt exploded in him as she ground her damp pussy against his jeans. He almost came from that friction alone.
She moaned into his mouth. Her fingers dug into his taut shoulders as she stretched herself upward, arching into him.
The need to bury himself inside her, hear her call out his name again, almost overwhelmed him. He lifted his head.
The heady look in her eyes shot him back to the moment when he’d held her at the railroad tracks after she’d first confronted Darcy. Her red hair had been flying every which way, her face starting to bruise and dirt streaking her cheeks. She’d been through hell, but remained undaunted. He’d been so turned on by her fiery spirit, he’d wanted to secret her to a dark corner and fuck her senseless. She had felt the same, judging by her diamond-hard nipples and her do-me look. He’d managed to stop himself, just barely, telling her they’d regret their actions. He’d been an idiot.
“I was wrong,” he mumbled as he kissed the spot below her earlobe. “I’m not going to regret this at all.”
She laughed, low and breathless as her ample breasts rubbed against his chest. Her fast fingers unbuttoned his shirt setting off shocks. The pleasure nearly overwhelmed him and he let out a groan of his own.
Lifting her against him, he reveled in how good she felt in his arms. Determined to make her his, he carried her to the couch. Sitting back on the smooth leather, he kept his hands on her fleshy hips as she straddled him. Her breasts swayed, tempting him. He licked one erect nipple and closed his lips around the hard nub. She moaned and arched her back, digging her fingers into his shoulders.
Letting go almost killed him, but he had to get out of his clothes. She slid to his side on the couch. They continued to kiss as he yanked off his shirt, buttons flying everywhere, and stood.
Their hands battled at his waistband. She won. He shucked off his shoes as she unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans. With anxious fingers, she slid his cotton boxers and jeans to his ankles. Entranced by the gleam in her eyes, Jake kicked them off.
Looking down, he saw the tip of her pink tongue lick her luscious lips, his cock pointed at her. She took him into her warm, wet mouth. His vision went black. His knees nearly buckled. Her talented tongue lapped at the pre-cum glistening against the head of his cock and had him ready to explode. He stepped back and brought her pliant body up.
She sucked on her bottom lip, pushed him down to the couch. Her fingers toyed with the strap of her thong. The red of her fingernails against the green of her underwear reminded him of Christmas. She was one package he couldn’t wait to unwrap.
He looked up at her body silhouetted in the harsh fluorescent light. For anyone else, the lighting and angle would have been unflattering, but not his Claire. He was bewitched by the confidence and strength hidden beneath her sexy-as-hell body. An invisible force kicked him in the gut.
“What are you doing to me?” he whispered.
She slipped her thong over her creamy hips and let them fall down her long legs. “Making you happy.”
“Good, I was afraid you were trying to kill me.”
She smiled. “They do call it the little death.”
Claire took the condom from his hand. She ripped the package open and slid the latex on, her fingers unrolling it down the length of his cock. The light touch of her fingers teased his erection and made it throb.
Looking at her hand curled around the base of his dick, he worried he’d come from her fingers alone. He tried to convert fractions, remember the preamble to the Constitution and anything else he could think of to stop himself from shooting right then.
When she straddled him and lowered herself onto his rigid cock, he could have died a happy man. Her warmth tightened around him and desire tightened his balls. Pleasure rippled outward from where they joined. He dragged a thumb across her peach nipple and pinched the nub lightly. Entranced by the sight of her delicious breasts, he held a rounded peak to his mouth and sucked on the large nipple.
Small whimpers escaped her lips. She increased the pace, riding him hard and fast. Her moist pussy ground against him as she enveloped him in smooth, deep strokes.
“More,” she cried.
Happy to oblige, he flipped her onto her back and thrust deep into her hot, silken pussy. His body awash in sensation so pleasurable it had him trembling, he tried to slow down to make it last, but her fingernails dug into his back in protest. Her hips met his every thrust, wild passionate cries escaping her lips. Like this, locked in each other’s arms, they fit. Perfect.
“Claire.” Her name came out in a strangled cry as he neared the abyss. He couldn’t hold on much longer.
Her inner muscles undulated against him and squeezed. Her whole body tensed in his arms as she came around his dick, screaming his name to the ceiling. His balls tightened and he buried himself to the hilt. He came inside her with the force of a tidal wave, moaning his release into her hair.
In that moment of blissed-out clarity it hit him—he never wanted to leave.
Claire brushed her fingers through Jake’s soft black hair. His head lay nestled on her shoulder. He’d flung an arm across her waist; the weight of it warmed he
r, like the world’s sexiest security blanket. She relaxed until her bones were the consistency of melted butter. All was right with the world.
Content and satisfied, she willed herself not to think. She reined in any imaginings of before or after, of what could or couldn’t be. There was only right now.
“I don’t want to move ever again.” His breath tickled her neck.
Claire empathized completely. “Eventually, you’ll have to.”
He rose up onto his forearms. “Why? Am I squashing you? I don’t want to hurt you.”
True, her stomach and ribs still ached a bit from the Voice of Doom’s kick by the train tracks and her wrist remained stiff, but that wasn’t the hurt she worried about. She didn’t see any way Jake could avoid making her heart ache. It stung already. She sucked at the whole not-thinking thing.
“What is it?” Concern shone in his eyes.
Talking about him leaving would only make it seem more real. She wasn’t ready to push open the curtains of reality. “I need to go freshen up.”
“Hurry back.” He nipped her earlobe. Kissed it better.
In the doorway she paused and looked back. Jake lay on his back. An arm rested across his forehead. He was so tall, he barely fit on the couch. Tears sprung to her eyes. She blinked them back. Tomorrow would be soon enough for that.
She scooped up her bra from the hallway and grabbed her dress off the kitchen floor. Slipping it on, she trudged to the dining room bathroom, her heavy heart making every step an effort.
The toilet wouldn’t stop running as she washed her hands. She walked into the stall and jiggled the handle. The water continued to rush inside the porcelain tank.
Great. Like I don’t have enough falling apart in my life right now.
Claire lifted the heavy tank lid to adjust the flush valve.
She gasped. Her heart stopped beating for a moment.