Thursday Nights (The Charistown Series)

by Lisa N. Paul

  “What?” The startled response that eked out of her mouth was almost unrecognizable.

  A sexy chuckle escaped the throat of the man whose warmth was radiating into Lyla’s skin. She attempted to turn around, curious to see the face that was attached to that voice, but a large hand at the base of her neck stayed her movement. As his thumb gently stroked her neck a whisker-roughened cheek murmured in her ear. “No reason to turn around, sweetheart. You know who I am. And everything else you need to know you can feel pulsing through your body right now. Enjoy your drink. I’ll see you soon.”

  The cool air seeped into her body as the warmth of his hand left her skin. By the time Lyla got up the courage to turn around, all she got was a glimpse of a firm ass covered in perfectly worn jeans, a tight, white T-shirt that hugged a broad back, and inky-black hair that hung just below the neck of said T-shirt.

  “What the fuck just happened? Who the hell was that?” Lyla gasped as Ashley, the bartender who stepped in for Max when he left, just smiled. “Ashley, Goddamn it! Seriously, did you see him?”

  Ashley looked at her with a grin. “That’s Max’s friend. You’ve probably seen him here before.” She put a glass of ice water in front of Lyla, gestured to her cheeks, and gave a devilish smile. “You look like you could use this.”

  “So, your place or mine?” Janie asked nervously as they left the parking lot. The butterflies in her stomach were starting a revolution as she took in the sexy profile of the man sitting to her left with one hand on the wheel and the other on her thigh. Was she really doing this? Not to mention, doing it with Max DeLucca?

  Removing his hand from her leg, Max placed both hands on the steering wheel of his black Ferrari Spider. Janie held in the whimper that threatened to escape from the loss of his touch.

  Max pulled over to the side of the road, and she felt the butterflies once again trying to take flight. Why was he stopping? Had he changed his mind?

  “Janie,” he said, his voice strong but calm. “Janie, look at me. I need to see your eyes.” She looked into his grassy-green orbs. Callused fingers stroked her jaw, sending shivers through her body. “I won’t hurt you. Your body is safe with me. Do you understand?”

  She wasn’t sure she did, but she nodded silently.

  The innocent, doe-eyed look on her face brought out his every possessive instinct. “Words, Janie, I need words,” Max demanded.

  “I think I understand, Max.” She couldn’t help the breathless tone in her voice. “But what is this about?”

  He inhaled, holding the air in his lungs for an extra second before letting it go, his eyes smoldering while his body still held the relaxed pose that had become so familiar to her. She could hear her own heart beating, and she could also hear it stop when the next statement left Max’s lips.

  “I intend to fuck you tonight, Janie. I intend to fuck you very well. I am going to make you come in every way imaginable. With my fingers, my tongue, and my cock. I am going to do things to you that you and Lyla have only teased about at Danny’s, things that you have fantasized about, and things that have never even crossed your mind. You will have a say in whether or not we stop, but Janie, you will not have a say on whether it is your place or mine. Got it?”

  She stared at Max and her mouth formed an O. She was thoroughly and truly speechless. So she nodded again.

  “Words, Janie. I need words.”

  “Okay.” Her heartbeat started speeding up again as Max’s car did the same.

  Max grinned as he drove them toward her place. How is it possible that he finally had Janie Silver in his car? Fuck.

  One word…Lyla. He was going to have to send her those raspberry truffles that she liked so much.

  Keeping both hands on the wheel proved to be more difficult than he ever imagined. Just a few more minutes, and he would finally have Janie, his Janie, alone in her house, on her bed.

  His house or hers? Max laughed to himself. What a ridiculous question. Didn’t she realize the answer had to be the place that was the closest to wherever they were? He was barely hanging on as it was. He had to be practically superhuman to have restrained himself from taking her in his car when they had pulled over for that quick chat. He’d wanted to run his hands through her long hair practically since the first Thursday night that she and Lyla had walked into Danny’s on Main. He’d been dying to know if her brown-and-copper cascades would feel as soft as they looked wrapped around his fingers.

  For months he had been waiting for the right time. Watching her with the last loser had caused an unfamiliar pang of possessiveness to grip his gut and squeeze it like a vice. Hearing about the ten years of douche bags prior was enough to make him insane. Every workout with the heavy bag was him beating the shit out of all the faceless men who had hurt Janie in the past. Every MMA session had his partners feeling the pain that he wanted to inflict on the cheating sons of bitches that made Janie think she was unworthy of being worshipped. He got through each punishing run telling himself that one day he would be the man to teach her what the John Mayer song, “Your Body is a Wonderland” really meant. She was the one woman who made him wish he could have a relationship. If he still possessed his heart, he would give it to her. And that’s why he had stayed away from her. Until tonight.

  Tonight he finally lost his power to control the lust he felt toward her, and now, he had her. His woman…No, he thought, just her body. That’s all I want. No emotions, no entanglements…

  He ran his hand slowly up Janie’s jean-clad thigh and breathed in deep.

  “Fuck,” he sighed out loud. He was in trouble.

  Lyla nursed the last of her drink and tried to push the mystery man with his whisky-laced voice and his leathery, cedar scent out of her mind. Danny came back to the bar to regale her with disgusting stories of bathroom horror. Laughing hysterically, she dipped her head, covered her eyes, and begged him to stop the torture.

  “Ew! Stop! You’re gonna make me pee myself,” she squealed. “Then your poor staff is going to have another mess to deal with. Plus, I would never be able to show my face in here again!”

  Danny’s expression went from relaxed to tense in a blink. “Oh, honey, don’t ever say that. You and Janie are like family now. Go ahead and pee on the floor! I won’t care. In fact, after we’re all done laughing at you, we will bronze the spot!”

  Lyla knew that Danny and his wife Julie had tried for years to have children unsuccessfully. They treated their employees like family, and she and Janie, in the few short months, had become like surrogate daughters to the couple.

  “Thanks, Danny. You know that means the world to me…especially since I don’t really…” She didn’t finish her sentence.

  “Yeah, and you have ADD when it comes to men.” He effectively changed the subject without any sense of how he got from point A to point B.

  She lifted her eyebrows, ready with a sassy comeback, but it wouldn’t come out of her mouth. Because he was right. Lyla could practically choose her sexual partner any night of the week. But sex is where she drew her line. She didn’t do commitment. Hell, she didn’t even do sleepovers. She let them use her body, and she used theirs right back. Two consenting adults—perfect.

  “I don’t need anyone but Janie…and you guys, of course.” She smiled sheepishly. The truth was the thought of getting close to any one man made her physically ill. The men she had trusted in her past had not just let her down but had nearly killed her. She was no longer a full person, just a bunch of broken pieces held together with glue and hope. She didn’t want or need a man in her life. She could take care of herself. Lyla had her own money, so financial security would never be a problem for her, and she certainly didn’t want some guy thinking she was going to support his ass. She needed a man, not a boy, anyway. Someone who didn’t need constant ego stroking, who knew how to handle her body.

  God, what was she thinking? That sounded like relationship talk. Hence the reason why she always stuck to the one night stands. Two nights if the sex was
actually good, but no more.

  Danny gave her his best fatherly smile-hug combo—at least that was what she thought it was, since she had never received one from her own father—and he whispered in her ear. “Ly, you are not an island, and you deserve so much love…so much.”

  She felt her throat tighten but refused to show any emotion. While she could, and would, help people deal with their own feelings, hers were off limits. So she took a deep breath and gave him one final squeeze before letting go.

  Lyla’s thoughts quickly shifted back to her best friend. It was always better to think about Janie than it was to give any headspace to her own life.

  “She is such a good person. God, I hope I did the right thing.”

  “Who are you talking about?” Danny asked. “You mean, Janie?”

  “Shit, was I thinking out loud again? I really need to stop doing that,” she sputtered, her blue eyes bright.

  “Listen, Lyla,” Danny said with what the group referred to as his ‘serious face.’ “Max has been thinking, and talking, about Janie for what feels like forever. He is a good guy no matter what he—”

  Lyla interrupted. “Danny, I’m sure he’s a great guy, but what Janie needs is a good fu—”

  Danny placed his hand over Lyla’s mouth. “Max is a good guy. Listen to what I am not saying. I see him as a son, so please don’t make me say it more clearly than this.” A bashful blush crept up Danny’s neck. “He will give her whatever she needs tonight. Understand?”

  She looked into Danny’s pleading eyes, and with a smile as huge as the relief she was feeling, she stood up, hugged him, and said good night to the rest of the staff. They firmed up Sunday dinner plans, and she walked out to her car, parked in her special spot right by the front door.

  Lyla slid into her BMW, buckled up, and pressed the windows down to let the late-summer night breeze blow through her car. September nights in Pennsylvania were her favorite because one never knew if the weather would be hot and sticky or crisp and chilly. Like life, it was unpredictable, and she knew how to handle unpredictable.

  She was selecting the playlist on her iPod when she heard the growling sound of what could only be a Harley roll up to the side of her car. Hmm, she thought with a smirk, the things I’ve done on a motorcycle… Just the sound alone made her internal engine purr. She continued to scroll to her favorite playlist, when the back of her neck began to tingle.

  She could feel him—her body was actually reacting to a perfect stranger—and there was a slight tap on the roof of her car. Lyla looked up from her iPod and saw what may have been the most startling pair of blue eyes that had ever been created. Here she thought her own were pretty fabulous, but nope, not even close in comparison. She wanted to drown in the pools that stared back at her. She had never seen him up-close before—he was breathtaking. Lyla felt her chest burn from her shallow breaths as she took in the curve of his jaw and sculpted chin.

  “See something you like?” he asked with a dimpled grin.

  “Before you opened your mouth I did,” Lyla answered in kind.

  The next thing she knew the passenger door opened. Oh shit! I forgot to lock the doors. “I’m such an idiot!”

  “I wouldn’t say you’re an idiot, but you really should lock your doors. Any crazy man could just open them up and sit down next to you,” he said with a wink.

  “I really need to get this problem of thinking out loud under control,” Lyla stated. Purposely out loud that time.

  “Or maybe you just need a man that wants to listen to your all thoughts.” There was that killer smile again. Dangerous.

  His baby blues watched her with what appeared to be interest. Lyla snickered and then laughed to the point of tears.

  He looked at her with lust and confusion. “What?” he asked in that voice that would forever haunt her dreams.

  “Does that line actually work for you?” Lyla said, wiping her eyes with the palm of her hand, trying in vain to pull herself back together.

  “Actually, I haven’t had to use that line before,” he said smoothly. “Because I don’t run into many beautiful, sexy, desirable women who spend the better part of their evening talking to themselves.” He chuckled a throaty laugh, and once again Lyla felt goose bumps rise on her skin. Oh Lord, the dimples, the smile, the laugh––what the hell is wrong with me?

  Trying to hide her reaction to him, and of course, her latest quirky bullshit, Lyla squared off her shoulders, lifted her head, and looked straight at the sensuous man sitting, uninvited, in her car. How the hell did that happen again?

  “So…” Lyla waited for him to offer his name, but he didn’t. He just looked back at her with a piercing stare, his soulful eyes framed with black lashes so intense she swore he could see right through her.

  “So,” he repeated. “I know that you come here on Thursday nights—”

  “Stalker much?”

  “Lyla.” Her name was honey dripping from his lips. “Knowing your name and that fact that you come to Danny’s on Thursdays doesn’t make me a stalker.”

  Lyla’s insides melted, and her panties actually dampened, just from hearing her name slide out of his mouth. I’m so screwed. “Oh my God…”

  “What’s wrong?” He smiled.

  “Shit!” Realizing she again spoke her thoughts out loud, she moved to slam her fist into her thigh. Just as her expletive filled the tight space of the car, his left hand sliced out and grabbed her fist, holding it in his big palm. Their skin connected, and just like in the bar, electricity surged through her body. But here, now, they were sitting face-to-face, his eyes to hers.

  She felt her skin bloom, every hair rising from her flesh, as he reached out and placed his right hand on the side of her face. Before Lyla knew it, he pulled her to him. She tried to resist, but his lips were soft and warm as they caressed hers. The kiss that started out slowly, maybe even a little chaste, turned inferno as soon as his cedar smell hit Lyla’s senses. Her throaty moan was all the acceptance he needed.

  “Nice,” he muttered as he pulled her tighter. He tried to consume her with his kiss, and she went willingly. Her hands started to travel down his hard, muscled chest, over his pecs, and spread across his abdomen. He breathed in deep and slowly pulled away, keeping his hand wrapped around her fist. Lyla opened her eyes, trying to figure out what the hell had just happened, when she heard the click of the door being opened. The overhead light in the car came on.

  He was getting out of her car…he was leaving?

  “What are you doing?” Lyla practically shrieked as she leaned over to look at him through the passenger window.

  “Not you. Not tonight,” he answered, a strength in his voice that Lyla couldn’t imagine any man able to possess after that kiss.

  She was embarrassed, angry, and aroused beyond belief. “You know what, I didn’t even invite you into my car. I don’t even know you! Why did you even bother, asshole? Next time you see me, just…just...walk the other way,” she dismissed him. “Jesus Christ.”

  Trying to gather her determination, she straightened herself behind the steering wheel and inhaled. Scrubbing her hands over her forehead, she closed her eyes for a quick second, forcing herself to keep it together.

  “What the hell is wrong with me? I didn’t even know his fucking name, and here I am with my tongue down his throat? He could have fucking killed me, and I would have deserved it…shit!” She slammed her palms into the steering wheel again.

  The tears started to well up as the fragrance of cedar and leather tickled her nose again. She opened her eyes and was startled to find him leaning in through the open driver’s side window.

  “Now what do you fucking want?” she spat. “Go the hell away!”

  “Lyla…”

  “No, I’ve had enough for the night…just go,” she said, trying to rein in her emotions. She had about sixty seconds before her wall would crumble, and she knew she had to get out of there. She did not cry—ever—and definitely not in front of a gorgeous man wi
th dimples and a sexy smile, whose kiss could make her forget things she wished she had never learned.

  “Lyla.” His was voice firm, demanding her attention. She reluctantly raised her eyes and looked at him. His electric gaze sparked as blunt words left his full lips. “My name is Gage. I see you come here each Thursday with your friend, and to be honest, I’ve wanted you for weeks. I’ve seen the way you laugh, the way you smile. I’ve seen the way you throw sass when someone gives you a hard time.” She watched as the muscles in his jaw clenched and released. She could feel his gaze penetrating her body. “If you think…Christ…if you think I’m gonna kiss you”— his eyes raked over her—“and then fuck you in a parking lot after the fantasies that have been living in my mind, then yes, sweetheart, you have lost your fucking mind.”

  Lyla looked away, her cheeks warm, her panties damp.

  “Lyla, look at me, sweetheart. I’ve seen the men you take home,” he went on. “You have the F-and-R pattern down to a science.”

  Lyla jerked her eyes back to stare him down. “F and R?”

  Ignoring her question, Gage continued his monologue. “I practically invented that routine, and I refuse to go there with you. You deserve everything good and sensual. Don’t think I haven’t noticed that no matter how much ‘fun’ you’re having, the sparkle never quite hits your eyes. You deserve a man who is going to worship you—body and soul. And I am going to be that man.” He paused a beat. “But it is not going to be tonight. It can’t be.”

  Her eyes didn’t leave his. “So, until we are both ready, that kiss is as far as we can go,” he explained. “Please drive, safely . . . and I will see you when I see you.” He leaned into the car, gave her a slow kiss on the lips, slipping his tongue into her mouth and gently caressing her tongue with his. And then he was gone.

  When she opened her eyes he—Gage—was nowhere. Was he ever here? Lyla’s lips tingled, and she could still smell a trace of his cologne, feel his hands on her cheek. She could taste man and…salt? She looked into her rearview mirror, and she saw what she feared: a stream of tears had trailed down her cheeks and onto her lips.