Rough Ride: A Small Town Bad Boy Romance

by Cass Kincaid

  ROUGH RIDE

  CASS KINCAID

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Thank You

  Other Books By Cass Kincaid:

  SCREWED IN SIN CITY

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Copyright © 2018 by Cass Kincaid

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information and retrieval systems, without the written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, names, places, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to locales, events, or actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Chapter One

  Isabelle

  “Don't you think for one minute that just because Jace is back with a little money in his pocket and a rodeo title, that it changes a damn thing.”

  I stare at Emily with sharp, darkened eyes, the usually oceanic blue of them now tainted a cloudy shadowed color due to my obvious frustration at the mere mention of Jace Andrews.

  “Call me crazy,” Emily says with an amused grin. “But I'd say by your immediate defensive stance that Jace Andrews has you exactly where he's always wanted you...flustered and wrapped around his little finger.”

  The coffee pot I'm holding begins to shake slightly, betraying the trembling of my fingers. “You take that back right now,” I snap at my best friend of over twenty years. “I'm not flustered. I'm just ticked off that everyone I see seems to have only one thing on their minds; Jace and his goddamn PBR win.” I set the coffee pot down, which is obviously easier to do than getting my hands to stop shaking. “I'm not saying I don't wish him the best of luck, or that I wouldn't congratulate him on his win if he walked through that door, but I think people around here need to realize that there ain't nothing between Jace and I anymore, so the last thing I need to hear about is him.”

  “Yeah,” Emily says with a roll of her eyes. “You're not flustered at all.” She shuffles her way out of the booth she's sitting in—the booth we always sit in when we come to Edna's Diner.

  The only difference between our usual evenings spent drinking copious amounts of coffee at Edna's and today is that I'm working, and my shift is due to end in a half hour. “Where are you going?” I ask, unable to see her face now that her hair has fallen like a veil, masking her expression from my view. “I'll be out of here in less than half an hour, if you want to wait.”

  I take a quick glance around the diner, but it's almost two o’clock, and the lunch rush has subsided, leaving only the regulars and a few latecomers scattered around the room. Nobody seems to be trying to flag me down for a coffee top-up or to complain about god-knows-what, so I turn my attention back to Emily, which is more important seeing as I can't decide whether she's internally laughing at me or starting to get pissed off because I'm snapping at her.

  She lifts her head up and rises to her feet, and immediately I know it's the former. “I'm just going to run over to Dan's Auto down the street. I want to see how they're making out with changing that wheel bearing on my car. Having to walk everywhere is total bullshit,” she chuckles, pushing her severely straight-ironed chestnut hair back behind her ears. “Besides,” she adds, suddenly grinning mischievously as she tilts her head toward the entrance door. “It looks like you’re going to have your hands full for that last half an hour, and frankly, I don't want to be around to witness it.”

  My eyebrows arch up, confused, and I whirl around to follow her gaze. “What the hell are you jabbering on—”

  That's when I see him.

  Jace Andrews has just strolled into the diner, accompanied by Blake and Rodney, his two best friends. They’ve known each other since childhood, too. Hell, we all have.

  And just like Emily and I, they've lived here in Brooksville their entire lives.

  But unlike Emily and I, they still believe the sun shines out Jace's ass, and I don't think there's a damn thing Jace could do to ever make them think differently.

  Unfortunately, I don't have time to contemplate that or anything else, because Jace has already glanced in my direction and his eyes are locked on me.

  I don't want to see him, but I can't seem to look away. And the sight of his chiseled jaw and broad shoulders has me instantly tingling in places I shouldn’t be.

  He's certainly not trying to hide the crooked grin on his face at the sight of me, either.

  “Looks like he's got you in his sights now, Izzy,” Emily says under her breath. “Lord help you now, girl.”

  “Oh, please,” I mutter back. I know she's just trying to be funny, but there's a shred of truth to her words. “Even God can’t help me now.”

  I make sure that Jace and his buddies are seated and that Emily has left the diner before I make my way over to the booth they've chosen. “What can I get you?” I ask in the most professional tone I can muster. I hate that he can inflict such pain in me—and such fucking desire—just by being here.

  “Well, hey. I thought that was you over there.” Jace's eyes are alight with humor. He knows damn well I would avoid approaching this table if I could.

  Hell, he knows me better than almost anyone, even Emily. Maybe even better than I know myself.

  “It's me,” I reply with an edge. “Just like you're still you. Now, what can I get you guys?”

  “Feisty,” Blake mutters under his breath, and both Jace and Rodney try to stifle their muted laughter.

  “I will toss your ass out of this place,” I advise him venomously, my eyes burning into him while he tries to compose himself.

  “That’s enough, Blake,” Jace speaks up, but there’s still amusement tainting his words, and I hate him for it. “We’ll just have coffee for now, Izzy.”

  His use of my nickname brings me up short. I don’t have a good poker face, and I know the fact that it’s affecting me is written all over it. I want to curse at him, tell him he has no fucking right to use that name when addressing me, that he’s a complete and utter asshole for hurting me the way he did.

  But I don’t. Not because I shouldn’t, but because all I can seem to focus on is how one corner of his mouth is still upturned in a sexy, devilish grin, and how those eyes of his are trained on me, undressing me. In front of everyone. It doesn’t make sense, but it’s how I feel.

  I leave the table without another word, shaking my head to try to rid myself of the erotic thoughts careening through my mind.

  I hate what he does to me. What he’s always done to me.

  Jace and I grew up across the street from each other. Inseparable since elementary school, everyone in this godforsaken town expected us to grow up and be...well, Jace and Izzy. Just as we’d always been. He was my first real fight as a kid, and he had the shiner to prove it (that’ll teach him for calling me names). He was also my first kiss, my first date, and my first...everything. We’d had it all—the connection, the passion, and the friendship that it was all built upon.

  No one ever thought there’d come a day we would go our separate ways.

  I didn’t, either.

  But Jace left me here without him three years ago, chasing his rodeo dream eight seconds at a time.

  Guess he didn’t think there was room for me in that equation. At least, that’s the impression I got when I received the fucking text message he used to break
up with me.

  You deserve better than the life I can give you, Izzy...

  That’s it. Dot, dot, fucking, dot. Not even an I love you at the end, which is how we’d always ended every conversation, verbal or written. Which showed exactly what was more important to him.

  Now, three years later, I’ve had on-and-off boyfriends, but nothing serious. And Jack over at the Ford dealership that comes here for coffee every morning was nice enough to tell me he’d seen Jace with some bombshell-looking chick on his arm right before the rodeo event he’d attended last summer, wanting to see Jace, the hometown hero, live in action.

  Yeah, sounds like he was in action, all right. Getting some action is more like it.

  But I don’t care. At least, I shouldn’t. But fuck if it doesn’t eat me up inside just seeing him sitting there in that booth now, giving me fuck-me eyes and licking those lips of his I once loved so much.

  Damn it, I think. This isn’t going to end well.

  I place three mugs on a tray and pour coffee into them. I’m behind the counter, an employees-only area, so I don’t expect him to be there when I make to turn around. I gasp when his hands press into the counter on either side of me, blocking me in. “What the fuck are—”

  “Put the tray down, and don’t turn around.” Jace’s hot breath caresses my ear as he whispers into it, and I feel liquid heat instantly pool within my core at the delicious sensation. I do as he says, something in his voice stopping me from arguing.

  “You shouldn’t be back here,” I advise him weakly. My heart is beating so fucking hard I can barely hear my own voice over it.

  “There are a lot of things I shouldn’t be,” he whispers. I can feel his mouth against my ear, and my knees are buckling in response to it. “For starters, I shouldn’t be over there, feeling like I’m a million miles away from you, Izzy.”

  “You...I’m not…” I can’t get the words out. Jace’s fingertips are now tracing painstakingly slow circles on the back of my hand, the one that’s pressed against the countertop to steady me. I’m about ready to combust when he drags his teeth against my earlobe, pressing himself into me to hold me upright.

  “When do you get off?”

  When only a squeak of sound emits from my throat, a suggestive chuckle sounds against my ear. “Work, Izzy. When do you get off work?”

  “S-soon,” I stammer. “Twenty minutes.”

  “Meet me in the ladies’ bathroom in twenty-one.”

  Chapter Two

  Jace

  I must admit, watching Izzy fumble her way through the remaining minutes of her shift is comical, even if it shouldn’t be. But, it only proves one thing.

  Not a damn thing’s changed between her and I.

  Izzy still loves me, even if I broke her heart by taking so fucking long to come back to her. It didn’t do my heart any fucking favors to find out she’d moved on and was dating Chad Easton within a month of me leaving, either, if I’m being honest. But, I get it. I left her here. Served me right to find out she was with someone else.

  Part of me really thought she’d wait for me. But seeing as it only took her a goddamn month to sweep me under the rug, she didn’t exactly give me a reason to come back before now.

  That said, I also saw the way she trembled and heard the way her breath caught in her throat when I pushed myself against her back and nipped at her ear. I’d say she didn’t do a very good job of ridding herself of me.

  Izzy still wants me, just as fucking bad as I want her.

  I won’t make the same mistake twice.

  I push my empty coffee cup away from me, sending a curt nod toward Blake and Rodney. “I’ll pay for ‘em, boys. Now, go on. I’ll catch up with you later.”

  Blake’s eyes narrow. “You got something up your sleeve, man?”

  “None of your damn business,” I reply. It takes every fucking ounce of decency I have not to grin like the fucking Cheshire cat.

  “You’re going to try to wrangle Isabelle,” Rodney chimes in. “Good fucking luck, dude. She hates your guts, it’s safe to say.”

  “I said I’ll catch up with you later,” I repeat a bit more sternly.

  Both Blake and Rodney exchange a quick glance, but they slide out of the booth.

  “Like I said,” Rodney mutters, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “Good fucking luck.”

  I watch them leave, knowing how far Rodney’s assessment is from the truth. Not only does luck have nothing to do with it, but I also know damn well I don’t have to wrangle Izzy into anything. She can pretend to hate me all she wants, but I’ve already got her, even if she doesn’t know it yet.

  Ten minutes ago, Isabelle’s shift ended. Which means she’s nine minutes late.

  I’d left a ten-dollar bill on the table, tucked under my coffee cup, and had disappeared into the ladies’ room as soon as I was damn sure there wasn’t anyone else in there. No one saw me come in, and the fact that there’s only a handful of people in the diner and every one of them are male means I can safely assume we’ll have a quiet moment to ourselves.

  All she has to do is show up.

  My courage is deflating more and more with each passing minute, and I’m about to leave when I hear the door open.

  Izzy is peeking in through the partially opened door, her eyes wide and wary.

  I stand there in the middle of the room, silently willing her to come in of her own accord. Don’t make me fucking beg.

  After a long moment, she steps inside, pushing the door closed gently behind her. The moment the door clicks shut, I close the gap between us and reach past her to flick the lock into place.

  “Jace, I don't know—”

  “No, you don't.”

  Then, my mouth is on hers. I don't remember lowering my face toward her, or pushing her up against the wall behind the door, but our tongues are entwined, frantically exploring and searching each other for something neither of us can define. Something neither of us has felt in three years. I’d be narcissistic to believe Isabelle hasn't had her fair share of men and sexual experiences since I've been gone, but judging by the sudden fervor with which she's melding herself to me and grinding her hips against my cock, already straining against the zipper of my jeans, I’d say she’s been missing something.

  And I am narcissistic enough to believe that something is me.

  “You left me—”

  “Shh, Izzy. Don’t think,” I instruct her. “Don’t fucking talk.” I press my rock-hard cock against her, and she whimpers. Such a sexy fucking sound. “We don’t have much time, so don’t waste it.”

  To hell with her shirt. I dip my hands under the hem, pulling it up. Just as roughly, I pull her bra down, letting one callused hand squeeze her breast and pinch her nipple. Another sharp sounds emits from her throat.

  I kiss and taste a trail along her jaw, whispering in her ear. “Keep quiet, Izzy. You get us caught, there’ll be hell to pay.”

  When I bring my head back to meet her gaze, it’s locked on me, and her eyes are wide. For the briefest of moments, there’s no sound, no movement, only the pulsing of heartbeats between us. A silent agreement.

  Then, Izzy’s fingers are fumbling with my belt, unzipping the zipper, and pushing my jeans down over my hips. My cock springs free, and Izzy’s unable to keep from staring.

  “Oh God.” The words tumble from her lips on a sigh, and immediately she reaches between us to touch me.

  I clasp her wrist in mine, stopping her just before her fingertips reach their target. “Not a fucking chance,” I hiss out hoarsely.

  Her eyes are wide, thinking she’s done something wrong.

  “I’ve waited too fucking long to have you again, Izzy.” My confession pours from me like molten steel. “To hell with the foreplay.”

  “But—”

  I clamp a hand over her mouth, my own eyes blazing into hers. “What did I tell you earlier?” I whisper, my gaze flitting toward the still-closed door and back again. “You’re going to get us caught.”
>
  I remove my hand only long enough to replace it with my mouth, shutting her up in the most satisfying way I can think of. I kiss her hard, longer than I’ve ever kissed her or anyone before, desperate to make her breathless and gasping for more of me. When I pull my mouth away this time, I hear the words I’ve longed to roll off that delicate tongue of hers.

  “Oh, Jace...please…”

  I’d smile like I just won a fucking prize if I wasn’t so painfully hard and aching to bury myself inside her. The sound of her begging me—begging for me—breaks something within me. Hell, maybe it puts something inside me back together, I don’t know. But I’m lost, consumed by my primal need to have her, to feel the sweet heat of her center enwrapping my cock as I take her relentlessly.

  Isabelle helps to undo her jeans and push them down her legs. She steps out of them, and I tackle her back up against the wall just before sliding my hands down her hips and gripping her ass, pulling her up against me. “Hold onto me,” I demand through forced breath.

  Izzy obeys, hitching one leg up around my hips, then the other.

  Such a good girl, I think. Let’s see if I can find the bad girl she used to be with me.

  I drag a finger along her slit, already glistening with her desire for me. Her breath comes out in a ragged breath and her head tilts back against the wall as her eyes flutter, but Izzy doesn’t speak.

  “Good girl,” I whisper out loud. “Now, hold on.”

  I position myself at her entrance and push, hard, burying myself to the hilt within her. Izzy’s mouth opens, and I can feel every inch of her constricting in response. She stays quiet save for the faintest, “Oohh,” that falls from her lips.