The Only Thing

by Marie Harte

  She let out the breath she’d been holding. “You scared me.”

  “Good. From what I hear, I should be scared. How many ones did you shove down those manly G-strings, anyway?” But instead of scowling, he was smiling at her.

  She laughed. “Oh my gosh. What a night. That was so much fun.” She squealed when he lifted her in his arms and swung her around. “I was afraid you might show up onstage.”

  “Nah. I didn’t want to make Turf look bad.” He laughed. “That was my guy Grim in there. Did you see him?”

  “Wait. Your guy?”

  “He works at the studio. Hell of an artist. I had no idea he could dance until Noelle stopped by to mention her great idea for a gift for you.” He snorted. “I still say you only needed me up there, but since she was bringing family, no way I could shake my thing for you.”

  Hope laughed harder, wondering if she maybe was tipsier than she’d thought. “Did you know Noelle’s guy was there? He danced at the end. What an ass.”

  “I hope you mean he was really obnoxious.” He finally set her down and gave her a look.

  “Oh, um, yeah. So rude. I can’t believe she’s dating that guy.” She giggled. “I think I’m a little loopy.”

  His smile made the night brighter. “I think you are too. Come on, old lady. Let’s get you inside so I can give you my present.”

  She sighed. “I’m so happy right now. I was really bummed out earlier when I thought you didn’t care.”

  They walked in together, and she told him all about the party, especially about her friends’ antics, as well as the McCauleys in attendance drinking and dancing with abandon.

  “I had no idea Vanessa could move like that. She’s normally pretty tight-assed. She tight-asses all over the place. Hmm. Is that a verb?”

  “It is tonight.” He helped her inside and locked up after her. Then he led her down the hallway to her bedroom, where he’d decorated with candles and flowers. A wrapped package the size of a magazine lay in the middle of her bed. “Happy birthday, Hope.”

  She couldn’t help it. She teared up. “Oh, I’m trying not to make my mascara run.”

  “Too late.”

  She hugged and kissed him, but before things got too steamy, he gently moved her back. “Not yet.” He cleared his throat. “Tonight is about you. Not me sexing you up, unless you want that, of course.” He grinned. “Open your present.”

  She fetched it off the bed, wobbled, and realized she had yet to take off her heels. She would have, except that she wanted J.T. to see her in them, looking sexy, before she fell on her face. Carefully balanced, she started to open the present when she looked at J.T. and saw him frowning.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  “I hope you like it.”

  He seemed nervous, the cutie. So big, strong, and unsure that she’d like his gift. “I’ll love it, no matter what it is.” Like I love you.

  She nearly dropped the gift.

  “What’s wrong? You’re not going to be sick, are you?”

  Doing her best not to hyperventilate and chalking up her amorous thoughts to her cosmopolitans, she shook her head. “Nope. Fine. I’m just so excited to see it.” It felt like a frame, like a picture.

  He relaxed somewhat and stuffed his hands in his pockets. She stared, having never seen him so worried. “Open it already,” he growled.

  Even more curious now, she tore open the paper. A framed picture looked back at her.

  “It’s you,” he stated, as if she couldn’t tell.

  He’d drawn her in the middle of an artistic explosion of color, beauty, and wonder. She marveled at his talent, that anyone could make her look so magnificent. Her eyes sparkled in the picture, and in them she saw images. Small pictures of so many things. Hearts, butterflies, flowers. In the background of her image he’d drawn a seascape and a deep-blue sky, the sun casting a glow over everything, especially her hair.

  “This is…” She couldn’t believe he’d done this for her.

  “I can do something else, if you want. Get you a necklace or something. I know you liked that sapphire one at that Green Lake jeweler last weekend.”

  “No. This… It’s absolutely incredible. I love it.” She couldn’t stop staring at it. “How did you get so much detail into my eyes? And the images all over the place. They should be too much, but they aren’t.” She raised her gaze to his and saw him blushing. “I love this. Thank you so much.” She kissed him, deeply affected by the thoughtfulness of the gift.

  Because in the drawing she saw that he’d listened to her. He’d put things into it that meant something to Hope. A fun trip to an aquarium she’d taken with family as a teenager. Her preference for summer and spring, flowers and butterflies, which she loved. She’d actually considered a butterfly for a tattoo, not that she’d ever followed through on it. All the tiny details came from things Hope had shared with J.T. during their many talks.

  “This is the best present I’ve ever received.”

  He seemed embarrassed at her admiration, which served to make it even better. He hadn’t drawn the art for praise, but for her. “I’m glad you like it, honey.”

  “You know what would make my night perfect?” She carefully set the picture on her dresser and returned to him, placing her hands on his waist.

  He put his hands on hers as well. “What’s that?”

  “If my boyfriend made love to me in a room filled with flowers and candlelight.”

  “Your wish is my command.” He stared into her eyes. “You get prettier every time I see you. How’s that possible?”

  She grinned. “It’s magic.”

  “Yeah. Magic.” He kissed her.

  Lost in his taste, in his touch, Hope felt her dress slide down her body, followed by her bra and panties. Left in nothing but heels, she was at least a few inches taller and better able to meet J.T.’s mouth so he didn’t have to bend so much.

  “You’re fucking gorgeous,” he said as he stood back to see her, his chest rising and falling, his body rigid. When his gaze met hers again, she was taken aback by the hunger there. “It’s so much more than your looks, Hope. It’s all of you. Man, you make me so happy.”

  “I’m glad.” She reached for his shirt and tugged it up. He helped her take it off, and she ran her hands over his chest to his massive shoulders. “I love the way we look together.” Her lighter-colored hand over his darker skin.

  J.T. could have been up on that stage tonight raking in the money. Or modeling for any fitness magazine. Heck, he could model for any vanity magazine as well. “You’re so pretty.”

  “Hope, men are handsome. Not pretty.” He took her hands in his, lacing their fingers together. “You’re pretty. All over pretty.”

  How could a girl not fall in love with a man who said things like that?

  “My girl is hot and built like a goddess. You sure this is your birthday wish and not mine?” He looked her over with a smile.

  She’d had enough. “Kiss me.”

  Seeing her desire, he stopped teasing. J.T. drew her in to his body, their chests brushing, skin to skin.

  She opened her mouth in a sigh, and he plundered. The kiss turned scorching from one heartbeat to the next. She followed where he led, her heart as much affected as her body. J.T. stroked her with tenderness and lust, and the emotional climax hit her well before her physical one.

  Such feeling for this man in her arms. Hers. She’d claimed him, and even if he’d never know, she’d treasure tonight forever. She gave as good as she got, and by the time they were both naked on the bed, she wanted nothing more than him inside her.

  While he sucked her nipples and ran a hand down her belly, thumbing her clit and sliding his fingers between her legs, rubbing that slick desire over her sex, she was losing herself in him.

  “So good, baby. So right.”

  Sh
e nipped his neck, felt him jerk against her, and grabbed his cock. He felt slick, and she loved knowing he wanted her with the same desperation she felt. “Inside me.”

  He shook his head, his entire body taut. “No. Not without a condom. I’ll come in you tonight. I want you too much.”

  “Then put one on, or I’ll take the choice from you.” She pumped him and saw his dark eyes narrow.

  “Keep it up, I’ll come all over you.”

  “Talk is cheap.”

  He yanked her hands up and put them on either side of her head. “Keep ’em there.” Then he sheathed himself in a condom faster than anyone she’d ever seen do that. He returned, grabbed her hands to hold them pinned, and nudged her legs wider.

  “In me,” she whispered and watched him watching her.

  “I’m gonna fuck you hard. Balls deep. And I mean deep.” He sucked on her lower lip, and she arched up, brushing her erect nipples against his chest. “Oh, you’re asking for it.”

  So saying, he positioned himself between her legs and gave her a tiny bit of him.

  “Please,” she begged, nearly going over the edge.

  J.T. stared into her eyes and shoved hard and fast.

  She came on a gasp, her entire body one live wire of feeling, while he took her like a man possessed. He swore and told her how much he loved her while he sawed in and out of her, the fierceness of his taking matched only by the violence of her never-ending orgasm.

  When he finally stilled inside her, she’d come to her end. His hands gripped her wrists so hard, but she didn’t give a damn, trembling under the man still jerking inside her.

  They lay joined, connected in a way they’d never been before. Hope nuzzled his throat, planting soft kisses, and he released her wrists and propped himself on his elbows to see her.

  “God, Hope. You get to me. You really do.” He didn’t smile. Didn’t look pleased. In fact, he looked a little angry.

  “J.T.?”

  He withdrew and left for the bathroom, then returned with a…paddle? “Don’t even think of falling asleep yet, birthday girl. Someone needs some birthday spankings. And not just one, but at least, say, fifteen. That is the number of ones you shoved down those strippers’ thongs, isn’t it?”

  She blinked. “More?” Her gaze wouldn’t leave the paddle, because when she met his hard stare, she felt another climax promising to build.

  “Oh yeah.” He chuckled, slapping the cloth-covered paddle against his hand. “So much more.”

  Chapter 17

  “You going to marry the ointment, or can I get a tube?” Grim stood behind J.T., his hand out, waiting.

  “Oh, sure.” He tossed a bottle to the guy and had to start over counting. He’d volunteered to do the inventory on supplies to keep his mind busy Monday afternoon, because fuck if he could focus on anything but Hope Donnigan.

  His new archenemy, the woman knocking down his last defense against ever settling down. He still didn’t know how it had happened. It was a fake relationship. They hadn’t exactly committed to each other.

  “Hey, J.T. Tell your girl thanks for the bills.” Grim chuckled, and it sounded like the rasp of a chain saw coming to life. And just as rusty as one left out in the rain.

  “Funny.” J.T. turned to see Grim leaning against the door, a shit-eating grin on his bearded face. “So how was it?”

  Of all the guys J.T. knew, Grim was the last one he’d have expected to volunteer to dance, nearly naked, for a gaggle of women. But his go-to artist apparently had an even more colorful past than J.T. had assumed. Some of the other strippers he’d known for years, and they danced professionally, so he’d given Noelle their contact info.

  “Good. Surprisingly fun.” Grim turned to go and threw over his shoulder, “Your sister’s hot. So weird.” He walked away.

  Weird that he found Del attractive? Or that Del was weird? Both applied to his sister, and frankly, J.T. didn’t want to know. He had his own problems trying to grapple with feelings he shouldn’t be having.

  Suke stuck her head in. “How come I wasn’t invited to the party?”

  “You met Hope one time. And the guys were getting naked. Not the women.”

  “Yeah, but I’m bi.”

  “Since when?”

  She sighed. “I’m not, but Hope is cute, and I bet her friends were too.”

  “Go ask Grim. He can tell you.”

  She frowned. “Fine. I will.” She left.

  He had a moment’s peace. Then Vargas had to mouth off, joining him in the closet. “Yo, J.T. I heard your woman liked Grim best.”

  “Says who? Oh right. Grim.”

  Vargas laughed. “I would have paid to see that. Grim shaking his moneymaker. Dude never smiles, but I bet you he was smiling a lot Friday night. Nao still doesn’t believe it.”

  “Liar,” he heard Nao shout. “Grim, no way in hell you took your clothes off for a hen party.”

  “A chick party, dickhead,” Grim rumbled. “They were hot. And they all wanted me. Oh, hey, I think I saw your sister there too. And you know, she likes to get dirty…”

  “Fuck you.”

  “That’s what she said.”

  He heard Suke laughing like a loon.

  J.T. sighed. “Go play referee, would you? I keep having to count the same shit over and over again.”

  Vargas studied him. “Have Daisy do it.”

  “She’s taking her lunch.”

  “Have her do it when she gets back.”

  “I got this,” he growled.

  “Need some space?”

  “Yeah. No. Fuck. I don’t know.”

  Vargas grinned. “I’m sensing it’s a woman.”

  “Well, it sure isn’t Grim and his hairy ass.”

  Vargas snorted. “Okay. I’ll let you get back to counting.” He left, and a minute later J.T. heard Nao laughing and agreeing with Vargas that Grim probably did have a hairy ass.

  When Grim asked if they wanted to see, even Suke said yes.

  “I don’t want to know.” J.T. forced himself to remain sequestered. He finally got the ointment tubes accounted for, the bandages, cleaning supplies, water cups and bottles. The other stuff on the shelf to his left could keep for Daisy.

  When he’d finally had enough time to decompress, he went back to his station to check on his own supplies. Daisy stuck her head in to let him know Suke was in the back room conferring with a potential new customer.

  Nao and Grim were working on clients, and Vargas had an OUT TO LUNCH sign on his table. All was organized, functional, profitable. Normally, the notion that J.T. was succeeding was enough to make him smile. Not today.

  “Guys, you okay if I get us some more upbeat music?” The chill techno wasn’t working for him today.

  “Please,” Nao said. And his client agreed.

  J.T. left to switch the music and returned, ready to work.

  But his mind remained on Hope.

  He was still a little fuzzy about some details, like how they’d gone from clothed to fucking. That had been a pleasurable blur. After seeing her in nothing but those black heels, all the blood had pooled to his dick, leaving his brain unable to function past knowing he needed to get inside her.

  They’d done more than just make love with their bodies. He’d always been a bit fanciful, poetic. He had the soul of an artist, his father liked to say. And he straight up knew he’d connected with Hope on another plane. Fuck, but he might have said he loved her in the heat of the moment. And he’d swear she’d said it back to him.

  But maybe that was just wishful thinking, which was crazy. They still hadn’t officially claimed each other, sticking to the idea of their pretend dating status. Every damn time Hope called it that, he wanted to hit something. For all that they’d begun as something fake, their relationship had for sure turned into the real deal.


  I fucking love her.

  Well, hell.

  Everything she did mattered. He knew so much about her, and drawing her had been easy, a true pleasure because his art spoke to all of him. He never had a problem expressing himself artistically. And when his subject was someone as clear and lovely as Hope, he could lose himself in the pleasure of its creation.

  When she’d seemed so touched by his work, understanding he’d given her more than the drawing, but something of himself, she’d breached that last part of him shielding against sharing and taking that final step.

  Watching his father, a man he respected and tried to emulate, lose his shit for decades over love, J.T. had vowed to go in the opposite direction. Lots of girlfriends, lots of fun, and he kept everyone at a distance. No pain. Not like the kind his aunt felt when she chose the wrong men to trust. Or the kind his cousin felt after putting her heart out there only to have it stomped on by guys not worthy.

  Or his sister, who’d nearly died once, then felt even worse when the man she loved supposedly didn’t love her back. Yeah, she’d made a muck of that one, because Mike was clearly whipped, but whatever. His sister had experienced real hurt.

  He was the smart one. The Webster who learned from other people’s mistakes. And for thirty-two freakin’ years, he’d been successful.

  Hope Donnigan had ruined him.

  He loved everything about her, and J.T. wasn’t a guy who had ever thought falling in love would be good for him. He didn’t know what to do about it either. The smart thing would be to take a break and get some distance.

  Except that some asshole was stalking Hope, and until they found the guy, J.T. didn’t want her on her own. If he could keep his dick in his pants around her, he’d suggest they back off the sex wagon. Unfortunately, when they were together, he wanted more. Sadly, it wasn’t always about being physical. He’d been with women where the attraction was out-of-this-world hot. When he sank inside Hope, though, his orgasm didn’t seem as important as being as humanly close to her as possible did.

  He rubbed his eyes, wondering where to turn for help. Sure as shit, he couldn’t ask Del. The McCauleys were out, because lately they all wanted nothing more than to procreate. His cousin and his aunt had no clue how to have a stable relationship with the opposite sex. His dad, maybe?