All That Jazz (Butler Cove #1)

by Natasha Boyd

  “You’re …” Gasp. “The … one … beating around the bush.”

  “All in good time.” He chuckles, his breath close to my skin. “I’d kiss you to shut you up, but I’d rather do this.” His hot mouth closes over my nipple, the sharp sensation ricocheting through every inch of me. I gasp and grab his head. Oh yes. My hips squirm uncontrollably as his lips nibble, his teeth graze and his tongue soothes. And he pulls deeply. A long desperate moan emanates from me as he moves to my other breast, my body arching off the bed. “Holy shit,” I mumble. “Feels … so good.”

  “Are you sure you can’t come from this?” He groans the question.

  “Keep it up and we’ll see.”

  “I think I could. Come, I mean.”

  “You need me to suck your nipples?” I joke.

  “Jesus,” he says, over a mouthful. “You don’t ever shut up? No, from listening to you.” He sucks hard.

  I let out a sharp whimper. “Are you sure you want me to shut up? Don’t you need to know if I’m enjoying it?”

  Suddenly his hand is cupping me between my legs. Like a reflex, I’m instantly thrusting against his hand. God, yes. Please.

  “I know you’re enjoying it.” He laughs.

  Of course he does. I’m soaking wet. “Stop laughing.” I bite my lip.

  The pressure of his hand increases, moving against me. “Why?”

  “You’re enjoying this far too much.”

  “Yes. Yes, I am. You have no idea.” The smile falls from his face, and his eyes grow hot and hard. His fingers slide under the fabric of my underwear and slip into my wet heat.

  I mash my lips together trying not to cry out, and my body trembles from the restraint.

  Then his fingers are gone, and he’s dragging my underwear down my legs. He spreads me wide and drops his head.

  I’m making sounds I don’t recognize. Needy, breathy, desperate sounds. He’s not even there yet, and I’m dying.

  “Fuck, you’re beautiful,” he says. He’s looking at me laid bare. The tone of his voice, hard, desperate, longing, is tripping the orgasm nerve, it’s so damn intense.

  “Shut up and make me come,” I snap with embarrassment and because his comment freaking nearly just sent me over the edge. His comment.

  “Are you self-conscious?” He grins, looking up at me with his mischievous blue eyes from between my legs. “I never knew you were capable of it.”

  “No,” I say and level with him. “I’m so turned on right now, I’m about to come with or without you, and I’d really like your mouth on me when I do, or I’m not letting you claim credit.”

  A breath expels from him, sharp and hard, icing my wet flesh. And then, his hot mouth, his tongue, and then oh holy mother of all that is …

  I wasn’t kidding about how close I am. My spine flexes. I grab his hair. “Ohgodohgodohgod.” My climax explodes through my body. It’s white behind my eyelids. White. I’m hurtling through space, I think. I’ve never …

  I can’t think. The wave keeps on coming, he’s slid a finger into me, and I’m crying out. He’s not letting me off easy. He’s going to make me give him everything I have. I think I might be dying. As I slowly ride the wave to shore, I’m limp. Boneless and breathless. And shell-shocked. He slips from my body, peppering light kisses over my belly. Then he’s above me looking down into my eyes. His eyes are dark and raw and probing, seeing into parts of me I really would rather not show. But I’m stripped so emotionally bare that I can’t hide. Instead, I turn my face and curl up into a ball on my side, ripples of my orgasm still shuddering through me in aftershocks.

  Joseph surprises me by lying down too, molding to my back and slipping his arm over me. I feel his heart pounding against my spine.

  My mind is finally blank. My words are gone.

  I think we are both speechless.

  Minutes tick by, and our breathing slows.

  We can’t sleep, we have to deal with this reporter crisis. Though I’m so languid right now, I’d love nothing more than to fall asleep with the feel of his skin and his breath at my back. It’s dangerous, this feeling.

  The danger of it stirs me. As if he can sense my mind and my mouth reengaging, he sighs and pulls back slightly, giving me room to turn. But I don’t yet.

  “I—” he starts then clears the huskiness from his tone. “I don’t know what your plans are now that you’ve graduated, but I’ve put in a request to transfer my residency to MUSC.”

  “In Charleston?” I ask. It’s two hours away.

  I feel him nod. “It’s the best university hospital in the area. I’d try to do Hilton Head or Savannah, to be even closer, but I need a good internist program. It’s the best compromise I can think of.”

  “Internist? You no longer want to be a cardiac specialist or a surgeon?”

  “I just want to be a doctor. I want a practice. I saw how much Dr. Barrett’s work destroyed his personal life, I don’t want that.”

  The mention of Dr. Barrett’s personal life sends a ripple of disgust through me. I shift onto my back, turning to look at Joey. He’s propped on his elbow resting his head on his hand, looking down at me.

  “Dr. Barrett destroyed his personal and family life all on his own,” I say. “He couldn’t keep his dick in his pants. He needed to constantly feel adored. That’s what serial womanizers do. That’s a psychological problem, not his job causing it. You’re a better person than he is.”

  His lips quirk and his eyes blink lazily down at me.

  “Wait.” Something else he said occurs to me. “You said transfer. Where are you going now if you don’t transfer?”

  “I got a spot in Seattle.”

  “Washington?” I ask, my eyes wide. “That’s clear across the country.”

  “Exactly. Hence my request to transfer somewhere closer.”

  I swallow. Whether he goes to Seattle or not no longer affects me, I remind myself. “Keri Ann’s starting school soon, finally,” I say. “The time for you needing to be closer to her has probably been and gone. She’d be so mad at you if you changed your focus just to stay here and breathe down her neck.”

  His lips drop to my forehead, grazing it gently before he lifts his face back up. “It’s you I want to be closer to.”

  My whole body stills, unsure if I’ve heard him correctly. “What?” I practically mouth the word, it’s so quiet. The air in my lungs required to force words out of me seems to have finally been used up. I’ve been running on reserves since my orgasm anyway. I grow lightheaded. It’s a good thing I’m lying down. “Say that again?”

  “You. I want to be closer to you. I want to see you. I want us to …” He pauses and swallows. “This is hard to say.”

  “Give it a try.”

  He exhales a nervous laugh. “I know you think I’ve been a jerk the last few years. I avoid everything to do with you. Being in the same room, the same conversation even. The same damn train of thought.” He winces. “It’s exhausting.”

  “Sounds it,” I offer warily.

  “It’s not because I don’t like you.”

  I already know he’s attracted to me. And after what he said to Pastor McDaniel last night, I know he cares for me. But caring plus attraction do not equal love. Not by a long shot. My father was attracted to my mother briefly, but that didn’t translate to love. My father cared about us too. But if he’d loved us, he would have stayed.

  I know the difference because I love Joey. I love him. I’ve loved him for three years. Maybe longer, if the truth be told. Maybe I’ve loved him since I was eleven years old, and he saw me tripped up by Bethany Winters and came to my rescue. Even though he swears he didn’t. That’s the strangest thing about love—there doesn’t seem to ever be a beginning or an end. It just is.

  “You were right three years ago,” I say.

  His brow creases. “About what?”

  “That I’d fall in love with the first boy I slept with. And you know I hate it when you’re right.”

  “You ju
st hate being wrong, generally.”

  “No, I don’t mind being wrong. Except when it comes to you.”

  “So wait.” He shakes his head, swallowing thickly. “You actually fell in love with that Chase guy?”

  “You are so fucking dense.”

  “Gee thanks.”

  “You, you loser. You were the first boy I slept with.”

  Joey stills.

  I frown. “I thought you knew. I—I thought you could tell.”

  Color leeches from Joey’s face.

  “I—”

  The full force of everything hits me all at once. I push at him, and he offers no resistance. Sitting up on the edge of the bed, I grab my jeans from the floor. With shaking hands, I pull them right side out, then pull them up my legs, standing quickly to do them up.

  I turn.

  Joey is lying on his back, his hands covering his face, his bare chest rising and lowering with his breath.

  I reach under my shirt and do my bra back up, then fold my arms over my stomach.

  He pulls his hands away and sits up, swinging his legs over the other side of the bed. His back is to me as he rests his elbows on his thighs. “You should have told me.”

  “I thought you knew.”

  “No. You didn’t.” He stands up to face me. “You didn’t tell me because you knew I would never have slept with you if I’d known. Especially when I found out everything that was going on. I felt blindsided. If I’d known that too, there was no way.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “You should have told me,” he repeats.

  I grit my teeth. “I. Thought. You. Knew. I thought that was why you freaked out afterwards. Because you knew. Because I’d lied to you. Why the hell does it even matter now?”

  “Jesus. I always knew you thought I was an asshole.” He barks out a strangled and painful laugh. “But I guess I never knew how much.” He grabs at his hair.

  “So you don’t actually have an excuse for freaking out afterwards and acting like an utter dick.”

  “Fuck.” He breathes the word out and rubs a hand down his face.

  I swallow. “Why did you leave Butler Cove that summer?”

  He opens his mouth as if to speak, then stops and snaps his mouth closed. Moments tick past, and he seems to struggle with what to say. Finally, he points to his chest. “I left because when I was with you, I saw my future barreling down the road toward me, and I wasn’t ready.”

  “I—” I shake my head. “What?”

  His jaw gets tight like the words are hard. “I was young, and ambitious, and I wasn’t fucking ready. I was a selfish sonofabitch, and I would have crashed and burned us before we even got started.”

  He left because I made him think of his future?

  My throat aches.

  He walks around the bed to me.

  “What does that mean?” I ask. “What are you saying?”

  “I left because you scared me shitless. And I didn’t know it consciously then, but I left because if I’d stayed any longer that summer, I would have been helpless against you.” He takes a piece of my hair. “You’re like a hurricane, Jazzy Bear. You would have changed everything. If you’d asked, I’d have given up my plans and my dreams. Some part of me knew I couldn’t afford to let that happen.”

  God.

  I feel vaguely nauseous. Awash with conflicting emotions. “You’re changing your plans now. Trying to transfer to MUSC. For me?”

  “No, I’m doing it for me.”

  It should feel amazing hearing these words, and it does in a small way. But …

  He squeezes his eyes closed. “God, if I even think about that day, and then everything afterward, it makes last night even more thoughtless. More ...” He scrubs a hand down his face. “I’m sorry.”

  “You’ve said sorry before.”

  “But I don’t think you believe that I am.”

  I want to hear more. But it’s too big for right now. We have to think about Keri Ann today. “I think what you just did goes some way toward making it right,” I say in an attempt to deflect him and hiccup a laugh.

  It seems to work. “Not even close, but we’ll work on it, yeah?”

  I step into him and he folds his arms around me, kissing my forehead and then resting his chin on my hair. He doesn’t say anything for the longest time. “We should get going,” I say. “In case Dan leaves early. I’ll try Keri Ann’s cell phone again.” I pull away eventually to look at him.

  When I do, he’s not looking at me, he’s staring at the picture above my dresser that’s right next to us. The one of him kitesurfing.

  “Is that me?” he asks, a small crease between his eyebrows. “I can’t believe I did that.” His eyes grow vague, seemingly caught up in the memory. “I think that was when I borrowed a friend of Colt’s gear. I need to do it again. I forgot I loved it. This picture is amazing.” Stepping out of our embrace, he leans closer to the picture.

  “Thank you.”

  When his eyes lower to the folder on the dresser top, my heartbeat falters. I’m not eighteen years old, I remind myself. I will not let my heart rule my head. I steel my emotions for what’s coming.

  “You’re moving to Cape Town?” he asks in confusion.

  STANDING AT THE boat dock on Daufuskie Island in the morning sun, I deliver the ghastly news to Keri Ann that her relationship with Jack Eversea is about to become a tabloid sleaze-fest. I not only have to watch her throw up at the news but also watch her and Jack’s fragile new relationship unravel before my very eyes.

  The new glow they had when I first saw them approaching the dock to meet the boat seems like I must have imagined it. They can barely meet each other’s eyes. The worst part is I can see they are each in so much pain and needing the other but for some reason aren’t facing this crisis together. I really thought they had something stronger than that.

  During the boat ride, Jack Eversea spends the entire time on the phone “managing the crisis” with “his people” and Keri Ann draws further into herself.

  If I wasn’t so emotionally spent myself, I’d say something to Jack and tell him to stop being such a meathead to Keri Ann. Couldn’t he see she needed him right now? Couldn’t he see that he needed her?

  Devon meets us in his Jeep at a dock on Tybee Island and drives us to downtown Savannah.

  “Joey is meeting us here later,” I tell Devon when I see Jack raise his phone to his ear again. “Keri Ann and I need to go dress shopping anyway.”

  Devon nods. His gaze also swings between Jack and Keri Ann who are basically ignoring each other. “Okay,” he says dubiously. “We need to go speak to this guy, see if we can change the story. Just text if you need a ride.” He rattles off his number and I program it in my phone.

  I catch his eye and shrug my shoulders, and he does the same. Clearly neither of us knows how to deal with our friends’ respective emotional shutdowns. Hopefully Devon will talk some sense into Jack. I’ll have to see what I can do with my best friend.

  Keri Ann does still need a dress for her art auction event where she gets to be belle of the ball as a featured artist. I’m going to be wearing a short red cocktail dress I wore for a college formal I had to attend last Christmas.

  After several stores and seventeen hundred awful dresses, I’m ready to go home. The shopping is a complete bust. I tell her we should go see Mrs. Weaton when we get back. She’s bound to have some vintage beauty hidden in her closet. She has such a mysterious air about her.

  I can tell Keri Ann’s really hurting over the way things are with Jack. We end up going for a coffee at the Sentient Bean instead, and I text Joey to let him know where to meet us. For some reason when Keri Ann asks about Brandon, and I tell her we’re done, I decide not to mention what happened between Joey and me. I don’t like to keep things from my best friend, but I’m not really sure what to say.

  When Joey pulls to a stop in my car, he gets right out and hands the keys to me before walking to the passenger side. He kno
ws I like to drive my own car. Keri Ann climbs in the back seat, leaving Joey to the side of me.

  “Hey,” I say and start the car.

  “Hey,” he returns.

  “Any trouble?”

  “Driving a car?” he asks with an edge. “No.”

  For the rest of the journey, I try to keep Keri Ann’s mind off Jack by asking her about details. She tells me all about how gorgeous the cottages are on Daufuskie. Eventually, both Joey and I try to reassure her that no matter what shit gets printed, it will be over soon, and people will move on. It’s nice to agree with him on something.

  Yet the way Joey and I left things this morning hangs over me—like his eyes as he asked me about moving to Cape Town. Worse, the way he looked when I told him he should have kept his spot in Seattle. And now, the way he keeps glancing at me as I drive, tension radiates off him.

  LATER THAT NIGHT I get a text.

  Jay Bird: Thanks for today with Keri Ann.

  Jazzy Bear: You’re welcome.

  Jay Bird: I’d like to be your date for Keri Ann’s event. Will you let me do that?

  Jazzy Bear: We’re going in a group. I don’t think I need a date.

  Jay Bird: Humor me.

  I roll my eyes but my stomach flutters.

  Jazzy Bear: Fine. I’m getting ready at your house, so I guess we can meet in the kitchen.

  Jay Bird: I’ll take it. I’ll meet you in the kitchen at 4:45 PM sharp. If you’re not there I’ll come upstairs to get you.

  Letting out a long breath, I try to ignore the feeling in my belly. Then my phone rings with an unfamiliar number.

  After a brief hesitation, I answer.

  “Jazz, it’s Jack Eversea.”

  I know I’ve met him a handful of times already, and even saw him yesterday and this morning, but I still have an instant starstruck reaction to hearing him announce himself on the phone. My heart jumps into my throat. “Uh, hi.”

  “Sorry if I caught you by surprise, but I need your help.”

  “What is it?” I ask, not committing until I hear what he has to say. Also my voice will sound strangled if I try any more words. How on earth does Keri Ann deal with him being so famous?