by Rie Warren
“What are you playin’ at, precious?”
“Nothing.” I curled my hand around his leg.
He moved as if he wanted more of that action, higher up.
Heat swirled between my thighs. I’d never done anything like this before. It felt damn good.
“So, I guess you don’t want to know? I mean, you already saw my vibrator, right?” I asked.
Jase’s hooded eyes dropped to my breasts. My breasts pressed against the thin barrier of cloth and felt heavier than usual. He swallowed again, and I heard the wet sound of his saliva. It echoed the moisture pooling in my pussy.
He gripped my wrist. “I want to know. I want to know exactly what it is you’re hidin’ under there, because I kid you not, I memorized every itty bitty little piece of fucking hotness you wear where no one else can see it.”
My pulse sped beneath his fingertips. My lips spread in a smile, and I took another slow drink of my beer. Whether it was the alcohol spreading through my veins or the way he stared at me that intoxicated me, made me feel heady and powerful, I didn’t know.
“I’m not wearing anything, Jase.”
His grip intensified and he groaned. A bead of sweat broke out on his temple and tracked into his soft-looking hair.
He released my wrist slowly with a long caress down to my fingers.
I withdrew my hand from his thigh after one last feel of his firm muscles bunching. Then I stood.
He sat with his legs spread and his cheeks flushed and his lips parted. His erection was obvious, but he didn’t bother to cover it up. My eyes flicked to his.
“I’ll make dinner. It doesn’t look like you’re up for it.” I walked out of the room with a swivel to my hips I never knew I had.
Jase called out, “Woman, I assure you I’m up for it.”
****
Over the next few days, we settled into a routine. I only saw Jase at odd hours. He said he worked every night, but I doubted that. I thought he had a different girl for every night of the week.
He was almost domestic, though, and usually made breakfast and dinner for both of us. Before he went out each night—freshly shaved, dressed in clean clothes, smelling of some kind of spicy cologne and leather, or maybe that was just him—we sat on the couch and shared popcorn while we worked away on our separate laptops.
He was the rich boy with the rebel attitude to everyone else. But to me he was different. Attentive. Interested. Even caring.
We didn’t flirt again, not like the night I’d taken Benny’s challenge to the max. It was probably a good thing. Just knowing Jase slept two doors away from me fueled enough fire in my veins.
Jase refused to discuss rent, bills, or groceries. He never asked for money and flat out refused to take the check I wrote him—the one I couldn’t afford since I still had to pay off this semester’s on-campus meal plan. I didn’t like being a charity case so I did as much as I could around the place, although my standards definitely weren’t up to snuff with his.
He offered me a free ride, but everyone wanted something in return. I was just waiting for Jase’s payback.
Friday night, Jase opened a bottle of white wine and splashed some into my glass. “Promise not to report me?”
“Never.” There was someone else who deserved reporting far more than he. I hadn’t done that either.
He filled his glass before plating up our food. As always, my helping was enormous. Shrimp tacos.
He looked too smug when my eyes widened and my mouth watered.
“What if I’m allergic to shellfish?” I asked.
“You’re not.”
“How do you know?”
“I didn’t come across any epi pens in your dorm room. A whole lotta other stuff, but nothing meant to treat anaphylactic shock.” With that, he bit into his taco.
I did the same, after I kicked his shin under the table.
“Stop fighting me every step of the way, Ave, and start eating.”
The next half hour was wine and food and heaven with small talk mixed in when our mouths weren’t full.
“Major?” He emptied the bottle with half in my glass, half in his.
“BioMed.”
He practically fell out of his chair. “No shit? Biomedical Science? I knew you were a smart chick.” He whistled.
“I’m going into large animal veterinary medicine.”
“Oh, fuck. Please tell me you’ll marry me, precious.” Pressing a hand over his heart, Jase batted long black eyelashes at me.
“Shut up.” I swatted at him.
“Nah. I’m serious! A girl who knows her way around a barn. That’s fucking hot. I’m not kidding.”
“What would you know about barns, city boy?”
“Darlin’, didn’t you know? Grew up on the Everly Ranch. It’s not just oil field fortunes.” His drawl came on thick and heavy and sexy.
I blushed.
“So? Why animals? I think you’re pretty good with humans.”
“I’m terrible with people, are you kidding?”
He stroked his chin. “Not so bad with me.” His eyebrows quirked in a neat line above his brown eyes.
“Jase . . .”
“C’mon. I want to know.”
“Because animals can’t talk. They can’t spill your secrets. They only listen and never judge. Because they can’t ask for help when they need it.” My voice became a whisper. “Just like me.”
Jase coaxed my face up until I saw his earnest expression. His fingers coasted across my cheek. “That’s why you have me. So you don’t have to ask for help.”
My throat closed in. I felt the burn of tears and I didn’t want them to fall, not in front of him. Standing in a rush, I gathered my sweater around me.
“I’m going out tonight. Need to get ready.”
Leaving him in the kitchen, I retreated to my bedroom. I tried to ignore the heat of his skin on mine and the way he’d looked so honest. Bad boy Jase was one thing. The heart of gold thing was going to hurt me.
I texted Benny:
Clothing fail SOS.
My room was a shambles. I thought it was kind of funny, actually. Jase had such a thing about keeping stuff in order. I purposefully left my door open as I waited for Benny’s incoming.
My phone rang with her call and I answered.
“Girl! What?”
“I don’t think I want to go. And I don’t have anything to wear.” I tried to think of more excuses. It was one week to the day of that hateful night.
“Oh, you are going. I haven’t seen you all week. You’re too busy playing house with Eveready Everly.”
“Hardly playing house. But he can be like a large puppy dog sometimes.”
Aaaand of course Jase chose that moment to darken my doorway. He sent big puppy dog eyes to me.
I wanted to smack myself on the head.
He peered past me to take in the scene of destruction that was my bedroom. I nearly laughed out loud when he frowned.
I flipped him the middle finger. Playfully of course.
I wish you would, he mouthed back.
Instant awareness raced between us.
“Wear the jeans,” Benny said over the phone I’d forgotten was in my hand.
“What jeans?” I gasped.
With a lazy curl of his lips, Jase smiled at me.
“Christ, did you just go double time on the bullet again? Why do you sound out of breath?” Benny asked.
Because Jase is utterly stupid-making sexy.
“No. I didn’t. The batteries wore out.” I did that two-can-play-at-this-game thing again.
I listened to her laugh while I watched Jase’s mouth drop open.
Take that.
“What jeans?” I asked again.
“The ones I gave you.”
“Those are one size too small.”
“Exxxxactly.”
I rummaged through my clothes. Jase watched. I found the jeans and held them in front of me. He nodded. I rolled my eyes.
“They don’t look like me, Benny,” I said.
“Of course not, Mouse. You actually have great tits and an awesome ass, except no one’s ever seen them.”
Someone had seen them. And I never wanted him to see them again.
I slowly closed the door to try on the jeans Benny urged me to wear. Jase’s footsteps retreated after a few pounding heartbeats.
I got off the phone with Benny, and headed for the bathroom. I needed bubbles and candles and girly things for a change, instead of books, studies and my stupid-ass sweaters.
I tested the water temperature before slipping into the wet warmth of the tub. It had been a week. Terrified to touch myself, I wondered if I’d ever orgasm again. The water lapped over my hesitant touches. It began to feel good as I gently stroked my clit. With my eyes closed, I thought of nothing, drifting in the warm sea of pleasure.
It worked. My slit was slick, slippery. I pushed one finger inside and swirled it around before drawing it to the tip of my clit. My toes curled against the tub and my breasts broke the surface. Unbidden thoughts of Jase made me that much hotter. The water waved over my body.
His husky Texan drawl, his sexy tats, his strong body . . . I arched my back. My nipples pebbled, begging to be sucked. My clit drew up and my labia swelled, but my orgasm remained aggravatingly beyond my reach.
The door opened. Jase strode inside.
“Jase!” I gasped.
“Oh, shit!” he exclaimed.
He honest-to-God blushed, but he didn’t look away.
“I’m sorry, I . . . I . . .” he stammered.
Suddenly I couldn’t stop my climax if I’d tried.
He fumbled for the door but stopped when my hips broke the water.
“Ave,” he grunted.
I came with a cry. My tummy tightened. My body froze. My fingers tunneled, twisted, and curled.
“Jesus, girl.” Jase sounded hoarse even to my ringing ears.
“You promised me locked doors.” I sank into the water, my body still shuddering.
“You didn’t lock it, Ave.” He dragged his fingertips across his jaw. “Jeeeesus.”
“I think you should go now.”
“No shit, right?” He started for his room before swinging around. “Just so you know, that was the sexiest damn thing I’ve ever seen.”
Jase soundlessly left and shut the door.
Letting the bathtub drain, I dried off slowly.
I’d been stuck on the edge of release, unable to get there until Jase walked in. He’d triggered a hot, curling climax, stronger than any I’d felt before.
I hadn’t felt intruded upon, not by him. His expression had captivated me—lustful and surprised.
A half hour later, I left my room and he was there again. He was so gorgeous it hurt to look at him sometimes. My breath caught in my throat.
“Going out?” he asked.
I knotted my sweater more tightly around myself. “Yes.”
“Be careful, okay?” Jase brushed his knuckles across my chin before he walked away from me.
Chapter Five
Jase
WELL FUCK ME STANDING. It hadn’t exactly been my fault I’d walked in on Ave. Locked doors, right? I’d told her that the first night, and just like that night when I’d wondered what she’d look like all wet and rosy in the bathtub, she more than surpassed my fantasies. She was perfect.
Her nipples had tipped out of the water, and they were as pink as her pouty lips, lips that parted in surprise. Thank fuck for bubbles because if there was a soft wet triangle of hair above her pussy to match the damp tumble of locks on her head . . .
“Jase!” My name had slipped out of her mouth at the end of long moan.
I’d never heard such a sexy sound in my life. I’d tried to leave, but she didn’t stop masturbating with my intrusion, and when her body arched from the water, her sleek skin had broken the surface and sent all the suds away.
A jolt of pure want had sped to my cock. I was instantly hard. Insanely erect.
I’d watched her cream on her fingers, her flared hips dancing.
My body went red hot in an instant.
Fuuuuuck.
This is not good.
****
Night shift. Yeah, that’s what I worked all right. I’d almost laughed when I told Avery that. Except it wasn’t really funny.
Well, I was taking tonight off. I was going to the same fucking frat party as Ave. Why? Mostly because I didn’t want any other asshole looking at her the way I sometimes did. And I definitely didn’t want anyone taking advantage of her. I had no idea what her game was, but the girl had no game. Except with me, apparently. I wanted to keep it that way.
The problem was she’d left wearing those tight jeans she’d held up earlier. At least she’d worn the sweater on top, but who knew what she hid underneath? Oh yeah, I did. I knew the exact shape of her tits and the color of her nipples. Maybe she wore a loose-fitting turtleneck beneath the sweater. That would be good.
And she better be wearing a bra and panties, not like her surprise I’m naked thing a week ago.
Holy fuck.
But the panties and bra better not be the hot little black lace number, one of the many fuckhot lingerie items I’d packed in her dorm room. I’d almost busted my nut the second I’d opened the top drawer of her dresser. You’re damn right I checked her cup size. Double Ds. I’d broken out in a sweat. That sweet little geek was hiding wetdream-sized tits inside her voluminous shit.
Then there was the bullet. The fact she had a sex toy put a whole new spin on shy, sometimes feisty Ave. Some part of her was definitely all woman, more than a handful, and that vixen was just waiting to come out.
I planned on making sure those boneheaded fratboys at Beta Theta Pi didn’t get anywhere near Ave’s pie.
Be careful, I’d said. Yeah, right. The person Ave needed to be careful around was me because her little guess what I’m wearing under my clothes game had almost cost her a rough fuck right on my couch.
I’d had to keep it cool with her after that. She got under my skin, hit all my hot spots, made me see double. And I couldn’t have that. I didn’t do girlfriends, and she was take-home-to-mom material if ever I’d seen it. That thought alone made me break out in hives.
I didn’t want to mess up our sweet arrangement—we could flirt but it would be hands off. She kept me company and didn’t ask for anything more. I wasn’t going to fuck her or fuck with her too much because I’d already pegged her for a wild girl in between the sheets—beneath her fake nerd exterior—even if she didn’t know it yet. That combo right there spelled nothing but danger to my don’t-care way of life.
The fucked up thing was I liked staying home with Ave. I wanted to hang out with her. It didn’t matter if we simply ate dinner, watched a movie, or studied. I liked her, and I didn’t like anyone all that much. She was a freakin’ paradox, a puzzle I couldn’t figure out.
I couldn’t believe I’d followed her to a goddamn frat party, of all the places neither of us belonged. I ambled through the jam-packed rooms that smelled of jock sweat, stale food, spilled beer, and old spunk.
Loud music. Low lights. Free drinks. Date rape waiting to happen to any naïve little college girl overawed by too much testosterone-fueled footballer attention.
I drank from the beer I brought with me. I didn’t do kegs and I wasn’t planning on getting wasted on punch spiked with Mexican Valium. I found a nice cozy corner where I had a good view of the main room. I hadn’t seen Ave yet, but plenty of party babes had seen me. I wasn’t a complete dick to all the ones who dared to approach the Great Jase Everly.
Let’s just say I made it clear their specific brand of hooker-heels, poofed-out hair, and too-short skirts did nothing for me.
Contrary to the rumors, I wasn’t into easy sex. Well, not exactly.
Cole Mayfield leaned his shoulder against the wall beside me. We clanked our beers. We were probably the only two there drinking from bottles instead of regulation Red
Solo cups. I didn’t do friends almost as much as I didn’t do girlfriends—too many secrets I needed to keep from the harsh light of day and nosy folks—but Cole was at the very least an acquaintance. One I could usually stomach.
“This is a shitty waste of all their momma and daddy’s college funds,” he voiced below the trance house music.
“Ain’t that the truth?”
“Not even a single chick worth the time to woo.”
“When the hell have you ever wooed anyone? You usually can’t wait to get them on your wood.”
“You always were a clever son of a bitch.”
“That’s what my daddy said,” I slipped into a thicker version of my West Texas drawl.
“Must be why you got such a sweet ride here.”
I had no idea what he was talking about—in fact, neither did he. That was one more carefully concealed secret. Anyway, Cole was a senator’s son. If anyone had a sweet deal, it was he.
After I took another slow pull of my beer, I swiped my mouth with the back of my hand. “Must be my Harley you’re talkin’ about.”
He threw his head back with a laugh. “Yeah, that ride.”
When his mouth closed abruptly and his eyes widened slowly, I wondered if he’d been slugged by a dose of the Poor Man’s Quaaludes.
He recovered with a whistle and continued to look over my shoulder. “Talk about a sweet ride. Check out the fresh meat on the frat market.”
Foreboding crawled up the back of my neck. I swiveled around.
Holy shit. And Jesus Christ. If Cole’s eyes had bugged, mine almost fell out of my head. I rubbed my eyes just to make sure they were still in place and I wasn’t hallucinating.
Nope. No mirage there, just Ave looking like I knew she could. Those fucking jeans. They accentuated every single curve in a way that looked positively mouthwatering. That goddamn top.
Fucking fuck.
Well, I guess I could forget about wondering which bra she was wearing tonight. No way would one of her lacy brassieres work under the silky-looking, multi-colored halter top that left pretty much all of her sinuous back bare.
Her hair was down and it fell below her shoulders. Blonde. Not bleached blonde. Not bottle blonde. Wheat sheaf blonde, autumnal blonde, fields of wildflowers blonde. Long and straight and shiny. I wanted to bury my face in it.