“A little.” Carly lifted her chin to look him straight in the eye, even though he’d bent toward her enough to be definitely suggestive. Her teeth grazed her lower lip in a tiny nibble that did nothing to steady him.
“I promised to feed you,” he said, unmoving. Funny how it sounded familiar even though he was sure he’d never said it to her before.
Feed her.
“Uh-huh.” But rather than break eye contact or move, Carly kept her face tilted up despite the fact that their mouths were close enough for him to feel the heated exhale shuddering from her body.
Jackson bent to erase the space between them just as she pressed up on her tiptoes to kiss him, a mad rush of urgency and wildflowers, and all thought went out the window. There was no hesitant tenderness, no holding back in this kiss, nothing but heat and raw desire in the way her lips opened and her tongue twined with his. Sparks danced under his skin as he answered the kiss, cradling the back of her head and burying his fingers where her braid met the cool, sweet skin of her neck.
He broke away from Carly’s mouth to trail kisses across the curve of her jaw, pausing just under her ear. The taste of her, provocative and unlike anything he’d ever experienced, exploded on his tongue, and it caught him like a one-two punch.
“God, that’s good.” All it took was the echo of the words she’d spoken mere minutes before to light Jackson’s body with need. He returned to her mouth, intending to kiss her again, but he found her bottom lip firmly ensconced between her teeth. Carly released it with a throaty sigh, squeezing her arms around his shoulders with strength that both shocked him and turned him way the hell on.
Jackson pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what?” She pushed her hot palms against his chest as she drew back to look at him. Uncertainty colored her features, but Jackson was quick to reassure her.
“I like it when you talk to me. Don’t hold back.” He dipped his face to hers again, running his teeth ever so gently across her bottom lip to coax her mouth open. After capturing her pleasured gasp, he moved down the column of her neck, nibbling, kissing, tasting.
It wasn’t going to be enough.
As if she could read his mind, Carly whispered, “Again. Kiss me again.”
With her words barely out in the open, Jackson’s instincts took over. His arms shot around the back of her ribcage, unstopping as his palms skimmed her hips, then spread around the back of her jeans. With a swift yank—did he pull, or did she jump? Jackson lifted her off the ground, holding her lithe body against his chest. She locked her legs around his waist, angling her hips against his with agonizing sweetness, and his knees almost buckled from how good the friction felt.
“Well, if you insist,” he said, trying to hold onto what little control he had left. Part of him screamed to slow down, to take his time and savor the slide of the denim between them in all the right places, the fall of her hair on his hands as he cupped the back of her neck then moved his hands lower over her body. But a deeper-seated part of him broke free, demanding and pulsing with heat.
Gripping her hips with tight fists, Jackson moved to the small shed at the back corner by the fence line. No way would they both fit with all the tools crammed inside, so Jackson maneuvered Carly up against the rear outside wall of the structure, hiding them from sight. At least it would provide cover from anyone who might stumble through the garden, and he used his hips as leverage to keep the seam of her body crushed against his with delicious, white-hot pressure.
“Jackson.” Carly’s voice ripped through him, and his erection strained against the juncture of her thighs as she trailed greedy kisses below his ear. Propelled by hot urgency, he thrust against her, pushing her back into the shed even harder and cupping his hands beneath her bottom to hold her up.
She tugged his shirt upward from the waistband of his jeans in response, and suddenly nothing stood between her touch and his body except for a whole lot of bad intentions. He thrust against her again, without thinking, holding her fast against the wall. Christ, he’d never wanted anyone so much, right now, and every last part of him hummed with its own altered gravity. He reached around Carly’s arms to pull her closer still, but something wet and sticky snagged his attention just enough to make him look . . .
His hand was smeared with blood, and it wasn’t his.
“Jesus!” Jackson hissed, and his heated thoughts clattered to a stop. He lowered her with quick efficiency, his heart slamming in his chest for an entirely different reason than just a moment before. “Carly, you’re bleeding.”
Holy hell, what had he done?
“What?” She staggered as if surprised to have her feet beneath her again, her expression wrapped in startled confusion for a second before his words seemed to sink in. “No I’m not, I’m . . . oh. Ow.”
Jackson blanched at the crimson smear trailing down her right arm, and he swallowed hard before capturing her wrist with a gentle turn to get a better look. Carly twisted to stare at the angry four-inch scratch on the back of her upper arm, blinking a few times before she swiped at it with her other hand and winced. “I guess I scratched it against the shed.”
Icy tendrils spread out in Jackson’s chest. Had he seriously pinned her against the shed that hard? What the hell had he been thinking?
Well the answer to that one was a no-brainer. He hadn’t been thinking at all. She was bleeding, for Chrissake. All because he’d lost control of himself.
“That’s more than a scratch. We need to get it cleaned up.” Jackson’s voice was pure gravel in his throat, and he forced himself to take a step back from her. It wasn’t lost on him that even in the summer air, he felt noticeably cooler without her near, but he couldn’t risk being close enough to catch the heady scent of flowers in her hair, or worse yet, touching her again.
“It’s nothing. It doesn’t even really hurt,” Carly protested, the crease between her brows set in a deep V.
“Still. It could get infected.” Damn it. “I shouldn’t . . .” Jackson stopped and raked a hand over his crew cut, mashing down on the sensation threatening to rise from his gut and take over. “I shouldn’t have done that.”
In the decade and a half since Jackson had left puberty in the rearview mirror, he’d never once lost control with a woman. In fact, he’d made it a point to stay detached for this very reason. It was dangerous, and he wouldn’t put himself—or anybody else, for that matter—in a position to be hurt.
Jackson pressed his lips together hard enough to make them smart. Even with the best of intentions, he’d managed to blow right past the too-far line with Carly.
And it wasn’t the first time he’d ignored reason with her, either.
“That’s twice now that you’ve kissed me and called it a mistake.” Carly’s expression was blank, her smoldering heat dimmed down to nothing in the span of a breath.
He started. “What?”
“Last week, you apologized for kissing me, and now again you’re saying you shouldn’t have done it. What else am I supposed to think, other than you’re sorry you did it?”
Jackson stared at her. “I didn’t mean that kissing you was a mistake. I just shouldn’t have let it get, you know. Out of hand.”
“Oh.” The reply came so softly that he almost missed it. Carly digested his words, and her lashes cast dusky shadows over her cheeks when she looked up at him a minute later. “It was pretty out of hand, wasn’t it?” The smallest hint of movement flitted over her lips, lifting the corners of her lush mouth.
Wait a second . . .
“Are you making fun of me?” he asked, incredulous. Didn’t she realize what he’d done?
“You have to admit, you kind of set the precedent there.” Carly shrugged, but there was no mistaking the gleam in her eyes. “Plus, you look like somebody ran over your dog. Honestly, Jackson. You didn’t hurt me on purpose.”
“No,” Jackson replied slowly. “I didn’t.” At least that much was true.
But
it didn’t change the fact that it had happened anyway. He’d hurt her without meaning to, all because he couldn’t control himself.
“You’re being an awfully good sport about it,” Jackson said, finally feeling his pulse drum down a notch. It really had been an accident, albeit an unacceptable one. Now he just needed to get her cleaned up. It would put more distance between them, at least.
“You sound disappointed. Truth be told, I’m not really the kind of girl who freaks out at a little bit of blood.”
He guided her briskly around the side of the shed, back toward the path. “Not even your own?”
“Obviously not.” They walked in silence for a few steps before she tacked on, “Seriously, though, my arm is fine.”
“You’ll just have to humor me on this one. I insist.” Jackson primed himself for an argument. He’d only known her for a week and a half, but it was plain that she was tough as gutter spikes.
“Okay. If it makes you feel better, then by all means, patch me up. But after that, I’m getting what I came for.”
His eyes widened, and he stumbled in the thick grass. “You are?” Oh, hell. He could barely resist her the first time. No way was he going to be able to do it again.
Carly slowed next to him. “Yeah. Food experience, remember? I’m starved.”
Smooth. Real smooth. Of course she meant the food. “Right, right, absolutely.” Jackson led the way back through the crepe myrtles. As they passed by the food-laden tables under the tent, it was impossible not to catch the sheer longing on Carly’s face, and the urge to feed her returned. Well, maybe they could stop and grab the world’s quickest slice of apple pie. After all, it was the Fourth of July. Plus, if he got her something to eat, maybe his inner voice would shut up and he could figure out a graceful—and quick—way to take her home before she got hurt again.
Jackson turned to ask Carly if she wanted a to-go plate on their way to the house, but before he could get more than a word past his lips, he was interrupted by a very familiar, very female voice.
Chapter Ten
“Chef di Matisse?”
It took Carly a full minute to recognize the voice behind her as belonging to Bellamy Blake. Instinctively, Carly swept a hand over her braid, only to discover it was way more disheveled mess than tidy plait.
“Hi, Bellamy.” Carly patted a few chunks of hair into place at the nape of her neck, and the movement revealed a crepe myrtle bloom tangled by her ear. She fumbled to dislodge it, flinging the tiny purple flower behind her back as she pasted a smile on her face. Out of the corner of her eye, Carly caught Jackson’s unnervingly sexy smile at the gesture, his crinkly sky-blue eyes so warm they were almost liquid.
Okay, maybe the friends-with-benefits thing wasn’t such a bad idea, after all. Clearly, the heat between her and Jackson was strong enough to put most chemistry experiments to shame. The kiss they’d shared against the shed was living proof of that. How complicated could a little mutually beneficial sex amongst friends be, anyway?
Jackson reached out and plucked another paper-thin blossom from her hair, his fingers brushing against her skin as he dropped it into her palm.
Screw complicated. She was on fire for this guy.
“Oh my God, what are you doing here?” Even in the dusk of the postsunset sky, Bellamy’s shock was plain.
A laugh snuck up on Carly, and she couldn’t keep it under wraps. “I know this might surprise you, but I do actually get out of the restaurant from time to time.”
Although Bellamy was pretty tough in the kitchen and didn’t really seem like the blushing type, her cheeks flushed at Carly’s teasing.
“Oh, no, no, I just meant . . .” Bellamy paused. “I didn’t know you knew Jackson, that’s all,” she finished, giving Jackson a look that all but yelled ahem!
“Well, we only met, ah, recently.” Carly shot a quick glance at Jackson and did a little cheek-flushing of her own, praying that the cover of dusk kept anyone from noticing. She wasn’t exactly the blushing type, either, but the memory of exactly how they’d met made Carly glad he hadn’t mentioned it.
“Last week,” Jackson confirmed, easing into a blazingly enticing half-grin.
Carly managed to steady her expression. She could handle grace under pressure in the most weeded of kitchens, for God’s sake. Surely she could handle one teensy smile from the guy without coming undone right there in front of God and everybody. Her blood pulsed through her warmly, her girly parts ready to pick a fight with her rational brain. “I ran into Jackson at the grocery store a little while ago, and he invited me to come out for something to eat. We met last week when he rebuilt my deck.”
A dark-haired guy with what looked like permanent five o’clock shadow stood next to Bellamy, and Carly heard a flash of Jackson’s voice from last week in her kitchen, talking about his buddy, Bellamy’s boyfriend.
“You were the deck rebuild last week?” Five O’clock Shadow’s brow popped in surprise.
Carly’s smile faded into confusion, and after a breath, she realized Jackson’s grin had slipped, too.
“Yeah,” she replied, drawing the word out slowly, like a question. “A tree fell on it in that nasty storm.” Carly had the impression that Jackson had built hundreds of decks. He sure looked at ease swinging a hammer at the bungalow, and the results were incredible. So why was that a big deal? Unless . . . oh, crap. Jackson might not have told Bellamy about their little tête a tête, but that didn’t mean he’d been equally tight-lipped with his buddy.
Jackson stepped in, all-American smile dialed up to the most laid-back setting.“Carly, this is Shane Griffin. I told him about the job I was doing out at your place last week. You know, how the tree came really close to hitting the house and how I had to jackhammer the posts out. I must’ve forgotten to mention the connection, with you being Bellamy’s boss and all.” A tiny hint of something odd flickered in Jackson’s glance as his eyes passed over Shane’s, but it was gone so fast, Carly couldn’t even be sure she’d seen it, much less identify what it had been.
“Yeah, it must’ve slipped your mind,” Shane said, a faint glimmer lingering in his expression before he broke into a natural smile. “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Carly.” His warm handshake made her relax and she broke into a smile.
“You, too.” Despite her earlier protests to the contrary, the back of Carly’s arm squalled in pain at being used for a meet-and-greet. It was so ironic that the little cuts always managed to hurt the worst.
As if Jackson could read her mind, he gestured to the limb in question. “I was just taking Carly back up to the house. She, uh, scratched her arm pretty badly.” His eyes skimmed over her with that ultraserious look again, and even though she was tempted to make a face, she held back. It wasn’t like she’d severed the damned thing, but whatever. The hero complex was one of those guy things she’d never understand, although she supposed it could be worse.
If she hadn’t gotten the cut, she might be undressed in the great outdoors right now, for example.
“Ouch.” Bellamy eyed the scratch. “How’d you manage that?”
Goooooood question. “Oh! I, um . . .” The more Carly scrambled, the more vivid the recollection of actual events became in her mind, until the kiss was all but screaming through her again.
“Pricker bush,” Jackson intervened, smooth as freshly rolled pie crust.
Carly blinked, lost in the wake of his quick thinking, and the look that flashed between them hung on for just a fraction too long. “Yup. A big one.”
“You know, you should get Autumn to check that out. It looks kind of nasty,” Bellamy ventured, and Jackson’s expression brightened.
This couldn’t be good.
“You know what, that’s a great idea. My sister Autumn is a nurse.” He lifted his head to scan the crowd, which wasn’t difficult since he was a good four inches taller than pretty much everybody in the surrounding area. “Ah. There she is. Hey, Autumn! C’mere,” Jackson called out, beckoning to a pretty blonde sit
ting at a nearby picnic table. The woman hopped up and started to weave through the crowd.
“Honestly, it’s fine. It barely even hurts,” Carly lied. In truth, the stupid thing stung like nothing else, but since her arm was still attached, making a big deal out of it seemed silly.
“I’m not taking no for an answer, remember? Plus, the faster you get that cut cleaned up, the faster we can eat. Personally, I’m dying for some apple pie. That is, if there’s any left.” Jackson glowered jokingly at Shane, who released a shrug and smirk combination that suggested their friendship ran deep.
“You snooze, you lose, my friend. Sadie never even made it to the freezer with that ice cream.”
“Oh, please. I made six pies. There’s plenty left.” But Bellamy’s scolding couldn’t hide the proud little smile tugging at her lips.
Carly’s mouth watered at the thought of food. That bowl of minestrone she’d had at the end of the lunch shift might as well have been a week ago.
“Hey, little brother. What’s up?” The pretty blonde sauntered over, and Carly was all but smacked in the face with the family resemblance.
“I need you in a professional capacity for a sec.”
“You’re not going to ask me to tell that story about the guy who swallowed all those goldfish again, are you? It gets kind of old after the hundredth time.”
Carly bit back a sound between a snicker and a shudder. She’d seen and eaten a lot of things, but she had to draw the line at live domestic marine life.
“Actually, I need you to take a look at my friend Carly’s cut.” He moved close enough so that she could smell the crisp, masculine scent of his skin, like just-cut timber. It was a damn good thing Jackson’s sister wouldn’t be taking Carly’s pulse, because she had a funny feeling that zing in her veins wasn’t in the normal resting range. Especially when Jackson cradled Carly’s arm as if it were a rare artifact, wincing as if the cut was on his own arm instead of hers.
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