With those words reverberating in my head, I shoved in. One fast, hard thrust and I sank in deep, to the root.
Jasper cried out in ecstasy, maybe a touch of pain, but spread his legs a little farther, giving me room.
I stayed how I was, buried, surrounded by his heat and tightness. Holding his gaze in the soft ethereal light, I thought those words again. He is mine.
Keeping my left hand on the wall, I brought my right behind his neck, held him tight and crushed my lips to his, shoving my tongue deep as I began to thrust.
With his weight supported on the edge of the bench and in the grip of my hand, Jasper began to rock, instantly matching my punishing rhythm as he panted into my mouth.
I knew I wouldn’t last long, but I couldn’t slow down. Didn’t even bother withdrawing all the way, just pulled slightly out and shoved in as hard as I could, again, and again, and again. Until the smacking of our bodies filled the space, joined by the appreciative groans of our audience, and the guttural moans Jasper made as I claimed his body.
Even as my orgasm burst from me, I never stopped shoving into him, unable to get deep enough, unable to fully make him mine in the way I wanted with the barrier between us. Even as I grew soft, and the rhythm slowed, I stayed inside of him. I rocked back on my toes so Jasper was safely secured in my lap, the kiss never breaking while I crushed him against me.
The drive back to Lavender Shores was—honestly, I’m not sure what it was. Slightly awkward, maybe. Possibly comfortably quiet. Both of us seemed lost to our own worlds. At least I knew I was. But as I drove, one hand stayed on the wheel, the other remained in Jasper’s the entire time, our fingers linked.
Something had changed, and we both knew it. Felt it. Maybe it had changed before. Days ago. Maybe from that moment I came to stand beside Jasper as he slept in the alcove. Hell, maybe the minute I walked into Lavender Pages.
Or, proving how crazy my thoughts really were, maybe the first time I opened my eyes and saw him standing in front of me seven years before.
Whenever it occurred wasn’t important. Not really.
The only thing that mattered were the words that had burst from me and now echoed in swirling loops in my mind. He is mine.
They’d been spoken in the heat of the moment. During sex, when another man’s lips were on him. It would be easy to take them back. Tell myself that I’d simply been caught up. Just the heat of the moment. Some weird flash of jealousy.
I supposed I could tell myself those things. The only thing was, I wouldn’t believe them.
I could say them to Jasper, but he wasn’t an idiot, and he wasn’t blind. He wouldn’t believe them either. But true as they might be, I still wasn’t sure what to do about them.
We were nearly halfway back when Jasper got a text. He managed to check his cell using only one hand, leaving his other secured in my grasp. He groaned, then chuckled before casting a nervous glance my way.
“What is it?” I darted a glance of my own, abandoning the highway for a moment. From his response, I knew it wasn’t any news of Neal.
I looked at him a second longer, just long enough to notice that he blushed before he spoke. “It’s Harrison. It seems Lamont and Tyler have turned into two old busybody gossips.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means they went back home and announced to Harrison that you’re a little bit more than my bodyguard.”
Jasper’s tone was nervous. I wasn’t sure if that was due to me or worries about his brother. “Is Harrison upset?”
He paused long enough that I dared another glance over and lifted my brow. His blush increased. “Actually… he and Adrian are having a double date with Connor and Micah. He wanted to know if we’d like to join, make it a triple.”
So Harrison wasn’t mad. Ultimately it didn’t matter to me what Harrison or anyone else thought about what I did with Jasper, but I knew Jasper would care how his brother felt. I supposed the relief I experienced, at realizing that wasn’t a hurdle that needed to be jumped, was one more confirmation. “Wait a minute, a triple what?”
“Date.” Though he laughed, it was still a nervous sound. “I think he assumed we’re already back home. They don’t know about our little detour. They’re meeting at Mabel’s for a double date. He wanted to know if they should get a table big enough for a triple date instead.”
Date. Holy shit. A date, with a man. It didn’t matter if it was single, double, triple, or an all-you-can-eat buffet of dates. I’d never gone on a date with a man. Never wanted to.
Again I looked at Jasper, whose grip had loosened and was looking like he might be sick.
No, I had never wanted to go on a date with a man. Until then. “Well, we can stop by your place and freshen up and then meet them.”
“Really?” His eyes widened. “We’re going on a date?”
My heart was about to pound out of my chest. But not all of it was in fear. Maybe not even most of it. Couldn’t be sure. “Yeah. Tell them yes. We’ll meet them at Mabel’s for a triple date.”
“Okay.” And in that one word, Jasper not only sounded awestruck and shocked, but I caught a ring of happiness.
Yep. Fear was not even close to being most of it.
“Oh.” I looked back at him one more time, grinning. “I feel like I should let you know something upfront before we go on a date.”
He was suddenly tentative. “Okay….”
“I have a rule about not putting out on a first date.” I grinned. “I don’t want you to think I’m easy or anything.”
Jasper’s smile was beautifully radiant, and he burst out laughing before leaning over and kissing me.
The truck swerved, and I broke the kiss and the grip on his hand to grab the steering wheel as I got us back into the right lane. “Geez, fine, fine. If it’s that important to you, I’ll let you have the milk for free. You don’t have to kill us.”
Nineteen
Jasper
Harrison went away to college when I was thirteen. And by went away, he traveled a whole twenty minutes from our house to attend Tennessee State University, on a full-ride football scholarship. But still, he might as well have gone across the country.
Since our mother had died four years before that, Harrison had been my world. Granted, he’d been busy, as busy as any adult, working multiple jobs between his schoolwork and constant training, but he’d still been home every night. Harrison played older brother, mother, and father all rolled into one.
Then one day he was gone. Almost, anyway. During his first week in college, Harrison came home every evening, but Dad put a stop to that. Demanding Harrison use every spare moment for football, for his career.
He called every night, and came home for a few hours every other Saturday, but it wasn’t the same. Not even close. For the next five years, it was just Dad and me in our little house. I was invisible to him; he was a ghost to me. We might pass each other in the hallway, but for all intents and purposes, we each lived alone.
I’d always lived more in books than in the moment, but during that lonely time was when I started reading all my mom’s old novels. Since her death, Dad had left everything untouched—the bookcases were filled to overflowing, and there were countless boxes of books in closets and in the garage. Mom had been a voracious reader; it didn’t matter the genre or the author, she just wanted a book in her hands—though her favorite had always been romance, so those outnumbered the rest three to one. So that’s what I read. Romance novel after romance novel. And when the silence of the house became too much, so loud that even the pages of a book couldn’t block it out, I turned to movies. Borrowing DVDs from the library, most often picking adaptations from the romance novels of Mom’s collection.
As Russell and I turned from the highway and began winding our way through Point Reyes National Seashore, back to Lavender Shores, it was those movies from my adolescence that filled my head.
Inevitably, there would always be a scene where the young lovers escaped town. The bo
y driving his old, broken-down pickup truck with the girl slid all the way over, in a nearly smothering fashion. She’d have her legs tucked beneath her, no seatbelt on, of course, and both of her hands wrapped around one of his while he steered the truck with a relaxed, nearly cocky, arm on the steering wheel. As they drove to either find their big adventure, or off into the sunset, depending on how far into the movie the scene occurred, she’d rest her head on the boy’s shoulder and be fully and utterly happy.
I was that girl. As we’d driven back from Merman’s Cove, I was that girl.
Granted, Russell’s truck was far from beat-up, there were bucket seats so I couldn’t be smashed against him, and he wore a seatbelt, but still….
My hand was in his as he drove. His left arm was slung gracefully over the steering wheel. And while I didn’t rest my head on his shoulder, I still leaned over and kissed him every once in a while.
Something had changed. It had been changing but hadn’t quite clicked before. It had in the steam room of Merman’s Cove. The gears that had been turning snapped, quite audibly, into place.
He. Is. Mine.
With those three words, things had clicked into a new reality.
I was his. Perhaps I’d always been his.
I was that girl. Utterly and completely content to belong to her man. And I was totally okay with that.
As the trees and meadows passing by the truck gave way to the first houses on the edge of town, and the salty ocean breeze filled the cab from the cracked windows, I couldn’t be that girl, at least not completely.
In every movie, and every book, she was young, fresh-faced, innocent, just getting ready to see the world. All sweet euphemisms for what she really was—ignorant. It wasn’t her fault; that’s the bliss of first love, being seventeen.
I’d been ignorant when I’d fallen for Neal.
As content as I was in the cab of that truck with Russell, as the bustle of downtown Lavender Shores came into view, as reality came sinking back in, it was all too clear that I’d never be that girl, even though I desperately wanted to be. I could no longer be the ignorant, or innocent.
Real life wasn’t at a romance-novel conference. It wasn’t at an otherworldly bathhouse. Real life didn’t guarantee that just because things clicked into place meant they would stay that way.
Russell had been right. I was his. And as we pulled into the parking lot behind Lavender Pages, I had a terrifying feeling that I would always be his. Always.
What I didn’t know… was if he was mine.
He pulled up next to my Mini Cooper, slipped his hand out of mine, and slid the truck into Park. “We’re already a little late to meet the boys, so I’m thinking we get ready real quick but leave the books and everything in the truck. We can get them later. Does that work for you?”
I nodded, then realized I hadn’t spoken. “Yeah. That’s fine.”
“You okay? Something changed.” Russell had been reaching for the door handle but paused, concern crossing his face. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong. It’s just that….” I was being insane. And I was about to throw a huge wrench into the gears.
What was I going to do? Ask him if he was mine? Ask him if, because of those moments in the bathhouse, in those moments I felt growing between us, if he was never going to leave. Ask if he’d decided he would stay forever despite our promise we were only going to focus on the moment, on the now.
No matter if things had clicked into place or not, that kind of wrench would rip them right back out.
“Are you nervous?”
In those few moments, I’d already gotten lost in my mind, but Russell’s words helped me refocus on him. “Nervous?” Maybe he did know what I was thinking. Maybe he was getting ready to tell me that I didn’t need to worry. That he was mine as surely as I was his.
“Yeah. Doing this”—he motioned between us—“going on a date with your brother and friends like this.”
Perhaps I did have some innocent ignorance left after all. I forced a smile. “Yeah. That’s all it is. Never been on a triple date before.” I wished that was all I was nervous about. And just as much, I wished I could get that feeling back I’d had only a few minutes before. That excited, contented thrill of belonging to him. Instead of getting caught up in the worry of what was going to happen next. I was afraid if I didn’t get ahold of myself, I’d screw it up. “What about you? Nervous?”
“Ya think?” He laughed, and his nerves were evident, though his smile was bright. “This might be your first triple date, but this is my first date, at all. Er… with a man, I mean. Obviously.”
Ah, yes, There it was. Confirmation that I had every reason to feel like I did. Of course it was his first date with a man. That wasn’t a surprise. Part of me had just forgotten all the complications we faced. First dates always led to eternity together, right?
But when had that changed? When had I started trying to find eternity with Russell? I supposed that didn’t matter. It didn’t change the fact that was exactly what I was looking for. I forced another smile, and I could tell from the growing crease between his brows that I wasn’t convincing. “Let’s go in and clean up. We don’t want to keep your first date waiting.”
Before he could respond, I opened the door and slid from the truck.
I headed across the parking lot without waiting, trying to shove away the sinking feeling. Berating myself for not having better control of my emotions. For not simply being able to keep enjoying the high we’d experienced during our time away.
Maybe I could take an extra minute and hop in the shower to clear my brain, help me reset, recapture what I’d been feeling on the drive back. Rediscover the thrill of being his and try to focus on the hope and excitement of that, instead of the fear.
Russell reached me as I slid the key into the lock, and his hand came to rest at the small of my back. “Hey.”
I turned the key, withdrew it, and started to twist the handle.
“Hey.” Russell nudged me slightly, pulling me to face him. When I did, he stepped into me, holding my gaze, his voice a warm whisper. “I don’t know what happened. One minute it felt like we were on some fuzzy, weird, happy cloud, then the next you looked so sad. Did I do something?”
“No. You didn’t. Nothing at all.” Dammit. I really was fucking this up. Why couldn’t I just be that girl? Why couldn’t I be seventeen and have no baggage? Although I’d had plenty of baggage at seventeen, hadn’t I? Well, why couldn’t I just pretend? “I’m sorry, Russell. You really didn’t. Just got inside my own head. Maybe I got too happy.”
“Worried about losing it?”
I nearly laughed. I knew Russell didn’t see himself as overly insightful when it came to emotions, but he always seemed able to read my mind. And that understanding made it a little better. “Yeah. Exactly.”
“Be here with me, now. Okay?” He took my free hand. “We just had”—his grin grew—“I don’t even know the word for what we had the past couple of days, but it was great. So we just had that. And we’re getting ready to do this date thing. And then we’ll come back here, and I plan on getting you naked and driving every single thought out of your brain for a good solid hour, at least.”
I felt my lips curve, answering his. “I like the sound of that.”
“Good. Me too.” He shrugged one broad shoulder. “Tomorrow’s a new moment. Can we just cross that bridge when we get there? Can we just keep focusing on enjoying one minute, and then we’ll enjoy the next one when we get there?”
There was a peace to that, albeit a bittersweet one. “Yeah. We can.”
“Good. Thanks.” Russell bent slightly, and kissed me just long enough to make my fears blur, and remind me that he was more than capable of keeping his promises of driving all thoughts out of my mind when we returned from the date. “All right. Let’s hurry up and get ready.”
The second I opened the door to the stairwell, I felt it. Some unnamable quality, some sense of things being wrong.
Proving that he felt it as well, Russell stiffened, and then stepped around me in a protective manner. He reached for the alarm pad, then paused, fingers hovering above the numbers. “It’s off.”
Perhaps that’s what I’d felt. There’d been no flashing lights or beeping warning of the countdown to disengage. “Maybe I forgot to set it.”
“No, you didn’t. I checked. Twice.” Russell didn’t look back at me, instead glancing toward the door that led to the bookshop and then up the staircase toward the apartment, clearly debating.
“Xander might’ve come in after all. He could’ve forgotten to reset the alarm.” Even as I said the words, I knew they weren’t true. It wasn’t Xander’s style, nor would Heather have been that inattentive.
Russell took my hand. “Come on, we’re calling the cops.”
“No. There’s no reason to—” My words fell away at his expression. “Fine.”
We walked back to his truck. While he called the police, I called Xander. Sure enough, he hadn’t come by the shop.
The police were there within moments, and in less than five minutes, confirmed that Neal had indeed been inside, but was no longer present.
Russell stayed by my side in the parking lot as other officers swept the surrounding blocks. By the time they’d returned, reporting they’d found no sign of Neal, a small crowd was beginning to gather. I kept my gaze adverted. I’d been able to disappear in Nashville. There was no chance of that in Lavender Shores, which had been something I’d loved. I’d been welcomed to the town as family as soon as I’d opened the bookshop. Maybe not treated like a member of one of the five founding families, but family nonetheless. As such, in all its small-town glory, everyone had instantly been filled in on why Russell was staying with me.
And now, they knew Neal had made his presence known again.
I couldn’t believe Lavender Shores had so many police officers, and it seemed every one of them was there for me. It probably should’ve made me feel loved, protected, like family. Instead I just wanted them to leave. Wanted the crowd to leave, even if it was made up more of friends than tourists—especially if. It was like my shame was on display. I was the one who’d brought the crazy, psycho ex to town.
The Alcove (Lavender Shores Book 7) Page 22