His mouth quirks at the corner. “That some kind of daughter-of-a-cop thing?”
I nod. “My mother’s more verbal about it, though.”
“Your mother’s a piece of work, if you don’t mind my saying.”
I arch a brow at him. “If you really thought I’d mind, you would have asked me if it was okay to insult my mother before you said something.”
“There’s those claws, kitten,” he murmurs.
I blush fiercely at the nickname. “I told you not to call me that anymore.”
He reaches out to touch my face, running his knuckles over my cheek. I want to lean into his touch, rub my face against him and purr contentedly like the feline he insists on calling me. I can’t remember the last time anyone touched me like this, beyond the affectionate hugs from Rowan.
“It suits you, though, and at the time of that particular conversation, you were mad at me.”
I inwardly wince at the memory. “I wasn’t mad at you. Well, not until you said you’d start calling me princess instead.”
His hand falls away and I want to snatch it back. I’m starved for human contact. Ridiculously so. But I don’t. I keep my hands at my sides even as they clench into fists.
“I thought you forgave me for that?” he asks, searching my face.
“I did. I have,” I insist. “Promise.”
“What about earlier today? Can you forgive me for that, too?”
Here’s my chance to ask about the consequences. Here’s my chance to get everything out in the open. If Jase wanted to be with that other woman, he would have, but he chose to come to me instead. That has to count for something.
My lips part in anticipation and his gaze drops to my mouth. Desire pulses through me, and for a moment I’m lost in the feeling.
Suddenly, Emmett comes lumbering over, his dark eyes full of mischief. “Piper, I have your schedule. Ready to go over it?”
I nod, my heart sinking at the missed opportunity. When will I learn to stop overthinking and just go for it? “That’s what I’m here for,” I say cheerfully.
Jase grunts a little. “Good to know.” He starts to walk away, but I grab his arm before I consider the ramifications or if Emmett will say something. Jase’s brows crash together, his gaze going from my hand to my face.
Say something! “Have dinner with me.”
“Tonight. You pick the place,” I add, just so there isn’t a misunderstanding.
His eyes widen slightly, as if he can’t believe what I’m saying. Funny enough, I can’t believe what I’m saying.
“Do I get to come, too?” Emmett asks.
“No,” Jase growls before shooting his friend a look.
With a grin, Emmett holds up his hands and backs away. “Good to know where I stand,” he calls out before disappearing into the back of the shop.
“You want to go to dinner with me?” he asks.
“Uh…” Say yes, Piper. “If you have time, or aren’t already busy, I thought it would be good for us to get to know each other since we’re living together, roomie.”
“I’ve known you since you were fourteen, kitten,” he points out.
My cheeks heat. “I know, but I’m—it’s been seven years and maybe I’ve changed.”
Jaw working, he shakes his head. “I sure as fuck hope not.”
“Is that a no or a yes?” Please be yes.
“It’s a yes. I’ll drive.” He grabs my hand, the same one that’s still clutching at him. Fully expecting him to nicely push it away, I begin to draw back, but he does the unexpected. He laces his fingers in mine. Tremors of pleasure run through me, making my entire body shake.
Jase is touching me. Not only that, he’s fulfilling one of my wildest fantasies by holding my hand. Gosh, I’m so lame. I need new fantasies. Ones with naked bodies.
“You okay on a bike?” he asks.
“With you I am.” My skirt is long enough…I think.
His eyes narrow. “Who else you been riding with?” If I were any other woman, I’d think he was jealous, but I know that’s not the case.
“Only you. I’m not brave enough to let anyone else take me out.”
“You’re braver than you think, and even better than that, you’re sweet,” he says in a low voice.
“Do you…is that something you like in other, er…people? Or something?” I flounder for words, desperate to be sophisticated and for him to see me as more than just Piper, his sister’s best friend, or Piper, the girl afraid of her own shadow, or Piper, the wallflower.
“No comparison,” he says simply. “I’m ready to eat, if you are.”
“Uh, schedule?” Emmett reminds me.
“You can email her.”
“But she’s already here.”
“She needs to eat.” Jase doesn’t take his eyes off of me. “Ready?”
Wordlessly, I nod and follow him outside, my hand still clasped in his. When we get to his bike, he finally lets go of me and grabs his helmet. “This is a little big, but it will keep you safe until I can get another one in your size.”
My size? Does this mean he plans on letting me ride with him a lot?
He slips the helmet over my head and tightens the chin strap, his fingers brushing my neck. I shiver. “Baby, you have got to stop being so scared of me.”
“I’m not scared of you.” I’m scared of never getting the chance to be with you.
Seconds pass as he weighs my words.
Meeting his gaze head-on, I use the opportunity to take in my fill of this beautiful, sexy man. We are opposites in every way. I’m short. He’s tall. I’m dark and pale. He’s sun-kissed from his head to his toes. He’s cut and lean, and is inked with works of art, while I’m plump and curvy, and the only time my skin has ever had ink on it was when I accidentally on purpose used a marker to draw a flower on my arm. Mother had scrubbed and scrubbed at the flower while lecturing me on the friends I kept. She didn’t stop until it had bled and I had cried out in pain.
“Don’t be so dramatic, Piper. No one likes a drama queen, especially men,” she said, abruptly leaving me to my latest nanny’s care.
“Piper?”
I blink up at Jase. “I’m fine. Really. Sometimes I’m a bit dramatic. Won’t happen again.” I give him a smile, though I don’t think he can see it since the helmet only shows him my eyes.
“Uh-huh,” he says, skepticism in his eyes. “You want to try again.”
It’s not a question. “Childhood memories that have nothing to do with you.”
“Much better.” He swings a long leg over his bike. “Don’t lie to me again, Piper.”
“I won’t,” I promise. Now if only he would ask the right questions.
“Get on and wrap your arms around me tight.”
Nervous and giddy at the opportunity, I force myself to walk and not run to him so I can climb on. Once I’m in place and make sure I’m not flashing my panties to the entire world, I allow myself to process how hard and muscular he is. Surreptitiously, I let my fingers explore his abs through his shirt while pretending that I’m readjusting my grip.
“You done feeling me up?” he asks and my hands freeze.
“What?” I croak.
“You heard me,” he says, turning so that I can see the smile on his sexy face.
“Sorry,” I say sheepishly.
“Are you?”
Slowly, I shake my head. “No. I’m not.”
He sucks in a breath, as if he wasn’t expecting that kind of answer from me. I wasn’t expecting that kind of answer from me.
Without another word, he faces forward again and starts up his bike, then drives out of the parking lot.
Jase
The ride into the NoDa section of Charlotte was my own version of hell. The feel of her warm body pressed tightly against mine was the sweetest torture I’ve ever experienced. A reminder of what is so tantalizingly within my reach yet so completely forbidden to me. Worse, now I know what she feels like, almost every lush inch of her.
<
br /> And you get to do it all over again once dinner is over, dumbass, I remind myself.
I’m out of my mind for agreeing to go to dinner with her, but I can’t help myself. I swear to God, if she crooks a finger at me, I will come running to do her bidding because I can’t stop thinking about her answer when I asked if she was sorry for touching me.
Which means not a fucking thing in the grand scheme of things.
In the days that led up to her moving in with me, I’d played out every scenario that could happen between us, and not a single one of them ended in a happily ever after.
We’re too different. Her parents would never allow it anyway—not that I give a good damn about parents, but when the woman you’re interested in has the chief of police as her father and you’ve just been released from a seven-year stint for attempted murder…I can’t help but take that into consideration.
Truth be told, I have never considered a permanent situation with anyone. How can I with my family’s history? Once my dad took off, my mother hooked up with the wrong people and ended up overdosing.
“I’ve never been here before,” Piper says as we’re seated in a semicircular private booth. “But I’m a huge fan of Italian food.”
I smile a little at the enthusiasm in her voice. “I picked the place not only because of the amazing food but because no one will bother us here.”
“Good idea,” she says warmly as the hostess hands us menus. “Any favorite dishes I should try?”
Smiling wryly, I say, “Everything.”
She bursts out laughing, the sound lovely even to my jaded ears. “Then I’ll take one of everything.”
“Fine with me, but the portions are so big that you’ll never finish the first one.”
“I figured we could share,” she says softly.
Leaning into her, I murmur, “Normally, I don’t share, but for you, I’d make an exception.”
Her breath hitches. “How are you…doing, that is? It can’t be easy going from being confined and told what to do twenty-four/seven to…this.”
The change in subject throws me off balance. How did we go from flirting to my emotional state of being?
“If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s okay, but I’ve been worried about you.”
Since I’ve gotten out of prison, the first thing people ask me about is prison. What it’s like, if it’s as bad as on television…was I someone’s bitch—you know, real investigative stuff that shows me just how much they care. But Piper’s not asking about all of that. She wants to know about me. How I feel.
It’s odd to be treated this way.
“Sometimes, I’m afraid that the parole board will realize they made a mistake and will revoke my release.” Only to Piper can I confess this and only because she won’t tell another soul.
Instead of giving me a pat answer or assure me that nothing of the sort will happen, Piper simply smiles one of her sweet smiles and listens. Other than my prison therapist, I can’t remember the last time someone actually listened to what I had to say.
“Other times, I want to do and see and experience everything life has to offer.”
“What do you want to experience the most?” she asks.
To be in your arms, your body…to possess you and never let anyone else touch you. “I want to travel—what else?” I take another drink of my beer.
“To where?”
“Anywhere, but I can’t right now. I can’t leave the fucking states for another two years.”
“You should make plans anyway.”
“Seems like an exercise in futility.”
“Only if you know for a fact that you would never be able to go. When it comes to a lifetime, two years isn’t that long.” She fiddles with the salt and pepper shakers. “I can help you plan a trip. Be your tour guide.”
“You’ve changed,” I say.
Her pretty eyes crinkle at the corners as she smiles. “Well, yes, I’m seven years older than when you last saw me. I’m not a teenager anymore.”
“No, not that.” I’d have to be a fucking idiot not to notice she’s a woman. “You—you’re talkative.”
Immediately, she begins to stammer, “I—y-you…I thought we were having a really good conversation.”
“We are.” I scoot closer to her, so that our thighs are touching. “Baby, you just surprised me, is all. It wasn’t that long ago that you couldn’t actually carry on a conversation with me.”
“I’m trying to be more like,” she swallows again, “you, actually.”
“Me?”
“Yes.”
Though it’s a very bad idea, I brush the back of my hand along her soft cheek. Her lashes flutter and her chin tips up, lining her luscious lips perfectly with mine. “Be you, kitten.” I dip my head, fully intending to finally find out if she tastes as sweet as I’ve always imagined. “You are everything I—”
“Are you ready to order?”
Piper jumps, coming this close to banging my mouth with her forehead. The moment between us is lost. Discreetly adjusting myself, I glare at the waiter before turning to Piper.
“Ladies first.”
With a guilty look on her face, she orders and then I place mine as well. Silently, we hand over the menus and wait for him to leave. Now that the air has cleared between us somewhat, I can get our conversation back on track and ask her about what had been on her mind earlier this evening.
“Whose ass do I have to beat?”
Her eyes widen. “Excuse me?”
“When you walked into the shop, you were upset.”
“Oh, that.” She looks away. “I have to talk to my parents.”
Gently grasping her chin, I turn her to face me. My thumb rubs against her bottom lip and her tongue darts out, touching the tip. Blood and desire rush straight to my cock, and I struggle to keep my cool. Before she can do any more to me with her tongue, I let go of her.
“Want to talk about it?”
“You’ll probably think my problems are silly.”
“Try me.”
She takes a deep breath, her gorgeous breasts rising and falling. “Either I get them to cosign a loan or pay for school, or I have to defer my classes until I can afford to pay. I don’t want to ask them for help, and even if I did want their help, they most likely won’t give it to me because I defied them by moving out.”
“You’re twenty-four, baby. Don’t they want you to get a life?”
A bitter smile covers her face. “Only the life that is acceptable to them.”
“What would that look like?” I ask, although I already know the answer.
“Trophy wife for Mark Williams,” she says softly. “A house in The Oaks, two kids, country club membership, and weekly charity events.”
There are very few people I hate in this life, but that fuckwit Mark Williams ranks at the top of the list. He’s a privileged, entitled piece of shit who thinks that every woman is fair game—whether they want him or not.
Yet, guys like me—tatted up and with a rap sheet that doesn’t include domestic violence or sexual assault—would never be welcomed into their ranks, much less allowed to date their daughters.
“Did you want that kind of life before you rebelled?” I have to admit it takes guts to do what Piper did. She defied her parents, and for someone who not even a few months ago was afraid of her own shadow, that’s a big fucking deal.
“I’ve never wanted that kind of life, but no one cares what I want,” she says, sounding so sad that I want to comfort her. To take her in my arms and swear to watch out for her always. It’s a sick obsession I have with her.
“I care,” I blurt before I can consider the ramifications.
Hope and wonder infuse her expression. She looks at me like I’ve just offered her the world, like I’m her knight in shining armor. Shit. I can’t have that.
“You do?” Slowly she places her hand over mine and squeezes lightly. “Then you know—you have to know—that I care about you, too. A lot.” She v
isibly swallows. “So much, Jase. I always have.”
I nod slowly, even as I know the words I’m about to utter will take that look of softness and hero worship out of her eyes for good. “Yeah, me, too. Why wouldn’t we care about each other—we’re like brother and sister. You were so good to me while I was in prison, sending care packages like you did.”
“Brother and sister?” She gives me a blank stare for a minute, then all the blood rushes from her face, leaving her pale. “I don’t—that’s not what I meant—I—no, I care—”
“Tonight, dinner’s on me, and I won’t take no for an answer.”
The light dims from her eyes. Her mouth drops open slightly before she snaps it shut. “Thank you,” she says tightly.
Our drinks are delivered to us along with a plate of bread sticks.
Feeling like a first-rate asshole, I take a drink of my beer and nod at the hostess, who hasn’t stopped staring at me since we walked in. I have to drive my point home with Piper. There is no us. No possibility of us. Ever. To think otherwise is an exercise in futility, no matter how much Piper can possibly argue against that.
Taking my nod as an invitation, the hostess saunters over to our table, places her hands on top, and leans forward so that I can get a better view of her tits. “Is there something you need, sir?”
“Your number,” I say, pulling out my cellphone and pushing it toward her. “I’m having a party next Friday night. Be there because things won’t be as good if you’re not.” Yeah, it’s a lame line, but honestly, my heart’s not in it. My brain’s not in it. My libido is not into it. I don’t give a good damn if she shows up or not.
“I can’t let that happen,” the hostess purrs. “I’ll be sure to bring some of my friends…if you don’t mind. I’m Georgia.”
“Not at all, Georgia. I’m Jase. This is my good friend, Piper.”
I hear a soft whimper and slice my gaze to Piper.
The pain on Piper’s face slays me. It hurts so fucking bad that I abruptly stop flirting and clear my throat. Piper becomes fascinated with the tablecloth and doesn’t say a word.
“Yeah, so anyway, if you want to come, then come.”
When We Fall Page 4