Pure Wicked: A Wicked Lovers Novella (1001 Dark Nights)

by Black, Shayla

  “So…since you saved me from social hell tonight, are you expecting money?”

  If she only knew how much he didn’t need it. “Nope.”

  “Sex?” She quirked a brow at him.

  Jesse couldn’t help but smile. “I wouldn’t turn it down…”

  “Oh, yeah?” Her smile dipped. “And you’re not interested in Presleigh?”

  “God, no. She’s pretty in that plastic way, like a Barbie doll. Sure, she’s cute and has a nice bod. But I’ve met a million girls like her. She’s not interesting.”

  “And I am?” Bristol quizzed, looking a bit skeptical.

  “So far, yeah.”

  “You don’t really know me,” she pointed out.

  “Fair enough. But you seem real. Unlike your sister, it’s pretty clear you didn’t spend all afternoon preening in front of the mirror and dressing for attention.”

  “What does that mean? Maybe I did.”

  “I guess that messy ponytail with the chunk that didn’t make it up—nice scrunchie, by the way—was on purpose. And who wants to wear a skirt so short that a stiff breeze could reveal your underwear when you could go the rumpled jeans route? Much sexier. And that patch of flour on your neck here.” He swept his fingers over the spot and felt her pulse jump. “Hmm, honey. It’s a turn-on.”

  She gave a tsk of self-disgust and swiped at the flour, then dragged the elastic band covered in pink polka-dotted fabric from her hair. The multi-hued brown strands bounced past her shoulders and brushed her arms, the ends a shade much closer to blond. It wasn’t any sort of ombre dye job, simply a natural byproduct of the sun. Her tresses framed her delicate face.

  “Okay, so I’m not Vogue ready.”

  “But like I said, you are pretty, no matter what you’re wearing,” he told her. “You know, since I’m your boyfriend for the evening, I should know more about you. I mean, in case people ask? At least the vitals.”

  “That’s a point. My mother may have paused her interrogation, but she’ll be back.” She seemed to gather her thoughts. “I’m twenty-four, my middle name is Alexa. My dad died when I was ten. We used to bake together when I was a kid. I dropped out of college in my sophomore year to start a little coffeehouse in my hometown called Sweet Cinns. Making ends meet each month is touch and go, but I love what I do and wouldn’t change a thing. What about you?”

  “I’m still trying to find myself. I got a GED at sixteen. I had this crazy idea, but it didn’t work out the way I thought. So…right now, I’m seeing the country and trying to figure out where to go next. Where’s your hometown?” He changed the subject before she could ask him for details.

  “Lewisville. That’s in Arkansas, about thirty miles east. You’ve never heard of it.”

  “I haven’t,” he admitted.

  “It’s a tiny town, so small that we had to come here to find a restaurant big enough for the party.”

  “Do you have a lot of competition in the restaurant biz there?”

  “Well, it’s not like Starbucks has come to town, so that helps. But we also don’t have a morning rush hour. I’d love to have cars wrapped around the building, but it isn’t equipped with a drive-thru. No other place in town is open for breakfast or makes everything from scratch. I don’t stay open for dinner because I can’t compete with Burge’s Pit Bar-B-Q or Scooter’s Pizza Shack.”

  He nodded as they meandered closer to the band. “Wise business decision. I’ll bet your goodies are delicious. I’d love a taste.”

  His voice had gone low and husky, and Jesse wondered if she’d heard it.

  She raised her gaze to him, lashes fluttering flirtatiously. “Is that right? Well, my hot buns are fabulous.”

  “I have no doubt they are.” He winked. When she giggled, he wished he could stay around long enough to take a bite of whatever she offered.

  A few moments later, the collection of musicians grabbed their instruments and started playing a lively contemporary country love song with a three-four meter. It wasn’t like anything he played in his vault of songs.

  “Dance with me?” he asked, stopping at the edge of the floor and drawing her closer.

  “You waltz?”

  Not really. “Sure.”

  Mostly, he just wanted to hold her close.

  She bit her lip. “I’m not much of a dancer.”

  “I’m pretty decent. I’ll go easy on you. Say yes.” He skimmed a palm down her back.

  She exhaled, her breath shaky. Her stare never left his face. “Okay. They’re your toes.”

  “You’ll do great.”

  Jesse took her hand in his and brought her closer. Every one of her curves seemed to align perfectly with him, each contour fitting to his like pieces of a puzzle. That sounded cheesy, even in his own head, but he’d never been more aware of a woman’s every dip and swell, of his heart racing simply because she stood near and their palms touched. He wasn’t at the eighth grade formal, slow-dancing with a girl for the very first time. He’d long ago lost track of how many women he’d slept with. But she made everything seem new again.

  Were his palms actually sweating?

  They fell in time to the music together, Jesse mimicking the sort of waltz his grandparents used to dance. Bristol seemed a bit stiff at first, but with every step she relaxed more into his arms.

  “Where did you learn to dance?” she asked.

  He couldn’t say that his very first manager had hired dance instructors to work with him to perfect his on-stage moves and that, more recently, he’d hired a “male entertainer” to show him how to make his moves sexier. Instead, he opted for something he could tell her.

  “My grandparents owned an Arthur Murray dance studio. I spent my summers there. When I was thirteen, I thought it would be the happening place to pick up girls, so I paid attention. I learned a lot.”

  “I’ll bet you were smooth even back then.”

  “I thought I was.” He smiled at her. “I see the pictures now and think ‘dork in braces.’”

  She laughed. “I can’t imagine it.”

  “True story.”

  Because he wasn’t digging even the small bit of distance between them, Jesse flattened his palm to her back, sliding down to the sway in her spine, bringing her petite frame and sweet curves even closer. He didn’t usually have any trouble controlling his cock. Now it had a mind of its own, and he ached to slide all of her against every inch of him too badly to care if she felt that.

  When he arched into her, she gasped, then flattened herself against him. The friction as they swayed together blew his mind. She glanced up at him, and he curled a finger under her chin to bring her face beneath his. He really had to restrain himself from grabbing her ass. Public displays didn’t bother him but that sort of thing might bug her. And he wasn’t supposed to be drawing attention to himself.

  “If you don’t want me to kiss you, say something now.”

  “I…I can’t.”

  Jesse eased back, trying not to let the surprisingly visceral disappointment consume him. “You can’t let me kiss you?”

  “No, I can’t say anything.”

  His entire body tensed. He wanted to throw her to the ground and get inside her in the next thirty seconds. Sure he liked sex. Loved it. But this compulsion to take off Bristol’s clothes and make her scream out his name seemed way beyond any normal urge.

  He took her face in his hands. God, she was so small in his grip. Delicate. Lovely. Her stare clung to him, her green eyes so open and earnest. She wasn’t playing a game, wasn’t merely interested in him because of who he was. She seemed to like him.

  Now was a really crappy time to decide that he seriously liked a girl. Jesse knew he should walk away. But Deke had advised him to make all the parts of his life meaningful. Bristol Reese might be the most meaningful thing he’d felt in years.

  Chapter Three

  Bristol fought to catch her breath. When Jamie cradled her face and looked into her eyes as if nothing in his life meant more than th
is kiss, an electric spark had sizzled down her spine. The answering jolt darkened his hungry stare.

  She hadn’t felt important to anyone since her father. She wasn’t unhappy being alone, but her ill-fated relationship with Hayden had taught her that she couldn’t play second best anymore. Looking back, she saw that he’d always gravitated to Presleigh. Too often, he’d been happy to forego an evening with her to have dinner with her mother and sister. Jamie could care less that her beauty queen sibling was anywhere in the building.

  “Good. I’m going to kiss you.” His voice sounded husky, rough. His grip on her tightened as if he didn’t want to let her go. “I’m going to make you open to me so I can taste every corner of your mouth. I want to know what it feels like when you melt against me and moan in surrender.”

  Her heart picked up speed until she could hear its beating in her ears. “Sure of yourself, aren’t you?”

  He shook his head. “I’m banking on the hope that this pull I’m feeling toward you isn’t one-sided. The way you’re looking at me says it’s not. If I’m wrong, tell me.”

  “You’re not,” she breathed. “This is crazy. We met an hour ago.” But she still felt as if she knew him in some weird way on a soul-deep level. Jamie made her hormones swirl and did something she couldn’t quite classify to her heart. Walking away from him now simply because they hadn’t had a requisite date at Chili’s before sharing a movie didn’t make sense. It didn’t have any bearing on whether they slipped into bed.

  Hadn’t she vowed earlier to have flings? Jamie seemed as if he’d qualify as the perfect one.

  He leaned closer, his gaze focused on hers as his lids shut. Her breathing stopped. Her heartbeat stuttered, then lurched. Bristol wanted to know how being close to him would feel. He wasn’t her “type” and that didn’t seem to matter at all.

  “Bristol?” She’d know that sharp voice anywhere.

  “Yes, Mama?”

  “Hayden and Presleigh have a few words to say to everyone. And she’d like you to pass out the cookies.”

  “Damn it,” she muttered under her breath. When Jamie smiled down at her, his hands still cupping her face, his warmth went a long way to squelching her disappointment. He wasn’t letting her mother ruin their first kiss. She wouldn’t either. “I’ll be right there.”

  “And Aunt Jean wants to know what she’s doing wrong with her chocolate sheet cake.”

  “I’ll bet she tried to use two-percent instead of buttermilk again,” she murmured to Jamie. “Sure thing. I’ll be right there.”

  The sound of her mother’s heels clicking away was a relief.

  “Does she do that a lot?” he asked.

  “Interrupt my love life. No. I don’t have much of one.”

  “Excuse me while I have a Neanderthal moment and tell you I’m glad to hear that.” He chuckled. “I meant does she try to direct you.”

  Bristol rolled her eyes. “All the time. She’s from a really old-fashioned family. If you’re not a wife and mother, you’re not really an adult. There’s no such thing as being a single woman who can look after herself in this neck of the woods.”

  “I’ll bet you have an independent streak.”

  “Always have,” she said wryly. “But I need to get back or she’ll badger me.”

  “Then let’s go.” He took her hand and led her toward the others.

  “Thanks for not bailing.”

  He scoffed comically. “I’m your boyfriend for the night. What kind of asshole would that make me to dump you in the middle of a party?”

  “Someone more similar to Hayden than I’d like.”

  He laughed. “Not the image I’m going for.”

  As they reached the gathering, Presleigh was still clinging to Hayden as if he was her sun and moon. He flashed a smile down at her, as if he wanted everyone to know that he was enamored with his bride-to-be. Bristol had once seen that expression directed at her, and she wondered what her younger sister would do if someone new caught his eye.

  Presleigh spotted her and smiled. “Thank you, everyone, for coming. Invitations are in the mail, but Bristol also made delicious cookies and frosted them with our wedding date. She’s so clever.” Her sister sent her an earnest expression. “In fact, she’s one of the most important people in my life. Bris, I’m hoping you’ll be my maid of honor.”

  Bristol felt her eyes widen and tried to keep the horror off her face. Wasn’t it enough that she’d given Presleigh her man and baked her engagement cookies? Now she had to stand next to her sister as she married the man who had once been hers?

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” Jamie muttered under his breath.

  “I thought you wanted me to bake your cake.” Bristol didn’t know what else to say.

  “I do,” Presleigh assured with an excited shake of her head. “But you’ve always stood next to me in childhood. I want you to stand beside me as I become a wife.”

  “It would mean a lot to both of us,” Hayden added.

  Was this really happening? “Didn’t you already ask your friend Shea?”

  “Yeah, but she and Corey”—she pointed at Hayden’s friend—“had that ugly breakup. Now they won’t even speak two words to each other. I finally decided that it was fate telling me that you should be the one to stand beside me. Mama is going to walk me down the aisle since Daddy isn’t here. Please… It will be perfect.”

  What a lovely piece of emotional blackmail, wheedling in front of almost everyone she knew so that she’d look like a bitch if she refused. Never mind that she was apparently second choice. “Um…”

  “I’ve already picked out a dress and ordered it. It will fit perfectly and look fantastic. Please…”

  It would probably look awful since she and Presleigh had polar opposite tastes. Bristol took a deep breath. It didn’t matter. As Daddy had always said, family was family—and they came first. As much as she didn’t want to do this, Bristol also didn’t want to start a family feud over her pride.

  “All right. I’ll do it.”

  Jamie scoffed beside her. Yeah, she would have liked a graceful way out of this mess, too. But this commitment would last one day, over and done. Then she would step back and let Hayden and her sister live their lives.

  “Thanks, Bris.” Presleigh looked as if she was going to tear up. “It means so much to me.”

  Bristol smiled and tried to make it look genuine. “You’re welcome. On that note, the cookies are in the storage container in front of you if you’d like to pass them out.”

  “They’re your cookies. Don’t you want to?” Her sister looked confused.

  Her ego could pass up the stroke of hearing the cookies were pretty. A sugary shortbread topped with white icing and black piping to draw the June calendar, the treats had come out well.

  “I’m good.” Bristol shook her head. “Jamie and I are going now.”

  If he seemed surprised by her proclamation, he didn’t show it.

  When her mother scowled in disapproval, Jamie acted as if her sour expression didn’t exist. “She promised to spend some time with me since we’re still getting to know one another.” He reached across the table and snagged a cookie out of the red plastic container. “Nice to meet you all.”

  With that, he grabbed her purse from the table and led her out of the restaurant, taking a big bite of the pastry as they hit the door. Just outside, he stopped completely and moaned. “Oh, my god. Are you kidding me? This is a foodgasm. Amazing.”

  She grinned up at him. “Did you doubt me?”

  “If I ever did, I won’t do it again.” He moaned once more. “I understand why Jayla manipulated you for cookies. I may have to learn strategy from her.”

  He wouldn’t be around that long since she only did temporary relationships now, but that was all right. He could flirt all he wanted. “How about an ooey-gooey cinnamon roll? They’re what I’m known for. I’ll make you a pan…” She took a deep breath. “If you’re still with me come morning.”

  He froz
e altogether again—everything except his eyes. They came absolutely alive. Dark, focused, demanding as he scanned her face to see if she was serious. God, he really was hot. She couldn’t wait to see him without the black skullcap, without the clothes that hid what she felt sure would be a breath-stealingly hard body. Not to mention that he was funny and nice and…seemingly on the same wavelength as her.

  “Your place?” he asked.

  “Is that a yes?”

  He grabbed her shoulders, pressing their foreheads together. “That’s a hell yes. Lead the way. I’ll follow you on my bike.”

  Bristol didn’t wait for Jamie to change his mind. She dug her keys from her purse and leveled him with a sexy stare full of come-hither. “Keep up.”

  “I will,” he vowed. “Then once I have you naked and under me, I’ll get deep inside and fill you up. You won’t have a single regret.”

  Bristol refused to regret anything. She was determined they would make this a night to remember.

  She hopped in her car, and he followed her on some sleek black-and-chrome motorcycle. Watching him lean over the machine, his thighs hugging the bike as it roared and purred, seeing him handle it with an enticing male grace and agility, totally revved her desire. She’d always dated seemingly good guys…who never turned out to be quite as good as she’d believed. Jamie was all bad boy.

  Bristol couldn’t wait.

  A few miles shy of Lewisville, her phone rang. Jayla’s contact appeared, and she answered the call right away. “Hey!”

  “I tried to save you, but your mama wouldn’t listen.”

  “Save me?” Her stomach tightened with worry. “Uh oh. What does that mean?”

  “She wants you to come to dinner on Tuesday night—and to bring Jamie.”

  “No. Absolutely not. He’s my Saturday night fling.”

  “Well, your mama thinks he’s your new man.”

  “And whose fault is that?” Bristol groused. “So he and I will have to break up before then.”

  Jayla got quiet. That was never a good sign.

  “Spit it out. What’s the issue?”

  “Your mama invited half of Lewisville, and the townsfolk are starting to think that you’re not interested in hanging onto a man.”