Jase had continually replayed the things they'd done together. The kissing, the touching. The way they'd writhed against each other. Afterward, as the days passed, his craving for her had begun to seem bottomless, endless, but so had his guilt. He wasn't right for her, and while he knew it, she didn't. Not yet.
He wasn't just a petty con man, like her uncle. He was a murderer. There'd never been a stronger deal breaker.
Plus, he lost complete awareness of his surroundings whenever he put his hands on her, and for someone who liked to stay on guard at all times, that left him exposed. In more ways than one.
Despite all of that, he wanted her. And now she wanted a night with him. He only wished she had demanded more for herself. More from him.
Complaining? Seriously?
Soon he would have her, all of her, and nothing else mattered. His gaze made another mad dash for the clock. Only five. Damn it!
Brook Lynn puttered around in the kitchen, preparing dinner. The smell of home surrounded him--something that was brand-new to him but quickly becoming familiar--a little sweet, a little spicy. He fell on the couch, propping his elbows onto his knees and resting his head in his upraised hands. He was going to have a heart attack before he got her naked, wasn't he?
And how the hell was he supposed to sit across from her at the table, knowing she ached for him?
He should have carried her to his bedroom the second she'd given him her gift. Like an idiot gentleman, he'd decided to wait, unwilling to let her feel cheap or as if he was paying her for sex. He couldn't offer to give her the day off, because she would just refuse payment for work she hadn't done, and the girl needed every cent she could get. Especially since she kept attempting to pay him back for the hospital bill.
He'd lost track of the number of times she'd stuffed bills in remote places, just as he'd expected. Kitchen drawers, under his bed, in his clothes. Every time he found one, he doubled it and stuffed it at the bottom of her purse or somewhere in her car.
The front door opened. West and Beck walked in, returning from a day at the office. They stopped when they spotted him.
West appeared unkempt, his hair sticking out in spikes, his shirt unbuttoned to the center of his chest and a rip in one of his sleeves. Beck was just as unkempt, but he had lipstick on his collar.
"What's wrong?" they demanded in unison.
"I'm dying of hunger," Jase replied, and it was true--just not the kind of hunger they might think. "What's up with you guys? Something happen?"
A muscle jumped in Beck's jaw. "You don't want to know."
"I went to a bar," West said, defensive. "Big deal."
"You also punched me while I was making out with your waitress," Beck said.
"Only the second and third time. You kept drinking the shots she brought me."
"None of which you needed."
"And you did?"
"Boys," Jase said. "Brook Lynn is cooking our dinner. Don't scare her away." Please. He needed her afterward.
"Dinner?" Beck brightened. "Brook Lynn Dillon," he called, striding into the kitchen, all else forgotten. "You need to speed things up before Jase faints like a delicate Georgia peach."
West remained with Jase. Shadows drifted through his already dark eyes as he eased onto the couch. The scent of alcohol was so strong it actually stung Jase's nostrils.
"What's really going on with you?" West asked quietly.
I'm in too deep with a woman I can't keep. "Don't want to talk about it." West had his own problems.
"Fair enough. But you should know bottling it inside will do you no good."
"Believe me, I do know."
West laughed, and there was a bitter tinge to it. "Yeah. You know better than me."
He couldn't help tying everything back to the time Jase had served--that he had not. "You've got to let that go, my man."
"Maybe in another six months."
He'd sentenced himself to ten years? "What about time already served? What about time off for good behavior?" Jase bumped his friend's shoulder. "I don't blame you, you know."
"You should. I could have knocked years off your sentence if I'd just come forward."
Beck's throaty laughter boomed from the kitchen and into the living room; Brook Lynn's sweet, husky chuckle soon followed. A dark wave of jealousy crashed through Jase. The two were certainly enjoying each other's company.
Were they interested in each other?
He stopped breathing. He wasn't sure why he'd never thought of that before. Beck loved a fresh conquest more than anything. And what if Brook Lynn was interested in Beck and Jase, as Jessie Kay had been?
Jase thought back. He'd noticed Brook Lynn's tendency to leave something new at the house every day. A pot holder hanging on a cabinet door. Curtain ties in the living room. A scented candle on the windowsill. He'd never rebuked her, had just assumed she'd hoped to make things more palatable for him, a little at a time. But what if she'd been making things more palatable for Beck? Perhaps gently nudging him into accepting change.
Wouldn't matter, he decided, eased only slightly. Beck knew Jase had staked a claim. Even if he'd denied it all along, the guy had eyes and half a brain. His friend would never make a move.
"Jase?"
West was here. Right. Jase uncurled his fists and said, "If I'd had a scholarship, you would have done the same for me."
"Yes, but you also wouldn't have blown the scholarship."
"What makes you think so? My stunning success in every area of my life? My Fortune 500 job? My fairy-tale relationship? My brilliant mental health?"
West snorted, some of the darkness at last shaking off him. "Dude, you totally suck. I'm not sure how I've remained friends with you so long."
"You can't get enough of my sparkling wit."
"Yeah." A warm smile from West. "That's got to be it."
"Dinner's ready," Brook Lynn called.
Jase practically leaped to his feet.
"Uh, a little too eager there, champ?" West asked.
"You have no idea."
In the kitchen, Brook Lynn wouldn't look at him. She smoothed a lock of hair from her brow, a rosy blush spreading over her cheeks. Beck didn't seem to notice, or care, while Jase's body practically went up in flames.
"Everyone take a place at the table," she instructed.
Throughout the meal, she shifted in her seat and blushed. She's thinking of what's to come... Her reaction fed his, strengthening it. He wasn't sure how much longer he could last without putting his hands on her.
Beck stuffed his face, still unconcerned, but West glanced between Jase and Brook Lynn countless times, finally arching a brow in question, all I wonder what you two will be doing later.
Jase flipped him off.
Brook Lynn pretended to eat.
"You guys are acting weird," West said, tone sly. "Are you not hungry, Jase, when just a short while ago you were nothing but a ravenous pig?"
Jase kicked him under the table.
West spilled his water, impact causing his glass to slip from his hand. In an act of revenge, he silkily asked, "Or are you hungry for something other than food?"
"What! No!" Brook Lynn burst out. "Shut up."
"He's subtly inquiring whether or not you plan to screw Jase's brains out," Beck said, reaching for another scoop of casserole. "I say go for it. If I were a girl, I'd already have tapped that."
Brook Lynn snatched the ladle out of his hand. "Bad Beck. Bad, bad, bad. I will not reward you for sticking your nose where it doesn't belong."
"But...but..." the guy stuttered. "I'm still hungry."
Jase tossed down his napkin, saying, "All right. Come on, honey. You and I need to talk. In private."
"While you're having your chat," Beck called, "don't forget to punish her for speaking to your friend so rudely. And wear a condom."
*
JASE PRESSED HIS back against the closed bedroom door as Brook Lynn sat at the edge of his bed...the very bed in which he'd rolled around with
Jessie Kay before he'd acted as her very own orgasmic scratch pad. The urge to throw up battled with the urge to be held, leaving her confused and vulnerable. Was she really going to do this? Give him a chance to compare her to Jessie Kay? To find her, the less experienced one, lacking?
Maybe she should just go home.
Good plan. Did she seriously want a meaningless one-night stand? Simply for the chance to change Jase's mind about relationships and prove they could have something special? That they could have more?
She stood.
"Leaving already?" He swiped up a remote and switched on the radio. Soft rock poured from the surround sound as he met her gaze.
"Yes. No. Oh, I don't know." Even as she spoke, the tension between them expanded, thickening, until it was difficult to breathe, to focus on anything but Jase and what she yearned to do to him...what she yearned to have him do to her.
"Wrong answer." He crossed his arms, cotton pulling tight over his biceps. "I didn't want to have to remind you of this, but you signed a legal and binding contract, honey. If you don't give me the night of sexual bliss you promised me, I'll be forced to sue you for everything you've got. And that would be a shame, because I only want the best for you--and for you to take off all your clothes."
The teasing helped relax her. "Court, huh? Why don't you tell me your opening argument?" She returned to the bed and reclined, resting her weight on her elbows. "Convince me you've got a case."
He removed his shirt--as any good attorney would have done--and the absolute maleness of him staggered her. The incomparable ropes of muscles. The glimmer of his bronze skin. The delicious plethora of tattoos.
Tonight I'll study every design. Trace them with my tongue. She shivered.
"Are you ready?" he asked.
"Ready," she replied, breathless.
He cleared his throat. "Your Honor," he said and paced in front of her, the panther-like grace of him making her shiver all over again. "I want something more than I've ever wanted anything else. It's been promised to me, and it would be cruel and unusual punishment if it was taken away from me."
He paused to glance at her.
He wanted her more than anything? "Appealing to the judge's sense of compassion," she said with a nod. "Nice try. Unfortunately for you, I've heard this particular judge is a coldhearted witch."
The flash of a smile before his eyes hooded. "Perhaps I should show the judge what I'm bringing to the table."
"Permission to approach the bench," she said, crooking her finger at him.
He closed the distance, his hands at his sides. Her heart drummed as butterflies danced excitedly through her veins.
When he stopped between her legs, she sat up as if pulled by a rope. Trembling, she flattened her palms on his chest, over the most detailed map she'd ever seen. It covered one of his pecs, the lines of it somehow raised.
Not somehow. They weren't an illusion caused by the ink--they were scars. More scars than she could count without intense study.
She knew so little about this man, she realized. Well, other than the fact that he had a lot of secrets, clearly more than she'd ever suspected. And they were violent secrets, steeped in bloodshed. But she also knew he was a good guy, strong and capable, and right now, that was enough.
Besides, she could guess he'd gotten the wounds while in the military--he'd never confirmed nor denied her suspicions, so she was running with it. As tough as he was, he could have been Special Forces.
And how sexy was that? Proving just how much of a protector he really was.
Next to the map was a tree with olives of some type, black birds perched on the branches. There was also a redbud, the root of it sinking past the waist of his pants. And on his side was a cross with crimson flowing down it, pooling to spell the word Strength.
She stroked the insides of the map first, her trembling getting worse. His muscles jumped at the moment of contact. The heat of him delighted her, burned away the rest of her resistance. She leaned forward to kiss and lick her way to the upper edge of the olive tree.
His fingers entwined with her hair, holding her close. She sucked on his nipple, nibbled, and he hissed in a breath. He captured one of her hands, brought it to his lips and kissed her knuckles, ever the gentleman--before tracing his fingers along her jaw, down her neck and cupping her nape, ever the possessor.
"How long has it been for you, honey?"
"Four years," she answered honestly and pulled her gaze from his chest to peer up at his face. His expression had softened yet again, only this time he looked as if he'd melted with tenderness.
Jase ghosted his fingertips over her cheek before crouching in front of her. "I'll take good care of you." He gripped the hem of her shirt and lifted, her hair tumbling around her shoulders as he discarded the material.
"Just a plain white bra," she said apologetically, unable to hide the new flood of nervousness, hating that the undergarment wasn't fancy and pink. Or red. Yeah. Definitely red.
"My new favorite." He unhooked the center, and the straps fell down her arms. "Been dying for these ever since you flashed me. More so since I had them in my hands."
Cool air caused her nipples to harden almost painfully. He traced the pads of his thumbs over them, twin lances of pleasure shooting through her.
"Just so you know," he said, "I've been tested since--since my last lover. I'm clean."
His last lover. Her sister? She hadn't even thought to ask.
Stupid! "Me, too," she said. "Before you, I was only with one other...but he moved away...college... We didn't want to try the long-distance-relationship thing." Stop babbling! "We always used a condom."
More tenderness from him. "Only one man?"
"A boy, really." She combed her fingers through his hair, urging him to bend down and take her lips, but he kept going lower, fitting his mouth over one of her nipples. His tongue flicked it, readying it, before he sucked on her. A fever flushed her skin, liquefied her bones and short-circuited her thoughts.
"Jase." Just then, it was the only word she was capable of saying.
He flicked and sucked faster, harder, while working at the waist of her shorts. As soon as the button and zipper gave way, he leaned away from her to yank the material down her legs. When the edge caught on her sandals, he removed them, too.
Her new outfit? A pair of panties and a full-body blush. The momentary self-confidence crash faded as he urged her to her back, to the cool sheets and the soft luxury of the mattress. A second later, his hard body was pinning her down. As heavy with muscle as he was, he had to shift to the side to keep from crushing her.
She loved his nearness, even as it struck a new chord of desire in her. To have this, him, at least once a day. Like breakfast, the most important meal. "Kiss me," she said.
He fit his legs between hers and placed one of her knees against his hip, his mouth finding...her breast again, laving her nipple with even more wicked attention.
"Not...there... Oh!" The alignment of his hardness to her aching softness allowed her to grind against him, slow, faster, until she was gasping out, desperate, needy, thrashing blindly.
He cupped her hip and forced her into a slower rhythm, even slower, so exquisitely slow. "Like that," he praised.
"Yes, yes." Every point of contact took her to a newer height of awareness. Her nails sank into his back, probably drew blood, but he must have liked it because a groan left him.
"What are you doing to me, angel?" He licked and nibbled his way to her neck, sucked, and it felt too good to worry about any lingering marks people would see.
"Jase." There was his name again, escaping of its own accord. A plea or a demand, she wasn't sure which. "Kiss me."
Once again he obeyed, but once again it wasn't where she'd meant. He drew his lips along the line of her jaw, nipped at her earlobe--the implants! She stiffened.
"No," she said, gripping his chin to hold him back.
His gaze flashed fire at her. "Let me."
"No," she rep
eated.
He cupped her between the legs, the heel of his hand pressing where she ached the most. "Let me, and I'll give you more of this."
"No," she said on a moan. Her legs parted wider, granting him better access, but he took his hand away. Oh! Dang him. If he wanted to kiss her ears, fine. He could kiss her ears. Just as long as he continued touching her.
She removed her hand from his chin, and he nuzzled all around the implant, not stopping until she relaxed into the mattress, actually...enjoying the attention. Who knew ears could be such an erogenous zone? As she arched into him, silently demanding the return of his hand, just as he'd promised, he switched tracks and licked his way to the cord of her neck, where he bit.
Raw sensation poured through her. He kneaded her breasts until every touch was like a jolt of electricity, and when she was writhing, incoherent, he slid his fingers down the center of her stomach, stopping to play at her navel, teasing her with what could be.
"Jase, please. It's good. So good, but...but you promised."
"I'll keep my promise, angel." He slid his fingers under her panties, where she was wet and needy.
"Yes!" She arched her back. "Kiss me."
He returned his attention to her neck. Again, not what she'd meant or needed, but she figured out why he kept doing it. He thought to resign her to the same forgettable fate as the ones who'd come before her.
She framed his face, met his gaze. Those emerald eyes, so bright, simmering with passion. "Kiss me."
He stared at her lips with a hunger only the most deprived ever experienced while his fingers continued to stroke between her legs--it was almost more than she could bear.
"Brook Lynn." Never had her name sounded quite so tortured.
She traced her tongue along the seam of her mouth--then his. "I want to taste you while you play with me."
He groaned, a sound of animal hunger. "I shouldn't have kissed you before. It's better if I don't..."
"To remind your women that the sex means nothing to you. I know."
His fingers stilled. "In a way, yes, but also--"
"I don't need the reminder," she rushed out. Let me pretend...continue to hope. She nipped his chin. "Please. Kiss me, and I'll make you so glad you did." As she spoke, she moved her hand between them, down the waist of his pants. Burrowed under his underwear and found his long, hard and extra-large length inside--he hadn't just been bragging about his size. Hot beads of moisture seeped from the tip.
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