Need You Now

by Lisa Renee Jones

  “Danny!”

  “Katie,” I say, one part relieved and one part disappointed. “Where are you?”

  “Vegas,” she declares. “I got married!” Her tone turns serious. “And don’t freak. I’m not coming back to work, Danny. I’m going on the road with David.”

  A million objections die on my lips, killed by two words. I’m married. Nothing else I can say matters and I worry for her, but I celebrate with her as well. By the time we say good-bye, I end the call feeling lost and hurt, not from Katie, but from Jensen. Somehow, impossibly, a man I barely know has gotten to me. Refusing to let that turn to tears, telling myself this is really embarrassment and not real pain, I decide a walk on the beach will do a lot to clear my head.

  Pushing to my feet, I pass through the living area decorated in tropical floral colors that really do not scream luxury as they should and enter the bedroom. Opening my suitcase where it sits on a luggage rack beside an unimpressive bamboo-framed bed, I dig out the pair of shorts I brought with me and a tank top. Quickly changing, I glance at the clock, noting the ten o’clock hour, and fit my cell phone in my pocket for safety reasons. Next, I slip on flip-flops and head to the patio door. Knowing Jensen is next door with a patio as well, I opt to leave the lights out, not sure I want to see him right now. Or maybe the problem is that I want to see him so much and he clearly does not want to see me.

  Sliding open the glass, the ocean air gusts in my face, blowing my hair all about. I inhale and step outside into the pitch-dark starless night, closing the door shut behind me. Glancing to my right, I find Jensen’s patio attached to mine, and I think there’s a steel railing separating us, but it’s hard to tell in the dark. It doesn’t matter. I’m avoiding him, moving forward past a table to lean on the part of the steel railing lining the beach. I can’t see the water, but I hear the waves, and I’m not sure I can go to the beach without a flashlight I don’t have. Shutting my eyes, I focus again on the waves crashing to the shore, and I start to count them, letting them soothe me.

  A sound to my right snaps my eyes open. I turn and blink, bringing a shadowy figure on the next patio into view.

  “Jensen?”

  “Yes.” The shadows shift and he steps to the part of the rail separating us.

  Smashing the nerves in my stomach, I take slow steps and join him, my hands coming down on the rail. His do the same, framing mine but not touching me. His shirt is unbuttoned, as if he was undressing when he stepped outside.

  I want him to touch me.

  And yet like so many times today, neither of us move. I can’t think. I can’t breathe. I’ve never been so alive and on edge. And then it happens. The movement. His movement. He grabs me and the next thing I know, he’s lifting me over the divider and pulling me against him.

  Part Eight: Rules Are Made To Be Broken

  My feet have not even hit the ground when his hand is at the back of my head, his mouth slanting over mine, and he is kissing me. Deep, passionate kissing. I wrap my arms around his neck, pressing into him, embracing him and the moment, unwilling to face tomorrow with the same regrets of today. I never let go of my control, never indulge or feel anything, especially sex, without reservations. But tonight, with this man, I want and need him in ways I never believed I’d ever experience. Maybe it’s because we’re each other’s forbidden fruit, or maybe it’s simply how scorching hot he truly is. Whatever the case, if I go home tomorrow, it will be knowing I experienced everything with him and more.

  Jensen’s hand flattens on my lower back, molding my hips to his hips, my bare thighs to his thighs, and I melt into the hard lines of his body, my fingers lacing at his nape. His tongue licks deeper into my mouth, and that now familiar rich male taste of him, teasing my senses, drives me crazy. Every nerve ending in my body is alive, and when his hand skims up my ribcage, the mere brush of his fingers on the curve of my breast has me moaning, my sex tingling and far too empty.

  He seems to react to my pleasure, a low, rough sound slipping from his throat as he tangles deliciously rough fingers into my hair and presses his mouth to my ear. “You’re mine tonight,” he all but growls. “Don’t even think about leaving this time.”

  His words stroke through me as if they are his fingers or his tongue, and there is no question. This man possesses that certain something that calls to the woman in me. That something I didn’t even know existed until here and now.

  “No,” he assures me, his fingers tightening in my hair, tugging just enough to send a dart of heat straight to my sex. “You’re not.” He kisses me again, and he tastes like passion, like raw sexuality, and my fingers somehow find their way to the springy, dark hair on his broad, hard chest, and there is nothing in that moment but him. The heat of his body, the hardness of his chest. The way his hands are all over me, everywhere, anywhere.

  Somehow, I end up against a wall, the rough brick scraping my shoulders, but I don’t care. I just want Jensen. I want him in a way I don’t remember wanting ever before. I simply want to be lost here, in the deep shadows of the night, with him kissing me and touching me, his big, hard body covering mine. And I am lost, fading into the sensations, the passion, and somehow, my shirt is gone. His shirt is gone. His hands have replaced my bra, cupping my breasts, and there is no question about where this is going. It’s all the way, everywhere, anywhere.

  I moan as his head dips low, lips, teeth, and tongue teasing a path down my neck and collarbone until he finds my nipple. The fingers of one of my hands slide into his hair, my other hand pressing against his zipper to stroke the hard ridge of his erection. There is no shyness in me, no holding back. Jensen doesn’t feel like the stranger he had last night. He doesn’t feel like a mistake.

  “Jensen,” I whisper, planning to plea for all of him, here, now, but he swallows my words, his tongue, his talented, wicked tongue, delving into my mouth, and this kiss is darker than before, deeper. This is a claiming and there is nothing sweet or gentle about it. And I don’t want gentle. I want wild, intense, wildly hot. I want the kind of escape I never dare allow myself.

  His hands go to my face, and he tears his mouth from mine, nipping at my bottom lip. “Tonight, after the one orgasm comes another orgasm. And another.” He sinks to one knee and presses fingers to my shorts, stroking the seam, teasing me with what will come next. My head settles against the bricks behind me, and I let him unzip my shorts, tugging them down my hips.

  “Step,” he commands, and I do as ordered, more than eager to rid myself and us of the remaining barriers. His lips touch my belly, his finger caressing a line over the lace trim of my panties where they rest on my belly. My lashes flutter and then lift abruptly as voices sound nearby—too close—but Jensen ignores them, yanking away my panties, forcing me to bite my lip to keep silent. His hands settle at my hips and the voices continue, a man and a woman talking about something I can’t even try to process as Jensen’s lips touch my belly.

  A shiver of pure pleasure runs through me, my desire for him overcoming all else, though some logical part of me still fears being caught out here. The same part that knows I am naked on public property, probably breaking the law, but somehow, when his tongue delves into my belly button, my thighs are instantly slick, my sex clenches in need, and everything but me, him, and the crash of ocean waves fades.

  And he leaves me no time to allow otherwise, his lips trailing downward, a seductively slow journey, his newly formed whiskers rasping erotically on my delicate skin. I want him everywhere. I want him inside me, but my fantasy of erotic bliss bursts when the sound of female laughter blends with the sound of wind and waves.

  My body tenses, every muscle tight. “Easy, baby,” Jensen warns softly, his hand flattening on my belly. “No one can see us. The wind is carrying the voices.”

  “You’re sure?” I whisper the question, scanning the darkness for prying eyes.

  “Positive.”

  I inhale and let it out, nodding my acceptance, but the woman laughs softly and murmurs something
, and she sounds only a few feet away. My heart is drumming against my ribcage. Go away, I silently will the strangers. Please. Go Away. But they don’t listen, and I don’t want to think about them or anything but Jensen and how his fingers are dipping inside me, stroking me, teasing me. The man’s voice is louder now, breaking through the crashing waves, but Jensen’s actions overcome my nerves. His tongue, oh yes, his amazing tongue, just barely tickles my clit, a whispered touch that promises more and has me ready to scream with the frustration of not having it now. I try to remain silent, I try so very hard, but Jensen laps at my clit and a deep, drawn-out whimper escapes my lips.

  He reacts instantly, pushing to his feet, his mouth covering mine, his fingers still inside me, stretching me, his thumb playing on my clit. It all comes together as sensory overload and the soft, sweet promise of orgasm rises fast and hard. For just a moment, Jensen’s mouth leaves mine and I pant with the wicked ache of being so close to bliss but not there yet. Instantly, he is kissing me again, swallowing the sounds, and one more lick of his tongue and my sex spasms, clenching his fingers. Sensations rock me, shaking my body, blanking my mind, until I shudder to a final completion, my muscles going weak with the aftermath.

  “Next time you come, I’ll be inside you,” Jensen promises and the voices fade away, slipping out of my consciousness while our passion explodes.

  Suddenly, we are as wild as when I’d first come over that fence, kissing and touching, moaning, and there is the battle with his pants, followed by the tear of a condom wrapper that seems eternal. “Hurry,” I murmur, and he responds, pressing the thick pulse of his erection between my thighs as he cups my backside and he lifts me.

  My legs wrap his waist, and I anxiously close my hand around his shaft, guiding him inside me. Instantly, he pulls me down hard on top of him, until I have all of him, and then we are moving. I lift up and he drags me to him. Faster and harder, our pace is frenzied, our bodies grinding. Jensen shifts us for a better angle, pressing his back against the wall, his hips angled in a way so that he is almost in a squat as I ride him.

  I don’t know how he manages to hold us, but the sounds of his pleasure, low and guttural, drive me insane. They spike that extra edge of arousal I need and a tight ball of pressure in my lower belly begins to form, the beginnings, I am certain, of another orgasm. Desperate to be there, I lean into him, holding onto his neck, and that’s when those damn voices return, and this time they are so loud, they refuse to be dismissed. I jerk my head up at the realization they are coming from the patio to our right.

  “Easy,” Jensen whispers again, and even now, when we are a snap from getting busted, there is a calmness about him I find as intoxicating as I do the fact that he is buried deep inside me. Straightening, he quietly moves to the sliding glass door, curtains fluttering where the door is already open. Relief washes over me as we enter the privacy of the suite, directly inside the bedroom, the dim light from the living area casting us in a barely-there glow.

  Jensen leaves the door open, the curtains closed, carrying me to the bed and laying me down. Fisting his hands on the bed on either side of me, he leans over me. Our eyes collide, and our now familiar connection punches me in the chest. The impact has the room shifting and turning, my stomach fluttering in a way that simple sex does not create. I don’t know what is happening to me, what he is making me feel, but it terrifies me. He is sex, an escape, not someone to fall for. A man I know is here today, but I expect to be gone tomorrow, even if he does live in New York.

  “What are you thinking?”

  I open my mouth and shut it, playing the same proverbial dodge ball I had earlier. “Nothing I’m willing to say.”

  His hands slide up and down my legs, leaving goose bumps in their wake. “Then I’m clearly not doing a good job of being convincing.”

  “You’re pretty convincing,” I assure him breathlessly.

  “Irresistibly convincing is what I’m after.” His expression darkens wolfishly and he lifts my ankles to his shoulders, his gaze holding mine, almost in challenge. “And your pleasure, of course.” He thrusts into me, once, twice, again. I make sounds I don’t even recognize as coming from me. His sounds are so low and sexy they ensure I make more of my own. A few more thrusts and he lingers in a deep part of me, his jaw flexing, and he flattens his hands on the front of my thighs, slowly pulling back until he is barely inside me. Another teasing pause follows before he drives into me, pulling out and doing it again, over and over, and where there had been the crash of waves outside, here there is only his breathing, my breathing, and sex that is raw and brutal in the most arousing of ways.

  Our urgency builds, a tight knot of tension between us that we both seem to be trying to release. I lift my hips and he shifts his, his palm sliding under my backside, as he presses into a spot so sweet, I gasp and then tense, shocked as I am rocked into near orgasm. Another pump of his cock and “near” becomes “now.” My body tenses and my sex spasms around him. He flattens his hands on the back of my thighs instead of the front, anchoring me for a deeper thrust that has him shuddering his release with me.

  Time seems to fade in and out, my own pulse thrumming in my ears, a low animalistic sound coming from me or him, or both of us, and then there is just breathing. He lowers my legs and settles between them, his arms at my sides, his forehead on my belly. Slowly, my hands settle on his head, on the softness of his hair, and I feel this surprising level of comfort in the passing moment I don’t expect to feel. Neither of us rush to move, and my lashes are heavy, my body sated.

  Finally though, he shifts on top of me, and raises his head, announcing, “I think we have a problem, Danny.”

  My pulse leaps with the shock of his declaration. He’s not feeling the cool, calm connection of the after-sex bliss I am. He pushes off the bed and I prepare to scramble for a blanket, but don’t get the chance. He shocks me by shackling my wrist and pulling me to my feet with him.

  “What are you doing?” I ask, hoping this isn’t the moment he kicks me out. Would he do that? And how do I gracefully get my clothes from the patio and leave if he does?

  “I’m pretty sure my back is bleeding,” he announces, releasing me to grab a tissue from the nightstand he proceeds to use as he peels off the condom and turns to toss it in the trashcan.

  My eyes widen as I see his scraped, bleeding back and I step to him, grabbing more tissues to press them to the spot that is oozing. “Yes. You are. Oh God, Jensen. You’re a scraped mess.”

  He glances over his shoulder at me. “I’ll survive. I just don’t want to bleed all over the hotel room or you.”

  I peek under the tissue. “It’s not deep, but I think outdoor sex was a little more dangerous than we thought.”

  He drags me around in front of him. “It was a damn turn on is what it was, and worth a few scrapes.” He draws my hand in his. “Come shower with me.” His eyes light with mischief. “I need someone to wash my back.”

  I’m smiling as he drags me forward, relieved that sense of comfort I’d had with him had been real, but I dig in my heels at a ringing sound coming from the patio. “My phone. I need to answer that.” I tug on my hand, trying to free it, but he holds on.

  “You’re naked,” he reminds me. “I’ll get it for you.”

  “So are you,” I call out as he crosses the room, and good gosh, even naked, the man is all male grace and so much hot man, I feel like I didn’t just have two orgasms. “And you’re still bleeding.”

  His reply is not to reply. Ignoring me, he pushes back the curtain and disappears outside. I hug myself, holding my breath for fear he will be seen. In a few beats, he returns without obvious incident, shutting the door and locking it. Of course, my phone has stopped ringing but at least evidence of our little patio adventure has been removed.

  Sauntering forward, Jensen holds our clothes in front of him, blocking my full view of his glorious male body, stopping by the bed to toss the clothes on top. He offers me my phone, flicking a quick glance at the m
idnight hour on the bedside clock in the process, turning my earlier words on me with, “Who calls at this hour but a boyfriend or husband?”

  “Katie,” I say, before I glance down and confirm I’m right. “She eloped.”

  “Eloped,” he repeats. “Sounds like he decided not to let her be lonely anymore.”

  “I guess. It was sudden and it’s worrying me.” My phone beeps with a text message, and I read it out loud. Don’t be upset. I love you. Call you tomorrow.

  “Sometimes the spontaneous choices are the best choices. Didn’t we just prove that?”

  My stomach knots, and thoughts of tomorrow morning return like a Miley Cyrus wrecking ball in all their naked glory, and it ain’t pretty. “You still think this, us, tonight, was a good choice.”

  He takes the phone and tosses it on the bed with the clothes. “If you don’t know the answer to that, I still have work to do.” He laces his fingers with mine and leads me into the bathroom where he flips on the light.

  Never letting me go, as if he thinks I’ll make a run for it, he leads me across the massive bathroom of shiny white tile and tries to drag me into the shower. I stop and tug on his hand. He doesn’t give me a chance to ask if we were a mistake, rounding on me and cupping my face. “This was good. It is good. We just need to keep it between us. We have to agree on that. Otherwise, my judgment could be questioned and this deal to save Meredith’s operation could fall apart.”

  “I don’t want to get in the middle of the deal. If I need to leave—”

  “No. We’re here now, Danny, and we aren’t turning back. Hell, we were here the moment we met.”

  He tugs me forward again, and this time I let him lead me into the shower, both reveling in his words and rejecting them. Jensen stirs unfamiliar things in me, and I fear I’m going to fall and fall hard if I don’t put on the brakes. Instead, I let him wrap me in his arms, and I don’t even realize he’s reached behind me and turned on the water until an icy blast has us both gasping.