by Zoe York
He ground his back teeth together and gripped the zipper pull in one hand and a pinch of the dress fabric in the other. “Going on the prowl tonight, Cass?”
She gave him a weird look. “Maybe.”
“Good,” he said, stepping back. He needed space to ensure he didn’t just bodily toss her onto the bed and grind against her. That would feel so good, his dick protested. Those tits in your hand, that neck under your mouth.
Those tits and that neck belonged to his friend. His neighbor. His off-limits-for-real-no-exceptions Cassie. Whatever game she was playing, she could play with someone else. Because there’s no way she’d still be having fun at the end of the night if he gave in. No, she’d hate him, or be embarrassed for him, and either way their friendship would be over.
“Will you be my wingman, Sutter?” She bent down, way down, to do up the straps on a pair of heels that he hadn’t noticed before and now he couldn’t un-notice. He glowered at the backside of the woman who was going to be his undoing tonight. One way or another, this wasn’t going to go well.
“Maybe we should let Melanie handle that,” he grunted, turning and heading for the door. She followed him, somehow surrounding him with a delicate perfume that defied the laws of physics and bounced around him like an invisible cloak of seduction. “I’ve got an early morning tomorrow, I can’t stay out late.”
Strictly speaking, that was true. He was leading PT the next day. But it wasn’t different than any other day, and Cassie wasn’t one to stay out late. She was usually in her flannel pajama shorts by the ten o’clock news.
He knew, because just the other night they’d watched the news together, curled up on her couch with hot chocolate.
Where the fuck had that dress come from? It wasn’t Cassie. She was sexy, sure, but in a cute-librarian kind of way. This vixen was playing tricks on his eyes and messing everything up.
“I’ve got cash for a cab to come home. It’s okay,” she murmured as she locked up.
She’d slipped on a jean jacket over her dress, which helped him cage his inner caveman, but just barely. There was no way he was going to leave her anywhere in public looking like that. Wait, what? He thought about that reaction as they waited out front for their cab. Man, you need to get right with the idea that she’s looking for something you can’t give her tonight. Or ever. And if she wants to go home with someone else…
His stomach twisted in a new and disconcerting way. It wouldn’t be the first time he walked away from a woman he was attracted to. He’d get over the grating regret of letting Cassie go, too.
But when they arrived at the brewpub, and Novak, Steyner, and Dumbrowski arrived at the same time, he kept his hand floating behind her back in a not-so-subtle, back-the-fuck-off sign to the guys. Which they all respected because they weren’t dicks.
And so he was left holding that bag. Fuck. There weren’t enough expletives in the universe to properly express how thoroughly screwed he felt. All because of a little black dress and his evolutionary compulsion to explore all the curves it barely covered.
She was totally chickening out. After the “good God, get me the hell away from her” reaction Jared had to zipping up her dress, Cassie wished she’d worn something else. Something more head-to-toe covering. Like pajamas. And maybe worn them to her couch instead of a popular pub.
He hadn’t said more than two words to her since they arrived, although he stayed close because he was still a nice guy. But his usual easygoing flirtation had left the building. So much for making him see her as a woman.
And his cute friends weren’t giving her any interested vibes, either. She felt like a soccer mom at a table full of frat boys. Big, strong, defending-their-country type frat boys, but still…she wasn’t their type. Her attempt to channel her inner cougar had been a failure.
Puh-lease, she lectured herself. She was twenty-seven, not thirty-seven, and probably if she was thirty-seven, she’d have the confidence to tell one of these fine young men just exactly what she wanted him to do to her. Instead, she sat like a wallflower, wrapping herself in an invisibility cloak.
Melissa joined them, full of apologies, almost an hour after they’d arrived. She’d gotten caught up at work. And shortly after she arrived, she saw someone she knew across the room and excused herself for a minute.
Cassie shook her head and smiled into her drink. Mel wouldn’t have any problem asking a man for what she wanted.
“Your friend is cute,” Jared’s friend Miles said. Dumbrowski, as Jared called him, leaned in a bit closer. “Is she single?”
Mel was always single. Happily so. “Yep,” Cassie said carefully.
Miles bit his lip and looked past Cassie’s shoulder. She knew that look. Not that it was ever pointed at her, not by men like Miles and Jared. “Is she a long-walks-on-the-beach kind of girl?”
Cassie laughed. That wasn’t what she’d expected him to ask. “She likes to have fun, if that’s what you’re looking for. Nothing serious, though. She’s got a lot on the go.”
“Shame.” He gave her a hangdog face, and she patted him on the chest.
His phone beeped and as he read it, he perked up again.
“You’ve got another option?” Cassie teased, and he laughed.
“Excuse me, Cassie. Nice to meet you. Be gentle on Jared, ya hear?” And with that mystifying comment, he was up and off, thumping his friends on the shoulders as he made his exit.
Jared bumped shoulders with her as he sat down—the man took up a ridiculous amount of space. Taller than his friends and broader too, with legs that stretched on forever under the table and bounced restlessly next to her, he was a mountain among men. A mountain she wanted to climb.
“Beer?” Jared asked, pointing at the pitcher he’d brought back from the bar.
She nodded, more glumly than she intended.
“Dumbrowski left, huh? It looked like you guys were hitting it off.” His words came out quickly—a tight little bundle of a question.
“He was asking about Mel. And then he got a booty call, I think.”
Jared pulled his lips together in a small frown. His perfectly sculpted lips that matched his carved-from-granite jaw, which even at this hour didn’t have much stubble on it. She knew from ogling him at the pool that he didn’t have much body hair, either—just a blond treasure trail that made her want to rip open his board shorts and fall to her knees.
“Anyway, he’s too young for me,” she said blithely, blindly casting about for any conversation change that didn’t have her thinking about giving Jared a blow job.
He laughed. “That’s thin, but yeah, he’s not the guy for you.”
She cleared her throat. “Well, let me think it’s because he doesn’t want to date an older woman and not because I don’t stack up, okay?”
“You stack up just fine, Cassie,” Jared said quietly, dropping his gaze. “And your age is… Jesus, no man worth his salt cares about shit like that.”
And yet you don’t want to see me as a sexual being, she wanted to point out. Wanted to be brave. But a brutal divorce and her rebound guy dumping her by text message had just about stripped her of all courage. Temporarily. She’d get it back. She was a fighter. Just not tonight.
She sipped her beer just to have something to do with her hands and mouth that didn’t involve Jared. When her glass and the pitcher were both empty, she excused herself and went to the bar, needing a break from being so close to Jared and not being able to touch him.
The man was way too touchable. She wanted to rub her fingertips through the blond hair on his forearms and stroke her palms over his biceps. His biceps had biceps, and she wanted to stroke those, too.
She’d just ordered a lime and soda when she heard an unfortunately familiar voice behind her. “On the prowl tonight, Cassandra?”
When Jared asked her that, it felt hot. Intimate and daring. When Mitch said the same words, she felt like she needed a shower. She spun slowly, not missing the slow, gross gaze he dropped to her toes an
d dragged back up. He lingered on her breasts, but he didn’t look pleased with any of it.
“What are you doing in Coronado, Mitch?” She loved the little community, but he preferred living and partying in San Diego. He was all slick suit and smooth lines, and that didn’t fly with the girls here—they were more interested in the strong, silent type in black t-shirts and fitted cargo pants. A look Cassie was quite partial to now herself, she thought as she let her gaze slip past her ex-husband and settle on Jared. As if he could feel her attention landing on him, he looked up and without missing a beat he was out of his chair and heading her way.
“I’m on a date,” her ex said blandly. Cassie looked around, and her doubt must have been obvious, because he carried on. “Cara is in the ladies’ room.”
“Well, have fun,” Cassie said, lifting her glass as if to say, got my drink, need to go. He didn’t take the hint and stayed right in her path.
“That dress is a bit desperate, don’t you think? It’s not really husband bait, is it? It might have worked a few years ago, but you’ve put on some pounds since then.”
“Wow, that’s random and mean.” She awkwardly crossed her arms. Her glass was cold against her bare arm, and she desperately wanted her jean jacket for more reasons than warmth.
“I’m just trying to help you out. Slutty isn’t sexy.”
“You got that backwards, asshole,” Jared said, stopping right behind Mitch. Right behind. “Sexy isn’t slutty. It’s just sexy and, in this case, it’s none of your business. Now back the fuck away from the lady.”
Mitch gave her a slow blink, the look she’d dubbed lizard stare during their divorce proceedings. She wanted to be immune to it now. She wasn’t. “She’s my wife. Back off, jarhead,” he tossed back over his shoulder.
Jared laughed, and it wasn’t a mean laugh. Cassie bit back a grin as he stepped back, giving Mitch room to turn around before stepping right back into his personal space. His smile was knowing and totally awesome. “Actually, she’s Cassie. She’s nobody’s wife, because the loser she was married to wasn’t smart enough to know just how awesome his wife was when he had her. So if that’s you, I’m sorry, bud. And I’m guessing it is, because only a moron who’s never served in uniform would call someone a jarhead. You gotta be a Marine to use that term, and only to another Marine. You fail on both points, but try harder next time.”
Mitch shifted his way awkwardly around Jared’s solid bulk. Her savior stood there, grinning the whole time.
“That was a lot of words for you,” she said under her breath when they were finally alone—or as alone as they could be in a crowded brewpub.
“There was a lot that needed to be said.” He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and guided her back to the table.
As soon as she set down her glass, she pulled on her jacket. Jared gave her a surprised look. “Ready to go?”
She shook her head, then nodded. “Yes, maybe.” She craned her head, looking for Mel. She’d drifted a few tables down and looked well-occupied. “I should tell her…” Cassie said absently. She pulled out her phone only to discover a text from none other than Mel. Think I’ve found a winner—for the night. Talk to you tomorrow.
Well, that made the decision easy. “Take me home, Jared.”
It wasn’t quite how she wanted to say those words tonight, but it was better than nothing.
They stepped outside onto Orange Ave. and, without needing to discuss it, headed west on foot.
“You okay in those heels?” Jared asked. As he looked down, their arms brushed, and even through her jacket the contact affected her. Too bad that awareness was painfully one-sided.
“Yeah, I wear them every day.”
“You don’t wear shoes like that every day,” he muttered.
Heels were heels. These were just strappier than her usual pumps. And, apparently, too sexy for her.
“Look,” she burst out. “I know that I tried too hard tonight, okay? Let it go. I’ll be back to the asexual girl next door tomorrow and the awkwardness will eventually fade away.”
She picked up speed, proving exactly how capable she was in her heels, but his long legs quickly ate any distance she’d succeeded in putting between them.
“Hey,” he said quietly, not bothering to try and stop her. They were just a few blocks from home now, and she was grateful that he let her little legs churn up the pavement.
“I’m not mad at you, Jared. I’m just feeling a little foolish, okay? Sorry I yelled.”
“It’s okay. You can take out your aggravation on me. I’ve got big shoulders. I can take it.”
She let out a combination laugh and cry and slowed down. “Can I ask you a question as a friend?”
He hesitated for a minute, then out of the corner of her eye she saw him nod. “Sure.”
“What’s sexy? I swear, if Mel had worn this dress, guys would have been all over her.”
“You’re sexy, Cassie,” he ground out, his words strained, like he couldn’t believe he’d accidentally stumbled into such an awkward conversation.
She snorted, unable to keep herself from oversharing. “Sure. Pour myself into a little black dress and look what happens. No one notices, except my idiot ex-husband and only then to point out that I’ve gained some weight.”
He reared back as if she’d slapped him. “Please don’t tell me you believe that shit.”
She pulled her jean jacket tighter around her. “I’m not saying I’m fat. I like how I look most of the time. It’s just this dress that was a mistake.”
“Why do you think that?” He shook his head, looking like he might add more, but he didn’t.
They turned onto the walk leading up to their building, and a sad relief washed over Cassie. One last overshare and she’d call herself done like dinner. “None of your friends even looked at me. Not that I wanted to pick up one of them, because that would be weird, but from the second we got there, I felt silly in…”—she waved her hands down her body—“well, in this dress. It’s not me. Anyway, never mind,” she said quietly. “I’m being silly.”
He stopped at the bottom of the staircase that criss-crossed around the interior courtyard of their complex. She started to climb the stairs, but realized halfway up that he wasn’t following her. Maybe that was for the best. She slid her key out of her pocket as she hit the landing.
But before she could get it into the lock, Jared’s hand slid over her shoulder. Slow and hot like crawling lava, he trailed his fingers down to her elbow and turned her around. The look in his eyes—warring and unsure, but also blazing with want—made her melt.
“You’re sexy,” he repeated, and this time the strain in his voice was more obvious. He might not want to, but he desired her. And his gaze kept dropping to her mouth.
Chapter Three
Touching her was a mistake, but he couldn’t let her go to bed thinking she hadn’t been wanted tonight. If he hadn’t been playing guard bulldog, every one of his teammates would have made a play for her.
And her stupid-as-fuck ex-husband obviously still carried a torch for her.
But none of them had seen her half-naked earlier and none of them were going to kiss her good night.
“Here’s the thing, Cass,” he muttered, trying not to be too distracted by her pink lips. God, she smelled good, that perfume rising subtly from her warm skin with each shaky lift of her chest. And now he was distracted by her boobs. Jeez. He took a deep breath and looked back at her eyes. “This is a terrible idea for a lot of reasons, but you deserve to know just how much that dress affected me tonight. No, screw that. How much you affected me tonight. You’re the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen, any day of the week, but tonight you pulled out all the stops and you were easily the most gorgeous woman in that bar.”
She parted her lips and he shook his head.
“The reason none of my friends hit on you tonight is because they thought you were my date.”
Her eyes flared wide and dark. “Why would they think that?
” she whispered.
He shifted uncomfortably. “I might have given them that subtle impression.”
“Why?” She searched his face.
“Because I wanted to be the one to do this,” he said, lowering his head to kiss the corner of her mouth. “And this.” He skated his lips across hers and pressed them against the other corner. She sucked in a quick breath, parting her lips, and his self-control cracked. He pulled her close, bending his oversized body over and around her petite one as he slid their mouths together. Her mouth was warm and wet, and he was lost.
Jared had kissed his first girl at fourteen, and in the intervening ten years he’d mastered the act, but this kiss had him shaking. And he hadn’t even licked into her mouth yet, because she was sucking on his lower lip and making this little mewling sound that completely undid him. He traced the lower border of her upper lip—that line where the skin turned even softer and impossibly wet. Like the inside of her pussy would feel against his tongue.
Or the head of his cock.
With a gasp, he jerked back. “No,” he said, the word almost strangled by all the other parts of him that wanted to keeping kissing her. “I’m sorry. So sorry. God, that felt good. But I can’t.”
He covered his mouth with his hand, lest he dive back into her sweet softness again, and braced himself for the tears of rejection that would surely come.
Except they didn’t.
Cassie sighed, a heavy acknowledgement, and leaned back against her door. “Yeah, that wouldn’t be wise.”
He blinked at her, looking for some sign of game playing, but she only gave him a regretful smile. Damn, his chest ached at that acceptance. “You agree?”
“We’ve got a good friendship, Jared. Any infatuation between us would eventually pass, and I don’t know if I could watch you move on to someone else after we sleep together.”
God, that image. He’d trained himself not to think about being with Cassie, but now the vision floated unbidden through his mind. Cassie on her back, legs spread. He could imagine the scent of her, the glistening moisture there. He’d make her come with his fingers and then his mouth, so it wouldn’t matter if he didn’t last long. She’d be flushed and warm, all languid and welcome. Smiling for him as he found her entrance and slid inside. Her legs rocking up against his hips—