“Hey,” she said, her muscular forearm grazing his shirt.
He whipped off his headset and smiled because he was a friendly man and not because she was beautiful. “Hi.”
Unfortunately, the couple was still bickering loudly while they gathered their things and people continued to stare. How long did it take to haul out of a room in which you made a fool of yourself? For Jake, maybe three seconds. For the fighting couple, long enough for two strangers to sit beside each other and exchange looks of appalled amusement.
As the two walked towards the door, the angry woman looked at Jake’s new companion and hissed. The man followed his jealous partner’s gaze and also looked at the woman sitting beside Jake with an expression that could only be described as embarrassed and hopeful. What the fuck?
He felt rather than heard her groan. Her head was down and she stared at her clasped hands. “Do you know them?” he asked her.
She bit her full lower lip and squinted as if looking for an answer hidden between the row of beer taps before them. “Not since ten minutes ago.”
Realization hit him. “Were they fighting about you?”
She was wearing a plain black tank top so Jake watched in amazement as a flush crept from the top of her breasts to her high cheekbones. “Sort of?” she offered.
“Based solely on the commotion you’ve caused in a perfectly peaceful bar, I think an explanation beyond sort of is due,” he said playfully. It pleased him that she smiled too.
“You think so?”
“Don’t take my word for it. Here, I’ll call the bartender and ask him.” He was bluffing, of course, but couldn’t regret the comment. His teasing tilted her body even closer.
She grabbed the hand that he was about to raise. Her cold grasp was small but firm. He felt the strength of her grip, sending a rush of fascination through him. He cleared this throat and looked down where their hands touched.
Jake allowed himself to look at her arm. Really look at it. Tanned and muscular, shapely and taut. But rough too, full of scrapes and some bruises. He couldn’t help it. He tenderly grazed a blue-purple mark with the tip of a finger.
“Hey, are you OK?” His voice was hoarse. Something very much like fierce protectiveness pumped through his blood. He tamped down the anger and saved it. It would be useful later when he figured out who would do this to a woman. To anyone.
Unexpectedly, she snickered. “You should see your face right now.”
He looked up at her amused eyes and he was momentarily very confused. Because why was she laughing? And why were her eyes exactly the color that would make him want to study them for hours? For clinical reasons, obviously. They were blue and green with flecks of silver, framed by thick, black lashes. Seriously, who wouldn’t stare at that?
“I don’t think it’s at all amusing that you’re bruised. Or hurt.” He wasn’t teasing anymore. It bothered him that she would think he was.
“Relax, buddy. I’m a bit scraped up because I’m a mountain biker. Had one last run before the semester starts. That’s my day job. Or it was.”
Understanding dawned on him, but also a sense that she was sad. Pained, even. He was inexplicably determined to cheer her up. “So this bar disturbance and home wrecking thing, that’s just a hobby?”
She snorted inelegantly and offered him a smile that felt a little bit like a prize. “Not on purpose. But trouble always follows me around. What can I say?”
“You can tell me what happened. That’s what you can say.”
“I was sneaking into the bar to use the bathroom. That asshole cornered me to talk. What a creep. I told him I was here with my boyfriend.” When she said the last word, her chin lifted in Jake’s direction.
“And I thought you sat beside me because you needed some exciting company. Little did I know, I was a mere decoy.”
“Actually, I sat beside you because you looked bored and lonely,” she stated with a warm chuckle. “And because you’re the biggest guy in here and fuckers like that are cowards as much as they’re creeps.”
He looked around. “If I’m the biggest guy here it’s because it’s just me and the bartender and there’s no way to flag him down.”
“Anyway, thanks. I think they’re far enough for me to slink away like the homewrecker that I am.” She started to slip off the barstool.
“Where are you heading?” he asked in a way that he hoped sounded casual. He gulped down the last of his drink and pulled out cash to leave for the unflaggable bartender.
“Campus. I haven’t bought my books and the semester starts next week. Late, as usual.”
“You have time. Lots of people buy their books the week before.”
“I guess you’re right. I took a few years off so kind of rusty with university life. Close to finishing my degree, though. If I can remember where the bookstore is and how to get around this massive campus.”
“I’m heading to the library. Want company walking over?”
She looked uncertain at first. Then, as if a decision was settled, she reached out her hand and said, “I’m Frankie.”
“Otherwise known as the woman relentlessly followed by trouble. Hi, I’m Jake.”
“Otherwise known as the lonely mid-day drinker who saved me from a creepy mid-day adulterer.”
“You’ve been warned,” he said, laughing despite the dig.
“Jake,” she uttered hoarsely, “I think that’s my line.”
And fuck if his heart didn’t skip when she winked.
CHAPTER 2
Francesca Maynard didn’t mind the kind of trouble that came in the form of this hunk of a man walking her to campus. Jake was hot. No, that wasn’t it. Sure, muscles galore and dark skin as smooth as brown velvet were all objective components of hotness. But something else made him kind of irresistible.
His friendly smile and playful wit. That rush of protectiveness in his voice when he asked about her bruises. Eyes sharp and sparkling like the clear springs hidden behind the deepest mountain trails. He wasn’t just hot. He might be perfect.
Stop. Frankie fell into things too easily. Into attraction. Into intrigue. Into trouble.
She had to stay on track. Back at university after a tumultuous and ultimately futile pursuit of a professional mountain biking career. A career that ended after just two and a half seasons. Because, as has been pointed out, she fell into things too easily. Most recently, in a mountain gorge or two.
So, although she could still bike for fun and continue her summer gig working with kids, her professional career was over after the third concussion in sixteen months. Even her bikes were stored at a friend’s house in Kentucky, where she went back every summer to run outdoor lessons. No room for her old life in the 10 X 10 room she was currently subletting.
Might as well finish her degree while her brain was intact. A dire thought, but a true one.
The heat was oppressive, the humidity thick, and the sun relentless as they walked towards the sprawling campus. Through the haze of August discomfort, the OSU Thompson Library emerged before them like a mirage. A massive structure of grand design, made of cement and glass and pomp.
“What’s your major?” Jake asked as they went down the path of his destination.
“History, I think. It’s the closest one to get me finished. I stopped after my general education classes, so just a year and a half of upper credits to go. How about you?”
“I’m finishing my Ph.D. in English. This is my dissertation writing year.”
“Ah, smarty pants then.”
“Did you just call me smarty pants?”
“Sorry. Jock habit. Good for you though. You can’t be much older than me. Unless you’re one of those people whose portraits age instead of their faces.”
He stopped on his tracks and turned to her. “Frankie, did you just make a Dorian Gray joke?”
“I mean in front of an English doctoral student, I have to flex a little.”
“Consider me impressed.”
“Seri
ously? With my lame flex?”
“I don’t think there’s anything lame about you,” he said sincerely and she kept walking because his cuteness was too much to bear standing still.
“You know you can get some of those books by checking them out in the library. Could save you money,” he suggested.
“Really?”
“Yeah, especially the history books. Here, give me a couple of titles and I’ll look them up at the catalog.” Because Jake was a nerd, the library catalog link was on top of his phone’s home page.
She rattled out titles from scribbles on a piece of paper.
“Yup. The colonial America book is available. And so is this anthology on Middle East wars. Great classes, by the way.”
“Are you just saying that so I go to the library with you?”
“Not at all. The library is fantastic for its own sake. People from all over the state, maybe even the country, enjoy its architectural significance and world class holdings.”
“You’re definitely overselling it, Jake. You had me at free books. I was just teasing you.”
“That should teach you that teasing me will only lead to useless overselling of unwanted information.”
“I wouldn’t call it useless overselling. I figured you were just flirting.”
He cleared his throat and continued walking. Like he was flustered. Fucking adorable, this guy.
Although Frankie suspected flirting with a hottie before the semester even started wasn’t the best idea, part of her was like, why the fuck not? More fun than she’d had all year, talking to this nerdy guy in a smoking body.
They walked into the air-conditioned building, enjoying the blast of cold and the airy expanse of a massive lobby. Jake was almost visibly tingling with excitement when he said he knew exactly where to get her books.
They walked up the elegant, exposed staircases towards the third floor. He only had to check his phone once before locating the call numbers at the end of the aisles and grabbing the book that would save her fifty bucks. Middle East wars, done.
Colonial America was more complicated. Not because Jake couldn’t find the book. He found it just as quickly. It was because the course coincided with the same period of Jake’s studies and so he recommended some other books along with the required one.
“This is a classic in women’s economic contribution to colonial America,” he said in all seriousness, as if he was making a Netflix recommendation and not plying a three-hundred-page snooze fest.
She nodded as if considering it, but a smile escaped her lips. And then a chuckle.
“Sorry,” he said with a mix of embarrassment and amusement. “Overselling, again, huh.”
She watched him place it carefully back in exactly the right place. She knew it was exactly the right place because he checked the numbers of the books on each side to be sure. Frankie could not fathom how this guy could be any more adorable.
She slipped herself under his outstretched book-placing arm so she was tight between him and the bookshelf. He looked down, surprised, but he didn’t move away.
“The thing about overselling, at least when you do it, is it’s kind of cute.”
“Yeah?” he muttered huskily. She felt the rumble of his vocal cords against her body, that’s how close they were. And then she felt something else. Lower.
He attempted to pull away, but she hooked her finger on his jeans’ belt loop to stop him. So, instead of stepping backward, Jake stayed exactly where he was. Close, but not close enough.
The finger that had hooked him in place crawled up his t-shirt. Frankie opened her hand so her palm could feel his heat and the shapely hills and enticing valleys of a sculpted torso.
“Frankie.” His voice was rough, as if her name was torn out of him.
“Jake,” she whispered seductively. Both her arms wrapped around his neck.
His hands didn’t grab her waist like she would have preferred. Instead, he laid them lightly on her hips. He was going to need a bit more encouragement, she decided. She pushed her hips forward and pressed her stomach against his arousal. He groaned and swirled his groin just enough to show her that he was game. Reluctant, but totally game. Yeah, she could work with that.
Frankie moved her hands down, over rounded muscles and taut forearms. When she reached lower to his wrists, she lifted them and placed his hands on each of her butt cheeks.
As if overtaken by sheer reflex, Jake squeezed hard and pressed against her. Finally. Frankie sighed.
Her arms wound around his neck again and she tilted her chin up. He was half a head taller, but his face was close. Waiting. Frankie grazed her lower lip against his full, soft mouth.
“Not here,” he murmured. He tilted his head up to show where a camera was capturing rows and rows of book stacks.
“I imagine your knowledge of the library’s nooks and crannies might prove useful right now.” She sounded like she was joking but she wasn’t. This man better kiss her soon.
Their foreheads touched and one of his hands crept up her back cradled the nape of her neck. His other hand, large and capable, pulled tight so her core pressed even harder against his groin. Frankie’s body lit up.
She grazed his sharp jaw, his cheek, the corner of his mouth. His manly grunt traveled through her body, sending butterflies in a million directions as she nipped his bottom lip with her teeth. “Fuck it,” he growled. And then plunged.
Hard and wet. Heavy and messy. She kissed him back, meeting the plunges of his tongue with as much urgency. She felt his hand tug at the knots in her hair and massage her neck. Her own fingers relished the cords of his upper back, grabbing and scratching her way up his body like her life depended on it. He smelled like detergent and the sun. He tasted like hops and sugar.
Jake took control. One moment savoring and sucking and then, as if reaching a boiling point, plummeting deep and hard. His mouth crushed her, unleashing an erotic intensity that she felt in the depths of her core.
She realized that the reason she felt lightheaded and weightless was because he had lifted her. Without losing their connection, he walked deeper into the shadows behind some desks and whiteboards.
Frankie’s arms clutched strapping shoulders and her thighs hitched over solid hips. Her back pressed against a concrete wall and all of a sudden, she wasn’t lifted, she was grounded. Held in place by his heavenly arousal, a steely ridge lodged against her soaked center.
His manhood promised and withheld simultaneously. Frankie was losing her mind, overcome by need. It was as if Jake ripped her open and only he could fill the void.
To ease the building pressure, Frankie swirled her hips. Lewd moans, his or hers, it hardly mattered. His hand rubbed against her outer thigh and she sighed in approval of his expert kneading. His lips found her neck when she offered it up, tilting her head back, arching so her body could bow to his demands. Her breasts felt heavy and tender, her sex clenched and soaked…
Clang.
The sound of something hitting metal rang in the air and they froze. Steps were heard from a distance, some voices, and then silence.
“Are you OK?” he asked breathless.
She smiled and nuzzled her face into his neck, feeling his powerful pulse and inhaling that delightfully intoxicating aroma. “I’m more than OK.” She started to give his neck little nips and licks. “How about you? Is this when your tour of the hallowed halls typically ends?”
“Typically ends?” His hands stiffened and then released. He let her slip off so she could stand on her own two feet. Jake gently put a finger under her chin to tilt her face up.
Wow, he was gorgeous. All smooth planes and high cheekbones. Searing eyes and swollen lips. “Frankie, there’s nothing typical about this.”
“Jake, you picked me up at a bar and took me to a make out spot. It’s always the quiet, studious ones you gotta watch out for, right?”
She was teasing, hoping to keep things light while encouraging him to continue. Wanting to prod him to do more, bu
t also to give less. To kiss her senseless, but stop looking like this meant something more than kissing.
He seemed displeased when he said, resigned and calm, “I see.”
“C’mon, don’t be so serious.”
“Let’s get your things,” he muttered and started to walk back to the stacks where they had left their two backpacks and loose books.
He walked her to the staircase, pointing out the quickest way to the lobby. “I’ve got some work to do here. Can you find your way around campus?”
“Of course. Thanks, Jake. You, um, helped me a lot.”
They were silent for a beat and then, at exactly the same time, Jake said “can I have your number” and Frankie said, “do you want my number.” They both laughed. Just like that, the tension subsided.
They exchanged phones. She added her contact information as Frankie the Homewrecker. He put his as Jacob S. Newton.
His name sounded familiar but she was too busy to investigate why. Frankie meandered through campus, bought the rest of the books and supplies she needed, and walked back to the room she was subletting for the academic year.
It wasn’t till she reviewed her schedule that she realized exactly why his name was familiar. Women of Renaissance Drama cross-listed with History of Women in Tudor England. Instructor on record: Dr. Jacob S. Newton.
The Love Campaign (Romantic Revelations Series Book 1) Page 29