Just the Tip of the Iceberg: Mile High Matched Books 1-3

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Just the Tip of the Iceberg: Mile High Matched Books 1-3 Page 37

by Christina Hovland


  She did an internal fist pump. “Hot damn.”

  Forty dollars and a neck rub.

  “I’m not even going to tell you what you could’ve won if you’d done the max bet.” He bit at his bottom lip. “Ready to go again?”

  “Hell. No.” She clicked the cash-out button and removed her card. “We are done at this casino. That’s the problem with gambling, you get sucked in when you should stop. I mean, I’ve multiplied my five dollars eight times over. Time to call it a night.”

  “It’s still only five thirty,” he said, deadpan.

  She gave him a not-gonna-gamble-my-winnings look. “Well…what do you want to do?”

  He stepped close to her, right up in her space, reaching for her ponytail, pulling it over her shoulder and toying with the end of it. “I have an idea.”

  Oh. The ponytail-pulling kind of idea could be really fun. “That would make us the worst chaperones in the history of chaperoning.”

  “And?” He raised an eyebrow in her direction.

  Well, his grandmother was occupied for a while and they had nothing to do.

  “And I think it’s a fantastic idea.” She grabbed his hand and beelined for the elevators to their suite.

  He’d insisted they get one of the three-bedroom variety with a sitting room. That way they could keep an eye on Babushka and Morty. Heather and Babushka bunked up in one room, Jase in another, and Morty in the third.

  She paused at the jewelry store just outside the bank of elevators. “Oh. Look.” She took an inventory at the glass, glancing over all of the glittering diamonds. “We should go in.”

  Just because she was going to have fun with Jase didn’t mean she wasn’t going to buy herself that promise ring. And she’d neglected shopping for it for way too many days.

  Still scanning the rings in the window, Jase laid a hand at her waist. “Do you want to come with me, or stay here and stare at the pretty things?” he whispered against her ear.

  His breath against her earlobe caused her blood to heat and her nerves to go haywire. “Come with you. Definitely come with you.”

  She could always look at the pretty things later.

  The elevator doors slid open to let out an elderly couple. Jase moved to catch the doors before they closed. Heather hurried inside. They were like two kids being naughty with no parents around to supervise.

  Thank God the car was empty, because when the doors slid closed, Jase laid a kiss on Heather that made her rethink her ability to have sex on a kitchen chair.

  Her neck tingled where his fingers grazed the overly sensitive skin under her ear while the elevator moved to the top floor. His lips kissed the top of her ear and she leaned into him.

  This was a bad idea.

  A horrible plan.

  The fact that this was a stupid idea wasn’t going to stop her.

  No, Jase wasn’t what she wanted. He couldn’t offer the promise of forever she’d once craved. But right then, it was just about the two of them. About letting loose.

  Jase’s mouth met hers again, and she practically climbed his leg like Humphrey the Humping Chihuahua. Without breaking the seal of their kiss, Jase pressed a button on the panel that made the whole elevator clunk to an abrupt stop.

  They practically steamed up the entire elevator cab—mouth on mouth, hands in hair, her skirt shoved up around her thighs. Jase made some kind of grunting noise that sounded like both an encouragement and a promise. Wait. That could’ve been her making the noise. She couldn’t really tell anymore.

  He skimmed his hand over the edge of her panties on her backside. Gripped the flesh there. Rubbed deep circles on her skin. All the while he moaned along with her as she wrapped her leg around his denim-covered thigh.

  This was good. They did better when they didn’t actually speak. Perhaps they could base a whole relationship on not talking to each other. They could just mount each other occasionally. But, no, that wouldn’t work. That’s precisely what she was avoiding.

  Tomorrow. She’d go back to avoiding this type of thing. Tomorrow.

  “Jase?”

  “Hmmm?” He was doing something to her neck with his mouth that felt absolutely amazing.

  “We’re in an elevator,” she pointed out.

  “Mm-hmm.”

  “I think a bed would be more comfortable.”

  He used his tongue and teeth, finding a particularly sensitive spot that made her entire body tingle. “You keep saying that. I promise I don’t need one.”

  His hand slipped between her legs, and he did some kind of maneuver with his fingers that—

  Yeah. Thoughts weren’t coming coherently. A bed would be nice, but alternatively, the floor of the elevator looked better and better.

  He pulled his hand from under her skirt, skimming his fingers over the wet fabric between her legs on the way. She moaned. It wasn’t like she could help it.

  He tugged her skirt back in place, wrapped an arm around her waist, and pushed the button.

  The elevator began to slide up again. She glanced at him. He ran the pad of his thumb over his swollen lips and stood as though nothing had happened between them. How the hell did he pull that off?

  The elevator pinged at their floor. She stepped over the threshold into the foyer and paused—what was the photo of Jase’s grandfather doing on the table outside the door of their suite?

  Jase stopped. “Is that?”

  “Your grandmother really makes herself at home, doesn’t she?” Heather waved her magnetic key card over the lock. Jase’s hands came to just under her breasts as the door slid open. His mouth pressed heavy kisses along her shoulder.

  A flick of the lights and—

  Holy sweet mother of Jesus.

  Naked skin. So much wrinkled skin and an image of the elderly having sex she’d never be able to scrub from her brain. Or that couch. Dear God, there wasn’t enough Lysol and Clorox in the world to sanitize—

  She slammed the light switch off and shoved Jase back into the hallway.

  No. He couldn’t have seen… Except, the way his face managed to be both pale and furious red meant he had…

  The pulse over his temples thumped in time with the one in his neck. He was going to blow. “Jase—”

  “My grandmother.” He pointed a finger toward the now closed door.

  “Yes.”

  “Not my grandfather.” His voice cracked like a teenager in the midst of puberty.

  Well, no, but she was pretty sure it wouldn’t have mattered who had his grandmother naked on that sofa—that was an image neither of them would ever be able to forget.

  “I’m going to rearrange his ass and his head,” Jase declared and grabbed the key card from Heather’s fingers.

  Heather’s heart stopped. The way Jase’s hands shook, she was pretty sure he would throttle poor Morty.

  “You’ll have to open the door.” She held his wrist so he wouldn’t make the attempt without fully thinking it through.

  “What?” He looked at her like she’d grown two heads.

  “To rearrange his ass and…stuff. You’ll have to open the door. If you do that, you’ll see…” He’d see more of what they’d just seen together.

  The red drained to nothing, leaving him colorless. “Fuck me.”

  Nope, that was not happening tonight. She’d need an entire bottle of vodka and perhaps a few shots of tequila to ever get in the mood again. Ever.

  “Okay, we need a new plan. Let’s go back to Denver. Watch that cover band and pretend this whole thing never happened.” Never, ever, ever.

  He glanced uncertainly to the door. “We can’t just leave them here.”

  She got it, she really did. The desire to barge in there and break up the party battled against the intense need to never see the gray hair and all that wrinkled skin ever again. “Do you really think they’re gonna miss us if we take off? We’ll just leave a note.”

  There, all solved.

  Jase ran a hand over his face. “Let’s go to Brek’
s Bar.”

  13

  Chapter Thirteen

  Brek’s Bar was nothing like the cowboy joint. Oh sure, there were still neon beer signs on the wall, but Brek’s was actually clean and the food smelled amazing. Burgers, buffalo chicken, and spicy cumin. The band blared a cover of Dimefront’s latest hit, and a smattering of couples took advantage of the dance floor.

  What had her life disintegrated to that her days had come to barhopping, elevator make-out sessions, and…nope, she was not thinking about what was probably still going on up at the casino.

  Jase’s hand grazed her waist in a totally proprietary way that made her want to sigh and lean into him.

  “Heather!” someone called from the corner.

  She turned and couldn’t help but smile. Claire, Velma, and Candy had commandeered a corner booth.

  Jase nodded to the group. “Why don’t you go play with your friends? I’m going to go get shit-faced.”

  “That sounds like a healthy way to deal with what’s happened tonight.” Heather gave him her best don’t-do-anything-you’ll-regret look.

  “Sometimes avoidance is key to survival,” he said with a grunt and made a beeline for the bar.

  From behind the bar, Brek initiated some kind of elaborate handshake with him and poured a glass of whiskey. Jase snagged the bottle out of his hand and took a long pull, ignoring the filled glass in front of him.

  Heather’s lungs deflated. This was not healthy processing. She made a mental note to keep tabs on him tonight. Not that she expected he’d get in a fight or something equally as stupid, but her intuition flashed warning signals that he could use a wingman. Or wing-woman, in her case.

  Brek caught her eye and gave her a wink, like he’d read her mind and was already on it. Her insides twisted uncomfortably. She’d love to hand her concerns over to Brek, but something told her Jase needed her.

  “Don’t worry about Jase. Brek will handle whatever’s going on.” Velma came up beside her.

  “I’m not sure that’ll be possible.” Heather bit at her lip and sent up a silent prayer that Brek really could handle his best friend.

  “You’d be surprised what those boys manage.” Velma slipped her arm through Heather’s and pulled her to the table. “I’ve never seen him on a bottle-of-whiskey night, though.”

  “So, you and Jase? Round two?” Claire asked, toying with the cherry in the fruity concoction she held in one hand.

  Heather squirmed. What were she and Jase doing? Having fun. Yeah. Making out all over Denver. Check. But, really, she wanted to throw her hands in the air and ask the universe for some clarity. “Was there ever really a round one?” she asked.

  “Depends on who you ask.” Velma giggle-snorted.

  Three pairs of expectant eyes focused on Heather from around the booth.

  “I have no idea what we’re doing. We’re just…going with it.” Whatever it was.

  “Uh-huh.” Velma clearly wasn’t drinking the Kool-Aid. “Dish.”

  “We were going at it in an elevator earlier,” Heather supplied. She glanced around the table to her stunned friends. “I’m not one to kiss and tell, but I’m telling you that man can do things with his tongue that I didn’t know were possible.”

  “Holy crap.” Claire leaned forward. “How far did you two get?”

  “Top floor. Then we were interrupted. Then we gave up and came here.”

  “Well, I’m glad you’re here.” Velma patted Heather’s back.

  “What’s your poison?” Brek tossed a cocktail napkin down in front of her.

  “Soda water. With lime.” She forced a smile. Jase needed a grown-up around tonight, and, unfortunately, her instincts said she should be that grown-up. Which meant…sobriety.

  Brek glanced around the table, his gaze landing on Velma. “Everyone else good?”

  “Yup. Just your standard girls’ night. Not talking about Heather and Jase,” Claire chimed.

  “Way to be smooth,” Heather mumbled.

  “What the hell happened tonight that has him drinking his way to the bottom of the bottle?” Brek asked.

  “You do not want to know,” Heather replied. Hell, she’d give anything for herself not to know.

  “Go see what you can dig out of Jase, we’ll keep working on her,” Claire said before sipping on whatever concoction she had over ice.

  “We’ll dig it out of her. Now shoo, girls only.” Velma made a go-away motion with her hand. Brek chuckled and headed back to the bar. “If I can’t tease my husband, who can I tease?” Velma popped a cherry in her mouth.

  “You can tease me.” Eli, the fourth friend in the Jase-Brek-Dean-Eli quartet, slid a plate of nachos on the table and took the seat beside Candy.

  “I thought it was girls only tonight?” Velma went for a loaded chip. “I just made my husband leave.”

  Claire shrugged. “Eh, Eli’s just one of the girls. He can stay.”

  Brek returned and dropped Heather’s sad little soda water in front of her. “Something happened in Blackhawk. He said you were at the casino.”

  “You don’t want to know.” She squeezed the lime into the fizzing water. “You don’t want to know. I don’t want to know. Jase doesn’t want to know. And now I have to move away. Far, far away.” She took a sip, the bubbles tickling her nose.

  “Aw, c’mon, Jase can’t have scared you away that quickly.” Brek leaned against the side of the booth and crossed his arms so the muscles in his corded biceps bunched.

  “Okay, fine.” Might as well let everyone else in on their misery. “Babushka moved in with me because her family is all kinds of worked up that she has a boyfriend and she lent him some money.” No need to share the details of how much. “She and said-boyfriend decided to go to a weekend away at a casino up in Blackhawk. Jase insisted we chaperone. And we’re officially the worst chaperones in the history of chaperones.” She took a long pull of not-vodka’d seltzer. “So, they went to a movie. We played slots. Then we…ah…we kind of walked in on his grandmother in a clinch with her boyfriend. The boyfriend that I’d defended shortly before the…um…exhibition.” She took a quick glug of seltzer water and coughed.

  “Holy crap.” Candy paused her beer bottle halfway to her lips.

  “What kind of a clinch?” Velma asked, tipping her head to the side. “Clothes or no?”

  “Definitely no,” Heather confirmed.

  “What base?” Velma asked. “First, second?”

  Heather let out a huge sigh, blowing through her lips. “I think they’d rounded home long before we got there.”

  Claire’s expression froze. “I think that warrants running away.”

  Brek glanced back to the bar. “I don’t think I have enough whiskey.”

  “Brek. Go away. Girls’ night. We need to dissect this.” Velma shooed him away again.

  “Why does he get to stay?” Brek jerked his chin to Eli.

  Eli grinned big and settled deeper into the booth. “’Cause they like me.”

  “I’ll fill you in later.” Velma smiled up at her husband. “You should probably go water down Jase’s whiskey, anyway.”

  Brek grumbled and stalked back to the bar.

  “Babushka? Seriously?” Velma asked. “Naked. She’s like a hundred.”

  Not quite, but who was counting at that point?

  “Oh yeah. I know what I saw.” Geriatric porn. Heather glanced to where Jase and his bottle of whiskey brooded at the bar.

  “And what exactly did you see?” Claire scooted forward and dropped her elbows on the table. “Without being graphic. Just enough details so we can understand if it’s a one- or a two-bottle night for Jase.”

  Heather swallowed. Hard. “Everything.”

  “Everything?” Eli’s expression pinched in obvious disbelief.

  “Oh, if it’s anatomy used to…you know…” Heather bit her lip and slid her gaze toward the wall.

  “Have sex?” Claire pried.

  “Yeah. We saw it all. The view from the doorway wa
s right in line with the sofa, and they were…ah…you know…like she was on her hands and knees.” Heather’s entire neck and face heated at the thought.

  “Doggie style?” Claire’s jaw dropped open. “You saw old-man balls?”

  “In action.” Heather squeezed the lime and dropped it into her glass with a plop.

  Velma scrunched up her eyebrows. “Babushka’s a little old to hold that position. How—”

  Heather dropped her head to her hands. She would never forget the image burned into her retinas. “They used the throw pillows as leverage.”

  “Holy shit.” Claire, for once, apparently had no other words. No witty comeback. Nada. “Good for her.”

  “And that’s the story of why I’ll be stabbing out my eyes.” Heather took another gulp of soda, wishing like hell that Brek had laced it with a touch of vodka.

  “C’mon, you’re not even kind of a prude. You can handle a little dash of old-man balls. You’re the queen of the penis cookies.” Velma rubbed at Heather’s back.

  “My penis cookies are not elderly.”

  “Jase is gonna get so blitzed.” Eli scooted out of the booth. “I should go do the friend thing and drink with him while we don’t talk about his grandmother getting laid.”

  “Oh sure, we let you in on girls’ night and you abandon us for your boys.” Claire pointed the stem of her cherry at him.

  He shrugged. “What can I say? Bros before—”

  “You’re gonna not want to finish that thought.” Velma shot him a you’re-never-invited-again look.

  “I was going to say bros before beautiful women.” He grinned a wide smile and left for the bar—slipping onto the vacant barstool next to Jase.

  “Do you think Babushka’s going to move in with this guy? Now that they’re…you know?” Velma asked.

  Gah, Heather hoped not. Sure, Babushka helped her around the apartment. But more than that, it was kind of nice to have someone to come home to. Babushka was quirky—and that was an understatement. But it was nice to have someone care about her.

  “A week ago, I’d have hoped she would. Now? Now, I like having her around.” Heather shook the fuzz from her brain. “Let’s talk about something else. Anything else.”

 

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