“Are you and Jase really getting together?” Candy asked. “I think that’d be great. I mean, you bring something out in him. I can’t quite put my finger on it.”
Anger? Sexual tension? Heather could start ticking off the myriad of emotions she seemed to bring out in Jase. And vice versa.
“I don’t know what we’re doing.” Heather said—the honesty of her words an everlasting frustration. She dropped her head to the table and left it there.
“Maybe we should talk about something else,” Velma suggested.
“I have news,” Candy replied. “I got into design school. Finally.” She did a squee jazz-hands number.
Heather jolted. Candy had been applying to fashion design school for years. It was her dream to design clothing professionally. But Heather had started to rely on her at the shop. This couldn’t mean… “You’re leaving the shop?”
“Eventually.” Candy bit at her lip. “Probably soon. I figure we’ll get a replacement and I’ll help train them.”
A replacement for the bakery, yes. Not a replacement for the fun they had together in the kitchen. Yeah, it was selfish, but Heather liked that she and Candy knew each other so well they could stand in the kitchen for hours and not say a word one day, and the next they’d jabber the whole time. That wasn’t the kind of thing she could expect from just any employee. That’s only the kind of thing she could expect from someone who had known her since she was three.
Heather tapped down her disappointment because Candy was clearly so excited.
“And I can stay on part-time through school, if you’ll let me,” Candy continued.
Of course Heather would. This was her sister’s dream, and it was amazing she got to live it. Even if it meant they were moving in different directions. She glanced to Jase. The world was turning, everyone doing new things…maybe she should, too?
They spent an hour dissecting Candy’s career plans, and then Velma had to head home to do the mom thing. The band finished their set and Jase had left his barstool for the jukebox. Heather followed him, nursing her second soda water of the night.
She stared at the electronic playlists Jase scrolled through. “What’re you looking for?”
“I’m in the mood for some Belinda Carlisle.” His words blended slightly together. Still, he managed to punch a few buttons, and the opening strains of “I Get Weak” blared over the speakers.
“You are intoxicated.” Heather pointed her drink at him.
“You are perceptive.” He smiled a slurred smile. “We should have that prom committee meeting now.”
“Or maybe I should take you home.” She set her empty glass on a nearby table and linked her arm through his, ready to lead him to a bottle of aspirin and a glass of water. She’d get him tucked in at home and go home to her vacant apartment.
“Let’s have some fun, instead.” He draped his arm over her shoulders and tucked her into his side.
“I think we’ve had enough fun for one day.” One week. One lifetime.
“Is this the part where you want me to deal with my shit, then?” he asked, his tone light.
She tried to push him toward a booth. She should get some food in him, too. “Jase, dealing with your shit when you’re drunk hardly counts.”
“That’s the best time to deal with anything. The problem I have is there’s not enough alcohol in the world to erase the memories.” He tucked his chin into the top of her hair and inhaled.
“Which memories?” She pulled back so she could see his face. Read his expression. Unfortunately, it was blank. A fissure of unease spread along her spine. The fine hair on her arms stood on end.
“All of them.” He ran a hand over his face and dropped it to his side.
She glanced around for backup. Her friends had left, but Eli and Brek should still be around. Brek was pouring drinks for another customer. Eli wasn’t anywhere nearby. Damn.
“Let’s dance.” He snapped out of his trance and snagged her hand, spinning her in a circle.
She cleared her throat, trying to keep up with him. “Er…Jase?”
“Yup.” He popped the p at the end of the word and leaned in close. His hips did a slow gyration that made her mouth go dry and her tongue numb.
“You’re going to give everyone the wrong impression about us. They’ll think we’re together.”
“Don’t care.” He nuzzled her neck, the five-o’clock shadow on his cheek scraping against the sensitive skin.
“You’ll care tomorrow.”
“Heather.” He pulled back and caught her gaze with his. “Shhhhhhh.” He raised a finger to her lips dramatically. “Let’s dance.”
So, they did.
14
Chapter Fourteen
Senior “Senior” Prom Countdown: 19 Days
Jase should’ve had a headache. Hell, he’d earned one the night before. But, nope, he didn’t get hangovers. Especially with Heather shoving water and aspirin down his throat as soon as they’d returned to his apartment above the flower shop. His gaze roamed to his bedroom where she currently slept. Did she sprawl out or did she curl into a ball? He’d bet his right arm she curled into a ball asleep. Now, he wanted to know. Dammit.
He’d offered her his bed when she’d poured him inside last night. She’d insisted on sticking around to check on him. He’d insisted she sleep there while he took the couch. His couch was a piece of shit. On cue, his neck cracked when he sat up, punctuating that thought.
At some point, Heather had tossed a blanket over him. He owed her for that. And getting him home.
He rolled off his sofa and clicked on the coffeepot in the kitchen. His coffee wasn’t great, but it did the job.
Two full cups of fresh drip coffee in hand, he knocked lightly on the door.
“Come in.” Her voice was early-morning groggy.
He pushed open the door and stepped into the room. “Morning.”
Curled up in a ball. That’s how he found her.
He couldn’t help the smile tickling the corner of his lips. Called it.
“Morning.” She sat up, and the gray Navy T-shirt she’d apparently borrowed from him slipped off one shoulder. Fuck, that was sexy as all hell.
When was the last time he’d wanted a woman like he wanted Heather Reese? It’d been a hell of a drought. Not that he didn’t have the occasional hookup. He just hadn’t felt the intense need to see a woman smile from the depths of her soul. Not for a long, long time. Not since…
Nope. He refused to think about his past.
The edge of the bed creaked as he sat down and handed her a mug. She took it. Held it between her palms. Couldn’t meet his gaze.
The air between them weighed heavy.
Awkward. That’s what this was.
“Glad you found something to sleep in.” He gestured to his shirt.
Her face flamed red. “Oh. I hope it’s okay… I was worried about you.”
“Because I should be vomiting my guts out now?”
Her cheeks went even more red. She messed with the blanket, and it slipped, revealing creamy thigh.
His dick stretched, ready to come out and play. Down, boy.
The last thing he needed at the moment was for the captain in his pants to start making requests.
“I…uh…” he started.
More blanket slipped from her thigh. The T-shirt covered a good deal, but he couldn’t pull his gaze from that sliver of pale skin.
“So.” He scrubbed a hand over his hair.
She stared intently at the brown liquid in her cup. “So.”
“What do you have planned—” he said at the same time she said, “How are you feel—”
“Not much, just working—” she replied at the same time he replied, “Good, thanks for the aspirin.”
They both glanced to their respective mugs. She took a sip. He took a gulp.
He stood. This was one of the clumsiest mornings after ever, and he hadn’t even gotten laid. “I can help you with committee stuff today.”
And maybe keep my hands off you.
“That’d be great.” She set her mug on the New Belgium beer crate he used as a makeshift nightstand and waved a hand between them. “This is weird. Why is it weird?”
Because he’d gotten trashed in front of her. They’d seen his grandmother getting laid. Why was it weird, she asked? He could go on and on. “Last night was one of those nights that—”
“Makes you question everything?” She finished for him.
He brushed a hand over his hair. “Right.”
“Sit.” She patted the bed beside her.
He sat. Not because he necessarily wanted to, but it was becoming clear he had no power around her.
His hand crept toward hers. The damn thing seemed to have a mind of its own.
She placed her palm over his knuckles. “Jase. I feel like where we’re going with this could be a really bad idea.”
“Where exactly are we going with this?” He set his mug beside hers. Communication sucked.
“Hooking up. Climbing each other in elevators.”
He swallowed so hard his Adam’s apple practically bobbed right out of his throat. Communication definitely sucked. They weren’t even officially together, and she was giving him the brush-off. He slipped his hand away from hers. His dick pouted.
“I mean, I do want that. I just want the rest of it, too,” she finished.
He cleared his throat. “What’s the rest of it?”
“The idea that it could actually lead somewhere. I get it, you want to hook up and move on. I want the chance it might lead to more.”
“Picket fence? Dog? Kids?” he asked.
She threaded her fingertips through the edge of the bedspread. “Well, yeah.”
“Heather, I’ve done the forever shit. It’s a lie. Had the picket fence. Had the dog. Wanted the kids. It doesn’t work out.” Because a wife eventually leaves and takes the dog with her. He couldn’t open himself up to that. Not again.
Heather continued to look at him as though they were discussing the cumulus clouds in the sky and not his failed marriage. “Did it ever occur to you that maybe it didn’t work out because you were with the wrong person?”
Every goddamned day.
He smashed his lips together. He did not want to talk about this.
“I like you, Jase. Maybe we should try this thing? Be open to us not ending. To us seeing where it goes. If it doesn’t work out, it doesn’t work out. But maybe we could try. Maybe it’d be good for both of us…”
“Maybe we could try.” He echoed her words, but his were filled with frustration. How the hell was he supposed to try?
Elbows on his knees, he dropped his head to his hands.
Her hand came to his back and rubbed a particularly tense spot between his shoulder blades. “We don’t have to. I won’t be mad.”
He glanced to her then. The loneliness in her eyes took his breath. No, she wouldn’t be mad, just disappointed—and that was worse.
“Heather, I’m not good at the long-term gig. I’m just not.” She had to understand that.
“I’m not asking you to be. I’m just asking that we both go into this without expecting it to end quickly. Or at all.” She studied his blue bedspread.
“It’s better to go into a hookup with your eyes wide open,” he said.
“That’s what we’re doing, then? Just hooking up?”
“And hanging out.”
“Exclusively?” she asked.
“Well, yeah.”
“Jase?” she said. “That’s called a relationship.”
Noooooooo. Nope. It sure as hell wasn’t. Relationships meant dinners with family and waking up together. Two things he did not partake in. Although, he wouldn’t mind waking up next to Heather. If they spent any amount of time together, his family would be involved. Which meant…
Shit.
They were in the relationship zone.
“We could try,” she whispered.
This time her words weren’t frustrated. They were hopeful. God, how long had it been since he’d felt any kind of hope?
“Only if you’re ready.” She leaned into him, her tits pressed into his back.
Fuck, no, he wasn’t ready.
But she wasn’t asking for promises, just hope.
His dick twitched, ready to come out and try. The disloyal bastard.
He could go into this thing they had going without looking toward an ending. It’d be hard as all fuck, but he could manage. His blood pressure skipped. He was going to do this. Really going to give it the effort.
With an exaggerated, resigned breath, he turned to her, caught her mouth with his. She wrapped her arms around his neck.
“You,” he practically growled. “Make. Me. Crazy.” He punctuated each word with a kiss against the skin of her neck.
“Ditto.” Her chest pressed against his.
“We’ll try this your way,” he conceded, waiving his white flag in defeat.
Her breath caught, and her breasts heaved. “Really?”
He pulled his shirt off of her in one quick motion. “Really. I just have one request.”
She gripped his arms and wrapped her legs around his torso, the heated core of her center rubbing against him. “Yeah?”
“Don’t tell my family.”
She paused, inhaled deep. Frown lines creased around the edges of her mouth. “What?”
“Just…let’s have this for us. Just us. For a while.” Because once his family got involved, it’d be a fucking free-for-all.
“Jase…” She started to pull away. “Babushka is going to know what’s going on.”
And that’s what he worried about most. He’d like to put that off as long as possible.
“Just for now,” he assured. Until the time was right.
She let out a deep breath. “Just for now?”
“I want this.” He pressed himself against her. “Don’t get me wrong.”
“Okay.” She kissed him, a light brush of her mouth against his.
“Can we have sex yet?” he asked.
“Yes, please.” She pressed a deeper kiss to his lips.
He pushed her back onto the bed, pinned her arms over her head, holding them there with one hand while he kissed his way down her face. Her neck. Her chest.
She ground against him. The power had somehow shifted, but he couldn’t be sure if she held it now, or if he did. All he knew for certain was that he wanted her.
For now, maybe that was enough.
“I’d tell you you’re beautiful, but you should already know that.”
“Something like that is always worth saying,” she replied.
They pressed against each other, the barrier of her lace underwear and his boxers the only thing keeping them apart. He kissed down to her belly button, to the edge of her panties, and yanked them off. He skimmed his hands up her thighs, over the skin that had driven him crazy. Her knees fell apart.
He kissed her wet center. Diving in with his mouth, his tongue.
She bent her knees and lifted herself to him.
Sweetness. Her. He poured everything he had into her pleasure. Gripping her ass. Pulling her to him.
His dick literally wept at the beauty of all that was Heather.
He should probably say something, but his tongue was presently busy, and given the moaning coming from his pillow, she wasn’t going to be talking for a while. Not if he had anything to say about it.
Her knees began to tremble as her orgasm took over. He continued to work as it wracked through her. He should’ve known she’d come fast and with her whole body. Heather Reese didn’t do anything halfway.
“Jase.” Her head lulled to the side as she came down. But he wasn’t done with her yet.
A quick kiss to the inside of her thigh before he lifted himself to his knees and reached for the little wooden box he kept on his nightstand. “I’m not done.”
Holding the condom in his hand, she pressed a kiss to his mouth and started hummi
ng something against his lips. A song he vaguely recognized. From a game show.
Wait, what the hell was she doing? He pulled back.
“Well, don’t stop.” She gripped his back, pulled him to her, and started humming again.
“Are you humming the theme song to Jeopardy during foreplay?” Women had done a lot of shit in bed with him, but he’d never had one do that.
“Uh-huh,” she muttered, catching his mouth with hers in a kiss that defied all reason.
She pressed herself against him so there was nothing he wanted more than to be inside her.
She rolled him so she was on top and ran her palms over his bare abs, working her way down the muscles to his boxers. With a little help from him, she tugged his boxers off and tossed them on the floor beside the bed.
That was more like it.
She trailed little kisses along Jase’s waist, down the little line of hair leading to his—she started humming again. The laugh that burst from his mouth was totally unexpected.
This time he hauled her up his chest, flipped her on her back, and fell on top of her, holding himself up on his forearms, effectively halting progress on his own orgasm as he laughed into the sheet beside her head. “What the hell are you doing?” he finally asked.
She lifted his head with her palms, catching his gaze with her own. “You don’t like television. I figured I’d start conditioning you to enjoy it by humming theme songs while you do something enjoyable.”
Serious? She was totally serious. Her expression was one of total sincerity. For the first time since his first time, he had a woman nearly naked in his bed and he had no idea what to do with her.
Then she burst out giggling. “Sorry. I’ll be serious. Look, this is me being serious.”
“I have no idea what to do with you, sugar.” He pressed a kiss to her mouth, both of them chuckling against each other. She ran her hands down his back, and it took less than two seconds for things to heat back up. The laughter turned into a moan, and he made sure Alex Trebek was the furthest thing from her mind.
Condom still in hand, he slipped the latex over his ready-to-get-in-on-the-action dick.
Just the Tip of the Iceberg: Mile High Matched Books 1-3 Page 38