The After Party (A Badboys Boxset)

by Karr, Kim

  “That’s not true.”

  “It is,” I insist with a laugh.

  As if in contemplation, he tilts his head and his hat falls to the ground, obviously having already been disturbed from his tickle attack on me. With the loss of his hat, his hair falls in disarray over his forehead. I want to brush it away but somehow manage to control the urge. He looks at me almost quizzically, and then he pushes it away himself.

  Darn.

  “I’ll have to check it out myself.” He smirks.

  Without thinking, I reach out and touch him. Electricity sparks and for a moment I’m stunned by how much I want him to touch me, really touch me. Quickly expelling those thoughts, I draw a line from the corner of his mouth down. “You’ll have to look right here,” I say, a little breathy, “but what are you going to do? Make yourself mad while you’re looking in the mirror?”

  As if my touch is too much for him, he takes a step back and shrugs. “I just might have to do that.”

  Warmth still swirling within me like little pools of lust bubbling to the surface, I swear I can hear myself practically panting. There are parts of my body that have never tingled in my life but are almost vibrating now, and I have no idea what to do to stop it.

  Another step backward. Then another still, and soon he’s standing a good distance away from me. Even so, his eyes glimmer at me with the newfound understanding we came to earlier. I think that’s what it is. Or maybe it’s something else. I can’t tell. I’m not good at this kind of thing. “I’m going to hop in the shower now before I make any more faces you find funny. Make yourself at home. There’s water in the refrigerator, beer, wine, whatever you want.”

  That smile on my face feels like nothing will ever erase it. “Sure, I will.”

  Left alone in the big open space, my eyes start to scour it, looking for pieces of his life. Anything that will tell me even a scrap about who he is. My surroundings seem so impersonal, but then I spot something—a picture on a table in the corner squeezed between two chairs under one of the floor-to-ceiling windows.

  Trying not to be too loud because the loft is large and everything seems to be echoing, especially my heavy breathing, I walk softly over to the table. In a simple silver frame is a picture of Jasper sitting in his red and black go-cart with his father standing beside him. I never realized how much the grown-up Jasper looks like his father. That same light and dark brown hair. Those same big brown eyes. Even the same nose. Unable to contain my emotion, I can feel the tears leaking from my eyes.

  Buzz. Buzz.

  Startled, I jump and quickly place the frame back in its place.

  Buzz. Buzz.

  It’s the call button from the lobby. I’m not sure what to do. I should probably ask Jasper if he is expecting anyone before I let whomever it is up.

  The hallway he disappeared down is fairly long and at the end are two doors. Both are slightly ajar. I can hear the shower running and music playing. I try to place the song. Just as I go to knock, I pause, and then grin, it’s Led Zeppelin—the same music that used to blare from his garage when he was out there with his father.

  Somehow in my absentminded quandary, my fingertips have nudged the door open just enough that I can see inside the bathroom. Perfectly. In my direct line of sight is a huge glass wall and he is just beyond it.

  My pulse is beating so hard I can feel it pounding at all my pulse points. I should leave. I don’t need to bother Jasper. Whoever it is buzzing to come up can just come back later. Yet, I can’t move. Or maybe it’s more like I don’t want to move.

  Steam hovers in the air but there’s not nearly enough to obscure anything. And there he is, naked in the water, head bent as it sluices over him. His eyes are closed. One hand is on the wall. The other slides slowly down his belly and lands between his thighs.

  Oh, God.

  Now I really can’t move. I’m frozen in place. His hand is on his cock. I swallow the noise my throat tries to make, but I’m sure I don’t do a good job of it. Thank you, Jesus, he doesn’t seem to notice. No, he definitely doesn’t notice because oh, my God, now he’s stroking himself. Slowly. Deliciously. Up, then down, and a twist of his palm around the head of his cock.

  I shouldn’t be watching this, and yet I can’t look away. This is private. For him only, and yet I have to wonder if it’s because of me. Is it his attraction to me that made him step back just moments ago? Made him have to relieve the desire he was feeling? Then why did he say he wouldn’t kiss me again?

  When he moves his wrist faster, I have to stifle my sudden harsh breath with my hand. My eyes are glued to his body and although I should leave, I can’t. I just can’t. Jasper, doing this to himself, is the most erotic thing I’ve ever seen in my life. The only thing stopping me from reaching between my own legs is my perverted fascination with wanting to watch him come. Oh, and of course the terror of getting caught.

  His mouth opens, water filling it and overflowing when he tips his face into the spray. I want so much to be in there with him, share the water, and feel that mouth on my body, but I’m not sure that’s ever going to happen. We seem to be dancing around the attraction we feel for each other. Like both of us are afraid to take that leap from an old friendship to intimacy. Afraid perhaps of where it might lead, or maybe where it won’t.

  I can’t be sure.

  Then again, it could be that the ghosts that accompany us are just too strong to bear.

  Soon he’s fucking into his fist with a deliberation that makes me weak at the knees, and I watch. I watch the way his muscles cord in his arms, the way his cock moves within the confines of his fist, the way his face contorts into pure pleasure.

  Looking at Jasper, watching him about to come, it opens up something within me. The feeling is hard to describe and I can only think of one word that is fitting—primal.

  His cock disappears inside his curled fingers and this stroke seems somehow more determined. Up, down, a twist around his crown, and then another twist. This time his head dips down, and then lowers still.

  I press my thighs together to ward off the ache of arousal that is flooding me. I can’t hear him, but I wish I could. I know what he’s feeling, though, because I can see his mouth open and his face contort with satisfaction. He’s close. I can tell. And then soon enough, his taut belly strains, the muscles in his legs bunch, and then it happens—his desire jets out.

  Never in my life have I wanted to make myself come like I do right in this moment. No, that’s not true. Never in my life have I wished for a man to take me the way I wish for Jasper to take me right now. Still, this is all kinds of wrong. I shouldn’t have watched him. I know this. Chiding myself, I lick salt from my upper lip and slowly, cautiously take a step back.

  “Is there a show going on that I wasn’t invited to?”

  That voice. I know that voice. The cynicism behind the tone.

  Oh, God.

  No. No. No.

  Before I even dare shift my gaze, I take a step and then another, and another still away from the door. My heart is beating like a drum. And although my sight is a little blurry from looking through the steam of the bathroom, I force myself not to look petrified as my head snaps in the direction of the large living space, where Jake is standing at the end of the hallway.

  He has no idea what Jasper was doing in there.

  No idea what I was doing.

  I can’t look guilty.

  Can’t.

  On trembling legs, I make myself walk toward him. “Jake, I was just going to tell Jasper someone was buzzing.”

  The look he gives me tells me he knows something. “Yeah, well, no one answered, so I figured he wasn’t back yet and let myself in.”

  “You have a key?” I ask stupidly. Obviously I already know this since he comes to work here, but these aren’t working hours, so I never expected that he would be standing here ready to embarrass the ever-loving life out of me.

  His eyes appraise me but he says nothing.

  My escape is slo
w, but soon enough I’m standing in front of the refrigerator and opening the door. “Jasper’s just taking a quick shower before he takes me home,” I say, hoping to avert his mind from the fact that moments ago he saw me staring through the partially open bathroom door.

  With slow steps he walks toward me. “See you decided to forgive him and get in the car.”

  Sipping on a water bottle, I practically spill its contents down my chin. “Jasper told you what happened?”

  Now Jake is standing beside me. Very much at home, he opens the refrigerator and grabs a beer bottle. There’s a snicker in his laugh as he closes the door and twists the cap. “We tell each other everything, and I’m going to let you in on a little secret, Charlotte—you’re an anomaly.”

  Insulted isn’t sufficient to describe how I feel right now. “I’m a what?”

  He steps toward me. “You’re an anomaly, and the thing about anomalies is no one can figure them out, and therefore no one likes them.”

  Feeling a little crowded, I round the island and take a seat on one of the bar stools. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”

  Jake leans back against the cabinets. “I’m talking about you. Jasper never goes after a woman, and for some reason you have him jumping through hoops.”

  My face scrunches. “That’s not true.”

  “But it is. Don’t worry, though—I’m sure it won’t last long because there’s one more thing about him you should know: that as soon as a chick shows signs of being too needy or getting too attached, he’s gone. Like out the door, running far and running fast. The last thing he wants is for anyone to count on him for anything.”

  All I can do is stare at him.

  “But yet here you are in his apartment with need written all over you. I can only assume he doesn’t see it yet.” He tips his bottle in my direction. “How, I have no idea because I’d go as far as to say you’re a walking, talking billboard of need.”

  I throw him the dirtiest look I can.

  Ignoring me, he takes a sip of his beer then adds, “And that, Charlotte Lane, is what makes you an anomaly.”

  Suppressing my anger, I try to keep calm. “Look, Jake, I don’t know what you think you know about me, but I don’t really appreciate being spoken to that way. Who I am or what I’m about isn’t really any of your concern.”

  His laugh throws me off guard. “Glad to see you have spunk. You’ll need that after you make Jasper your world and then,” he snaps his fingers, “poof, when everything becomes too real for him, just like that, he loses your number.”

  His words are mean. Are they meant to be? Or is he warning me? “You don’t seem to think very highly of your friend,” I say sourly.

  The smirk on his face tells me how much he dislikes me. “That’s not true. Not at all. He’s like a brother to me, which means I care about him. A lot. And you being here in his life isn’t good for him. It’s dredging up all the fucked-up shit from his childhood he put behind him long ago, and from the sound of it, you only plan to dig up more of it, which I know can only hurt him.”

  “That’s not my intention at all.”

  “Then think long and hard before you open that door, because I’m not sure you really understand just how bad his life was after his father died in that fire.”

  Damn him. I can’t even be mad, because his concern for his friend is what his vulgar behavior is all about.

  Bare feet slapping against wood causes my attention to shift toward the hallway. Just coming into view is Jasper, towel slung low around his waist, a crisp white shirt in his hand, the rest of him bare—entirely bare.

  My mood lifts instantly.

  Sexy.

  Sexy.

  Sexy.

  And oh, yeah—the shower.

  Warmth spreads throughout my body. From where I sit, I can easily see the incredible definition of his abs. They are smooth, so smooth, and defined in a way that I could trace every indentation with my finger.

  Not now, of course.

  “Jake.” Jasper’s voice is stern.

  Jake bobs his chin toward Jasper. “Hey, man, Will kicked us out early, so I thought I’d spend the night looking through that report the Realtor gave you with alternate locations for the plant.”

  Jasper nods, before his eyes find mine. “Everything okay?”

  I nod and stand.

  Jake talks for me. “Everything’s peachy. We’re just getting to know each other, aren’t we, Charlotte?”

  An agreement—you keep your mouth shut and I’ll keep mine shut too.

  There is no choice for me, is there? Besides, I know Jake has been Jasper’s friend for years and even if I don’t know him that well, I can tell what he’s saying is what he believes to be the truth.

  What I choose to do with his warning is up to me.

  Jasper’s gaze burns into mine for longer than a moment.

  I shiver under the intensity of his stare. “I’m fine, really,” I tell him.

  He walks toward me and hands me his shirt. “Here, take this.”

  Dressed still in my biking gear, I take it. Jasper watches me as I slip into it and tie the shirttails at my waist rather than button it. I can feel my breathing pick up under his hot stare.

  No doubt Jake notices the chemistry, the sparks; I don’t know how anyone couldn’t. Obviously feeling uncomfortable, Jake clears his throat. “If you don’t mind, I’ll go grab that stuff and then get out of your hair.”

  Jasper’s gaze flickers from mine to Jake’s for only a fleeting second. “Yeah, that’s fine. It’s in a folder in the bottom right drawer of my desk. Why’d Will kick you out before the game ended anyway?”

  Jake smirks. “He had a guest coming over.”

  The grin Jasper gives him tells me there’s something more to that statement. “Naughty secretary?”

  Jake nods. “And he’s making her dinner.”

  Jasper shakes his head. “Breaking out the frying pan already? Things might start getting serious really fast.”

  Jake laughs.

  I like how they get along—like brothers, just like Jake said.

  Jake starts up the stairs. “I know. I think the only people he’s ever cooked for are us guys, and his mother of course.”

  “Will likes to cook?” I ask Jasper.

  “He does. And he’s good at it. If it weren’t for him I would have survived solely on sandwiches through my entire teen years.”

  I give him a small smile, his friend’s words haunting me—you don’t understand just how bad his life was.

  Once Jake has disappeared to the loft, Jasper takes a closer step toward me. “You sure you’re okay?”

  “Yes,” I insist.

  “Okay. I’ll be right back,” he says, and then he’s gone.

  I can tell he doesn’t want to leave me alone with Jake, but really, I can handle myself. I might appear weak, meek, or easily walked upon, but I have thick skin, toughened by years of always being forgotten, and I can handle Jake. He’s harmless anyway; what he needs is manners when it comes to women. I practically laugh to myself thinking maybe I could teach him a thing or two.

  Knock. Knock. Knock.

  Pound. Pound. Pound.

  Startled, I jump and gawk at the door like an idiot.

  Knock. Knock. Knock.

  Pound. Pound. Pound.

  Someone or some two are at the door.

  “What the fuck?” Jasper comes rushing out with his worn jeans unbuttoned and low on his hips, his T-shirt only halfway on, and bare feet. Something about his bare feet is so sexy. They get closer and my gaze lifts and goes right to those amazing abs before landing on his face.

  What is wrong with me?

  Jasper gives me a quick glance. “Did you buzz someone up?” His tone is noticeably calmer when he talks to me.

  “No. No one buzzed.”

  Knock. Knock. Knock.

  Pound. Pound. Pound.

  Jake comes stomping down the stairs. “What’s going on?”

  Pullin
g his shirt all the way down, Jasper tosses him an I don’t have a flying fuck look and then flings open the door, clearly ready to rip someone’s head off.

  Nothing seems real for a moment.

  Thin-pursed lips, a skinny face, and broad shoulders set my pulse at an alarming speed. It’s him—the detective. But what makes my pulse skyrocket are the two thick, black gun-and-radio belts planked on either side of him.

  On the other side of the threshold stands the detective, dressed in a similar rumpled tan suit to the one he wore yesterday, and two police officers dressed in full uniform.

  Panic rises in my chest.

  “Jasper Storm.” The familiar sound of his voice makes everything about the moment suddenly become very real.

  Jasper nods.

  “I’m Sergeant Detective John Hill.” He extends his hand and offers Jasper a piece of paper.

  Quickly, Jasper snatches it. His back is to me, so I can’t see his face. I take a tentative step, hoping to see what it is.

  “This is a warrant to search your premises,” the detective says tersely.

  A wave of dread comes over me.

  “Shit, fuck, shit.” Jake is beside me now and his curses are low and full of worry.

  I turn to him and feel more than panicky when I see horror written all over his face. “What’s going on?”

  Jake has his phone in his hand and he’s furiously texting someone. “This has to be about the girl whose body was found at the plant,” he mumbles under his breath.

  Eve.

  I can barely hear him above the blood rushing to my ears. Of course this is happening. Eve was with Jasper the night she was killed, which has to make Jasper a person of interest. I’m pretty certain from the way the detective spoke to me yesterday that he wants me to be one as well.

  Jasper finishes reading the warrant and clears the doorway. His hand drops and the paper crumples between his fingers.

  The detective steps in and his eyes land on mine immediately.

  Mine avert to Jasper.

  “I’d like to ask you a few questions while the officers conduct the search,” the detective says.

  “Can we do this later?”