Joy Ride: A Virgin Romance (Let it Ride Book 3)

by Cynthia Rayne

  “I hope the bastard dies slow and painful, but back to the subject at hand, I ain’t young and lookin’ for love like all of you. The only thing in my future is some grandbabies and my, er, canning.”

  “Canning?” Rose couldn’t imagine Eddie picking green beans and tucking them into Mason jars. It seemed so domestic—this woman was fierce, feisty.

  “Yes, you’re too young to have any, but I make some damn fine preserved beverages.”

  Preserved beverages? Did that mean moonshine? But Rose refused to be diverted from the topic at hand.

  “You think love has an age limit?”

  “I think I had my shot—the love of my life is dead.”

  That brought the conversation about Captain to a close.

  “Well, I’m not in any shape to be dating someone anyway. I’m a hot mess.” Rose wished she’d just drop it.

  “Aren’t we all?”

  “I’m only friends with Duke.”

  “You tryin’ to convince yourself or me?

  Rose said nothing.

  “Two people who have survived so much might be good for each other—as friends. Anything else would be very complicated.”

  “We’re friends. Nothing is going on, and besides, he has a hellion.”

  “Oh, honey, a man don’t stare at a woman he wants to be friends with the way he was eyeing you. I’m only givin’ you some friendly advice.” Eddie nodded to Daisy, who watched Duke with narrowed eyes. “I think your sister’s catchin’ on. This is gonna be entertainin’ as hell.”

  Eddie got up and joined another table, leaving Rose deep in thought.

  ***

  Duke tried to keep his mind on the hellion next to him. Chesty was fucking frisky tonight. He hadn’t gotten laid in forever, but he wasn’t in the mood despite all the filthy suggestions she whispered in his ear.

  For one thing, he couldn’t keep his eyes off Rose.

  He’d never seen her in anything so feminine. Well, that wasn’t true. When he’d rescued her, she’d been dressed in lingerie, but that’d been a royally fucked up situation—Rose hadn’t been wearing it of her own free will. Tonight, she wore a dress, and she looked beautiful. He kept thinking about leading her onto the dance floor, holding her close—which was fucking ridiculous.

  Duke didn’t ask, and he didn’t get moony over chicks. Usually, he sat in the corner at these stupid bashes, being surly and difficult. If he had any goddamn sense, he’d take the hellion to a hotel room and fuck her senseless. Maybe it’d drown out his desire for Rose.

  Then Daisy came barreling in his direction and the night went straight to shit.

  Oh, fuck me. She suspects something.

  She had a glass of sweet tea in her hand, and for a moment, he wondered if she was about to splash it in his face. It’d serve him right, just for being a dickhead—sitting here leering at her sister.

  “Hey.” Duke got to his feet, hoping he could get away before she let him have it.

  No such luck.

  Daisy spared a glance at the hellion. “Leave, I need to talk to Duke.”

  There was a hierarchy in the club, and old ladies had power over the hellions, mostly because of their close affiliation with club members. Chesty didn’t argue—instead, she stood and walked away hips swishing.

  “Didn’t we have a talk about Rose and how off limits she was? I saw the way you looked at her tonight.” Daisy poked a finger in the middle of Duke’s chest.

  Sugar-coated shitballs.

  “Yeah, I remember, and if you recall, she’s a grown woman.” He hadn’t planned on pursuing anything with her anyway but fuck if he wanted to be told he couldn’t.

  “Barely. She’s young enough to be your kid.”

  Duke couldn’t dispute the logic, but he didn’t have a fatherly relationship with her.

  “Yeah, but she isn’t.” He spotted Eddie across the room—silently asking for help, but she held up her hands. As if to say, sorry, honey, you’re on your own.

  Fuck, he couldn’t shout at a pregnant woman. Even one who’d been a Marine and could hold her own in a fight. For one, Cowboy would shoot him. For another, it was a good bet Eddie wouldn’t speak to him again. Though he finally figured out why Rose hadn’t told her sister. Daisy was stubborn enough to track Kent down with a baby on board.

  “Look, I don’t want any trouble.” Duke held up his hands.

  “Too damn bad, you got it anyway.” She moved into his personal space, trying to back him down. “Stay away from her.”

  “Well, want in one hand and shit in the other, and see which gets filled first. Rose can choose who she sees. As it happens? I’ ain’t datin’ her.”

  “Then why do I hear you been spendin’ time with her?”

  Fuckin’ gossips.

  “We’re workin’ on a project together.”

  Daisy placed her hands on her hips. “What kind of a project? The kind where you put your dick in her?”

  Duke stared down the little Marine, and his temper started to boil. “I told you I ain’t fuckin’ your sister—accept my word for it and move the fuck on.”

  “Well, you need to accept my word. If you touch her, there ain’t a hole deep enough in Texas to hide in. I’ll find your ass and kick the snot out of you.”

  Damnation.

  “Yeah, I hear ya, but there ain’t nothin’ to worry about. I ain’t after her or anything so take it down a notch.”

  The lie worked because Daisy stalked off and grabbed Rose, heading for the door.

  Chesty plopped back in his lap, and Duke tried to think of an excuse to get out of sex tonight—a first for him.

  Honey, I got a headache wasn’t gonna cut it.

  Chapter Ten

  Another week dragged by.

  Kent hadn’t shown up, thank the sweet Lord.

  Duke had begun to wonder if the dickhead had only wanted to scare her. Or he could be waiting for the right moment to snatch her. Kent was more twisted than a pretzel factory, so it was probably the last option.

  In other news, his pants had gotten fucking tighter and not because he’d been eating at Voo’s too much. No, he had a single-minded obsession with Rose. Neither of them mentioned the kiss or the song he’d played for her at Perdition, but they both haunted him. Duke wondered what would have happened if he kissed her again, pulled her flush against his body, or hell, even pulled her to the floor.

  Fuck it all.

  Duke had no business touching her. He still didn’t know what had fucking possessed him to give in to his impulses. She was a rape victim, not some sexed-up hellion looking for fun and he shouldn’t have laid a hand on her.

  Thankfully, she hadn’t retreated from him.

  Duke had been waiting for the fallout, but nothing had happened. They had an awkward, unspoken agreement to ignore it. To his credit, he tried to forget about her, but it was impossible. Duke couldn’t get Rose out of his thoughts.

  He’d chalked up his momentary stupidity to horniness. He hadn’t had a play date with Chesty in weeks, not since he’d started training Rose and he told himself he didn’t have the time.

  Or maybe because you don’t want her anymore.

  Duke ignored the thought. Maybe he should make some time to fuck Chesty before he lost his mind and groped Rose again. He couldn’t get it up for the hellion anymore, quite literally. The last time he’d run into her at the diner, she’d pressed up on him, kissed him, and murmured a truly filthy proposition in his ear, but he’d made an excuse and got the fuck out of there pronto. While the mere thought of Rose got him hard and aching.

  He’d been finishing up a tricky enforcement gig for the club, which took up a large portion of his time. It forced him to make a training appointment with Rose at night instead of in the morning.

  Stalking somebody was a big ass time commitment.

  For some reason, meeting her in the evening felt like a date. He’d even considered inviting her over for dinner before the session but managed to shut it down before he’d brough
t it up.

  Unfortunately, he was distracted. Mostly because he was fantasizing about taking her downstairs to The Vault, spreading her out on the padded St. Andrew’s Cross, tying her arms over her head, and… fuck.

  As Duke put Rose through her training paces, he didn’t see one of the corners of a mat had flipped up, and she tripped over it and twisted her ankle. She gasped in immediate pain, clutching her leg.

  “Lemme see.”

  Duke knelt in front of her and placed her foot on his knee, and then gently removed her shoe before sliding down her gym sock. He probed her ankle, and she hissed at the slightest contact.

  “Okay, I need you to wiggle your toes for me.”

  She did, slowly, but he could tell from the way she grimaced it hurt.

  “Good. Now flex your foot, and point your toes.”

  She winced as she complied.

  “Excellent. Put some weight on it for me and take a step.”

  Rose took a step backward but kept most of her weight on the other foot.

  “On a scale of one to ten, how bad is the pain?”

  “About a two.”

  Duke nodded. “I don’t think you have a break, just sore muscles, and a slight sprain. It’s my fault—I should have given us more of a warm-up tonight. If you want, we can go to the clinic in town, and I’ll do some X-rays.” Duke doubted it was necessary, but he wanted to offer her the best care he could.

  “No, I know it’s not broken.” She hobbled over to a chair and slid her sock and shoe back on. “I broke my big toe once, and it hurt a lot more than this.”

  Duke stood and snagged a bottle of water—taking a chug before offering it to her.

  Everything becomes erotic, even a stupid plastic water bottle, when he couldn’t touch her, taste her, fuck her.

  He forced himself to think about her injury, to bring his thoughts under control. “You know, I got somethin’ that might help your foot.”

  “What?” She finished lacing her shoes and glanced up.

  “A shot of tequila and a dip in the whirlpool should help you feel better.”

  It was a cure-all he’d used many times. When he’d been in the military, he’d had to settle for a hot shower instead, but the general principle was the same.

  “And if you’ll let me, I’ll give you a massage. It should help ease your muscles.”

  Rose didn’t say no out of hand. He supposed it showed some progress. She seemed to trust him a bit more every day.

  “You know how to give massages?”

  “Sure do. When I was in the army, I was sore all the fucking time, starting from boot camp on. So I checked out a few books, then took a couple of classes, and figured it out. It should make you feel better and take the edge off the pain.”

  And it would cause Duke a lot of pain—the blue ball kind.

  Rose searched his face, eyes intent.

  “What do you think?”

  Duke tried to sound completely casual when he was anything but. He itched to touch her, and he knew he shouldn’t do this, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself. The desire to get closer to her was overwhelming. He promised himself he’d be content with some platonic touching.

  “Will you let me put my hands on you?”

  He waited, in agony, for her answer.

  ***

  Rose swallowed the lump in her throat. His voice was a low, sexy rumble, and it made her insides twist into little knots. There were dozens of reasons to say no.

  Duke already had a sex partner. From what she’d heard around the club, he practiced serial monogamy. A massage was an intimate activity, and she didn’t want to ruin his, er, relationship. Well, maybe it was a lie… yeah, she was sitting here lying to herself. She wanted to kiss him again, maybe more. Rose hated imagining him kissing the beautiful blonde and taking her to bed.

  But there were other reasons to say no.

  Because a massage was so up close and personal, it might trigger her. She’d only had one incident with him, but allowing him more intimate access to her body might touch off another episode. Then there was their professional partnership to consider. This touchy-feely stuff might make it awkward for both of them.

  And there was only one reason to agree.

  Rose wanted his hands on her. No, she craved it.

  “Yes. Okay.”

  Was it her imagination or did his face light up at the news?

  Duke crossed and uncrossed his arms, then shuffled his feet. He seemed nervous.

  Why would he be nervous?

  “I’m gonna start up the whirlpool.”

  Duke headed out to the deck, and she limped after him—mindful of her sore foot.He had a slate tile patio with a small wood-burning chiminea, a wrought iron fire pit on stilts, which he’d placed next to the water.

  Rose remembered seeing it when she’d first arrived at his place. It was a cool, early autumn evening, and steam hung over the hot tub. The tub itself was black and filled with jets, which circulated the water. Behind the whirlpool was a rock wall, which had three small waterfalls flowing into the tub directly from the hot springs. Rose could see a ditch had been dug from the river—it zigged and zagged around Duke’s property.

  “I don’t have a swimsuit.” She glanced at the bubbling water.

  His eyes raked over her, and she knew he pictured what was beneath her clothing.

  “Don’t worry. You don’t need one here.”

  “I’m not sure if that’s a good idea.” The hair raised on her arms and the back of her neck—like every cell in her body was surging to life.

  Their eyes met for a moment, and neither one of them broke the gaze.

  Duke spoke first. “I promise I won’t be gettin’ in with you, and the water will be churning so I won’t see a thing.”

  She thought she heard him mumble something, which sounded like “damn shame” under his breath.

  Then Duke went inside to retrieve some supplies.

  Rose shrugged off her clothes and slipped into the heated water.

  God, it felt good.

  Rose instantly relaxed, her muscles going slack. She closed her eyes.

  When he returned, Duke sat on a bench a couple of feet away and fiddled with the controls on the unit.

  It was strange to be nearly naked with a man she hardly knew. Yet he didn’t make her uncomfortable, just intensely aware of his presence. He’d taken great pains to put her at ease.

  Duke handed her a shot glass full of tequila along with a lime wedge. The rim of the glass had been encrusted with salt. She licked it, bolted the shot, and then pushed the lime wedge in her mouth. It tasted harsh, but a lick of fire ran along her throat, settling into her stomach. It drifted throughout her body, imparting a languid sort of warmth that matched the warm water surrounding her.

  “Thank you.” She handed him the glass and leaned back into the embrace of the water, letting it rush over her.

  “Another?”

  “Please.”

  Playing bartender, he poured her another shot, and she had an easier time downing it. Again, it snaked through her body—imparting a sense of serenity.

  Yeah, definitely feeling better. She had a good buzz going, but she wasn’t drunk.

  Duke pressed a button on the remote, and the bubbles increased. A jet shot out from the wall, pounding against her lower back.

  Oh, yes. She relaxed into it, letting it batter her muscles into complete submission until they gave way, relaxing. This was exactly what she needed—her tension drained away.

  Duke went into the house and re-emerged a few minutes later with a couple of towels. He knelt by the edge of the tub until they were at eye level.

  “I’m sorry you got hurt. It’s my fucking fault. I shoulda been payin’ more attention.

  She shrugged. “Don’t be. It isn’t your fault I’m a klutz.”

  “I shoulda secured the mats.”

  “It’s all good, Duke.” She patted his arm, leaving a trail of water droplets. “I’m not going to break. B
elieve me, it was nothing.”

  “I think you’ve your fair share of beat-downs and then some, Firecracker.”

  “What do you know? I got my very own bodyguard.”

  “Yeah, and don’t you forget it.” He flicked another switch on the tub, which caused the jets at the base to fire up. “Forgot to turn these on.”

  Rose squinted at the foamy water surrounding her. Lots of tiny bubbles fizzed around her body, and they grazed her legs as they rushed to the surface. Then the water started to churn, even more bubbles slid up her thighs, over her abdomen, and delving between her thighs. As another wave hit her, she nearly doubled over.

  “Oh, my God.” Rose wasn’t in pain—no the sensation was unexpectedly pleasurable. Very pleasurable.

  “You okay?” Duke cocked his head to the side.

  “Uh, I'm fine. More than fine.” Unless you counted the embarrassment, she was getting turned on.

  “Then why’d you make the noise?”

  “It was, er, surprising.” More foamy water cascaded between her thighs, and she clutched the edge of the pool. “Oh, Duke.”

  His eyes widened. “Are you…?” His eyes never left hers. “Does it feel,” he paused, tongue darting over his dry lips. “Does it feel good?”

  “God yes.”

  “Do you want to get out?” Duke reached for her, holding his palm up.

  She grabbed his hand, but somehow, her legs wouldn't work, and she didn't quite possess the will to go anywhere. The water felt so good, so intense.

  Rose moaned. “I don't think I can.” She sucked in a breath. “I’m not sure I even want to.”

  Duke made a rough nose.

  The atmosphere changed, became charged—like it did when he’d placed a hand on her hip, just before he kissed her.

  Rose surged in the water, positioning herself over a big jet at her feet. The bubbles hit her in all the right places—floating along her thighs, swirling up around her nipples.

  A half-strangled cry escaped her throat. “I think I might… I think I might….”

  “Orgasm?” His voice had gotten impossibly low, a near baritone. It gave her the shivers, made her body throb even more.

  She nodded furiously—self-conscious, but so aroused she couldn't help it.