by Kim Karr
I want to tell him how much he means to me. That I need him in my life. And for once I’m not worried I’m being too needy. I know Jasper Jackson Storm doesn’t look at me that way, but I also know Jasper isn’t JJ anymore and someone needing him doesn’t come easy.
So I hold off, because of him, and also because of me. In truth, I know I’m holding back for more than just him. I’m holding back because everyone I’ve ever cared about in my life is gone.
Forgotten me.
And I can’t lose him.
Therefore, skipping those words is okay because by the way he’s holding me close right now, I know he’s not planning on forgetting me.
And that’s enough.
MAINTENANCE CHECK
Jasper
IF TIME STANDS still, nothing can go wrong.
But it doesn’t stop. Seconds. Minutes. Hours. Days. They pass and things happen. 259,200 seconds. 4,320 minutes. 72 hours. 3 days. That’s how long I was away from Charlotte. During that time, I was arrested. She was attacked. She almost died. Jake saved her. Her attacker was caught. Killed. And I was freed. Seems like enough wrong for a lifetime, and yet it was only three days.
The harsh cold reality of what has taken place has my body drenched in a cold sweat, my brain swimming in waves of emotion, and still, as I look at Charlotte, I can’t help but think she is stronger than I ever could have imagined because right now I feel like I might crumble.
This is my fault.
I should have been there for her.
There’s an ache that rips apart my chest every time I look at her.
We’ve talked for the past hour, mostly I listened, my heart so dark with the knowledge of what happened to her that I would kill the son of a bitch with my bare hands if I could.
Then I think of my friends, and my mother, and how they pulled together to take care of her when I couldn’t.
When I couldn’t.
That’s what weighs the heaviest on me—a burden harder to shed than any I could ever imagine.
“Are you going to apologize to Jake?”
Sighing, I look at her. “Trust me, he feels just as bad as me.”
She cocks her head in confusion.
I shake mine. “Never mind. I’ll talk to him.”
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Charlotte’s voice is full of concern.
I run my hands through her mounds of dirty-blond curls. “Stop asking me that. You’re the one who got hurt.”
“Always so bossy,” she tells me with a grin.
Flames are licking at my skin and there’s a burst of heat clawing through my stomach, but it all goes away with that one smile she gives me. “You like it when I’m bossy.”
“I like it when you’re a lot of things,” she teases, running her fingertips through my hair.
Flirty.
Sexy.
Incredible.
Her touch is electric. A current that travels all the way to my cock. I try not to think about sex. I shouldn’t want to get her naked, and yet, I can’t help but want to make her feel better in the only way I can right now.
My hands travel down her back and rest on the tattoo inked on her lower spine. On the bouquet of forget-me-nots. The image I wish she never had to mar her body with. The family who couldn’t love one little girl enough to make her feel special. Getting out of my own head, I push the dire thought away and focus on her. On how special I think she is. On the fact that she’s alive, and here with me.
Fingers tug at my hair, and she buries her face in my neck, kissing me softly, making me groan.
Maybe she has the same idea I do?
Knock. Knock. Knock.
The tap is light, gentle, and I know it’s none of the guys.
“Jasper and Charlotte. Dinner’s ready.”
I open my mouth to tell my mother to eat without us, but Charlotte puts her hand over my mouth. I can’t help but laugh at her; she knows me too well.
“We’ll be right there,” Charlotte tells my mother.
“Good, and Charlotte,” she says.
“Yes, Mrs. Storm?”
“Shannon stopped by to see how you’re doing.”
“Who’s Shannon?” I whisper.
That smirk on Charlotte’s face tells me I’m going to want to hear this. “Great, maybe she can stay for dinner,” she says to my mother.
“Great idea, I’ll ask her.”
The conversation through the door ceases. “Well, who’s Shannon?”
Charlotte grins. “The girl Jake likes.”
Confused, I raise my brows. “Jake doesn’t like girls.” Wait that didn’t sound right. “I mean he likes girls, he just doesn’t date girls.”
“Well he does now. He must have asked her over.”
“And he met her how?”
“She’s a resident at the hospital,” she says as if that explains everything.
Pulling her closer to me, I say, “Okay, great. Let them all eat together. We’ll stay in here.”
She shakes her head no.
I stare at her. At her lips. At her face, bruised but still beautiful. “But I’m not hungry . . . for food.”
“Shhh . . . they’ll hear you.”
“I don’t really care.”
“Jasper, your mother has been cooking for hours. I don’t want to disappoint her.”
“My mother has been cooking?” I ask in surprise.
“Yes, and we’re going to join her and everyone else for dinner, and you’re going to tell her how good the food is and that you want seconds.”
I shake my head and lift Charlotte off of me, gently setting her bare feet on the carpet. “Who’s being bossy now?”
She shrugs. “Sometimes I have to take charge.”
There’s a dirty comeback for that, I’m certain, but I don’t try to think of one. Instead, I wrap my arm around her. “By all means, lead the way.”
CRUISE CONTROL
Charlotte
PATIENCE IS A virtue—that Jasper doesn’t have much of. And yet tonight he continues to amaze me.
After a very long meal, many bottles of wine, a private discussion with Jake, and hours of conversation about what happened to him and me, everyone has left and he’s walking his mother to her car. Feeling only slightly tired, I took my pain pills and I’m alone in his room, staring out the window at the reflection of the moon on the river.
“What do you think is next?” he asks softly.
I turn around to see his sexy silhouette bathed in the moonlight. “I don’t know, but I hope something good.”
His eyes are half-lidded with lust as he strides my way. “Me too.”
Wanting him so badly, I blurt out, “Make love to me.”
His mouth softens into a smile. “Is that an order?”
I raise a brow and try to be stern, but I end up giggling a, “Yes.”
“I want to see you,” he breathes.
The mood quickly shifting, my chest rises and falls in anticipation of having him inside me. Slowly, I unbutton my shorts and slide them down my thighs. My panties are plain and I take no time pushing those down as well. Stepping out of them, next I remove my top. My cast is small and pulling the lightweight shirt over my head is easy enough. My bra—that’s a different story. I haven’t mastered that task yet.
Jasper’s eyes devour me as I stand before him, and I let them. I like the heat I feel as they pass over every inch of my bare skin. When they land on the only garment I’m left wearing, I turn and lift my hair. He knows what I’m asking. No words are needed. We have our own language. Soon his lips find my neck and suck for a few moments. I can’t help the shiver that slinks down my spine. His touch. It’s electric and I’m craving it more than I could have imagined. Finally, his fingertips gently release the hook of my bra. I turn back around and slide the straps off.
I’m naked.
His lips part and his breathing picks up.
My eyes sweep him.
His turn.
He knows it though; I don’t
have to tell him.
Slowly, he toes his boots off, tugs his shirt over his head, and slides his jeans down his hips. What he’s left standing in is a tight pair of white underwear. “You like?” he laughs. “Compliments of the Detroit Police Department.”
I giggle a little, but then raise a seductive brow. “I do like them. In fact, I think you wore ones like that when you were eight. Not that I ever wanted to see you in your underwear back then.”
As if curious how he looks in them, he glances down at himself, at his raging erection bulging out from the tight, white fabric. The sight of him, all long, muscled limbs and smooth, sun-burnished skin, staring at himself, makes it feel like butterflies are taking flight in my belly.
Hurriedly, he removes the underwear and tosses them into the trashcan near his dresser. “Well, that’s the last time you’ll see me wearing tighty-whities.”
“What if I tell you I think you look sexy in them?”
He starts for the trashcan as if he plans to retrieve them.
“Come back here,” I order, grabbing his arm and pulling him close.
The glimmer in his eyes is filled with desire.
The look makes my body feel like a cloud, and I’m floating on air.
Soon enough, his lips are one breath away, his eyes devouring me, his breathing ragged. Standing here, I’m shapeless with no arms and no legs. I can smell him everywhere, all around me. I feel every part of his body against mine and he isn’t even close enough yet.
“Touch me.”
Slowly, tentatively, he allows his hands to glide down my arms, but he stops at the base of my cast. “I’m afraid I’m going to hurt you.”
“You could never,” I whisper.
“You don’t know that.”
“Yes, I do.”
The dark fringe of his lashes sweeps down as he closes his eyes. “But I almost did.”
“What do you mean?”
His eyes open and he looks down at me with an expression I can’t quite decipher. “Nothing.”
“Talk to me. Tell me what you mean.”
Two naked bodies wanting to do nothing more than connect stand close, but not close enough. It’s like a wall has gone up. “When I thought I wasn’t going to get out of jail, I vowed to myself that I’d go it alone.”
As soon as he speaks, I know I can bring this wall down. There he was, my JJ, always determined to take the heat, the brunt of the bad, to make it better for everyone else. “Of course you did, Jasper. You don’t think your friends knew that the minute they saw you outside the courtroom?”
Surprise is in his stare.
I take his sweet face, covered in stubble, in my palms. “Here’s what you don’t get—no one is ever going to let you go it alone—no matter what.”
For one moment, he doesn’t move, just takes in what I said. I’d have thought that there was no way he didn’t already know that, but maybe he, like me, sometimes doubts his ability to belong, so I give him a few minutes to draw in the truth, stamp it onto his heart, and know that he belongs—always.
He’ll never be alone.
Then, I assume the lead. I take his hands and place them on my waist and slowly slide them down. “I want these here. And here.”
With no hesitation, he grips my hips.
Without care, I moan, loudly. I have missed this so much.
Slowly, his legs become flush with my own and his chest overpowers me with strength, as if his frame is built with bones made of desire.
Electricity runs through me from my head to my toes. I’m shaking in his arms and my heart beats erratically. My lips are parted. I’m waiting. Waiting for him to kiss me. Just once. No not once, because even a thousand kisses could never be enough.
He looks at me with so much emotion it nearly brings me to my knees. “God—Charlotte, I’m afraid.”
I shake my head. Take his face in my hands. “My sweet, sweet, Jasper. Please, don’t be afraid to touch me. I need you. I need you so much.”
Before I even get all my words out, he’s kissing me. Soft, light kisses. Once, twice, three times. I could keep counting but infinity might come too soon. His hands glide lightly up my back and over my shoulders. And then he’s kissing me deeper, harder, and I’m kissing him too, with a fervent urgent need I’ve never known before.
He breaks for air only to bury his lips in my neck, along my collarbone, up my chin and cheeks, and I’m gasping for oxygen.
We’re moving, mouths once again glued together, closer and closer still to the bed. Just before we reach the foot of it, Jasper stops. He’s breathing hard, and he pulls away to look into my eyes. “Are you sure we should be doing this?”
I find the voice to rasp, “Yes.” I didn’t ask the doctor or Shannon, but I didn’t need to. My body needs Jasper, and nothing could be wrong with that.
He nods, just once, and takes my mouth again before backing me up until the back of my knees hit the bed. Then he pulls away and grins at me like he has a secret. Like reaching our destination was the plan all along.
I hope it was.
Happy to be with him, my arms fling around his neck and his wrap around my waist. We fall to the bed in a tangle of limbs and laughter. Inching our way to the top, rolling and scooting, careful of my left arm, we both laugh when our heads finally hit the pillows.
That laughter fades when he rolls on top of me. Eyes, so brown and soft, stare down at me. Craning my neck, I find his throat, run my tongue up it, taste the salt on his skin, rub my lips over the poking bristles of his beard.
One calloused hand reaches under me and cups my behind. The feeling gentle and rough, just like Jasper. My hands follow suit and find his behind. Caressing it with both hands, slowly I draw my fingertips around and follow that V that I love to lick my way down.
Soon enough, his hand not holding himself up, is on my thigh. Our kissing has taken priority, deep, sensual tongue locking moments, where we gasp for air by nipping and licking at each other’s lips. All the while his hand is slowly slipping down and then back up my thigh, occasionally brushing my bare flesh, but never quite making it there.
Every time I try to reach for his cock, his hand glides down closer to my knee. When I leave my hands on his hips, his fingers draw nearer to where I crave them.
“Jasper,” I whisper, hoarsely, unable to take it any longer.
He pauses, kissing me and looks down at me. “Yes, Charlotte.”
“What are you doing?”
Truly confused he places both palms on either side of me and asks, “What do you mean?”
Speaking takes an effort in the state I’m in. “I want you inside me.”
My nipples are tight, hard, aching, and he passes a thumb over them. “You asked me to make love to you. That’s what I’m doing.”
Reaching for the silky heat of his long, hard cock, I take it in my hand. “Maybe we could go a little faster tonight.”
That slow grin melts me. “I can do faster.”
I slide my hand along his erection. Up. Down. Magic.
A small, helpless noise escapes his throat before he presses his thumb to my clit and his mouth to my breast. Sweet, sweet ecstasy. Turning up the heat, he slides a finger inside me and my grip on him falters.
The rise and fall of our breaths push our bodies together. I stroke. He alternates between plunging and rubbing. Soon enough, we’re both panting. Unable to take another minute, he pulls the sheet up, and then his hand covers mine, and finally we’re going to do this.
We look into each other’s eyes as he hovers over me. I open for him. He slides against me, rubbing the head of his erection with my wetness. He stops, licks his lips, and takes a breath.
I bite my lip.
He exhales that deep breath upon catching my signal from years gone by that I need him. Then he pushes inside me one inch at a time instead of the fast, full thrusts I’ve grown accustomed to. His arms are trembling as he holds himself up, moving at a slow and steady pace.
I shift, tilting my hi
ps to ease his way.
We move like this—up, down, twist, up, down, slow, up, down, steady. Over and over, and my body is responding to each and every one of those movements in a way it never has. Every nerve in my body is aching and sizzling with tension. Each kiss is sending shudders through me. All at once, my world becomes only Jasper, his body, his hands, his mouth, his cock, and his soul. Like nothing I’ve ever felt, I’m spilling into climax, and then rolling into another.
His mouth captures each and every one of my cries, and his body moves slower the harder I fall apart, as if making sure he’s putting me back together each and every time.
Jasper makes love to me in a way we both learn together. I lose count of how many times I come. I never want this to end. I want it to last forever.
Too soon though, he slows, taking twice as long with each push and pull, up and down, in and out. He’s close. He licks my mouth. Breathes against my lips. Lowers himself closer to me. I wrap my legs around him, trying to draw him closer, if that’s even possible. I think our bodies became one long ago.
Pleasure fills me once again, and this time he shudders with his own climax. We cry out each other’s names in unison, and as we come together, I can’t help but think everything is finally right.
More than right—it is perfect.
THE QUARTER MILE
Jasper
WHEN I WAS street racing, there were maybe twenty-five cars in the Detroit area that were 10-second cars. I mean 10-second cars through and through. Not racers that guys towed in and ran with dump headers to speed them up. I’m talking through the system streetcars.
This meant there were a lot of cars showing up on the line that claimed they could run a quarter mile in less than 10.999 seconds that couldn’t—without help that is. No worries though, we had a way to weed those out. When a guy showed up with what was obviously a pro-stocker that was hauled in on a trailer and unloaded around the corner, we’d take him on a little run around the interstate.
It was Will’s idea.
Brilliant.
Easing a stock car along the highway at fifty-five or sixty miles per hour for thirty minutes before running a full-blown race would almost always cause the car to overheat during the drag. The sick part is that the smoke would always be of such large dimension that the dude would have had trouble trying to push the car to the finish line, even if the body of the car was the size of a tractor-trailer, the smog was that thick.
