Savage Heartache (Corona Pride Book 3)

by Liza Street

  Rex’s response took too long, and Jameson frowned again in annoyance. Suddenly, a link popped up.

  Jameson finished shoving things in his messenger bag and sat down on the desk at the front of the empty lecture hall. He clicked through to the website. Nina’s Romance Spectacular. Because everyone deserves an HEA.

  Curious, he clicked a random post link lower down the page and started reading. Then he realized—this was his Nina. Her tone was all over these words, the way she spoke. The things she said. Alphahole. Pants feelings. She was—this was her blog.

  Romance, though? He wondered about it. His mom had always been reading it, and had been quick to snatch a book out of his hands if he found one at the breakfast table and started to read. He’d never been able to get far into any of them.

  In his education, everything not-literary was frowned upon. Trash, he’d heard someone call it before. “It’s the same plot over and over,” a professor had said, her lip curling in distaste. “Man and woman meet, fight, and then get together.”

  But Jameson felt he shouldn’t judge it without reading it first.

  Nina seemed to read quite a lot of it, given all the reviews she wrote.

  He went to the middle of the page and selected a more recent post. Her reviews were short and to the point. She usually shared some kind of insight into her life.

  The cat’s got claws.

  If she was sharing about her life, was she—shit. He quickly clicked on a newer post, and there it was.

  That alphahole I mentioned last week, J? The two-hundred-plus pounds of muscle who showed up ranting and raving and acting like I was the worst piece of cat scat to land on his territory? He just almost kissed me. I think.

  He clenched his phone tight in his hand and mouthed the word “alphahole” again. It was one thing when she teased him about it to his face, and another entirely to be called the name behind his back.

  He stood up. Marched to his office and sat, stewing, for the last thirty minutes of his office hours. He tried to keep it together while one student, Kurt, explained how his grandma had died and he’d had to miss class.

  “Just how many grandmas do you have?” Jameson asked him.

  Kurt blinked.

  “Because this is the fifth time you’ve tried to use that excuse with me over the past two years.”

  Kurt started cracking his knuckles. “I, uh—”

  “Look,” Jameson said. “If you want to do something else with your life, now’s the time to start. You don’t want to be an English major? Fine. Don’t be an English major. Be something else. Be anything else. Be anything where you can give one hundred percent to it. No more weak excuses and doing things by halves, all right?”

  “I want to be an English major,” Kurt said. “I do. I just—”

  Jameson raised his eyebrows.

  “I just need to get my shit together.”

  “Good, then,” Jameson said. “Get your shit together. And when you come to my lecture halls, I want you not only there in body, but in spirit. This is the stuff about universal truths I was talking about in my lecture today. We are living our lives, and we need to live them entirely.”

  Kurt stood up and shook Jameson’s hand. “Thank you, Professor.”

  Jameson nodded. “You’re welcome. Now go.”

  Kurt took off, sending another look over his shoulder. Jameson caught his reflection in the glass of a framed photo on the wall. He looked every bit the predator he felt like, his face pulled down in a menacing frown, his eyes blazing. It wasn’t Kurt’s fault, though—it was Nina’s fault, and the fault of her infernal blog.

  He stood up from where he’d leaned against his desk. Office hours were over, and he had to get back to the Ring of Fire. There was no way he was going to let Nina keep writing about him like this.

  Calling him an alphahole in a public blog. For fuck’s sake.

  Thirteen

  Nina leaned back into the couch, her copy of Interstellar Love Connection resting on her belly. She was full of Rex’s amazing cooking, the store-bought coleslaw brought by Carl, and plenty of Margot’s cupcakes. That woman should go into business because Nina would happily spend zillions of dollars in any bakery where Margot made the goods.

  Interstellar Love Connection had some definite flaws, but overall, Nina was enjoying it. She could see why Justine had recommended it—Justine was a huge sci-fi nerd and she loved kick-ass heroines. On the plus side, it had everything Nina liked: a tough heroine, a sexy man with a huge shlong, and tons of witty repartee.

  Nina liked to read about tough women because Nina so rarely felt as if she qualified as one. Justine, though, she liked to read about them because she was one BAMF.

  She heard Jameson’s truck tear into the Ring of Fire. Great, Mr. Frownypants was home. But maybe his mood would be improved. She’d practically handed him a how-to attitude adjustment on a platter, and when they’d parted ways earlier, he’d seemed less gruff. More accepting.

  Handsome, in a way.

  Nope, Nina, shut it down, she thought. That is not the direction your thoughts need to be going.

  His boots crunched the gravel when he got out of his truck. Then she heard his footsteps.

  Only he wasn’t going across the Ring of Fire to his place—he was getting closer.

  Nina sat up. She looked at Interstellar Love Connection and wondered whether he’d make fun of it. He taught freaking literature, for heaven’s sake. She had time to hide the book…but no, she’d own her romance reading habit.

  She left the book face up on the coffee table in front of her and frantically finger combed her hair. The waves were impossible, after having her hair down all day. The slight breeze hadn’t seemed like it would do much damage, and if she’d had straight hair like Laura’s she’d have been fine. But even the tiniest breeze with her hair down, and it got all snarly and unkempt.

  Could someone ever be called “kempt?” she wondered, as she tried to get out a particularly difficult knot. Come on, Nina, she thought. Get kempt.

  A heavy knock sounded on the door, and Nina barely had a chance to say, “Come in,” before it burst open and Jameson stood there, looking like some kind of angry outer-space lord ready to conquer a planet. An angry outer-space lord in a black button-down shirt and khaki pants.

  “Um, hi?” Nina said, standing up.

  “What on earth do you think you’re doing? Romance—that blog—Nina?”

  She put her hands on her hips and straightened her spine. She wouldn’t be cowed by an alphahole. “Sorry, you’re not speaking in complete sentences. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  He let out a growl of frustration. “I mean your blog. Do you think you can just do whatever the hell you want?”

  “Well, I’m sorry if your high-minded sensibilities are offended, but I happen to love reading romance. Maybe you think it’s okay to discount the reading preferences of billions of women—and men—but I for one happen to enjoy reading romance and I love my job and I’d love it even more if you’d get your big stupid head out of my business. Nobody cares about your stupid…anger management issues.”

  He stalked forward on quiet feet until he was standing directly in front of her, breathing heavy, his nostrils dilated as if he were…smelling her?

  “Yes,” he said, his voice softer. “I’m here. I’m this close to you.”

  She wanted to reach out and touch him. She wanted to soothe his anger, soothe his hurt. Instead, she kept her fists clenched at her hips.

  “Why are you so mad?” she asked. She’d hated it when Jake was this close to her, his air blending with hers, but with Jameson she just wanted to reach up, grab him by the face, and pull him closer.

  “You wrote about me,” he said.

  “Oh!” She tried not to laugh, really. She tried to hold it in. But she couldn’t help it. “Okay. Um.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Okay?”

  “Well, maybe I was a bit harsh. No, you know what? I’m not going to apologize f
or what I had to say. You are an alphahole, and you freakin’ know it, too. I even told you when I first arrived. It’s not like you read anything in there that wasn’t the truth.”

  “You wrote about me online and published it.”

  “I didn’t use your name.”

  His eyes flashed. “I think the J was clear enough in this context.”

  “The only people other than us who would know are Gemma and Rex. And it’s nothing I wouldn’t tell Gemma, even knowing she’d probably tell Rex.”

  “So, you’re not going to apologize,” he said.

  She shook her head. “Nope. I was honest about what I thought. None of my opinions on my blog are secrets. I’ve even called you an alphahole to your face.”

  He closed his eyes, as if searching deep within for patience. “I’m not…unkind to you, am I?”

  Was this guy for real? Nina put a hand on her hip. “Maybe you should be asking how many times you’ve been unkind to me since I got here. Let’s count. You told me to go away. You said I had to do backbreaking work in order to stay. You’ve barged into my cabin and started growling like a crazed lunatic—”

  “I want to be kind to you.” He closed his eyes again and took a deep breath. When he opened them again, they were blazing, bright blue. “I want to be…too kind to you.”

  “What the hell is that supposed to—”

  He cut her off with a kiss. His lips, so warm, so firm against her own, with just the right amount of yielding. His breath, smelling like cinnamon. Had he been chewing gum? She tried to sense any remaining synthetic hints of cinnamon, but came up with nothing. Was this just the way he tasted? Yep, and she loved it. She could kiss him all freaking day.

  “Wait,” she said.

  He stilled instantly, but his body was a statue of tension. Coiled muscle, ready to explode into action. She placed her hand on his chest, touching the soft cotton of his button-up shirt. Following the lines of his buttons, her gaze landed on his crotch, where a hard length pressed against his slacks.

  Tearing her gaze away from his cock, she whispered, “I’m sorry I called you names on my blog.”

  “I deserved it,” he said.

  He didn’t make another move toward her—she’d told him to wait, and he was waiting. But his gaze told her everything—he would give her everything, if she would only let him.

  She wanted all he had to offer. “Okay, then,” she said in a hoarse voice.

  He threaded his fingers with hers. They both looked at their joined hands for a moment. Did it feel as special to him as it did to her? She couldn’t ask, because he was moving his mouth to hers for another searing kiss. He backed her up toward the couch, but instead of sitting down with her or moving her to the cushions, he moved her toward the side, so her back was against the wall.

  This…Jameson kissing her. This was really happening. She lost herself in the sensations of his strong tongue, moving against her lips, asking to be let in. He still smelled like anger. He smelled like the wilderness, untamed, like at any minute things could change.

  She didn’t want things to change. She wanted this kiss to go on and on, and besides that, she wanted more.

  Wrapping one of her legs around him, she hooked it around his waist and drew him closer. He growled, a rumbling in his chest that she felt all through her body. She liked this growly, grumbly, grumpy bear. She liked the way his rough stubble raked across her cheeks, the pain heightening her pleasure as he pressed harder into her with his pelvis.

  She felt all of him, there, but it was too far away, under clothes. She wanted him naked and in her arms, touching all of her bare skin with his.

  As he continued his assault on her mouth, she worked her hands in between them and rubbed her palm against the length of his cock. He was hard, long, ready for her. She’d never wanted something, or someone, so badly in her life.

  She unfastened his pants and he pressed harder, as if he too wanted more contact with her. Then she reached in, felt the velvety soft length of him, and he growled louder. “Nina,” he gasped. “Should stop. I’m too old for you.”

  Laughing through his kisses, she encircled him with her hand, and he bucked forward. “This doesn’t feel too old for me at all,” she said.

  His hands worked under her shirt, callused palms touching her bare skin, searing her with their heat and demand. He lifted, and she raised her arms so he could get her shirt off. The look he gave her was all desire—half-lidded blue eyes, locked on her breasts, and then back up to her face and lips.

  Then he dove for her cleavage, burying his face there, licking, biting, sucking her skin.

  Nina leaned her head back, moaning. The sensations were too much. He left her bra on, but shoved the cups down so her breasts were on offer, and then he moved his hands back down to her waist, already dipping into her waistband, fumbling with her leggings.

  He pushed his fingers into her panties, touching her curls and folds, and she wasn’t sure about anything anymore—where they were, what their names were, or what existed outside of this moment.

  More skin. She wanted more skin, more Jameson. She yanked his shirt over his head, and some of the buttons came loose. Then she grabbed his cock again, pumped it once and he pressed hard against her. “Now,” she said. “Give me everything.”

  “I make the rules,” he said.

  She almost snorted. That’s right, he was the alpha. At the same time, this was sexy. Now all those kick-ass heroines who melted at a commanding word were starting to make sense to her. There was something erotically freeing about giving over power, even if it was just for a brief span of time.

  For this moment, she would allow herself to belong to him.

  He pinned her hips in place with his two meaty hands, and she shuddered at the possessive, dominant look in his dark blue eyes. “Mine,” he said. “I’m going to take you now, take all of you.”

  She nodded, mutely, but couldn’t resist nipping his shoulder when he shoved her pants down to her ankles. He growled and caught her mouth in a punishing kiss.

  “Birth control?” he asked.

  “Taken care of.”

  Then he was shoving against her, his cock at her entrance, rubbing against the outside. She couldn’t wait. She didn’t want to. She pushed forward, trying to capture him, but his hands went back to her hips. “Not yet, greedy woman. I take my time with what’s mine.”

  She whimpered. His? Her lust-fogged brain would accept it, no problem.

  He held her in place, hips tight in his hands, all of her pressed against that wall and he went back to work, suckling and biting her breasts. He gently took one nipple between his teeth, bit down slightly until she cried out, and then his tongue was out, circling it, soothing the flesh.

  “Jameson, please,” she whispered. “Please.”

  “I like you begging,” he said. “My Nina at my mercy, begging for me. But maybe I’ll wait a little longer.”

  “No,” she gasped, but then he was there, inside, filling her up.

  She’d never felt so full, so complete. She wanted to freeze this beautiful moment, but she needed to move. Being still was too hard, but moving brought unspeakable pleasure. She was already so close to coming.

  Three quick thrusts, and she felt herself pulsing around him. The pleasure inside her needed escape and she cried out. His mouth covered hers, consuming her cries and giving back more pleasure. In a moment, he started moving again. His thrusts were fast against her sensitive inner walls. His pelvis rubbed up against her clit. She mewled, beyond words, beyond thought.

  He kept going, pushing inside of her.

  “Jameson—Jameson, I’m—” Again she came, shattering in a powerful orgasm. He kissed her, his tongue swirling in her mouth, his cock driving into her heat, and he kept pushing inside of her.

  Nina was at sea, or floating in the sky, she couldn’t tell. All she knew was that he continued pressing into her. The point of pleasure was so hot and bright as he moved against it. She keened, holding onto his s
houlders, trying to keep herself from falling. But he had her—he wouldn’t let her fall.

  He turned her around so she faced the wall, put her hands up above her head and grabbed them around the wrists, holding her in place. He entered her again from behind, thrusting up so that she felt him against her ass.

  Then he reached around her and touched her clit, rubbing it twice with his fingers so she gasped again, wailed his name.

  “One more time, sweetheart,” he said. “We’ll get there together.”

  He caught her clit between his thumb and his finger and pinched it as he thrust again inside her. He froze mid-thrust, bit down hard on her shoulder, and she lost everything—her name, her heartache, her past. She lost it all to him.

  He breathed her name into her ear and nuzzled her neck.

  He pressed a kiss to the bite mark he’d just left and licked along her shoulder.

  She’d lost everything to him, but he was giving it all back.

  Fourteen

  Jameson reluctantly allowed Nina to squirm out of his grasp. He let her go, his eyes on her hazel ones. She wore a soft smile on her face, a smile that made him think of home and comfort and the way he could get lost in her again.

  She looked at her shoulder, touched the skin. “I thought you might’ve left a mark,” she said.

  “I didn’t, did I?” he asked, unable to keep the horror from his voice.

  “No, you didn’t.” She looked at him with a puzzled expression. “What’s wrong?”

  Everything. Nothing. He hadn’t been with a woman since…since Willow. Five years ago was the last time he’d had sex. And this moment with Nina had been…amazing. Soul-breaking and soul-healing.

  And yet at the same time, a small part of him couldn’t help thinking that he’d betrayed Willow.

  “I’m sorry,” Jameson said, pulling up his pants. “That was…that was uncalled for.”

  “Don’t you dare apologize,” Nina said, eyes flashing. Gone was the sleepy, pleased look she had worn.

  “I just…I shouldn’t have done this. It wasn’t right, not yet. Maybe…” He didn’t know when it would be right. If not now, then when?