Caught Up

by Rya Stone

  He slid a hand through her hair. “We need something to talk about tomorrow. Tonight’s movie night.”

  “Uh-uh.” She moved her hand to threaten his ribs. “Out with it.”

  His hand circled her wrist. “Tomorrow. Right now I want to curl up on this couch with you wearing my shirt.”

  “But I don’t know anything about you.”

  His eyes remained fixed on hers as he lowered his mouth to her wrist. “Ask me tomorrow.”

  Jase’s teeth scraped the heel of her hand, and Cassie shuddered. “Anything?”

  “Just about,” he replied, kissing away the bite.

  “What kind of answer is that?”

  “An honest one. Besides, if I spilled all the dirty details now, I’d never get to second base.”

  “Second base?” she snorted. “What are you, twelve?”

  “Yep. Times three.” He dropped her hand and slapped her butt. “Up. Movie time. My choice.”

  She slid to the side, slightly bothered by this development, but not bothered in the least by the amount of inner thigh she revealed exiting his lap. Because you like this. She couldn’t deny it. She liked the thrill of the unknown, the hint of danger. She liked the way he fisted her hair and wrapped his hand around her throat. And she’d really liked the way he’d slapped her ass. What if he did that in bed? It wouldn’t be playacting, not like the time Reid tied her up, blindfolded as she faked her way through the charade of dominance. There would be no acting with Jase, his performance in bed would reflect his personality—possessive, demanding, intense. She’d known that since day one; he’d told her as much with a look.

  “Will you grab me a beer?” he asked, startling her out of the all too arousing reverie. “And anything you want, too.”

  “Sure.” And while he fiddled with the DVD player, Cassie rummaged through the fridge, telling herself not to get wrapped up, to just enjoy the ride, to revel in the fantasy of Jase. To not make it anything more.

  She grabbed a beer and a bottle of water, shut the door, and stopped dead in her tracks as the first haunting notes of a familiar tune filled the camper. Jase stood and turned, his face illuminated by the TV screen displaying the menu for The Fellowship of the Ring.

  “I get why you like all those Zeppelin songs,” he said, crossing the kitchen, “the ones you mentioned that first night. I got it then.” He stopped right in front of her, a serious but seductive expression on his face. “And I haven’t forgotten.”

  She angled away, her heart pounding. “Jase…” Don’t do this.

  He shook his head. “You caught my attention when you changed that tire in your tight skirt and sexy-ass shoes.” He cupped her face, and she froze. “Couldn’t think about much else after you drove up to my rig wearing those jeans, acting like you’d never seen a fight before. Then you showed up here, not wearing the jeans, poppin’ jalapeños like they were the last ones on earth and talking about Zeppelin songs. It started to hurt then.” He brushed his thumb across her lower lip, and she swallowed back the swarm of butterflies rising from her belly. “But when you sang ‘Hallelujah’…”

  “Jase, please…” Don’t make this more than a fantasy. Don’t make me dream…

  “When you looked up at me in the twilight and those words spilled out of this sweet mouth of yours…” His thumb stroked across both her lips this time. “Most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen…or heard.”

  She nearly dropped his beer bottle.

  “Yeah, I kissed you damn near as soon as I met you. I probably shouldn’t have done that, but I had to let you know how much I wanted you. Whatever happens, I want you to know that.”

  Was this man for real? She now understood Kyle’s shock. And yes, Jase really did look like this, really did talk like this, and he wanted her so much he’d staked his claim as soon as they’d met. The question was, how the hell did she handle this mess? A mess that she’d created. She’d come here, she’d—

  His kiss shut her down, and Cassie went stock-still in Jase’s kitchen, in Jase’s T-shirt, clutching two drinks while he made love to her mouth.

  “You shouldn’t kiss me like that,” he whispered into her lips.

  Her?

  “Makes me want a hell of a lot more than I should take from you.”

  She didn’t respond. She couldn’t. Instead, she let him lead her to the couch and settle behind her on his side.

  As the Fellowship made its way to Rivendell, his hand slid under his big shirt to draw light fingers across her belly. By the time the Ringwraiths attacked Frodo on Weathertop, she’d reached her innocent cuddling limit. There was no way she was settling for belly rubs, not after what he’d said, not after how he’d kissed her. In a move not to be misinterpreted, she arched backward and hooked an arm around his neck.

  “Sit up,” he whispered.

  “Wh—”

  He grabbed her arm and pulled her into a sitting position. With an almost clumsy haste, he unhooked her bra through his shirt then reached into a loose sleeve. She all too enthusiastically assisted in the under-the-shirt bra removal number, then settled down in front of him, giddy as hell that she was about to be felt up by Jason Lucas, roughneck fantasy come to life, who sucked in a slow hiss as his hand slid up the center of her torso. He’d gone still behind her, his hand poised just below her breast, and she was about to ask him why he’d stopped when his husky words hit her ear. “Your skin is so soft. I want to touch you everywhere.”

  Yes, please.

  “Can I touch you?” he whispered, prickling her skin and making her womb clinch tight in anticipation. No one had ever asked her that, as if seeking permission to enter a holy sanctum. They’d already mauled each other, on several occasions, but this was something different. And it was sexy as hell.

  “I think I’m going to attack you if you don’t,” she said, reaching back to run her fingers through his hair.

  But he wasn’t on the attack. Oh, no. The soft, lingering kisses he trailed from behind her ear to the curve of her neck were a lesson in patience—a lesson she had no idea she needed, not until his thumb stroked up to caress the underside of her breast. At that simplest of moves, heat rocketed through her body. Gasping in surprise at the pleasure of his tender touch, she closed her eyes and squeezed her thighs together to keep from soaking his couch. Even then he didn’t cup her or grasp her or ravage her like she’d threatened to do. Instead, his fingers played softy over her skin, learning her contours, and his kisses on her neck deepened in response to her quickening breaths.

  He played with her, as a predator might toy with his prey—treading lightly with his touch, circling her arousal-taught nipple but never quite closing in, and backing off completely when he sensed her excitement. Like now. Dammit.

  “You feel so good,” he whispered, sliding his hand up the center of her chest. His fingers wrapped around her neck, and he titled her head to kiss her lightly on the lips.

  When his hand delved back down, between the valley of her breasts, his rough palm grazed her attention-starved nipple as if by accident, and she fought the urge to clasp her hand over his and show him exactly where she needed his touch. But he knew. He knew her other breast had to be achingly sensitive by now, and he teased it just as mercilessly, savoring every inch of trembling flesh, every gasp of pleasure, every rock of her hips against his. How he kept his composure she had no idea, because his erection was as hard as her starving nipples.

  And there it was—finally—his thumb sweeping back and forth, still teasing, still not enough, though every brush of his rough pad against her nipple sent shockwaves pulsing through her body. She realized right then, as he stroked her, soft as a feather, that Jase’s slow-burn seduction was going to make her come the second he even thought about going in for the kill.

  Without warning, he shifted from behind her and swung a leg to the floor. His body hovered inches above hers. “The shirt needs to go.”

  She ripped it over her head, surprised the hungry look on his face hadn’t melted th
e obstruction completely away. She hadn’t thought, she’d just done it, and was suddenly thankful for the dim light. He was right, her body was soft. Too soft. But at his sharp inhale, that soft body drew tight, every nerve ending aflame. Her body shook beneath him, naked but for a scrap of panties. And Jase only threw more kindling in the fire when he drew a line from her throat to her belly button. His gaze followed his finger, and she bit her bottom lip to keep from crying out. It didn’t work, and what escaped her lips sounded like a squeak. Their eyes locked, and for a breathless moment they both stared.

  “You’re gorgeous,” he said, his voice thick with lust. “Even more than I imagined.”

  Then he kissed her. He kissed her hard and deep, unleashing the passion he’d kept under complete control. Her still-aching nipples brushed his chest, and she gasped, breaking the kiss.

  “I need…” She didn’t even know how to vocalize what she needed at this point without sounding completely desperate.

  He kissed her again and not so tenderly, his control giving way to blind want as he sucked her bottom lip and groaned, deep in his throat. A hand cupped her breast, his thumb going right for her nipple this time. Yes. Oh, hell yes. And as if he could read her mind, he ripped his mouth from hers and bent his dark head to her chest.

  Her back lifted off the couch the second his tongue flicked her nipple. Grasping his head to warn him to stay put this time, she held him in place while he sucked her into his mouth.

  “Oh, God…” She’d never been more aroused in her life. And the sloppier his mouth on her breasts became, the more she wondered if she might explode right then and there.

  As he kissed her breasts and tongued her nipples towards orgasm, a calloused hand skimmed over her belly. When he delved into panties he probably could have wrung dry, she bowed into him, moaning as he discovered just how much she wanted him.

  He tore his mouth from her breast and gazed up at her, a ravenous look on his face. “You always get like this?”

  “Even when you’re not touching me.” And that was the truth.

  “You gonna explode when I finally get inside you?”

  “Yes,” she gasped, at both that inevitability and at his deft exploration between her thighs. His light, teasing touch convinced her he wielded some enchanted sex wand rather than mortal fingers. This was some fantasy material, all right. No doubt.

  “I shouldn’t be doing this,” he whispered.

  “Why?” she asked, realizing with stark clarity her own inhibitions had long since flown the coop.

  “Because I won’t want to stop, not even when we’re done with our…fling.”

  His reminder of their reality was a kick to the gut, and damn him to hell for latching onto her breast at the same second his fingers found her clit. And he knew he’d found the sweet spot because he chuckled in satisfaction when she bucked against him. He’d already proven his teasing abilities, but what he had going on inside her panties was next-level shit. He completely understood how to build her up by swirling her furiously before backing off to glide down then inside of her. “Don’t stop. Please.”

  “I can’t, baby. Don’t even ask.”

  And thank God. It had been so long. Even as that thought flitted through her mind she knew she’d never been touched with such patience, such one-sidedness. It neared worship, so gentle and unhurried was his every move, pushing her to the brink again and again, only to leave her aching when he removed his hand from her panties. “Jase, please…”

  “Shhhh, let me take my time.”

  He kissed her, more deeply than before, and when he finally went back to work below, he didn’t slide inside her panties but ran a light finger down her satiny barrier, making her moan and shudder in a daze of desire.

  “Mmmm, I like feeling how swollen you are for me.”

  “You’re going to make me come talking like that.”

  He cupped her mound and growled in her ear. “You like me talking dirty while I’ve got my hands on you?”

  “Yes,” she breathed. “I liked you talking dirty over dinner, too.”

  He ground the palm of his hand against her, the savage countermove flinging her higher into arousal. “Where the hell have you been, Cassie?”

  She couldn’t answer because he began playing between her legs, teasing through her panties, the silken friction beyond delicious. “Jase.” her voice was husky, needy. “I’m going to come.”

  “Do it,” he urged, running his tongue along the inner curve of her ear. “I’ll lick you clean.”

  “Jase.”

  He sat back on his haunches and ripped her panties down. She tilted her hips, and he hooked his arms around her thighs. He dragged her to his mouth, and his breath against her fevered skin had her rolling her hips to meet him, a move so wanton and desperate she might have been ashamed if she hadn’t ached so badly for his mouth between her legs. He growled as he spread her wide. Then he licked her. He did it slowly at first, as though savoring her taste. Flashpoints of pleasure rocked through her arching body, and when he flicked his tongue, drawing out that sensitive bundle of nerves, she felt everything pulling tight.

  “Give it to me,” he said. “Let me feel this beautiful body shake in my arms.”

  She wondered again if the man was for real, but she didn’t wonder long. The feel of his barely-there beard rasping against her thighs drove her to a frenzy, and she trembled and moaned, unable to hold back. In response, he ground a circle with his tongue.

  She lost it.

  She lost it hard. Her thighs clamped tight to his broad shoulders, and her entire body pulsed in time to her release. Gasping, she buried her hands in his long hair.

  “Oh my God, Jase, that was—”

  “Not finished,” he said before planting a kiss on the inside of her thigh. “You taste too sweet, especially now.” And he did exactly what he promised and began to lick her clean, softly at first, barely brushing her oversensitized flesh with his lips and teasing her lightly with his tongue.

  “More,” she begged as she felt it building again.

  Oh, and he gave her more. Of his mouth, his tongue, and when he slipped two fingers inside her, she saw freaking stars.

  Basking in the aftermath, with Jase’s hands still wrapped around her thighs, she found the heat and weight of him comforting in a way she didn’t want to end. When her senses returned, she pulled herself to her elbows and gazed down at the dark head resting against her leg. He looked as content as she felt, but that couldn’t be possible. “Let me—”

  “Nope.” He shifted up and looked down. “I’m not taking you on my couch, and you look way too sleepy to be hauled up to my room.”

  “You don’t have to pull that country boy charm with me. Not now.”

  He smiled a mysterious smile. “Come here,” he said, folding behind her.

  “Jase—”

  “Shhhh,” he said, and began drawing circles on her belly again.

  The Fellowship made it through Moria, and her eyes were sliding shut when someone barged through the door.

  Jase slipped from the couch. He did it quickly and quietly. Cassie stared at the ominous form in the shadows, willing it into focus. A drawer slid open. He was going for a gun, he had to be. Oh, shit. Oh—

  “It’s me,” came a deep voice.

  The drawer slammed shut, and a lamp flicked on. “You ever heard of knocking?” Jase growled, somewhere to her left.

  “Maybe you should lock your door, especially since I see you’ve got company.” Clint Lucas turned his gaze on her. “Screwing for leases? Why didn’t you tell me? We definitely could’ve worked something out.”

  Jase took an angry step toward his brother. “You’ve got some balls showing up here in the middle of the night, talking that shit to my woman—”

  “Your woman?” Clint snickered. “She’s a lease slut. Like I said, I wish I would’ve—”

  Jase barreled into his brother and slammed him into the wall next to the door. “She’s not like the women you
bed,” he snarled. “Different level. Different universe.”

  Clint laughed. “Her bra’s on the floor, her hair’s all a mess, and you’re telling me you didn’t just fuck her?”

  “I’ll tell you this, I took paperwork to Calhoun today, and my dick hasn’t been out of my pants once.”

  That was news to her. The lease part. Not the other.

  Clint roared, pushing Jase halfway across the room. “Have you lost your mind?”

  “Head’s on straight, baby brother. You’re the one losing it, coming here—”

  “You burned it down!” Clint advanced.

  “You let that motherfucker rape my land. I’m done playing his way.”

  “It’s not just yours!” Clint yelled, his spittle flying an inch from Jase’s face.

  “It is after Calhoun finishes the partition deed. My piece goes with the big house. Start packing your shit.”

  “You can’t do that.”

  “The hell I can’t.”

  They locked up, pushing, straining against each other’s near equal weight.

  “It’s not what Dad wanted!” Clint shouted.

  “Don’t bring him into this.”

  “You have no idea, do you?” Clint was beyond angry. He was desperate, the evidence plain in his eyes. Something there begged Jase…for what?

  “It ends now, Clint.”

  “It’s not gonna end till we’re both in the ground.”

  Cassie rose to her feet on the couch, butt against the wall, and watched in disbelief as the brothers knocked into the opposite wall, twisted then stumbled out the open door and down the steps.

  Here we go again.

  She flew off the couch, following the grunts coming from the darkness outside. Five hundred pounds of angry muscle wrestled on the ground amid the sounds of fists meeting flesh.

  Jase rolled his brother onto his back and Cassie heard a final, brutal blow make contact before he sat back on his heels, panting. “I see that bastard again, he dies.”