by Rya Stone
“You tried. It sounds to me like you’ve always tried.” She didn’t know how else to comfort him, and they stared at each other in the silence, her above, him below.
“Say something,” he whispered.
What else could she say to this man she wanted so badly despite the bloody baggage he carried? She swallowed back something heavy and sharp, searching for the right words. They came in the form of a song, soft and low. “If you were a carpenter…”
He drew her face closer to his. “You’d be my lady?” he whispered.
My God, he knew it. “Yes,” she breathed. Of course he knew the Johnny and June song, and she knew, right then, she’d have Jason Lucas on that pier. Or he’d have her. The hunger written on his face surely mirrored her own, a need greater than easing the ache between her legs, a need that rendered her suddenly breathless, that set her belly aflutter, that stirred something deep within her being. She couldn’t have fallen any harder.
“Thank you,” she whispered. God, she was going to cry. For Jase, for Clint, their parents, the nameless souls who’d suffered at the hands of terror and greed. Tears stung her eyes, and she drew a shaky breath as his hand crept to the back of her neck.
“For what, baby?”
“For everything.”
“That stuff I said at dinner—”
She cut him off with a finger to his lips. “The grease under your nails has nothing to do with me wanting you.”
He chuckled and kissed the pad of her index finger.
“Those tattoos, though…”
“Like my ink?”
“Yes,” she whispered. “Hell, yes.” She closed the distance between them, and for once, he let her kiss him—on her terms, where she wanted, how she wanted. And she couldn’t stop.
Her arousal soared to new heights at the feel of his mouth, firm, but yielding. At the taste of his skin, spicy and all male. She ran her lips and tongue over his neck, his throat. “I like all of this, too.”
“I’m gettin’ that.” He grabbed her hips, and she pressed closer. With a deep groan, he was all over her ass, under her dress, beneath her panties. She ripped open the snaps of his shirt, and… Oh, she couldn’t get enough of his skin on her lips, his taste on her tongue. She circled a nipple before drawing it into her mouth and pulling hard. He hissed and tilted his hips up, and Cassie realized the path to heaven wasn’t paved with jalapeños. It was lined with dark curling hair, dipping between valleys of muscle, and sometime soon she’d linger there, over his scarred abdomen. Now, she made short, dirty work of it and yanked his belt open with one hand. This was happening fast and without any words. She didn’t care. She wanted it. She wanted it badly.
“Cassie,” he whispered.
“My turn,” she said, intent on freeing him.
“Babe,” Jase whispered again. It took tremendous willpower to tear her gaze away from the silky steel in her hand, the perfect length of his— “Will you be my lady?”
The Cash song from earlier… And he used it with devastating effect. Was he really asking, now, as she held his very manhood in her hands, if she would follow him anywhere, no matter the tools of his trade?
“If you’ll give me your tomorrow,” she whispered, holding her breath for his answer. And she hadn’t known until tonight how very badly she wanted that.
His smile was priceless as he rose to his elbows and gazed down his chest, letting her know exactly what was offered. “As many as you want.”
Did he mean that? How would they—
She shut off the voices and went down on him, as far as she could, using her hand as well as her mouth to make him groan and hiss through clenched teeth. Perhaps it was too barbaric a response for such a romantic promise, but he wasn’t playing fair either. His hands twisted into her hair, and when she tried to come up for air, he bucked into her mouth. This is what it meant to be a rough man’s lady. And she loved it. She loved the feel of him hitting the back of her throat, and she snaked a hand between her legs, moaning as he filled her mouth again and again.
Without warning, Jase yanked her up by her armpits and rolled them both. Her back hit the pier. His mouth slammed over hers, and she heard a tearing sound as he exposed one side of her chest to the bay breeze.
“Yes,” she moaned, as much at the feel of his mouth on her breast as the reality that he’d torn her dress and bra away to get there. No teasing this time. Just raw, pent-up hunger.
He ripped away the other side of her dress then shifted his weight onto one forearm to suckle her exposed breast while his other hand fumbled below. She arched her back, needing him inside. “Jase, please…”
But he filled the aching void with his fingers, sliding them up and down, in and out, making her moan and whimper, making her ready.
“I need you. All of you.”
He didn’t say anything. He simply slid a hand to the back of her neck, and in one slow stroke, buried himself to the hilt. She couldn’t help the cry that tore from her throat. She’d never been filled like this before, never knew it was possible to be filled like this, every nerve ending electrified. When he withdrew it was like he took a part of her with him, leaving her empty, and she sighed in both pleasure and relief when he eased himself back in.
Stealing what remained of her breath, his mouth captured hers as he filled her with long, deep strokes. Her orgasm built immediately. She wrapped her legs around his waist when her body started to tremble. And she nearly lost her mind when his stubble rasped against her neck. “I can’t believe I’m finally inside you.”
“Above the water…” she gasped, “…under the stars.” His mouth moved again to her breast. “It’s perfection.”
“Yeah, it is,” he whispered into her flesh.
And there it was. Her whole body shook at the force of the orgasm, and she held tight, wrapping her arms around his neck as he rocked her through it. And he did it slowly, savoring the feel of her clenching around him. “I can feel that,” he breathed, burying his face in her neck. “God, I can feel you coming undone.”
“More,” she said, feeling a follow-up building. “Give me more.”
He tilted her hips and continued his unhurried torture. She’d already come and knew she’d be able to take his considerable size at almost any angle now. And she wanted it. She wanted everything he had to give.
“Harder.”
He growled and shifted, fisting her hair in both hands, his face just inches from away. “You want it rough?”
“Yes.”
That sexy-as-hell sneer curled his lips, and he slammed into her. “You like that?’
“God, yes.”
“You really want it hard, baby?”
“Please,” she begged.
Hard to most men means faster, but with all Jase’s weight behind him, with the perfect size of him filling her over and over, she found out what “hard” really meant, how completely a man’s body could dominate hers and yet feel so good.
She curled around him, sliding her hands down his flexing back and under his jeans, gasping at each slap of their flesh. A dozen times and she was there again, screaming her pleasure. His hands knit tightly into her hair, his eyes intent and demanding. And that’s what did it—the juxtaposition of his physical ferocity and the unguarded emotion she saw in his eyes. She cried out again, clinging to the beautiful man both inside and above her. Better than the last time, she rode the wave of pure sensation, shaking and moaning as Jase rode her. His mouth slanted over hers as she came down, and still he pounded into her, his body dominating her entire world.
“You on birth control?” he asked, panting but never breaking his savage rhythm.
“It’s okay,” she gasped, unable to explain.
Jase groaned deep in his throat and bit down on her shoulder in his impassioned frenzy— just hard enough to make her arch as he buried himself, shuddering.
After a few, suspended seconds his hands relaxed their hold on her hair, even as he continued to hug her tight, his stubbly jaw nuzzling
hers affectionately in a quest to ruin her completely. She squeezed her eyes closed, shutting off those drainpipes of emotion, and he finally rolled off.
Breathing hard, he curled her to his side, wrapping the blanket around them both. As the stars came back into focus, they slowly explored each other’s bodies. “You can’t have kids?” he asked, smoothing her hair.
Wait… “What?”
“You’re not on birth control, but you said it was okay for me to come inside you.”
Chuckling, she kissed his chest as her fingers played over the thin scar there. “Wrong time of the month.” That was true, but they hadn’t used any protection. Shit.
“Didn’t think of that. I wasn’t thinking much about anything but you wanting it rough.”
And she’d been so caught up that she hadn’t even thought about a condom. The episode had been completely spontaneous, and despite the niggle in her belly, she wouldn’t have changed a thing about it.
“It shouldn’t have been like that our first time,” he continued. “But damn, you saying that? With that voice of yours? That face of yours?”
“What is that supposed to mean?” And had she really begged him for it rough? She felt her cheeks go red in the dark. Of course she had. She’d been thinking about it since they first met. Rough was part of the fantasy, but she hadn’t expected something so possessive and intense and surprisingly tender, all at the same time. And it wasn’t all one way with him. He could be both rough and rowdy and slow and sweet. He’d proven that the night in his camper.
“It means I’m surprised I lasted as long as I did,” he whispered into her hair.
“I told you, it was perfection.”
He hugged her again and kissed the top of her head.
Then he showed her the stars.
“That’s Orion,” he began, pointing into the infinite night. “The hunter.”
Chapter Fifteen
They slept past nine and awoke tangled in each other’s arms. Jase sprawled nude atop the huge bed, but Cassie had somehow found the wherewithal to retrieve a pair of panties after he’d been inside her again.
And again.
She might not last the weekend at this rate, but she was definitely up for the challenge.
“I want you to stay with me when we get back,” he said, “and as long as you’re in Marian.”
She lifted her head from his chest and gave him a smirk. “I want to stay in a tepee.”
“And I want you in my arms every morning, especially if you smile at me like that.”
“So stay in my tepee.”
He chuckled. “And after that? When your job’s done?”
I’ll be focusing on my mom. Maybe he knew that. Maybe he was preparing himself, too. She played with his dog tags. They had those black rubber silencers around them and read:
LUCAS
JASON M.
451630994 A POS
USMC
NO PREFERENCE
“They don’t have your date of birth,” she said.
Jase looked down his chest, a lazy smile on his lips. “You’re avoiding the question. But I’m thirty-six, if that’s why you’re asking.” She nodded, remembering. Twelve times three. “You?” he asked. “Thirty-four, right?”
She nodded again and dropped his tags to run her fingers down the center of his chest. “What does the M stand for?”
“Michael. After my father.” He slid his fingers through her hair. He seemed to love that and did it again. “And you? What’s your full name?”
“Cassandra Michelle.”
He stopped playing with her hair, and after a long pause said, “That’s perfect.”
“What do you mean?” she prodded, eager to hear whatever deep thought he’d just had.
“Aside from the fact that it’s the female version of Michael, you’ll have the perfect fantasy author’s name.”
“I don’t get it.”
He smiled down at her, one side of his mouth higher than the other, like he was holding back a secret. “You will.”
Okay, that didn’t help. Moving on… “I’m still planning on taking some time off.” Hopefully in her mother’s new and improved room.
“You really gonna write?”
“I’m going to try.” She owed it to herself, even if she didn’t have a large override to support her.
“Good.” Jase kissed the top of her head, letting his lips linger so his voice was soft when he asked, “Where’s home? Your home?”
“Nacogdoches. I actually moved back to be close to mom a few years ago. Before that I had an apartment in Houston.”
“Like Houston, Houston?”
She took it he meant not one of the gazillion suburbs. “Yeah, like downtown Houston.”
“How?” he asked, like it just wasn’t possible, like she’d just told him she’d lived on Mars or something.
She shook her head at him. “My broker’s main office is in Houston, and that’s where my boyfriend lived…lives, I guess. Still.”
“So what are the chances of you relocating for your new boyfriend? You know Houston has some of the best doctors in the world. And it’s a hell of a lot closer to Marian than East Texas.”
Boyfriend, huh? She liked the sound of that. Despite the seeming impossibilities, she bit her lip to suppress a smile. “I didn’t know I had a new boyfriend.”
“Did last night seem casual to you?”
No, it hadn’t. This was way more than fling territory. Flings didn’t tend to figure mothers into the equation. Still…
She executed an evasion number by burying her head in his chest. “You keep saying things like, ‘As long as you’re here,’ and—”
“I can’t tell you not to do your job. You were right about that. But as long as you are here…”
“We’ll figure it out,” she whispered.
“We could stay here,” he offered. “It’s not far from my rigs.” My rigs. That was a whole different part of the equation. Jase wasn’t just a roughneck; he had major business going on. Would he even have time for her? “I’ve got another option for you, too,” he said.
“What’s that?”
“I’ll show you when we get back.”
“You and your damn secrets.” She wanted to pinch one of his nipples in frustration. “I feel like I need a flowchart to keep track of all the loose ends.”
He caught her wrist before she inflicted any damage, and a tortured look flitted across his face. There was more? She knew he hadn’t murdered his parents or his neighbors, but there was still something clouding his conscience. Cassie rose to her free elbow and looked down at him.
“What are you still hiding from me?”
He drew her captured hand to his heart. “I won’t taint what’s between us by lying to you. And I won’t tell you some half-truth to hold your questions at bay, either.”
“So you’re just not going to say anything.” Her hand curled into his chest. “Do you not trust me? Oh, wait, you’re just trying to make me fall for you or whatever first, right?” Like that hadn’t already happened.
He tightened his grip on her wrist. “I just don’t want you to get hurt,” he said quietly. “I’ve set things in motion, things I can’t take back. I did them because of you, and now you’re all caught up in it. I don’t know how to handle it right now other than to keep you as close to me as I can.”
“Do you really think that the less I know the safer I’ll be? Whatever happened to ‘knowing is half the battle?’”
“Baby, G.I. Joe has nothing on me.” He twisted away, and she rolled onto her stomach.
“But he’s a real American hero,” she pointed out, and was rewarded with one of those sexy as hell smirks.
“You want a hero, huh?”
She wanted more answers. But she also didn’t want to ruin this. Whatever this was, it was too new, too precious. Right or wrong, she wanted to be with him, even if it only lasted the weekend. And yeah, Jason Lucas looked every bit the hero standing there in nothing but h
is dog tags.
She propped to her elbows, allowing him a bountiful display of cleavage.
“Mmm, mmm, mmm,” he said, shaking his head. “Up,” he snarled, and smacked her ass.
“Jase!”
“Damn, I gotta do that again.” And he did—a firm whack that made her butt jiggle. “Good God.”
At that, the tingling on her cheek began to spread. “You sure you want me out of this bed?”
“Yeah, I want you in the shower.”
…
The boat deck rocked beneath Cassie’s feet as she plucked a dead shrimp from Jase’s fingers and threaded it onto her hook. Grinning, she dangled the line between them. “Told you I could bait my own hook.”
He smirked up at her. “If you hadn’t already caught me, that would have done it right there.”
She showed him she knew how to cast, too, then placed the rod in one of the holders lining the sides of the bay boat and set the clicker so they’d hear it when a fish hit the line.
The bay boat was a much smaller vessel than the one dry-docked in the canal, and Jase looked huge seated on a cooler in front of the center console, rigging lines and baiting hooks. “I’ve got some artificials, too,” he said, intent on tying a swivel to one of the leaders. “If these shrimp don’t catch any reds or trout, we’ll work some top water lures.”
“Sounds good.” She pulled her shirt over her head, but he didn’t look up. “Are you going to grill me some fish later?”
“If we catch anything,” he said, standing. “If we don’t—” At the look on his face, her breasts grew heavy and tingly beneath the triangle cups of her bikini top. “Yeah.” He nodded in approval. “Hell, yeah.”
“I think it’s a little small.” That was the point, and she tugged at the strings tied around her neck, giving him a jiggle.
“That’s the best fitting thing I’ve ever seen.”
“You think so?” She slid her shorts over her hips, enjoying the tease.
“Yeah.”
“Really?” she asked, running her thumbs under the strings at her hips.
“You ask me again, and I’m gonna let something else do the answering.”
So, of course, she made quite the show of spreading a beach towel over the bow, imagining herself some vixen out of the Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue. Okay, full-figured car show babe or garage calendar pinup girl probably came closer to the truth—as Reid had so readily reminded her—but she could definitely live with either one of those. And screw Reid. He’d never come close to being the lover Jase was. Or the man for that matter.
