by Emma Hart
This escalated quickly.
So did my heartbeat.
“And that’s the reason I’m an ass to you, Jamie. Not because I don’t like you. I don’t want to like you, and the more I push you away, the more likely it is that I’ll never have to live with the memory of what it’s like to be lying over you, stark naked, with my cock buried inside you while you moan my name.”
Oh, Jesus.
How the hell did I reply to that?
“What does it matter?” I lifted my chin, even though all I wanted to do was run. “If we’re not going to be friends, what does it matter if you do fuck me?”
“Because we work together.” He slid his fingers down my jaw and cupped my chin. His thumb brushed across the curve of my lower lip, and I let out a shuddery breath. “And you don’t really want that, do you? You want to be friends.”
“You think you can tell me you know what I want?”
He leaned in, a smile playing on his lips. “Three hours ago, you didn’t want to be anywhere near me. Now, you want to be as close to me as two people can get? Three hours ago, darlin’, you didn’t want to be in the same building as me. Now you’re trying to tell me you want, what? My tongue? My fingers? My cock? All inside you? I don’t believe you.”
My stomach clenched, and I ignored the way goosebumps rose across my skin.
He ghosted his thumb over my lower lip once more, this time lightly tugging it down. His gazed flitted from my mouth to my eyes, hinting at indecision, at his inability to decide whether or not I was serious.
And right now?
I was.
I wanted to be friends, but if that would never happen, by his own admission, then what was the point? It was going to be awkward tomorrow no matter what happened.
Dex stepped back and adjusted his pants.
I glanced down and looked away straight away when I saw his cock obviously pushing against his jeans. The outline was clear, and hell, if I had another dirty dream about him because of this…
“I’ll see you tomorrow, darlin’.” He put his hand on the door handle, which was my cue to move.
I did. Like a squirrel that had been kicked.
His eyes sparkled as he laughed.
He left, leaving me with the sound of his laughter and the rapid beating of my own heart.
Chapter Nineteen – Jamie
He was fucking with me.
That had to be the explanation. There was no way he really felt the way that he did. No, not a chance. If he did, he wouldn’t have walked away, right?
That’s what I was telling myself. There’s no way he would say that and not act on it. Not after the way he’d kissed me—both times. So very different, but both so very real.
No, him walking away went against everything I knew about him. Was he bluffing, or was he really making a smart choice not to take this attraction further?
Was the even the smart choice? He admitted to pushing away, which meant that, in about ten days, I’d be out of my job.
I could accept that. Realistically, this wouldn’t work long term. I wasn’t naïve enough to believe that it would. I’d still do my best to prove him wrong, though. Even if it was only to make him admit he was wrong.
I was pretty sure he already knew that, though.
Of course, none of that explained why I’d gone for the denim skirt over the shorts this morning.
That was purely to see if he’d been bluffing.
Hey—my parents always said I’d been a limit-tester as a child. Apparently, it was a trait I’d retained well into adulthood.
I pulled up outside the garage. It was starting to lightly rain again, so I pulled the hood of my sweatshirt over my head, grabbed my things, and ran to the safety of the garage. I locked the car when I was in the dry.
“Hey,” Dex called from under a car.
“Hey. It’s raining. I’m closing the doors.”
He slid out. “I’ll get the other.”
He joined me at the doors and slid the first one down. I dumped my purse and handled the second one. Dex locked them both, then turned to me with a smile as rain pelted against the metal. “Just in time.”
“No kidding.” I picked up my purse and walked into the staff room. “Is it busy today?”
Dex leaned against the doorway. “Not really. It’s a lot of sitting around and hoping Mr. Daniels hasn’t killed his fucking battery again.”
“Don’t. Do not jinx that.”
“Jinx is bullshit.”
“Nope. My dad said that once and an hour later…”
Dex slapped his hand against his forehead. “Shit. All right—forget I said it.”
I hit the button on the coffee machine and held out my hands. “I can, but the universe might not.”
“Damn it.” He swiped the mug of coffee out from under the machine.
“What the hell?” I threw my arms in the air and made a swipe for it.
He jerked back and splattered it all over the floor. “Damn it, Jamie, now you made me spill the coffee.”
“I made you? You spilled it! You’re the one who stole my coffee!”
“It’s just coffee!”
My eyebrows shot up, and he froze in place.
“Okay,” he said slowly. “Okay, darlin’, let’s take a deep breath and sit down.” He carefully put the now half-full mug down on the counter and turned to me, gripping my shoulders. He sat me down on the sofa with an earnest look. “Let me make you a coffee.”
I stared at him as he moved to the coffee machine and began the process of making me a new mug. I was mildly annoyed, but only because, once again, I’d woken up late and not had coffee before I’d gotten here. I’d had enough of a mind to shower and dress mildly inappropriately, but not to get coffee.
Hey, I had priorities, and I couldn’t get dressed here in the garage, could I?
“Here.” Dex carefully handed me another cup of coffee.
I took it from him and sipped, keeping my eyes on him. He’d made it exactly the way I liked it, down to the right amount of cream.
“Thank you,” I said quietly, resting the mug on the arm of the sofa.
“Remind me never to steal your coffee again.” He grabbed a second mug and put it beneath the machine.
“I’ll write it on a Post-It and stick it to that cupboard.” I pointed to the one right above the coffee machine.
His laughter echoed through the room. “I’ll set an eight a.m. reminder on my phone just in case it falls down.”
“There we go. It was a shaky start, but look at us, getting along and all that shit.”
Dex met my eyes.
I grinned over the rim of my mug.
His smile slowly grew until it matched mine. “Well, fuck. We did it. We got along.”
“Only just. Don’t get cocky.”
“I don’t know how to be anything but cocky with you, Jamie.”
“Is that literally or metaphorically?”
He poured some cream into his coffee. Added sugar. Stirred. Tapped the spoon against the rim. Dropped the spoon into the sink. Grabbed the spoon.
Turned to me.
Grinned.
“Now, now,” he said in a low voice. “Why would I clarify that?”
Why, indeed?
“Just asking.” I sipped the coffee. “What’s on the diary for me today?”
“Basics. You’ve got an M.O.T, service, and tire change. Coming in in an hour.”
“You spoil me.” I swung my feet up onto the sofa and stretched my legs out. I pulled a cushion onto my lap to rest my coffee on and looked back at him. “Is that all?”
He leaned back, cradling his cup against his muscular chest. “That’s all, darlin’. You sit there and chill out until it comes in.”
“You’re laying this friendship thing on a little thick.”
“Friendship is still off the card, but I was gonna buy you tacos for lunch. Never mind.” He walked past me.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” I sat up, only just avoiding spill
ing my coffee. “Come back right now.”
He turned in the doorway, looking at me over his shoulder.
His five o’clock shadow was a little darker today.
“Yeah, darlin’?”
“You said something about buying me tacos? I’m all about that kind of not-friends.”
Blue eyes looked me up and down. “You’re all about the food aren’t you?”
“You caught me.” I settled back down into the cushions. “I’ll even go buy it if you pay. How’s that for a compromise?”
Dex blinked at me. “All right, but it’s fucking weird.”
He wasn’t lying.
Chapter Twenty – Dex
I pulled into the parking lot, the smell of tacos emanating from the passenger seat. I have no idea how I got roped into doing the lunch trip. She said she would if I paid, but obviously, she changed her mind.
Which was exactly how I’d ended up getting lost on my way to the taco place.
Not that I was going to tell her that
Fuck knows I’d kept enough from her.
Like how badly I’d wanted to slam her against the door and fuck her to death after she’d challenged me yesterday. It’d taken everything I had not to give in and do it. Not do the thing I wanted that I knew she didn’t.
She was saying it because of me. I wasn’t blind and I wasn’t stupid.
Sure, I’d felt the way she’d responded when I kissed her, but fucking her was a whole other ball game.
I could forget kissing her.
Maybe.
I definitely would not forget fucking her.
And if I did it, I wanted it to be more than just an itch I needed to scratch. I wanted to fuck her because I needed to—something more than a meaningless act.
Not that anything with her could ever be classified as meaningless.
Motherfucker, I wouldn’t forget a damn thing about the woman who was slowly worming her way under my skin.
Slowly.
Who was I kidding?
She was six-inches deep.
I opened the garage door.
A scream sounded.
I shouted.
Jamie staggered backward, her hand on her chest, until she was back against my half-repaired Dodge.
“Fuck me dead, Dex! Would you knock next time?” she shouted, rubbing her head. “You scared the hell out of me and I banged my head on the hood of that goddamn car!”
I burst out laughing, hesitating for only a second. “You want a bell on my neck, darlin’? Should I announce myself?”
She paused, screwdriver in hand. “Yes, actually. A bell would work fine, thank you.”
“I have lunch.” I held up the bag of tacos.
“That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.” She walked into the staff room, and the sound of the tap running filled the air.
I joined her. “Well, we made a deal, and this is me trying to stick to it.”
“Food is the way to my heart,” she said, grabbing a towel to dry her hands. “And tacos are the fastest path.”
“As long as they’re a fast-track past your sarcasm, I’ll buy you tacos every day.”
She clutched her hand to her chest. “Excuse me. I need a moment to swoon.”
I laughed and laid them out on the table. “Swoon quickly, or they’ll get cold. They’re already halfway there.”
She moved quicker than I’d ever seen her. Throwing herself on the sofa next to me, she bounced and grabbed a wrapped taco.
I blinked at her. “This is scary.”
“What? Did my make-up run?”
“No. You willingly sitting next to me.” I paused. “And the fact you’re wearing the world’s largest hoodie.”
She looked down. “Oh. I’m preserving my dignity.”
“You’re preserving your dignity.” Why did I want to know more about that? And, more to the point, what was she preserving it from? “I’m not going to ask.”
I grabbed my own taco and unwrapped it before I did ask. I was curious. Was she not wearing anything under it? Was it like in those stupid movies where woman showed up in nothing but lingerie and a trench coat?
I glanced at her legs.
Nope. No sign of lingerie there.
Damn. There went those hopes.
She laughed and covered her mouth with her hand so she didn’t spit out her food. “Stop staring at my legs.”
“I can’t help it.”
She eyed me. “I couldn’t find any shorts this morning so I had to improvise.”
“Jesus, Jamie, if you tell me you’re not wearing anything under there…”
“Oh my God!” She laughed again. “I’m not naked underneath this sweater, Dex. Holy hell. I’m wearing a skirt instead of shorts and, well, the sweater is longer than the skirt.”
Slowly, I chewed what was in my mouth. “You got no pants at home?”
“None that make my legs look as good as shorts do.” She shrugged, grinned, and licked some taco sauce from the corner of her mouth.
“Yeah, ‘cause that’s how you decide what to wear for work. I ask myself every morning if my ass looks good in my jeans.”
“It doesn’t. Not in those.”
I itched the side of my nose. “Your honesty is cutting.”
“I’m just saying, I’ve seen your ass look better in worse pants.”
“All I’m hearing is that you’ve been looking at my ass.” I smirked.
“Look, I like a good ass as much as the next girl. Your ass is the best part about you.”
She was totally honest as she said it, too.
I shook my head and got up to get a bottle of water from the fridge. “I know what you’re doing.”
“What?” She looked at me, blue eyes wide and innocent. “What am I doing?”
I tossed her a bottle and shut the door. “I don’t need to say it, because you know. You’re a shit ass liar, darlin’.”
Jamie’s mouth formed a tiny ‘o’. “I have no idea what you mean.”
I eyed her before sitting back down. “Mhmm.”
Her lips twitched, but she dipped her head and turned away before I could see how wide the smile got.
She was playing me.
And it was working, because I wanted to know more about that skirt.
Shit.
***
I put down the phone and walked back into the garage. After getting rid of one car, taking another, and two phone calls, I was out of tolerance for people. Which was exactly why I needed someone to do reception for me. I could do cars all day—people?
That was another story.
Jamie was sitting on the counter top at the side of the workshop. Her bare legs swung back and forth, and as I cast my gaze up and over them, there was one difference.
She’d taken off that damn sweater.
And the skirt was as short as it looked. At least, the way it rode up her thighs made it look like that way.
Shit.
I cleared my throat.
She glanced up from her phone. “Yes? Do you need me?”
Oh, shit.
“No. I was just…” I coughed.
She half-smiled.
“You weren’t kidding about that skirt.” My eyes wandered to her legs once more.
“My eyes are up here, Romeo.”
“I know, but your legs are down here, darlin’.”
She sighed and jumped off the counter. She tugged down the skirt, but it really didn’t do much. “I wear shorts this short literally every day.”
I hovered there a little longer before I brought my gaze back up to meet hers. “And I look at your legs literally every day. Not this obviously, but it still happens.”
Jamie rolled her eyes and put her phone down. “We just managed a whole conversation without arguing.”
“Mhmm.” I turned away from her and discreetly adjusted my pants.
We might have managed it without arguing, but we didn’t manage it without me thinking about how pointless the presence of
that skirt was.
How easy it’d be to hike it up over her hips…
“I saw that!” Jamie called.
“Dunno what you’re talking about!” I shouted right back.
“An earthquake is more discreet than your ability to adjust your pants, Dexter Ryne.”
I groaned and turned around. “What do you expect me to do? I tell you yesterday I’d love to fuck you, and now you show up to work looking like that.”
She held out her hands, the picture of innocence. “My shorts are all wet.”
“If I had less restraint, your panties would be wet.”
Pointedly, Jamie looked at my cock. “Oh, yes. Look at that restraint.”
“It’s inside my pants and not you. That is restraint.”
She looked back up with a withering look. “Whose fault is that?” She raised her eyebrows quickly before turning and going to the six-foot-tall toolbox.
I watched as she opened a drawer and pulled out a wrench.
And it hit me.
I leaned against my Dodge and folded my arms, studying her for a moment. Her white tank top hugged her entire body perfectly, and the frayed hem of the skirt barely crept two inches beneath her ass.
“Wet shorts, huh?” I asked.
“Yep.” She got down on her knees, flashing the bright-red panties she was wearing.
Motherfucker.
“Nothing to do with the conversation we had yesterday, then?”
“The one where you said you wanted to fuck me then left?” She glanced over her shoulder with one eyebrow raised. “That one?”
“That one,” I confirmed.
“Nope. Nothing at all. Wet shorts. I told you.”
“You’re the worst liar in the history of liars.” I pushed off the wall and dropped my arms. “I’ve seen you wear at least five different pairs of shorts since you started working here. There’s no way they’re all wet.”
“You took notice of my shorts?”
“Yeah. I stare at your legs a whole lot.” I stopped next to her, grabbed her wrist, and pulled her up to standing.
