Impulsive

by Jeana E. Mann

  “Of course.” Even though he was twenty-five years old, Jack still treated him like a kid. Sometimes it annoyed the hell out of him, like now. “You got your tickets, didn’t you?”

  “I’m talking about the rest of it. Is it arranged?” Jack’s eyes narrowed. “This has to be perfect.”

  Luke bit back a smile of amusement. Everyone thought he’d be the one to settle down first, but Jack had beaten him to it. Ally had done the impossible and tamed his wild brother. Now, with Luke’s help, he was going to make it official.

  “I said it’s taken care of,” Luke replied. “Just chill out, man. It’ll be fine.” When Jack’s gaze narrowed, Luke frowned. “Have I ever let you down?”

  Jack seemed to consider this for a second before he shrugged. “I know it’s asking a lot for you to do this.”

  “Yeah, you owe me. Big time.” Sometimes Luke wondered how much Jack knew about his past relationship with Seven Drift. “You could start by giving me a raise.”

  Jack snorted and fake-punched Luke in the gut. “Now that’s just crazy talk.”

  “Uh, what are you guys doing?” Tasha pulled open the utility room door, eyebrows raised to the hairline. “I don’t need to tell you how weird this looks.”

  “It’s a matter of national security,” Jack said as he left the tiny room. “And will be revealed on a need-to-know basis.”

  Tasha’s gaze focused on Luke. If she suspected a mystery, she’d pester him later for the scoop. The ensuing battle would be a hell of a lot of fun. From over her shoulder, Jack’s eyes sparkled with mischief. He turned and gave Tasha a small nudge, knocking her off balance. She fell into Luke’s chest with an irritated grunt. Jack flipped off the lights, shut the door, and locked them in together.

  “Not funny,” she shouted, but Luke heard the smile in her voice.

  “I’m sorry. Did you say something?” Jack asked, his voice muffled through the door.

  Luke grabbed her by the waist. Her soft breasts pillowed against his chest. They were small and perky, barely more than a handful. Standing so close, he could smell the lavender scent of her hair. She always smelled so good. He drew in a deep breath, savoring and committing her scent to memory.

  “You’re brother’s an ass,” she said.

  “Pretty much,” he replied.

  They’d never been this close before. The stretch of her legs pressed against his thighs. He leaned back against the washing machine, taking her with him. He might be her best friend, but he was a guy, too. Being around her all the time had begun to wear down his resistance. The short skirt rode up her thighs every time she bent over, revealing her amazing legs. His hands slid over her hips and down to the curve of her ass, where he gave a little squeeze. She inhaled a sharp breath.

  “What are you doing?” she whispered.

  “Feeling you up, Gretzky,” he said into her ear. “Nice ass.”

  “Thanks for noticing.”

  This was way beyond the invisible boundary of their friendship, but he couldn’t help himself. The last time he’d fucked Rachel, it had been Tasha’s face he’d seen in front of him, her body he’d felt beneath him, and her pussy clenched tight around him. He’d broken up with Rachel the next day. And he hadn’t looked at another girl since.

  Tasha leaned forward and placed her hands on his chest. Her breath whispered against his lips. Behind the fly of his shorts, his cock began to thicken. He felt rather than saw Tasha’s smirk and wanted to kiss it off her lips.

  No one was more surprised about this shift in dynamic than him. She wasn’t his type at all. He liked small, frail girls with blond hair and quiet personalities. Tasha was tall and slender, tattooed and pierced, and dyed her hair rainbow colors. Dark kohl lined her bold hazel eyes. She had a stud in her tongue, one in her left nostril, and two tiny hoops in her right eyebrow. And he had a sneaking suspicion she was smarter than him.

  The biggest attraction? He genuinely liked her. She laughed at all his jokes, even the stupid ones. When he had food poisoning, she’d put him up in her spare room, stayed awake all night with him, and spoiled him so much he never wanted to leave. She was the first woman besides his mother who didn’t want to date him, fuck him, or marry him.

  The closet door opened, and they sprang apart. Ally flipped on the light. They both blinked against the sudden brightness.

  “Sorry,” Ally said. “You know how Jack is.”

  “Yeah, we know,” Luke said. Tasha walked out while he hung back until his erection faded.

  “Last week he bought a second remote for the TV, and he would stand in the other room and change the channels while I was watching it. I thought there was some kind of glitch with the cable or something,” Ally said as they walked down the hall to the kitchen. Her affection for his brother spilled over into her voice. “I never know what he’s going to do next.”

  “Try living with him for fifteen years,” Luke offered. “I slept with one eye open until he moved out.”

  Tasha bent over to open the oven door as Luke walked into the kitchen. He drew in a deep breath and dropped his eyes to the kitchen island in front of him. Ogling women wasn’t his style. A few weeks ago, Tasha would’ve had his nuts for looking at her ass, but he’d caught her watching him from beneath her lashes every time he came out of her shower wrapped in a towel. Things were changing between them in the most interesting way.

  A month ago, he would never have considered sleeping with his best friend. After the last few weeks, he couldn’t think of anything else.

  Chapter 3

  Tasha’s cell phone rang as she placed the last serving dish on the table. Her mother’s name flashed on the caller ID screen. She stared at the display, wondering if she could ignore the call. If she did, her mother would leave a voice mail, hang up, and call back.

  “It’s my mom. I’ve got to take this,” she said to the group. “Go ahead and start without me.” She gave an apologetic smile to their understanding faces and moved into the hallway for a bit of privacy.

  “Hi, Tasha. It’s your mother.” Even after twenty years of living in the Midwest, her mother’s Brooklyn accent was as thick as ever. From the roughness of her voice, she’d been crying again. She’d been crying for months since the day her father had moved out.

  “Hi, Mom.” Tasha settled against the wall. She might as well get comfortable. Her mother had turned telephone conversation into an art form and could stretch a single call into a marathon. “How are you?”

  “Honey, I need you to call your father and tell him the bathroom sink is leaking. And tell him to come pick up his stuff. I’m tired of looking at it.” The drag of a cigarette followed a tearful sniff.

  “I’m not getting in the middle of this.” Tension bloomed between her temples. She hadn’t spoken to her father since the separation. If she did, she’d tell him how much she hated him for hurting her mother, destroying their family, and for being so selfish.

  “Well, I can’t call him. He’s moved in with that Carlisle woman. You know the one? From the grocery checkout? Can you believe it? My heart is broken, I tell you. Just broken. I’ll never be able to show my face in this town again.” Her mother paused for another pull on her cigarette. “The day he left me, my life ended. Thirty years together. I gave my best years to that man, I’ll have you know, and this is the repayment I get. Thank goodness, I have you and your sisters to pull me through.”

  “Mom, you’re getting divorced. He’s got a right to date anyone he wants. So do you. Maybe you should think about getting out of the house and meeting new people.” She rubbed the space between her eyebrows with two fingers. “It’s not good to sit at home and cry all the time.”

  “I’m too old to date. The thought gives me the creeps, you know?” Tasha heard the flick of a lighter and the flare of a flame as her mother lit another cigarette. “And your poor sister. Have you spoken with her? She’s a mess.”

  Heartache and failed relationships haunted all the Gretzky women. Katia’s husband had left her and th
eir two toddlers for his secretary. Portia’s boyfriend had knocked her down the stairs and broken out her front teeth. And Lena’s husband hadn’t held a job in two years, preferring beer and poker to employment.

  “Which one?” Tasha asked, sudden dread clenching her stomach.

  When her father had chosen to confess his indiscretion, she’d felt just as betrayed and hurt as her mother. She realized how fragile and unpredictable life was and how impossible it was to ever really know someone. If she couldn’t trust her father, she couldn’t trust any man. Her sisters were living proof.

  “Lena,” her mom stated flatly. “That bastard husband of hers spent their rent money on the ponies again.”

  Tasha closed her eyes and leaned her head against the wall, feeling helpless. “Fucker.”

  “I know, right? I told her to bring the kids here until she figures this out.” Her mother sighed and sniffled. “Don’t ever fall in love, Tasha. Don’t ever get married, do you hear me?”

  “Don’t worry, Ma. I’m never getting married.” Watching her parents’ brutal divorce unfold had cured her of any illusions about matrimony. Passionate arguments and long periods of bitter silence had peppered their marriage. Rumors of her father’s indiscretions had swirled through Tasha’s teenage years, making high school unbearable. She’d been that kid—the one with the fucked-up parents and the pitying stares.

  “I never dreamed he could do something like this. If I’d known, I’d never have married him. And now my life is ruined.” Her mother broke into full-scale sobbing.

  “Mom, please don’t cry.” Throughout her life, her mother had always been the strong one, the one holding the family together and pretending everything was okay. Hearing her anguish brought the sting of tears to Tasha’s eyes. She wanted to reach through the phone and hug her. “It’ll be fine. You’ll see.”

  “Easy for you to say, living in the city. You should be here. I need you, Tasha.” And here it came. The guilt trip. “Your sisters need you. It’s time to rally the troops.”

  “I’ll come see you soon, Mom.” Tasha’s finger hovered over the end button. “I need to go. I’ve got a houseful of guests.”

  “Okay. I love you. Don’t forget to call your father for me.”

  “I love you, too, Mom. I’m not calling Dad. I’ll call a plumber. Have your attorney set up a time for him to get his stuff.” She ended the call and tapped the phone against her forehead, teeming with frustration. She was a fixer, the one everyone in her family called to repair their problems. Need a babysitter? Call Tasha. Got a flat tire? Call Tasha. The burden of responsibility grew heavier with each passing day.

  “You okay?” Luke asked. She lifted her eyes to find him frowning at her from the end of the hallway.

  “I’m fine,” she said, and forced a tight smile.

  “How’s she doing?” He stalked toward her and leaned a shoulder against the wall. Concern etched lines in his forehead.

  “The same, I guess.”

  Luke knew the story. He’d been the one to hold her when she’d learned about her father’s defection, had stroked her hair and let her cry into his shirt. She remembered the strength and hardness of his chest, the smell of fabric softener from his shirt, and the rough stubble of his chin against her forehead. He made her feel safe and protected.

  “She’s got a leak or something.” Tasha waved a hand in the air. “I told her I’d call a plumber.”

  “We could head over there tomorrow when I get off work,” Luke said. “I could take a look at it for her. It might be something simple.”

  “That would be awesome,” she said. “If you don’t mind.”

  “You know I don’t mind.” His smile lit up the shadowed hallway. “You know I’m here for you. Right?”

  An ache started at her toes and coursed upward into her chest, filling it until her lungs burned. Her family was self-destructing, and she was powerless to stop it. She needed a distraction from her problems. Something to replace the hurt and betrayal. She found it in the compassionate face of her best friend.

  “Well, there is something you can do…”

  A devilish grin twisted his lips. She tangled her fingers in his T-shirt and tugged him into the bathroom. By the heat in his eyes, he knew exactly what she needed. He slid the pocket door shut behind them and lifted her onto the edge of the counter. She parted her knees and invited him to stand in the V of her thighs. It felt good to have him there, solid and dependable.

  “Are you sure you want to go there?” Luke asked.

  The husky timbre of his voice scratched over her ears. His hands were already on her knees, sliding her skirt up to her hips. She shivered, wanting more, concentrating on the roughness of his palms and the eagerness of his tone. Sex always cured her pain, but usually it was a random hookup at a club. The feel of a man’s hands on her body bolstered her confidence and swept her away from the reality of her life.

  “Let’s not overthink it,” she whispered as she unsnapped his shorts and slid down the fly. The length of him pressed against her palm. Hot. Hard. Ready. “Very impressive,” she murmured. “Can I ask how you fit all that in your pants?”

  He chuckled into her neck. “Shut up, Gretzky.”

  The barrier between them—the one separating friends from lovers—crashed down around her ankles, along with her panties. His mouth found her fluttering pulse at the base of her jaw. The wet heat of his breath burned against her bare skin. One of his long fingers slid into her silky depth, testing her and finding her slick. His finger glided over her clit, brushing the piercing there, and froze.

  “What the fuck is this?” he asked. He rarely used the F-word. Knowing she’d shocked him gave her a rush of satisfaction.

  “It’s called a piercing,” she replied and nipped his earlobe.

  “Can I see?” he asked. He parted her knees wider.

  “Not now,” she said on an inhaled breath. The tip of his finger swirled around the delicate nub. Shards of pleasure shot along her legs. “Focus, Jameson.”

  “Condom?” he asked, his voice thick with desire.

  She groped beneath the counter until her hand found the appropriate drawer and the box tucked inside. She ripped the packet open with her teeth and slid the condom over his length. His breath hissed out like a steam kettle rising to a boil. The head of his cock nudged against her entrance. He shoved in, one delicious inch at a time. They groaned together.

  “Oh my God, you feel good,” he said, closing his eyes and tipping his head back.

  “Don’t just stand there. We need to be quick,” she said.

  “Never been told that before,” he replied dryly. His fingers tickled the backs of her knees, lifting them higher. “Wrap your legs around my waist.”

  When he pulled out to the tip then slid in again, she slipped into the sink, the porcelain cold against her bare bottom. She giggled and tried to right herself. He laughed into her hair and gripped her bottom with both hands, pulling her onto him and settling her deeper. The angle of entry hit her at the perfect spot. A moan trembled through her.

  “Shhhh…not so loud,” he hissed.

  She knew he’d feel good, but she hadn’t expected this, this burning pleasure-pain. The taste of salt from his skin, the scratch of his calloused palms on her bare thighs, and the sound of his harsh breathing unleashed all her repressed desires. “Oh, yes.”

  “Gretzky,” he warned. “Somebody will hear us.”

  “Then hurry up,” she said, and was rewarded by another punishing thrust.

  Fire radiated from her center and outward into her limbs. Needing more, she clung to him. He picked up a fervent rhythm. With both hands braced against the mirror behind her, he drove into her over and over and over. This was what she needed, and he gave it to her with gusto. The musky scent of sex filled the tiny bathroom. He bent to catch one of her nipples in his teeth and tongued the piercing through her shirt. The sting sent her over the edge.

  Ripples of release shook her legs. She bit her lip to st
ifle her cry. The heated rush of adrenalin and endorphins sang in her blood. She’d expected sex, but this was so much more. Watching his expressions, nostrils flaring and lips parted, gave her as much enjoyment as the act itself. With his right hand, he cupped her knee and lifted her leg higher, shifting his hips to hit her G-spot. Her body clutched and spasmed around him, coming in wave after wave.

  “You like that?” he murmured in her ear. “You like me fucking you, Tasha?”

  God, yes, she liked it. She liked the taste of him, the friction between them, the small grunts leaving his throat. He shifted her again, leaning her back toward the mirror, and pumped into her. Veins popped out on his forearms. This was too much, too intense, too perfect. Every stroke of his cock left her bewildered and desperate for more. When she nipped his shoulder, he fisted a hand in her hair and tugged her head back, staring into her eyes, driving into her with furious strokes. The muscles of his back flexed beneath her fingers. His cock jerked inside her when he let go.

  “Are you in there, Tasha?” A knock on the bathroom door preceded Karly’s voice.

  They froze. Tasha’s gaze flew to Luke’s face. A muscle in his jaw ticked. The tendons stood out on his neck. The broad expanse of his chest heaved with each labored breath. He was still coming inside her, the struggle to remain quiet visible on his features. God, he was beautiful like this, flushed from orgasm, buried deep within her.

  “Everything okay?” Karly asked again.

  “Fine,” Tasha said in an unfamiliar voice. Luke exhaled, his gaze still locked with hers. “Just give us a minute.”

  “Us? Are you having a party in there or something?” Karly asked.

  “Uh, the toilet overflowed,” Luke said. He shuddered as he slipped out of her, but his voice remained controlled and casual. “We’re just cleaning up.” He pulled off the condom and zipped up, while Tasha retrieved her panties and straightened her skirt.

  “Okay. Well, there’s some kind of timer going off in the kitchen,” Karly said.

  “Oh, um, it’s the pie,” Tasha said. Luke gave her a nod, and she slid the door open. Karly’s eyes roved over them, lingering on Tasha before landing on Luke. Tasha turned to find him holding the plunger in his hand, eyes sinful and shaded.