Impulsive

by Jeana E. Mann

  Tasha’s heart squeezed and tears pricked behind her eyelids. It was high school all over again with her parents shouting while she stood by helplessly. This was the reason she would never give her heart to someone. Love, marriage, monogamy—they were all an illusion. She put invisible hands over her ears and tried to block out the insults. A gentle touch on her back distracted her from an impending meltdown. Luke stood behind her, eyes warm with kindness and empathy.

  “Tash? Maybe we should let them work this out.” His smile soothed her. “Why don’t you show me where the leak is?”

  Fifteen minutes later, he had the bathroom sink lying in pieces on the floor. She sat on the edge of the bathtub, trying to ignore the muffled shouting from downstairs, and watched him work. The muscles and tendons flexed in his forearms as he twisted the pipe wrench, strong and masculine, every inch a guy. Sensing her scrutiny, he glanced up at her.

  “Wanna talk about it?” he asked.

  “Not really.” She leaned her elbows on her knees and rested her chin on her hands. “Where did you learn to be so handy?”

  “My dad died when I was a kid. We didn’t have a lot of money, so it was up to me and my brothers to make the repairs. Necessity and all.” He flashed another look at her, one corner of his mouth turning up.

  “I didn’t know. I’m sorry,” she said. No wonder he was so self-sufficient. Sadness tweaked her heart, picturing him as a dark-haired little boy without a dad.

  His casual shrug said more than his words. “Thanks, but it was a long time ago. I don’t remember him too well, but everyone says he was a good guy. So you see, my dad left me, too.”

  “But not because he didn’t love your mom or because he was screwing the checkout lady,” Tasha replied.

  “No.” Luke stopped working and balanced a forearm on his thigh, studying her, choosing his words carefully. “But he did leave. Forever. And he’s not coming back. If I had to choose between having my dad or not having him at all…” The deep voice trailed off and he looked away.

  She rested her hand on his knee and squeezed. A small smile rewarded her, and he went back to work.

  “Jack was always there to teach me stuff like this. I guess it’s why we’re so close now.”

  “Is that why you came to help him out with Felony?”

  “Even when he was married to Chelsea and dealing with her shit, Jack found time for me.” He rocked back on his heels and wiped his hands on a rag from the toolbox. A chuckle rumbled through his chest, and he shook his head. “I went off the rails a little in college. As soon as he found out, he was knocking down my door, jerking some sense into me. I owe him a lot.”

  “Seriously?” Tasha nudged him. “Like what? Did you smoke a little weed or run through campus with scissors?” It was the first time he’d ever talked about his college years, and she was eager to learn more about him.

  He tossed the rag at her. “Nope. Nothing so boring.” He studied her for a minute, as if deciding whether or not to confide in her. “I started hanging out with Elijah Crowe.”

  “From Seven Drift? No way.” She straightened and threw the rag back at him. He caught it in one hand. “You know him?”

  “Yep. His parents lived next door to my mom. We’ve been friends since fifth grade.”

  She waited for him to offer details, but he stuffed the rag into the toolbox and snapped the lid shut. First, he fucked her into confusion, and then he confessed a link with the most debauched rock star of the decade. Maybe she’d been wrong about him. Maybe sweet Luke wasn’t so sweet after all. This revelation added a new layer to her interest.

  “All fixed. Are you ready to head downstairs?” One of his eyebrows lifted.

  She sighed but didn’t stand. Another round with the Gretzkys might send her over the edge. His lips smiled at her, but his eyes were somber.

  “It’ll be okay, Tash. Everything will work out. You’ll see.” He took a seat beside her on the edge of the bathtub and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into his chest. She rested her head against his shoulder and drew in a deep breath. The cotton of his T-shirt smelled like fabric softener and soap, two of her favorite scents. The man beneath the shirt felt warm and solid.

  “You say that, but how do you know?” she asked without pulling away. It felt too good, too right, to be in his arms like this. She never wanted to leave and yet wanted to flee at the same time.

  “Because it’s true.” He pressed a kiss to the top of her head while his hand soothed along her arm. She felt his lips curve into a smile there. “Can’t you ever just take my word for it?”

  “No. Because you’re usually wrong,” she said, giving his chest a playful shove. Laughter vibrated through his chest, sending shivers throughout her body. Her fingers toyed with the hem of his shirtsleeve while she admired the way it stretched over his bicep.

  “Says the girl who thought peanuts grow on trees.” He was teasing her now, and the familiarity of it filled her with warmth.

  “Okay, so I was wrong.” She pinched his arm in reprimand. “There’s a first time for everything.” They sat in silence for a few minutes longer.

  “Awful quiet down there,” he said after a beat. “Do you think it’s safe to leave?”

  “Either that or they’ve killed each other,” Tasha replied, and prepared for another dose of reality.

  Chapter 6

  They stopped for ice cream on the way home. Tasha ordered a double scoop of pistachio, while Luke stuck with his standard vanilla cone. They sat on a picnic table beneath the shade of a walnut tree and enjoyed the blue afternoon skies. A comfortable quiet stretched between them. It was one of the things Luke liked best about Tasha. She knew the value of silence and never filled up space with needless words.

  A green bottle fly landed on his jeans. He flicked it off with thumb and forefinger. It recovered and buzzed past Tasha’s ear. She waved an annoyed hand through the air before returning focus to her ice cream. Luke watched her, mesmerized by the swirl of her pink tongue around the green scoop of ice cream. Her eyes closed, and she hummed in approval. The sound of her quiet little moan went straight from his ears to his groin. Images of her mouth on his dick sent all his blood racing southward from his brain.

  They said only once, but once more sounded better. She needed to get over this crazy hang-up of hers. She thought friends couldn’t be lovers. He wanted to prove her wrong out of sheer stubbornness. Who better to love than someone you already liked?

  A drop of ice cream clung to the corner of Tasha’s mouth. With the pad of his thumb, he swept it away and popped it into his mouth. Their eyes met, and he considered touching her with more than his thumb. He cleared his throat and straightened. The tip of her tongue swept across her lower lip with tantalizing slowness, and she traced a finger over her cleavage. A tiny smile curved her mouth. Mirth sparkled in her eyes. The little shit was playing with him. He balled up his napkin and threw it at her.

  “You’re such a dude,” she said, and rolled her eyes in feminine superiority.

  “That was mean,” he replied. “Now we’re going to have to wait until this boner goes down before we can leave.”

  A trickle of melted ice cream ran down the side of her cone and across her fingers. She popped each digit into her mouth and sucked it clean, her gaze never leaving his.

  “Sounds like a problem,” she said.

  “Unless you want to help me out,” he said, only half joking.

  The irises of her eyes glowed, green-brown in the sunlight. She hopped up from the picnic table and sauntered over to him, stopping inches away. His heart kicked against his ribs. A light wind ruffled the tendrils of hair around her oval face and stirred the scent of her lavender shampoo. The challenge in her eyes roused his competitive nature. If this was a game, he was all in.

  ***

  When they got back to her apartment, Tasha went straight to the kitchen for a glass of water. Luke followed on her heels, so close he bumped into her when she stopped at the sink. He trapped her a
gainst the counter, one hand on either side of her hips. She bit her lower lip, trying to hold back her smile. She knew it was wrong to tease him, but it was fun to see him squirm.

  “You’re playing with fire, you know,” he growled in her ear.

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she said with an innocent smile and ducked beneath his arm.

  Being in close proximity with him all day, smelling his cologne, and feeling the scratch of his stubble on her cheek when he hugged her only aggravated the nagging attraction between them. She itched to put her hands on him, to feel his hard chest one more time and run her hands down the smooth curve of his back. A needy ache grew between her legs, made all the worse because she could do nothing about it. With perverse pleasure, she decided he might as well suffer too.

  “What you did to that poor ice cream cone…” He hooked a finger in the belt loop of her jean skirt and tugged her forward. She batted his hand away. “I’m still hard.”

  The amber of his eyes darkened to a deeper caramel as they took her in from head to toe, sliding over her like a sensual pair of hands, and returned to her face. She lifted herself onto the kitchen island, and with her bare foot on his chest, pushed him back a step. He grabbed her ankle and held it between his warm palms.

  “Oh, come on. You were totally into it and you know it. I had no idea ice cream turned you on.”

  “It wasn’t the ice cream.” His gaze dropped to her mouth and her pulse sped up. “It was your tongue. All I could think about was how good it would feel on my dick. And wonder if you enjoyed giving head as much as you like eating ice cream.”

  “Oh, I give great head,” she said, pleased by the flush of color in his cheeks. “Too bad you’ll never find out.”

  She raised both feet to his chest and pushed him back again. With lightning reflexes, he grabbed both ankles and yanked her to the edge of the counter, spreading her legs wide. She teetered on the edge, held upright only by his grip on her. One step forward put him between her thighs. He wrapped her legs around his hips. His hands slid up her calves and over her knees, his eyes following their path.

  “What are you doing?” she asked. The precarious position he’d put her in forced her to grip the counter to keep from falling.

  “I think I need to teach you a lesson,” he said. The stern tone of his voice sent a flood of adrenalin racing through her.

  “And how, exactly, do you propose to do that?” she asked. By the dangerous look in his eyes, she was pretty sure she’d like it. Her breath came short as his fingers trailed a heated path along her inner thighs. One of his fingers dipped beneath the hem, building anticipation. If he explored any further, he’d find her slick with desire.

  He smiled, removed his hands, and backed away. “Darn. I didn’t realize it was so late. I’ve got to get going.”

  “What?” She bolted upright. “Get back here, Jameson.”

  “Sorry. I’ve got to work tomorrow. Besides, we’re just friends, right?” He smirked and headed toward the door. “Catch you later, Gretzky.”

  ***

  Four restless nights later, Tasha met Luke at Felony Bar for their weekend shift. The heady atmosphere of strobe lights, fog, and heavy metal music caused her pulse to accelerate. The very first time she’d crossed the threshold, Felony had drawn her in like a seductive siren. Everything about it appealed to her, from the eclectic mix of Goths, metal heads, and bikers to the smell of sweat, leather, and adrenalin.

  Luke and Karly manned the bar while Tasha waited tables. His quiet efficiency turned her on. She watched him pour a line of shots with one hand and pop the top of a beer can with the other. She bit her bottom lip and contemplated how adept his fingers had felt on the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. Confusion made her look away. Over the past week, it had become a familiar emotion. He’d left her hard up and frustrated on the kitchen island, and now he haunted her waking moments as well as her dreams.

  “Tasha?” Luke’s voice broke her reverie. “Seventeen even for the whiskeys at table eight.”

  She swallowed and brought her gaze back to meet his eyes. “I’m sorry. What?”

  He shook his head, a smile on his lips, and reached for the twenty on her tray. “Where were you just then?”

  “Nowhere.” She smiled back at him. Luke treated her with the same flirty playfulness he always had, but the heat continued to build between them.

  He made change for the twenty then leaned over the counter to stuff it in her apron pocket. With a mischievous grin, he tugged the tight fabric of her leggings between two fingers. “I like these. They’re sexy as hell.”

  “Thanks. They’re new.” She held her breath when his hand skimmed her hip. Always pushing the limits of fashion, she’d chosen the tight vinyl leggings for their shocking sex appeal. They laced up the front and back of each leg, from ankle to hip, showing a scandalous amount of skin.

  “What kind of underwear does a girl wear with those?” Luke asked. The appreciation in his gaze heated her blood. “My imagination is running wild.”

  “Who says I’m wearing any?” she shot back. A warm smile curved his mouth then he shook his head as if he had no idea what to do with her. The depth in his eyes set off a multitude of mini explosions inside her.

  “Aren’t you about ready to go on break?” he asked.

  “Yeah. I guess so. Why?” She removed her apron and tossed it beneath the counter. Luke leaned into Karly, said something, and Karly nodded. Tasha headed toward the break room, feeling Luke’s gaze burning into her back. When she stepped inside, he was on her heels and clicked the lock on the door behind them.

  “Did you need something?” Tasha asked, turning to face him, biting her lower lip to hold back a smile.

  “I need to see what you’re wearing under those pants,” he said, eyes alight with mischief.

  “I already told you,” she said. The expanse of his chest filled her sight. He was so broad, so lean, and so very taut. Hard in all the right places.

  “Show me,” he asked, his voice husky and rough. “I want to see.”

  The cadence of her heart increased. She liked this naughty Luke, the way his nostrils flared and his eyes narrowed. The heat and lust in his eyes prompted her to regret her declaration to abstain from sex with him. When he looked at her, her hormones surged and waged war with her common sense. Her thoughts bounced back and forth. Maybe once more would put an end to her craving to touch him. One last quickie might do it.

  “And then what?” She tugged on the laces of her fly, releasing the knot with intentional slowness. His breath caught as she spread it open to reveal the butterfly tattoo above her waxed pubis. “See?” she said. “Nothing.” He lifted his gaze to meet hers and swallowed hard.

  “I know we said only once, but …” His voice trailed off as he closed the gap between them in one long step.

  She didn’t answer. Instead, she fisted her hand into his shirt and tugged him toward her. He slid his hands inside the tight stretch material of her pants and took a handful of her ass, squeezing each cheek. The ridge of his cock pressed against her belly. God, he felt good. Strong. Masculine. Wanting.

  The tip of his nose skimmed along the curve of her neck, scenting her, punctuated by little nips of teeth. The smell of him, clean cotton mingled with soap, and the heat of his body drew her in. All she thought about was getting closer to him, curling into his solid body, and losing herself in him. She ran her hands beneath his shirt, up the ripples of his abs, and over the swell of his pecs. Curling chest hair pricked her palms. They would feel incredible against her bare breasts.

  “I don’t want things to be weird between us,” she said, “but I liked the way you fucked me.” She nibbled along his ear, and he shivered. “It’s not a big deal. We can do this, right?” Maybe if she kept saying it, she’d start believing it.

  “If that’s what you want, then I’m game,” he said. His eyes grew darker, watching her fingers stumble over the snap and zipper of his fly. “Do we need ground r
ules?”

  “No rules,” she said, pulling him down onto the couch with her. She’d never been one for introspection or debating the possible outcomes of her actions. She knew what she wanted, how she wanted it, and she took it without regret or apology. She wouldn’t regret this, and she’d make sure he didn’t either.

  “I knew there was a reason I liked you, Gretzky.”

  He nudged his knees between her thighs, spreading her open for him. One of his fingers eased inside her where she was already wet from wanting him. He added a second finger to the first and smiled when she trembled from the delicious fullness.

  She groaned, overcome by the pressure of his thumb on her clit and the friction of his fingers sliding in and out. He paused long enough to roll on a condom then sunk his cock deep into her. The weight of his body crushed her into the cushions, pinning her beneath him. His thumb continued to stroke between them, building the anticipation.

  When he touched her, she couldn’t think. All she wanted was more of his skin against hers, more of his lips on her neck, more of his cock. He seemed to understand, preferring to murmur scandalous things while he pounded her. Sweet Luke was a dirty talker.

  “So wet…tight pussy…fuck you all night…” His voice rumbled the words, making no sense and perfect sense all at the same time. “I want you to come all over my dick. Don’t hold back.”

  The couch thudded against the wall with each of his strokes. Thank goodness the pulsating music of the bar camouflaged the sounds of their coupling. She dug her fingers into his hair and arched backward, meeting him halfway. He knew where to put it, the exact way to angle her hips, and he did it like a master.

  She wrapped her legs tighter around his waist and sucked on his earlobe. A groan vibrated through his chest, and he redoubled his efforts. His obvious enjoyment turned her on even more. The way his hand slid over her breast and squeezed, his thumb flicking the piercing there and sending tiny electric shocks through her body. She’d never really shared a mental connection with a sex partner. Even after two years, Heath was a stranger, a booty call for lonely Saturday nights or a distraction when boredom sank in. Luke, on the other hand, felt familiar in the best possible way, like he knew what she needed before she asked for it.