Impulsive

by Jeana E. Mann

  “Do I feel good inside you, Tash?” Luke asked, bringing her thoughts back to him. “Do you like me fucking you?”

  “Yes. I want you deeper,” she managed to say. He shifted his hips, angling her pelvis up. It felt so good, so deep, like he was claiming her, consuming her.

  “Like this?” he asked. “Tell me how you like it. Tell me what you want.”

  “Yes. Like that,” she whispered. “More. Harder.”

  The tiny circles of his thumb sent her over the edge. He watched her let go then chased his own release. The way his eyes held on to hers when he came added a new layer of intimacy between them. This guy, her best friend, knew all of her secrets. He’d laid her bare with his hands and cock, leaving her raw and vulnerable. Tears pricked behind her eyelids at the torrent of emotions. Rough fingertips smoothed the hair back from her face. The tenderness in his touch raised flags of warning.

  Oh, no. Her heart fluttered, and the best kind of soreness throbbed between her legs where he was still inside her. It had been more than a meaningless fuck between friends. It had been a dirty, sexy, flirtatious fuck, and those were much more dangerous.

  “We’d better get back out there,” Tasha said. She gave a small shove to Luke’s chest, missing his weight the second he rolled away, yet anxious to put distance between them.

  “What’s your hurry?” he asked. A frown furrowed the space between his brows. “No one’s going to come looking for us.”

  “I just don’t want anyone to find out,” she said, unable to look at him. She began to lace up her pants with shaking fingers.

  “Why? Nobody cares if we’re sleeping together or not.” He hiked his jeans up over his delectable hips. “We’re not in high school.”

  She studied her reflection over the small mirror near the coffee maker and smoothed away the smudges in her makeup. “I don’t want people to think we’re a couple.”

  “And what if they did?” His fingers closed around her elbow and turned her to face him. “Since when do you care what people think?”

  “I don’t,” she said with a little shrug. “Anyway, this isn’t going to happen again. It’s the last time.”

  “Bullshit.” Mischief glimmered in his eyes.

  “I mean it, Luke. We’ve got to stop.” Despite her confidence, her voice shook as she straightened the waistband of her pants. “You saw my mom and dad. They’re a fucked-up mess. I’m not going to be like them. You agreed on once.”

  “Whatever you say,” he replied. A broad smirk curled the corners of his mouth. When she brushed by him, he smacked her on the ass, hard enough to sting and elicit a startled squeak. “I’ll remember that when you’re begging me for it later.”

  She rolled her eyes but smiled back at him. Arrogant ass. And, as it turned out, a psychic ass as well. Before the night was over, they did it two more times. Once in the broom closet and again in the back hallway beneath the red exit light. After the last time, she clung to his shirt, forehead resting against his chest, with her heart hammering at warp speed. One of his hands traced the curve of her spine and came to a stop on the swell of her ass. Drowsy from exertion and release, she sighed and mumbled into his shirt.

  “This is the last time,” she told him.

  He kissed her forehead. “I know, baby. I know.”

  Chapter 7

  Tasha met her mother and sisters the next day for lunch while her father moved out his things. Everyone spoke at once, competing to talk over each other. Their manicured hands waved in the air, voices carrying across the dining room. They were loud, chaotic, and completely hers. Afterward, they went shopping at the local mall. Tasha’s head ached from all the chatter. By the time they returned to her mother’s house, pain seized her temples. Her sisters scattered, eager to get back to their own lives, and left her to deal with her mother alone.

  “Aren’t you coming inside?” Felicia asked. “I’ll get you an aspirin and you can lie down on the couch for a minute before you drive back home.”

  “I’ll be fine, Ma,” Tasha said. Luke had loaned his car to her for the drive, and she needed to return it, but the ache in her head begged for some rest.

  After a brief internal debate, she followed her mom inside and stopped short. Her mother sucked in a horrified breath. The house was empty. Scraps of paper and a few dust bunnies littered the floor. Bright squares shadowed the walls where the pictures had been removed.

  “He even took the toilet paper,” Tasha said after a quick search of the house.

  “Some of my clothes are gone, too,” her mother said. Tears glimmered in her eyes. “My grandmother’s necklace. The diamond earrings he gave me for our anniversary. The bed.” A violent sob wracked her body. “Where am I going to sleep?”

  Tasha wrapped her arms around her mother, holding her close, feeling helpless. The sight of her mother, broken and alone, tore at her heart. After a few minutes, her mother straightened and wiped away her tears.

  Anger simmered underneath Tasha’s calm. What kind of bastard took the toilet paper? The house seemed shabby and unfamiliar without decoration. While her mother wandered through the ground floor, lost and bereft, Tasha rounded up a couple of lawn chairs from the garage. They sat in the kitchen and drank water from the paper cups left behind.

  “That wasn’t the agreement,” Felicia said, voice shaking with hurt. “He was supposed to take his clothes and half the furniture.”

  When her mother had calmed down, Tasha arranged for her to stay with one of her sisters until something could be worked out. She tried to call her father but he didn’t answer. She left him a scathing voicemail then drove home in a fury. By the time she reached her apartment, the anger had dissipated into bitter disillusionment.

  How could he do something it? No matter how the relationship had ended, they had children together and ties binding them beyond marriage. Was he so shallow and uncaring? She dropped her aching head into her hands and cried until there were no tears left. Her family was broken, and there was nothing she could do to fix it.

  Chapter 8

  Luke signed off his work computer and said goodbye to his boss the second his shift ended. It was a shitty, dead-end job paying minimum wage without benefits. Although running errands and updating the company website seemed like a waste of his graphic arts degree, he was grateful to have a job in a city rife with unemployment. Working at Felony provided enough extra income to keep him afloat while he looked for something else. He’d moved from Chicago last summer to help Jack with the bar and had never intended to stay more than a few weeks. Now, he couldn’t imagine leaving the bar or his new friends or Tasha.

  Thoughts of her consumed his day. The way she bit her lower lip before she came. How her skin smelled and the way her laugh stole his breath. All the different ways he was going to make her come when he got his hands on her. And those lips…

  He’d never kissed her.

  The realization struck him with a jolt. They’d fucked. His hands had been all over and inside her body, but the two of them had never kissed on the mouth. The need to claim this piece of her became a matter of utmost urgency. He hailed a cab and tapped out a quick text to tell her he was en route.

  When she didn’t answer right away, his chest constricted. Where was she and whom was she with? Did she still have lovers? Every time one of them came into Felony, he had to leave the bar to keep from punching them. He’d seen the way their eyes followed her, the occasional brush of their fingertips over her waist, and the shared secretive smiles. Especially Heath with his tribal tattoos and long, flowing brown hair. Tasha had let it slip once that he had an apadravya in his dick. Luke had seen them kiss a few times. Jealousy burned in his veins. Fucker. God, how he hated that guy.

  He found her on the roof, sitting beside the pool. Wisps of steam hovered above the water. She wore a tank top and bikini bottoms, legs and hair still damp from her swim. A small furrow formed between her brows when she saw him. She stood, avoiding eye contact, and grabbed a towel to dry off.
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  “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you,” he said. Her gaze flicked up to his. Those hazel eyes slayed him every time, like a sucker punch to the gut. “Come here."

  “No,” she said. “You come here.”

  The wet fabric of her tank top clung to the small swells of her breasts. The chilly air raised her nipples to tight peaks, revealing nipple rings. He knew they were there, had felt them during their hookups, but this time there was a chain stretched between them.

  “Is this for me?” He slid his hand over her taut belly until the chain grazed his fingertips and gave it a little tug. Her breath hissed out.

  “It’s for me,” she said. Rebellion glowed in the depths of her irises.

  “I like it. A lot,” he replied and tugged again. She groaned, her lips parting in a pant. His cock stiffened at the sound. He pressed against her. “See what it does to me?”

  Another whimper escaped her, drawing his attention to her mouth. Her lower lip was absurdly full, like a ripe plum about to burst. He leaned forward, took it between his teeth, and gently pulled. Her skin warmed beneath his hands. He cupped her breasts, thumbing the nipples, rewarded by their tight peaks. Watching her face, he slid his hand between her legs and fingered the piercing there. A needy groan erupted from her throat, low and seductive.

  “You said you’d show me this. I want to see it,” he said. He’d never seen her fully undressed, and he could only imagine how beautiful she was beneath her sexy clothing.

  Everything below his waist engorged with need. He thirsted for her kiss, for the taste of her on his tongue and the heat of her body against his skin. Her hands skimmed up his torso, stopping at his chest, fingers spread wide. He took her mouth with his in a deep, primitive kiss. The taste of beer lingered on her tongue and something sweeter like honey. They dissolved in a tangle of moans and clutching hands. He bent her backward in an attempt to draw her nearer, unable to be gentle, consumed by his need to have her.

  “Luke. Stop it.” She tore away from him, her words ripping him from near bliss.

  “What? Did I hurt you?” He shoved his hands through his hair, trying to gather his scattered thoughts.

  “I can’t do this,” she said and fled.

  Chapter 9

  The expression in Tasha’s hazel eyes gutted Luke. Regret? Anger? What was the other, intangible thing in her gaze? Most of the time, he read her thoughts with uncanny accuracy, but tonight, he had no frigging clue. She spun and left him standing alone on the rooftop, mired in confusion. He scratched his chin and cursed his stupidity. She obviously wasn’t in the same place he was. He wanted more. And she wanted friendship.

  “Tasha, wait up.”

  The sight of her backside slipping from sight spurred him into action. He wasn’t quite sure what he’d done, but knew he needed to make things right with her. The thought of anything standing between them made his chest ache. He took the stairs two at a time, hoping to cut her off at the elevator. By the time he reached her floor, she was unlocking her door.

  She hurried into the apartment, tossed the wet towel into the utility room, and toed off her shoes with a puzzling air of calm. When she headed into the bathroom, he followed her, bumping into her as she turned to close the door behind her.

  “Excuse me?” One of her elegant eyebrows arched at his impudence. She knew how to put him in his place with a look, in a way no one except his mother could do.

  “We need to talk,” he said, uncertain exactly what they would talk about, but convinced some words needed to be spoken.

  “Well, duh, hot shot,” she said. The adorable furrow between her brows begged to be touched and smoothed by his fingertips. “I get it. But we sure as hell aren’t going to talk about it in here.”

  “Right. Um, I’ll give you a minute.” Feeling like a complete and utter ass, he backed out of the bathroom and flopped onto the sofa. The door banged shut behind him. With his heart pinging against his ribs, he turned on the TV and flipped through the channels while his mind tried to analyze the sound of the bang. Was that an angry you’re-such-a-douchebag kind of bang or more of an oh-my-God-I-wish-he’d-just-leave kind of bang?

  Whether she liked it or not, they were going to hash out whatever was going on between them. This constant back and forth had to end one way or another. He hoped she felt the same way he did, but he began to steel his heart for disappointment.

  Ten minutes passed, then twenty. He knocked on the door once more and prepared himself for whatever came next.

  “Just a second,” Tasha called out. It wasn’t like her to avoid confrontation, but the scene with her mother had stirred up all of her emotions, and she needed a minute to pull herself together. She braced a hand on either side of the sink and drew in a few deep breaths to slow her racing heart.

  He’d never kissed her before, and she’d been caught unprepared. It had been easier to disassociate her emotions from him when it was just sex. She brushed shaking fingertips over her swollen lips, reliving the feel of his mouth on hers. Those few, interminable seconds had unleashed a tangled knot of feelings, both frightening and exciting. That kiss, that one act, had changed everything, and she had no idea how to deal with it.

  Shit, shit, shit.

  The room seemed too small. The walls closed in around her, the air thick with her discontent. She shoved a hand through her hair and wiped the smudges from beneath her eyes. This couldn’t happen. Whatever this was had to stop. She didn’t want to end up like her parents. Sooner or later, Luke would find a nice, sweet girl and leave her out in the cold. She’d go back to random one-night stands. Life would go on, but she’d be without her best friend. A future without him seemed inconceivable.

  She opened the bathroom door and gave Luke a weak smile.

  “We need to talk about this,” he said. “About us. About what’s going on here.”

  “I know,” she replied.

  They stared at each other in silence. She crossed her arms over her chest to contain her skittering heart. This was it. Things were going to be said, things that might change their relationship forever, things that would hurt them both.

  “You shouldn’t have kissed me.”

  “Why?” he asked in a thick voice. “Explain it to me, because I just don’t get it.”

  “Because we’re friends. Because this isn’t going to end well. I’m not the girl for you, Luke. You’re not just a friend, you’re my best friend. I can’t imagine my life without you, but I look at my parents…” The words caught in her throat. “They hate each other. My sisters hate their husbands. I couldn’t bear for us to be like that.” What she really wanted was to tell him how much he meant to her, how every minute away from him seemed like an eternity.

  “That is such bullshit,” he said. The quiet tone of his voice held a subtext of anger. “We are not your parents. I am not your dad. Things don’t have to go that way for us.”

  “You say that now when everything is shiny and new, but what about later?” She waved a hand between them. “I mean, look at us. Look at me.” To press her point, she yanked her tank top over her head, exposing her breasts, the chain, and the colorful tattoos covering her torso and arms. “Are you going to take me to your corporate picnics or your family reunions? I’m the girl your mother warned you about. I’m not sweet or wholesome like your girlfriends. I’m dark and edgy, while you’re…” She paused, searching for the right words. “You’re vanilla.”

  “If that’s what you think, then you don’t know me at all,” he said.

  The blackness of his eyes frightened her a little. There was nothing fun or flirty about him now. The expanse of his chest rose and fell with a deep breath. Before she could draw her own, he crossed the floor and pressed her against the wall, pinning her hands above her head. A shudder ran through her as his free hand stole up her ribs to cup a breast and thumb the nipple. When his mouth came down over hers, it was with possession and heat. Their tongues mashed and teeth collided. Her body melted into his, and she met him wit
h equal intensity, giving him everything.

  All too soon, he pulled back and released her. He looked away, unable to meet her eyes. A painful lump formed in her throat. Why did he have to push things this far? Why couldn’t he leave things alone?

  “I ache with wanting you,” he said in a raw whisper.

  Her guts twisted in agony. The situation was racing away, out of control like a runaway train, and there was nothing she could do to stop it. All she’d wanted was to prevent this from happening. And now, she was living her own nightmare. His confession trapped her between reason and passion. Reason never failed her. Passion never lasted. The answer stared her down.

  “Look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t want this. Tell me you don’t have any feelings for me, and I’ll walk away.” The muscle ticking in his jaw said otherwise. “We’ll go back to being friends.”

  “I don’t want this,” she said. Nothing could be further from the truth. Once the words came out of her mouth, reality settled down on her like an oppressive weight. This was huge. Her heart swelled until her ribs ached and tears stung behind her lids.

  He recoiled like she’d struck him. Hurt flashed through his eyes, and it shredded her soul to see it.

  “I want to be friends. Friends last forever.”

  “Right.”

  The distance between them increased as he backed away from her. He wasn’t even gone, and she already felt the loss of him. It took all of her self-control to keep from flinging herself at him and begging for forgiveness. Instead, she retrieved her courage and looked him straight in the eyes. His ego might be bruised tonight, but ten years from now, he’d thank her for being the sensible one.