The Hierarchy of Needs (The Portland Rebels #2)

by Rebecca Grace Allen

  Jamie glanced over at Mikey, an awkward silence hovering like an ocean fog at dawn. He reached for his jacket. “I can leave—”

  “No,” she said, shaking her head. “I, uh…I came for the pictures.”

  It wasn’t the truth, not entirely, but figuring out how to fuck one of your closest friends without it being weird wasn’t a conversation for mixed company. She prayed Dean would somehow pick up on that.

  He didn’t.

  The doors to the emotion she’d seen on his face closed up tight, rolling down like a castle gate and slamming shut.

  “No problem,” he said stiffly. “They’re down in the truck.”

  He brushed past her, threw on a hoodie, zipped it up and snatched his keys. He opened the door and went downstairs without her.

  Jamie lifted her chin and crossed the room to join him. “Later, Mikey.”

  He waved. When she reached the pavement, Dean had his hood all the way up, as if he were using it as extra protection, a cotton barrier between them.

  “You working out now?” she asked the back of his head.

  “Yup.” He didn’t look at her until he’d unlocked the truck box and handed her a plastic bag. A thick envelope was inside. “Here’s the pictures.”

  Well, this wasn’t going the way she’d planned.

  It was getting cold. A front was pressing against the shore, the clouds dark and ominous, a warning they should listen to. Dean crossed his arms and leaned back against his truck. Distant. Standoffish. Jamie had half a mind to drive away, but she’d seen something in his eyes upstairs. She was sure of it. And she didn’t want to leave things like this, either.

  She looked down at her attire, trying to siphon strength from it. Black skinny jeans, gray sweater over a white tank, a set of shiny bangle bracelets and sparkly flats. The outfit screamed I’m a girl who knows what she wants.

  She was, wasn’t she?

  She balanced a hand on her hip and popped it out to the side. “I’m thinking maybe you were right.”

  “About?”

  “About us.”

  Dean made a sound that was a mixture of a laugh and a cough. “Okay. What was I right about?”

  Jamie took a breath. “One night.”

  His eyebrows skyrocketed toward the tendrils of hair hanging down out of his hood. “One night…”

  She gave him a look, a pursing of her lips that said stop playing around. “Six years of sexual tension. I think it’s time we did something about it, or it’s going to drive us both nuts.”

  Some of that anger melted off his face, the hint of a smile returning. He shoved his hood back and rubbed a palm over the back of his head. He’d gotten a haircut, something she’d missed before when she was too busy drooling over his body. The sides had been shorn to a soft buzz-cut she wanted to touch, to feel the baby-soft bristles on her fingertips.

  His voice was low when he finally replied, “Is that what you want?”

  Brilliant green eyes were trained on her, intense and sharp and overwhelming. The skin on Jamie’s neck tingled with awareness.

  Time to ante up.

  “Yes,” she said. “But just a night. To get it out of our systems.”

  Dean chuckled. “You think one night would get me out of your system?” He folded his arms again and smirked, his grin wolfish. “It would take a lot more than that, honey.”

  He was being the legendary Dean Trescott now, seductive powers out in full force. Jamie pushed past it, wanting to see her friend behind the pretty packaging.

  The very pretty packaging. Guh.

  “Yeah, yeah. You’re great in bed. I know.” She rolled her eyes. Smug bastard. “I’d only want to do it if I knew it wouldn’t be a problem, like you said, and then go back to normal after.”

  It was empowering—finally putting it out there, saying what she wanted, especially with the caveat that she planned to put a stopper in things after she’d gotten it.

  Dean stared at her, his gaze quiet and pensive. His sweatshirt was only partially zipped. His chest peeked out from beneath gray cotton.

  He really was staggeringly handsome. Jamie’s pulse pounded.

  “I have to go out of town on Friday,” he said. “New Hampshire. An errand for the business.” He fixed his eyes on her lips, lingering there before trailing back up to her face. Jamie could feel the memory of his mouth on hers, the heat. Her tongue slicked over her top lip. “You could come with me.”

  She quirked up a brow. “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. There’s a car show out there I wanted to hit. I was going to drag Connor with me, but two nights in a hotel with you could be a lot more fun.”

  Desire shot through her like lightning, hot and needy. “A whole weekend, huh?”

  He nodded. Slowly. “We get it out of our systems, then come back home and leave it all behind us.”

  A grin washed over her face. “What happens in New Hampshire stays in New Hampshire?”

  He laughed. The husky sound put Jamie’s entire body on lockdown, her breathing going fast and shallow.

  “Exactly.” Dean hooked one finger into each of her belt loops and pulled her against him. Their lower bodies collided. “Two days. Nothing held back. Everything we want. Just forty-eight hours of my hands in your hair and you stripped down to nothing.”

  Jamie’s mouth dropped open in a sudden gasp. Her hips rolled without her permission.

  His gaze flicked down to her waist. “That was pretty.”

  Her cheeks flushed. She ducked her face down. It was hard to keep eye contact under his white-hot scrutiny.

  Dean wasn’t having it. He brought one hand up, took a strand of her curls between two fingers and tugged on it twice.

  Her eyes snapped to his, her body suddenly stretched tight like a too-taut rubber band. Dean smirked.

  “I know what flips your switch, Jamie, and I’m going to trip it over and over again. I’m going to find all those spots I found years ago, and watch you shiver when I touch them. Kiss them. Lick them. I’m going to make you come so hard you forget your own goddamn name.”

  Jesus, fuck.

  A shudder raced down her spine. Screw waiting for the weekend. She wanted to get started right now. She leaned in to kiss him, but Dean pulled back, holding a finger up.

  “One rule,” he said, his voice serious. “Nobody drinks. We stay sober the whole time, to make sure our heads are clear.”

  Smart move, one she’d thought of already too, but it still felt like a dig. She needed to get their equilibrium back. Jamie jutted her chin in the direction of his stomach.

  “Fine with me. It’ll help you get those couple of extra pounds off.”

  Dean laughed again and shook his head, the mood broken. “You ass.”

  She grinned back. This felt comfortable. Like them.

  “You’ll be able to get Friday off?” he asked. “I was planning to head out in the morning.”

  She shrugged. There was always someone at the center who needed to switch a shift. “It shouldn’t be a problem.”

  “Good. And at home?” The question felt loaded, banked with subtext. “You want to tell them you’re going to visit Gabriella or something?”

  It would’ve been a good lie to use, if she’d needed it.

  “Nobody at home to tell. My parents are away. And even if they weren’t, I don’t think it would matter much.”

  He frowned but didn’t push it.

  “Got it,” he said.

  Jamie inhaled, letting the reality of what they were about to embark on sink in. Two days until her fantasy finally became reality. She was charged up, eager. Hungry.

  Ready.

  “So,” she said. “We good?”

  Dean smiled—a knowing, suggestive one that sent adrenaline racing through her.

  “We’re good.”

 
“Great. What time are you picking me up?”

  Chapter Eight

  Jamie finished packing, double-checked the house and locked it up before stepping out onto the porch. She’d sent her mother a text the day before saying she was going out of town on an impromptu trip with friends. She’d gotten the Have fun, response a little while later, a smiley face along with it.

  Because emoticons could suffice where actual communication couldn’t.

  She left the envelope containing the photos from Sean’s wedding on the kitchen table. She hadn’t peeked inside, not needing the reminder of her eldest sibling’s perfect life, even if Dean was the one who’d taken them.

  She dropped her duffle on the porch and sat on the steps, waiting for his truck to appear. Her jacket formed a flimsy barrier against the October chill when all she had underneath it was a black turtleneck and jeans, but it was a worthy sacrifice in the name of fashion. She didn’t understand what he needed to do today—something to do with poking through parts until he found several diamonds in the rough, so a sweater-dress didn’t fit the bill. A pair of sturdy cowgirl boots she’d found at the outlets in Kittery seemed appropriate, because finding anything decent on clearance surely had to be as difficult as whatever it was Dean was searching for.

  The combination of denim and cowhide made her feel strong, confident. She hoped Dean would like it.

  She hoped he’d like the rest of the clothes she’d packed too. Lingerie included.

  They were staying at an inn off Lake Winnipesaukee. He’d let her pick the place, saying it was a business expense and he’d be able to write it off. She didn’t want to spend too much, but she didn’t want to get busy in some cruddy motor inn off the highway either. Bed bugs and sex were not an ideal combination.

  Sex with Dean. Jamie stifled a grunt.

  The prospect of what they’d be doing tonight was like a hit of adrenaline, her insides going suddenly molten at the thought of being trapped by those powerful arms, his attention solely on her. The blissful invasion of his body inside hers, without worrying about the mess it would make in the daylight afterward.

  These fantasies would have to stop after the weekend, but that was fine. She’d only been harping over him because he was an itch she’d never scratched. In forty-eight hours that would be taken care of, and she’d be able to move on.

  Her phone beeped. Jamie thumbed quickly over the screen. Dean’s text was short and simple. Be there in two.

  She stood, heaved her duffle over her shoulder and went down the front walk, nerves undulating in her belly like the pitch of red-flag waves. She stopped at the curb and looked at the sky when the call of a flock of birds rang out overhead. Jamie craned her head to follow their journey south until they slipped out of sight.

  It used to depress her, watching the birds leave, but for the first time she didn’t mind. Maybe it was because she was on her own voyage to someplace exciting, even if it was only for a few days.

  Dean’s truck rumbled down the block and came to a halt in front of her. He hopped out and flipped open the truck box. She tossed her things inside, pausing when she saw his camera bag at the bottom. Was that where he kept it, or had it been there since the wedding, an oversight he’d forgotten about?

  Something to touch on later.

  They climbed inside, and Dean grinned at her from behind the steering wheel. All at once she saw two versions of him: half the mischievous teenager she’d known as a kid, and half the grown-up playboy he’d become.

  She was excited to be around both of them.

  Two hours later they’d left I-95 for the winding county roads that would lead them to Lake Winnipesaukee. There hadn’t been a rest stop in a while and the coffees they’d grabbed had gone right through her. Jamie gripped the door handle, grimacing as the truck bounced into the dirt lot for the salvage yard. She eyed a sign on the front door that said The better-than-nothing restroom is around the back.

  “You brave enough?” he asked.

  She wrinkled her nose. “I’m glad I wore my boots.”

  He chuckled and wished her luck. It wasn’t as bad as she’d expected, and she made her way back out to the yard without incident. She surveyed the spread in front of her—one hundred acres filled with heaps of busted metal, some piled up on top of one another, cars with their interiors open, mechanical guts on display. She found Dean and started toward him, admiring how beautifully the shrugged-up sleeves of his black Henley shirt showcased his broad shoulders, his forearm corded as he bracketed a hand on the hood of something old and red.

  “Find what you came for yet?” she asked.

  “If it were that easy, do you think I would’ve scheduled the whole day for it?”

  She leaned over the car and pushed her bottom out, taunting him with the suggestive curve of her rear. “Anything I can do to help?”

  His eyes cut over to her, then away again. “Not like that, you can’t.”

  Jamie stood up and stuck out her tongue. Dean reached out and squeezed her side, digging his fingers in until she squealed. She squirmed and batted his hand away, but he was too quick. He curled his fingers beneath her sweater, teasing her bare skin with two quick swipes before pulling them free. Jamie hissed in a breath, her nipples pebbling to sharp points.

  “Somebody’s impatient,” he murmured.

  She glared at him, but couldn’t hide her smile. “Just find what you’re looking for.”

  She followed him around the lot, watching as he picked through parts and talked to the owner, assessing classic pieces from the junk. It was nice, seeing him in his element, but boredom after an hour had her asking for his keys and waiting in the cab. Her boots thrown up over the dash, she listened to the radio and played aimlessly with her phone. Dean finally trudged out by the time she’d exhausted every diversion available, his eyes on the ground and one hand rubbing the back of his neck.

  Jamie opened the door to greet him, not liking the look on his face at all.

  “Bad news,” he said. “They don’t have what I need.”

  “So what does that mean?”

  “It means I’ve got to cut this weekend short so I can keep looking. I’m sorry.”

  Her stomach bottomed out. She bolted upright on the seat and turned to face him. “Are you serious?”

  He grinned full and wide. “Gotchya.”

  Jamie’s mouth dropped open. She jabbed out a fist to punch him, but he darted back before she could make contact.

  “You suck,” she said, crossing her arms even as amusement and relief filled the void disappointment had created. Dean hung his arms on the roof of the car and leaned over her. The sun lit up the tips of his hair like a halo.

  “Looks like somebody can’t take what she dishes out.”

  Jamie glowered at him. “Shut up. You’re mean.”

  Her ire was short-circuited when he ducked his head into the cab and bracketed her hips with his hands. He traced his lips from her cheek to her ear. Warm breath grazed her skin.

  “Don’t pout,” he whispered.

  His chin and jaw were covered with more scruff than usual, the bristles a soft, tickling scrape. Her arms fell open without her permission, hands dropping to curl around his wrists, legs parting and welcoming his body between them.

  God, it was so easy for them to get like this. To go from friendly banter to holy-shit-I-want-you in two seconds flat.

  Dean pulled back, gazing at her as he breathed in deep, like he was drinking in her reaction. Savoring it.

  “I found what I need,” he said. “I’m almost done.”

  She snaked a hand between them, fingers lifting the bottom edge of his shirt to chafe his stomach with her nails. He sucked in a breath and his shoulders jerked.

  Payback was sweet.

  “Good.” She toyed with the button on his jeans. “Hurry up.”

  He snatched
her hand away. “Behave.”

  The order sent a thrill through her.

  Jamie pressed her clit against the seam on her jeans, a little bit of friction to stifle the ache. It was another half hour before he returned with the owner, pieces of metal being heaved onto the flatbed, tied down and covered with a tarp. The lunch hour was long gone by the time they were finally on the road again, and they grabbed sandwiches at a little lakeshore spot before cruising into Meredith Bay.

  Dean parked while she checked them in, and met her in the lobby with both their bags easily slung up over his shoulder. They walked in silence down the hallway, and Jamie’s heart thrummed wildly with the fact that this was real. They weren’t stupidly intoxicated or swept up in the moment.

  They both wanted this.

  Inside the room, he dropped their bags to the floor and closed the curtains. Jamie stood by the bed, unable to move as he turned around and stalked closer. His movements were measured, purposeful, eyes holding her in place like a silent, cunning predator. Despite the fact that she was entirely covered up, the way he looked at her made Jamie feel as if she wasn’t wearing anything at all. As if he could see through her clothes to the pearled tips of her nipples, to the panties that had become incredibly damp.

  He backed her up to the wall and pressed her against it, trapping her hands in his and raising them both up over her head. Captured like that, Jamie expected hard and fast, but he leaned in slow instead, his lower lip making a gentle pass over hers.

  A quiet moan escaped her.

  He did it again, taking his time with soft brushing kisses. She tried to get closer to him, to deepen the contact, but he held her there with an unyielding grip, each unhurried kiss chased with a teasing slip of tongue. The combination of rough and sweet was like being caught in a heavy ocean current, buoyant and crushing.

  Jamie’s whimper was met with a low chuckle. Dean covered both her hands with one of his, nose skimming over her face to her neck as his free hand eased down her side. Spanned her waist. Slid between her thighs.

  An opened-mouthed kiss to the tender spot beneath her jaw made her shudder. Dean hummed approvingly.