“Are you good to drive?” she asked as they stepped up to the Camaro. “Because I’m a little tipsy.”
“I switched to water almost an hour ago, and I only had two beers all night,” he said. “Do you trust me? I would never put you in danger.”
They were now standing face-to-face beside the car, staring at each other. That was the moment she decided. It was bad enough that her ridiculous obsession with this man wouldn’t wane, but if she was going to let him take another piece of her soul, she would do it on her terms.
“I trust you.”
“Good.”
She stepped forward slowly, and even in the dim light of the streetlight twenty feet away, she could see those sunrays staring back at her. He swallowed audibly, and that was when she felt his hand on her hip, gently tugging. Instantly she slapped it away.
“I’m making the first move,” she snapped in a quiet voice before getting a handful of his shirt.
“Then make it.” His voice was nearly a growl, low and clipped.
Her brow creased in irritation. “You would make this diffic—”
She was shut up by his lips smashing into hers. Oh God. No problem, because whatever she’d been about to say had evacuated her mind the minute he kissed her. She was now too busy feeling, responding, tasting. His mouth, soft and firm at the same time. Jaw, roughened steel underneath her fingers as she cupped his face. How many times had she imagined this moment?
Enough to realize that even her fantasies had been inadequate. She hadn’t known how gentle yet insistent his tongue would be as it enticed her mouth open. Who would have thought that sliding her fingers through the fine hairs at the nape of his neck would turn her—and him—on?
She knew because he groaned, his hands once again on her hips, pulling her against him with no plan of stopping this time. He was hard, gloriously so, and it was obvious that he wanted her to feel it. She let out a soft whimper at the pressure, acknowledging that she’d received the message. I want you too. Can’t you tell? Haven’t you always been able to tell?
The kiss went on and on right there in the alley. Sometimes ebbing with moments of such frantic passion that she was ready to rip his clothes off, and then flowing into soft languid swipes of his tongue that had her body shivering with need. She was hot, wet, and ready in every way necessary to take this to completion.
Pulling back, she ran a nail along the tendon in his neck. “Is this what you meant by talking?”
He grinned. “It’s exactly what I meant.”
“I’m sort of drunk, TJ.”
He huffed out a laugh. “I know. Which is why I’m going to drive you home.”
* * *
Jen fell asleep in the front seat of his car as he drove to her apartment. As much as his body was begging him to get her home and finish what they’d started, he didn’t want Jen to make this decision under any influence. He’d waited this long. Shit, he’d never even expected to kiss her, so theoretically he should be satisfied. But he wasn’t. He wanted more, but not like this.
He pulled into her apartment complex and took the first parking spot. As soon as he killed the engine, she woke up with a giant yawn.
“Stay there, I’m coming around to help you,” he said. But before he could get out and around to the passenger side, she was already shutting her car door. She wobbled on her feet, and he instantly put out a hand to keep her upright.
“I’ve got you,” he said, leading her through the lot toward the row of buildings.
As soon as they started up the steps she leaned on him. “No judging my shitty apartment, rich boy.”
He almost laughed, but her words had him glancing around. The apartment complex left a lot to be desired. From the road, it didn’t draw your attention, but up close it was obvious that detailed maintenance was not a priority to the management. The sidewalks were cracked and crumbling, the handrails to the second floor wobbly. TJ was no expert on municipal code and ordinances, but he’d bet money that some of what he was seeing was illegal.
“Where’re your keys?” he asked when they got to her door.
She shuffled through her purse for so long he finally just grabbed it from her. Pulling them out immediately, he noticed she’d leaned against the wall.
He led her inside, and Jen flipped on a lamp. The night he’d dropped her off from the ER her place had been dark, so he hadn’t seen anything. But now, he smiled. The apartment was small, but it wasn’t at all shitty. It was totally Jen. Eccentric, bright, and bold, and it smelled like the vanilla tangerine lotion she kept next to her computer at work.
There was one small sofa littered with mismatched pillows and a small chair that she’d tried to slipcover with what appeared to be a giant plaid flannel sheet, but the best part was all the plants. Every surface was covered with them. Big, tall, short, flowering, and spiky.
His eyes glanced around the room until they landed on her. She was standing near the short hallway, watching him. Waiting for his reaction.
“I love all the plants.”
The corner of her mouth lifted. “So do I. They’re like my children.”
He watched as she tried in vain to toe off her heels, which were strapped to her ankles. Walking up to her, he kneeled down at her feet. “Lift,” he instructed, gently grabbing the back of her shoe.
She did as instructed, placing a foot on his thigh as her hands settled on his shoulders. It was all he could do to not run his hands up her long legs. Or press her against the wall, shove up her dress, and press his face against her softest parts.
Shaking that thought off, he motioned for her other foot and removed that shoe before standing up. “Where’s your bedroom?”
She smiled up at him. “Not wasting any time. I like it.”
He laughed, amused by her playful voice. “No, Jen, I’m going to help you to bed. You’re wasted.”
“It hit me hard when we left,” she muttered. “I never drink that much.”
“Happens that way sometimes.” TJ began to guide her down the hall, and since the place was tiny as hell he could see that one door was to the bathroom and the other to her room. Although it was dark, intoxicated Jen seemed to sense her bed nearby and walked right over and lay down.
TJ flipped on the bedside lamp just in time to see her pulling her dress over her head. Oh shit. All of Jen’s beautiful skin—some creamy, some colorful—was exposed for his viewing as she tossed her dress to the floor and flopped back on the bed. She wore a lacy black bra, but her panties were cotton with yellow and white stripes. The contrast made him smile, as did her tattoos. Finally he knew how much of her they covered. The first fairy was small, hovering just above her left breast. Above it a green vine covered with exotic-looking flowers twisted up and over her shoulder and down to her elbow. There were four fairies total. From the front view, anyway. It was beautiful, and he didn’t have to ask to know that she’d drawn all of it. How many talents could one woman possess?
Placing his hands under her knees, he lifted and pivoted her body so she lay lengthwise in bed. It occurred to him this could be another vulnerable moment she may not appreciate tomorrow, but he sure would. He’d take whatever moments he could with her, and accept the responsibility of making sure she didn’t regret it.
“God you’re strong,” she said. “Shit, why am I so tired?”
Pulling the sheet up over her, TJ frowned down at her face. Surely Bodisto wasn’t the type to slip her anything.
“I’ll be right back,” he said. He went into her tiny kitchen and opened the fridge. Inside he grabbed a bottle of water and then spotted a small thing of acetaminophen on the counter. Shaking out two, he headed back to the bedroom. Jen’s breathing was already steady, her eyes closed. He laid the pills on her bedside table and then looked down at her. Damn she was beautiful.
“Jen,” he said quietly.
“Mm-hmm,” she muttered, her eyes fluttering. When she saw that he had water, she angled her body up on the bed and took the bottle before downin
g several mouthfuls. With a satisfied gasp, she handed him the bottle and flopped back down on the sheets. The small bit of hydration brought a bit of alertness, and she stared up at him.
“When you wake up tomorrow, give me a call. I’ll come back and drive you to your car.”
Her eyes went wide. “You’re leaving?”
“Well, I just—”
“I thought you’d stay. Can you?”
The sweet sound of her request nearly undid him. Could he stay? Absolutely. But it was the “should” that he was getting hung up on.
“Please.”
Glancing down into her eyes, he knew there was no denying that request. “Okay. Scoot over.”
“Take all that off so you’re comfortable,” she said, wagging a finger at his body.
He nearly groaned. “Killing me,” he muttered.
She smiled up at him as she rolled onto her side, giving him way too amazing of a view of her backside and another fairy on her shoulder blade. “The sheets feel so good and cold. Do you like cold sheets?”
“I guess so.” He did, although it was something he didn’t often think about. Right now all of his focus was on her yellow-and-white striped ass. He made quick work of putting his keys, watch, and wallet on the bedside table before shucking his pants, shirt, and undershirt. The bed dipped as he slowly lay down beside her.
As he considered the best way to position himself, she reached back, grabbed his arm, and pulled it across her body. And now he was spooning her, that striped ass nestled right up against his dick. Oh God, give me strength.
“Thank you for taking care of me again,” she whispered.
Yep, she was going to look back on this night and either not remember it, or remember it and cringe. But he would enjoy this moment anyway. With that, he let his body relax against her. This felt so right, it was nearly terrifying. “Always, Jen.”
Nine
Jen’s arm was numb, tucked up under her pillow. She tugged at the material with her right hand and a thud, then a groan sounded behind her. Stunned, she jerked up and looked behind her.
“Holy shit. I forgot you were here,” she said in a scratchy voice.
TJ’s head was lying flat on the mattress. He cracked open an eye and glanced up at her. “Just what I like to hear when I wake up in a woman’s bed.”
Suddenly a pain shot through her head. Lifting her hand to her temple, she moaned. “Oh God. I feel like I was on a weekend-long bender. Now I know why Glenlivet is so expensive.”
“Here,” he shifted on the bed. “I brought some medicine in last night.”
She opened her eyes and held out her hand to take the pills. He then reached over and grabbed the water bottle and passed it to her.
“Thanks.” Jen swallowed the two pills as she suddenly realized that underneath the sheets she was only in her bra and panties. Good lord. She knew better than to drink too much with the antidepressant she’d started taking last year, but clearly her good sense had taken a leave of absence last night. “Did we have sex last night?”
His eyes bulged. “Jesus, of course not.”
“Okay, okay. Sorry the idea is so repulsive,” she said, sitting up and crossing her legs, careful to keep her chest covered.
He slammed his hands down to his sides, hard enough to hold the covers down tight so that she could see the bulge below his waist. “This is the result of waking up next to you. Obviously, there is nothing repulsive about that idea.”
“A boner in the morning. How unoriginal and tragically scientific. I can’t take credit.”
“Holy shit,” he groaned. “You are such a pain in the ass. You know damn well this is all you, and you also know that I would never have sex with you when you can’t even remember it.”
“And I do appreciate that. Just ignore my snark. You know by now that self-deprecation is my default.”
“Yeah, well, do me a favor and try to rein it in. It’s insulting.”
She put her hands up in surrender. How weird was it to have this man in her bed while they were both half naked? Pretty weird, but her heart was also pounding with excitement. She needed to keep her cool. “Thanks for the ride home.”
He sighed. “You’re welcome. Do you remember leaving?”
“Yeah. I even remember coming in here, but the details after that get hazy.”
“You asked me to stay,” he said.
She just shrugged, staring down at him. The sheets were still pulled tight enough to see his impressive anatomy. “All women have their moments of weakness.”
TJ’s lips quirked at that. “So, you remember everything that happened before we got here?”
Jen bit her bottom lip, trying to decide if she wanted to torture him or not. Maybe sleeping in a bed with a half-naked woman and not getting laid was torture enough. “If you’re asking do I remember your tongue down my throat, then yes. Thank you for that also.”
“You make it sound so memorable.”
“Oh it was. Don’t mistake my flippancy for disinterest or dissatisfaction. That’s just another personality flaw of mine.”
“Wish I’d known that a long time ago,” he said. “It’s another one you can let go of. With me, at least.”
She smiled, suddenly feeling vulnerable. Something she really should get used to with this man, apparently. Trying to lean into the emotion—something else she needed to work on, according to her mother—she decided to say what she felt. Even if she had to pick at the blanket while she said it. “The kiss was … really good.”
Her gaze flickered to his quickly. His sunray hazel eyes were staring back at her, his expression warm, and she could tell that those words had pleased him. “I agree. Watching you sing last night was also amazing.”
A laugh escaped her at the memory. “I can’t believe Ant did that. I guess in that regard it was damn good thing I was intoxicated. Although I probably sounded like shit.”
“You sounded perfect.”
Their eyes met again and he looked absolutely sincere, staring up at her with his hair sticking strait up on top. Unable to resist, she leaned over and mussed it before trying to tamp it down with her hand. She liked that he just patiently let her have her way with him in any regard. Giving up on his hair, she sat up straight.
“You miss it?” he finally asked.
“Performing? Of course I do. It’s the only thing I’m good at.”
“You’ve got to be kidding,” he said, angling his head to look at her better. “You’re good at so many things.”
Her head lolled to the side. “Thanks, boss. But convincing an indecisive bride that she should spend three grand on a rustic but elegant wedding venue does not count.”
“First of all, your job at the Stag was not what I was referring to. You’re kind of creatively gifted, Jen. In many ways, and you know it. But just so we’re clear, what you do at work does count. And coercing people out of their money is not what you do.”
“No? Then what do I do? Because I clearly recall booking a shit ton of weddings for you lately.”
“You have. Because you’re amazing. But booking weddings is not what you’re good at. You’re good at people. I’ve listened to you on the phone. You make those brides feel understood. Important. You listen and make them believe that the Stag will make their concerns our concerns also. They are getting married, so they’re going to spend that money somewhere. And there are a lot of great venues in KC, and yes, we’ve become very popular, but you’ve booked double what we did this month last year. And I know it’s because you make them see beyond the antler chandeliers, the included table linens, and the amazing whiskey. They’re booking because you make them feel special. You make your bar customers feel special, too, and the people in that crowd last night. The way you engaged that audience … it blew my mind.”
She stared down at him, eyes wide. “Can you type that up in a beautiful font so I can tape it to my bathroom mirror for when I’m having a bad day? Or maybe give it to my mother? She’s never been half that imp
ressed with me.”
“I don’t believe that for a minute. Diane loves you.”
“In her own way, yes, she does. But her style doesn’t lead to warm fuzzy feelings.”
Scooting up in the bed, TJ leaned against her headboard. The position gave her the most amazing sight of his pecs and abs, which were so flat and muscular that the only thing that rolled was skin. That was not fair at all, but damn she liked looking at him.
His eyes roamed over her arms, and he nodded toward her tattoos. “Why fairies?”
Jen held up her left arm and glanced at the artwork she’d once been so obsessed with. She still loved it. It was a part of her. But in her early twenties she’d spent way too much cash she didn’t have on this ink. It took nearly eight sessions, and she’d never even added up the cost, too ashamed to figure out the total. Instead she just considered it another one of those horrible money choices she’d made. But she couldn’t regret it too much because she loved it.
“Well, basically, my father was a loser of epic proportions according to my mother. But for the first seven years of my life he would send me a birthday card. It didn’t say much. Basically, just ‘Happy birthday, Jen. Love, Dad.’ But there would always be drawings of fairies. I still have them.” She thought wistfully of those drawings in the cards that now sat stashed in the bottom of her chest of drawers. “They were so good. Detailed, colorful. He would always write my name above them, as if it were me. I created this story in my mind of what kind of man he had to be to draw fairies so well. A tortured but brilliant artist.” She smiled down at the blanket.
“Have you ever met him?”
“Once that I know of, but I can barely recall it. But I do have one photo of us together. I was about two. He died of a heroin overdose when I was eight.”
Maybe This Time_A Whiskey and Weddings Novel Page 10
