by Ava Claire
I gripped the edge of the sink, twisting my mouth to the side and cringing in preparation of her chastising me for disrupting my lipstick, but she didn’t say a thing.
Now I really had to look.
My eyes flew open.
“Oh my God, Tamara!” My voice was hushed and reverent. “It’s...” I opened my mouth, then snapped it shut, like I couldn’t find the right word.
I loved it, but I couldn’t resist dialing up the drama a bit. The clean, natural thing on most people looked like business as usual with a nude lip thrown on, but Tamara had worked her magic. My skin glowed, my eyes popped, and my hair, pulled over one shoulder, a fishtail braid weaving down to my waist, looked causal, yet intricate. Makeup was generally a special occasions only event for me, but now I understood why her old customers hounded Tamara for her schedule, making sure they didn’t leave it to chance.
“It’s...” I dropped my eyes to my lap.
Tamara looked ready to meltdown, her eyes huge and straining, her eyebrows lifted and expectant. “It’s what? I swear if I wasn’t worried I’d mess up your hair, I’d shake you until the words tumbled out!”
I decided to put her out of her misery before she assaulted me. “It’s beautiful! The braid, the shimmery gold dust stuff-”
A sound that was definitely a doorbell chiming put a swift end to my five star review. Tamara was still soaking up the praise but I scrambled, knocking over her kit and just narrowly catching my cell before it ended up in the toilet.
“It’s 7:05!” I hissed, flying from the bathroom. I was still in my ratty t-shirt and leggings. I dashed into the bedroom, needing her help again. “Can you let him in? I just need to change real quick.”
“I got you,” she called after me, skittering into the living room, more excited than I was that Jason was here.
My fingers froze as I gripped my plaid button down shirt, realizing that my best friend, who was really good at oversharing, would be alone with him.
I’ve never gotten dressed so fast in my life.
I’d laid out a couple of options for what would be beneath the button down, ranging from band tees, to solid colored tees, and even a few strappy tanks. I opted for a plain white t-shirt, knotting one end so it hinted at my curves.
Tamara’s laugh cut through the closed door and I shot like a rocket to my dresser, pulling out my favorite pair of black skinny jeans. They were one of few that retained its shape. Putting them on anywhere except on my bed was problematic, but I hustled to the door, pressing my cheek to the wood as I tried to wiggle one of my legs in.
“So, Jason,” Tamara’s loud voice flowed right into my wary ears, like I was sitting awkwardly beside her on the couch and not in the next room. “I’m curious: are you serious about Natalee or am I gonna have to bust your kneecaps?”
I gasped, let out a ‘fuck!’ as I stumbled backward. My foot connected with my sleek, sexy pair of skinnies and I felt the world go topsy turvy before I went crashing to the floor.
I laid there for a second, trying to get my bearings when a thought more terrifying than my best friend grilling my date spun through my head.
But she wouldn’t.
She couldn’t come bursting in here when she knew I was getting dressed.
And if she came to my rescue, I had a feeling that Jason wouldn’t be far behind.
My eyelids fluttered and my breath came out in slow, steady puffs. Maybe my squeal and fall weren’t as loud as I thought.
My vision adjusted to the current state of affairs, which was me on my back, my pants around my ankles. I looked up at the ceiling, the light blinking. An eclipse was blotting out the sun because there was a shape that looked suspiciously like a head, hovering above me.
Oh God.
I squeezed my eyes shut and made a wish. A wish that the ground would swallow me up because the blue eyes that were shining down on me, round with concern, were not Tamara’s.
They were the eyes that managed to lasso my heart and tug. That made me want to say to hell with getting to know each other and just do the thing I knew we were good at since I was already half undressed, anyway.
I was in a daze, a daze that quickly evaporated when a second set of eyes appeared, Tamara crouching down beside me.
“Are you okay, Nat?”
I scrambled to pull myself up, embarrassment filling me up and spilling out of my lips. “I’m fine. What are you doing?” I gave her the look, trying to cut past her worry to the reality that I was in the least sexy position I could think of.
“Oh! We just-” She wisely stopped herself and got with the program. “Uh, Jason, why don’t we let her finish getting gorgeous?”
Jason didn’t look anxious to leave my side. His handsome face was creased with worry. “Are you sure you’re okay? Maybe we should take a look at your head-”
“Tech mogul, restauranteur, philanthropist, and you’re a doctor?” I quipped, trying to cover my naughty bits. “Where do you find the time?”
He cracked a tiny grin, his eyes twinkling mischievously. “I’m a regular renaissance man. I’ll be in the living room.”
He left the room with no further protest, and I used the alone time with Tamara to issue a warning.
“Tamara, I won’t even go into how not cool it was for you two to barge in here-”
“You cried out and then there was this BOOM-”
“And I could hear you out there grilling him!” I interrupted, not pausing to bask in her good intentions. “And no more threats, okay? I’m trying to give him a fair shake here, not terrify him.”
She let out a sound filled with disgust and phlegm, but conceded, stroking her chin in an introspective way. It made me wonder if I wanted to add anything else to the ‘Thou Shalt Not’ list, just in case.
“I think he’s a keeper,” she said after a moment. “He didn’t waste a moment when we heard something go awry.” She held out both hands, backing out of the room slowly as she let out a final missive. “And don’t worry, I’ll be on my best behavior.”
Since I was already in a perfect position to strategically finish putting on my pants, I stayed on the floor for a few more seconds, carefully sliding them over my hips.
My fingers froze as my mind shot back to his eyes. The concern, like he was ready to take on anything or anybody that threatened to do me harm, including my klutziness and my tight jeans.
Those deep, blue eyes that could launch a thousand forlorn, lustful tweets...and they hadn’t taken advantage of the situation, stealing a peek at my naked bottom half.
A jerk wouldn’t have passed on the opportunity to visually grope me.
I zipped my pants in a single huff, a smile starting from deep inside and spilling onto my face.
Maybe...
I didn’t finish the thought.
Maybe was good enough, dancing like the delicate hope that this could be something, after all.
~
I must have bumped my head harder than I’d realized, because when I saw the black and chrome, honest to God motorcycle parked at the curb, my first words were ‘Is that yours?’ and not, ‘Have you lost your damn mind?!’.
His laugh at my question was lost among the bustle of the city around us and the thunder of my nerves. I’d expected anything from a sports car to a Tesla, and now I realized I hadn’t dreamed big enough—nor had I counted on putting my life in the hands of a man I barely knew.
You could put your body in the hands of a man you barely knew though...
“Yes,” Jason answered, crouching down to unlock a helmet that dangled on one side of the bike, holding it out to me. “I didn’t want to spoil the surprise by telling you to rock a hairstyle you wouldn’t mind the wind getting a hold of...” He trailed off and let his fingers finish the rest. He fondled the end of my braid, his eyes filled with dark and erotic promises. My body hummed with excitement at the prospect of clutching him for dear life, on and off the motorcycle.
Jason Cox was a man of action, not caution. Caution was
thrown to the wind as his touch deepened and his eyes swept over my face, lingering on my breasts, ignoring the fact that I was in a shirt that hid them, my leather jacket hanging open in the front. We were already close enough that the world shrank to his body and my body but his fingertips dipped to my waist, and when he spoke, his timbre matched the breathless desire that made me wonder how much trouble we’d get into if he bent me over his motorcycle.
“Did I tell you how beautiful you look yet?” he asked softly. Quite the contrast from the erection that tented the front of his jeans.
He had, but I shook my head, licking my lips. Lust flared in between my thighs when he followed the path my tongue made.
He clutched my waist with one hand, making me wonder why I decided to wear these tight ass pants instead of something with enough room for him to explore. But it was the hand that stroked my cheek, caressing me, that made my heart flutter in my chest.
“You look beautiful, Natalee.”
Something in me, something that was filled with fear over all the things that told me to shut down, to shy away and keep him at a distance stepped onto my internal stage. It had a snappy answer to his statement. I bet you say that to all the girls. But my heart was louder, even though it was a mere whisper in the face of the roar. This man could be with anyone tonight and he’s here with you.
I gripped him with both hands and pulled his mouth to mine.
I could have stayed that way until someone accused us of loitering. Making passerby's uncomfortable and jealous because this was too delicious to be labeled as PDA.
I clawed at his body through his hot, leather jacket like I had when I rode him to oblivion. His hands, firm and powerful, clutched the globes of my ass, pulling me against his erection. This wasn’t affection. This was lust. Lunacy because when he uttered ‘fuck’ under his breath, I practically hooked his arm and set off to find the nearest alley so I could have him again. So he could have me.
I stared up into the blue eyes that were destined to get me in trouble. That would haunt my dreams if he lived up to his colorful reputation and tossed me aside like all the rest. My hold slackened, along with the grip of lust as I put my palm flat on his chest. I forced myself not to think about how there wasn’t an inch of fat beneath my hand, just muscle and sun kissed skin that I wanted to trace with my tongue. “But really, Jason, you can’t expect me to climb on that thing.”
He gave me a devastating smirk, one part playful, the other part challenging me. “Huh. Never would have pegged you as the fraidy cat type.”
“Fraidy cat?” I laughed. I went back in for the kill, balling his shirt in my fist when a gust of wind brought his heady scent back to me. It invaded my world, making me want to stay in this moment. Sex was safe, and what we did well. It was the rest that was dangerous.
The falling.
The joker in his voice was traded for a heat that I felt ravage me when he brushed my cheek with his fingertips. “Don’t worry, you’re in good company.”
I blinked, attempting to swallow the knot in my throat before I choked on it. He was afraid, too? But that meant...
He liked me.
My heart was ready to throw a party, complete with confetti and balloons. My head? It was still in the fraidy cat zone. And the longer we stayed like this, gazing into each other’s eyes, into each other’s souls beneath the stars, the deeper I fell into the terrifying unknown.
I snatched the helmet from him and decided that if I had to choose between the lesser of two evils, I’d go with probably death over doing something crazy like admitting I was falling for a man who ate strangers out in elevators, fucked women in bathrooms, and could make me feel like there was so much more he wanted me to see.
The side braid was perfect, because the helmet slipped right on and even though my nerves had my fingers trembling, I managed to snap the chin strap all by myself. After taking a breath and not thinking about the fact that there would be nothing between me and the asphalt if something happened, I whipped back to Jason. He cut his hand through his shaggy locks and it just wasn’t fair because this was real life and he wasn’t supposed to be so damn perfect all the damn time. His hair should have made me roll my eyes, because whether it was surfer chic or some sort of rebellious edge that was sexy as hell with him in that leather jacket, dark jeans and boots, it should have confirmed that he wasn’t my type. I generally went for clean cut, safe, with low probability for disappointment. In and out, with my lust satiated and my heart in tact.
My heart didn’t stand a chance with Jason Cox.
And even in the dark, behind that hooded gaze, I saw something other than desire and mischief in the blue. It was a guarded, cautious ripple that told me he was afraid, too.
But just like me, admitting that out loud, staying in that place and reflecting on what that meant and what we were doing, was not an option. He glided past me, pausing to give my ass a tiny squeeze before he retrieved the second helmet.
He mounted the bike and cocked his head, beckoning me to join him. “Your chariot awaits, madam.”
I climbed on before I lost my nerve, feeling as gangly and awkward as I did in PE back in high school, my only talent managing to not get hit in the face by flying volleyballs and ensuring whatever team was stuck with me was on the losing side.
I gingerly put my hands on his shoulders.
“Lower.”
It was just a single word, but it was filled with so much heat that my pussy fluttered, all in, on board, down for whatever lied at the end of this journey, as long as it included both of us naked.
I felt my body rattle, my teeth chattering behind the terse set of my jaw. Get it together because if you’re shaking, he’s feeling every tremor.
That thought made me drop my hands from his shoulders to his waist like a guillotine blade falling.
“Tighter.”
And there it was again.
Husky.
Authoritative.
I should have told him he was lucky I was on this death trap at all, but words seemed impossible when he was turning a handful of syllables into the most erotic thing I’d ever heard. I scooted closer, my chest pressed against his wall of muscle and I obeyed, wrapping my arms around his waist. Breathing in the masculine scent of leather and oak. Tempting and sensual.
Without warning, he fired it up and a humming roared between my thighs. The motorcycle was a living, breathing thing that made me wish I had my affairs in order...and that I was naked so I could get the full effect of the vibration.
I squeezed my eyes shut, all the prayers from a childhood spent sporadically in church failing me because the only thing that repeated in my head was ‘Please don’t kill us...please don’t kill us...’ and ‘Please don’t stop’.
And then I stopped praying. Stopped squeezing him. Stopped wondering how quickly death would scoop me up if we crashed. My mind, clearly out to do me in, decided to go with optimism. The way Jason glided in and out of traffic, navigating through the city, leaning into the curves gently, clearly taking his time so I didn’t freak out, made me wonder how much practice he’d had.
How many women had strapped on this helmet and roped their arms around his solid body?
Even after we pulled to the curb and I swept my eyes over the landscape, excitement rippling through me like firecrackers when I realized we were in one of my favorite spots in the city near the marina, I was still squarely stuck in my pity party. Angry about things that had nothing to do with us and where we were now.
I hopped off silently and he joined me.
“See? I got you here without injury or incident.”
“Mmhm.” I grunted curtly. “You are very good at what you do, I have to admit.”
He missed the accusation beneath my comment, just offering me the crook of his arm. “Happy that you’re finally giving me my due.”
My nostrils flared as I accepted his arm, tugging on my braid as he guided us toward the dock.
I put my jealous pangs on hold, rewindin
g. The dock. The salt of the water and the fact that we were going through a private access gate, toward boats I used to watch from the bench when I got a free afternoon, wondering what it would be like to see the city from the water.
I had a feeling I was about to get my wish.
We passed by modest watercraft, gleaming and bobbing on the water and I realized that my date didn’t do anything small. This was the same man who didn’t mention that he owned the restaurant he’d invited me to. Who probably just drove that motorcycle every now and then, and had a garage filled with countless other cars for every recreational purpose one could think of. Enough to drive a different one every day of the week if he wanted.
The kind of man who probably owned a yacht.
All the other women he’d brought here had probably started squealing right about now. I was determined to not do what he expected. To not be the latest pit stop on his way to greener pastures.
The dock was lined with string lights and we passed through a second gate and the boats, gleaming and expansive, told me we’d reached the creme da la creme section.
He paused, pointing at a massive thing that looked like something out of a music video. Like something out of someone else’s life, because there was no way that I was here with him.
“That’s Delilah,” he mused.
I was busy trying to not freak out. To not wonder if he named it after one of his former conquests.
“I think it’s high time you two met,” Jason finished with a toothy grin.
My excitement waned, like air escaping from a balloon. I couldn’t take this ugliness, these questions, any further. “I’m sure she’ll forget me,” I said with a nonchalant shrug, referring to his inanimate, exorbitant object. If Delilah’s walls could talk... “Like she’s forgotten all the other women that you’ve brought onboard.”
Jason unhooked his arm, stepping in front of me, obscuring my view of a life and experiences that I’d only ever seen in movies. Read about in books. Or glimpsed in tabloids while I was waiting at the grocery checkout lane.
