“Getting drunk isn’t going to solve your problems.”
“Nope, but maybe it’ll give me a little false confidence and I can get out there and start meeting people…do something wild and fun. I’m sick of being sweet, predictable Micah. She’s a snoozer.”
“Wild like what?” He leveled her a stern gaze. “When I said you needed to get out, I didn’t mean do something reckless. I meant socialize, see friends, spend less time at home. I just didn’t want you falling into a funk after the fallout with your family. You’re not some party girl, Mike. That’s not you.”
“Well it’s going to be. I’m not getting any younger. I don’t want to look back and regret wasting my twenties on the couch, and I don’t even like cats that much. I wanna live!” She threw her arms out wide then let out a yelp as her elbow connected hard with the back of the chair next to her.
She turned to apologize and found a dark-haired guy in trendy glasses giving her the stink-eye. He pointedly looked down at his beer, which had spilled all over the bar. She gave him a pinky wave and a my bad smile.
She motioned to the bartender. “Back up my friend here as well.” Her victim seemed mollified and went back to ignoring her.
A moment later hers and Jesse’s tequila shots came, and she scooped hers up with a flourish. “Bottoms up.” The second one went down a little easier, and she gave herself a mental pat on the back. At this rate, she’d be a pro by the end of the night. Hopefully, before some girl came and threw herself at Jesse and he went home with her for the night. A sharp pain jabbed through her groovy haze, and she held up her hand again. Jesse took it in his and forced her to face him.
“How many drinks did you have before this one?” “Two.”
“You’re going to be on your ass soon if you keep it up. You don’t have the constitution for this. How about we go home, I’ll make us some food, then we can make a list of ways to pep your life up that don’t involve you getting alcohol poisoning? Sound good? I’m going to ask for your tab.”
He leaned on the bar and tried to get the attention of the server without waiting for Micah’s response.
Who the hell did he think he was? “Wanna dance?”
Micah looked up to see a handsome blond guy smiling at her. “Me?”
He grinned and nodded. “Yes, you.”
His teeth were so white. “Your teeth are so white!” She made sure to emphasize her point by sticking her index finger into his mouth to rub them. “Slippery too. Like slippery Chiclets.”
Blondie didn’t pull away but he was getting blurry, so she closed one eye to get him back into focus again. He was still smiling, albeit a bit bemusedly.
“So you want to dance with me, huh? I’m not whatcha call a big dancer, but lucky for you I’ve decided to be wild now.” She wriggled her bottom and
bounced off the chair, clutching the back to steady herself. “Boy, these are high. A person could maim themselves trying to get down.”
She turned to Jesse then grabbed his arm and yanked him around to face her. She poked him in the chest to add emphasis but forgot what she was going to say in the face of his scorching hotness. “Firm. Why do you have to be like that,” she mumbled miserably. “It’d be better if you were doughy.”
He looked like he was trying not to smile, but before she could consider why, she remembered what she wanted to tell him. “Let the bartender know I shall require a shorter chair when I get back.” She poked his chest once more for good measure and led Blondie to the dance floor.
“Are you okay?” her suitor asked. “You’re walking funny.”
“Oh, I have blisters. These shoes aren’t made for walking. But that’s just what they’ll do. One of these days…” She trailed off as she realized the rest of the song would be insulting. To make up for it, she complimented him, shouting over the thumping bass, “Your teeth are very white!”
He either didn’t hear her or ignored her. She shrugged. Whatever. By the time they found an empty spot, she was really feeling good and started snapping her fingers in time to the music. He busted out with the typical guy step—side to side, with a couple of pelvic thrusts tossed in—which was fine by her. She didn’t need to be shown up.
At first she followed suit, keeping it the standard, boring old Micah dance. She turned to see Jesse on the edge of the floor watching with eagle eyes, arms akimbo. She tipped her chin up and looked away. Screw it. If she was going to let loose and have fun, she might as well pull out all the stops. She closed her eyes and let herself go, shimmying and shaking her shoulders and hips, swiveling and dipping in time to the beat.
She was really getting into it when someone tugged on her arm. Cracking one eye open, she saw Blondie staring down at her.
“The song’s over.”
She realized with a start that the song was indeed over, and a flush burned her cheeks. “Oh, sorry. I was sort of—”
He had a dazed look on his face, and he shook his head. “You were great. No worries. C’mere.”
The music had slowed, and he pulled her into his arms. He was shorter than Jesse by a couple inches, but he still towered over her. She allowed herself to be led, and they swayed. It actually felt kind of nice to be held for a change. Being alone was hard…
She froze. Speaking of hard, Blondie had almost ceased moving and had taken to nudging his ding-a-ling against her stomach instead. She tried to pull away, but he squeezed her tight.
“Damn, you are so hot. What do you say we get out of here?”
She was still debating whether to ask him to let go or kick him in the twig and berries, when suddenly she was free.
“Time to go.” Jesse’s eyes drilled into hers like lasers as he released Blondie from a headlock.
“It’s cool, man. She’s into it. I don’t see what the problem is. Is she your girl or something?”
“She’s my little sister,” Jesse growled.
Micah steeled her jaw and contemplated redirecting her kick rather than aborting it, when Jesse grabbed her wrist and pulled her toward the door.
“Wait, my tab!”
“I paid it already.” His tone was flat.
“I don’t need you to pay my tab, big brother.” The biting sarcasm was derailed when she stumbled and lost a sandal. She yanked her arm away from Jesse and limped back to get it. By the time she got back to the place the shoe had landed, it had been scooped up by a grinning guy wearing a bow tie.
“Hey, Cinderella, lose something?” he asked. “Tha—”
Jesse strode up beside her and snatched the shoe. His lips were moving, but his teeth remained tightly stacked. “Sorry, Prince Charming, she’s about to turn into a very inebriated pumpkin, and we’ve got to go.”
He pulled her to the side then lifted her onto a nearby stool. Bending low, he wrapped his big hand around her calf and placed her leg onto his thigh. She sobered for a second as searing heat spiraled through her at the touch. He closed his fingers around her ankle, and she gasped as he ran his thumb over the sensitive hollow there. His gaze shot to hers, and she tried to keep from drowning in his dreamy brown eyes. Her body began to pitch forward, drawn by some invisible force surrounding him like a black hole. If only he would kiss her one time…
She jerked back, a little stunned. Holy shit. Had she been about to kiss him? She raised a hand to her lips to see if they were puckered. Nope. Just regular old lips. Well that was good, at least.
Jesse’s jaw tightened, and he jammed the shoe onto her foot. “You’re a menace, and you can’t walk in those heels all plastered like this.” With that, he stood and gave her his back. “Get on.”
She contemplated his broad back and considered arguing, but he was right. The shoes were tricky to get around in even when she was sober. After four drinks—or was it five?—she was liable to break an ankle. And who was she to
pass up a chance to wrap her legs around the man she’d loved her whole life? Even if she was furious at him for the caveman antics. Little sister, indeed.
She shrugged then stood on the footrest of the stool and hopped on Jesse’s back. Might as well make the most of it. She hung on like a baby gorilla, soaking in his warmth and the woodsy scent of his cologne with a satisfied sigh.
Forget first class—this was the only way to travel.
Chapter Four
Worst idea ever.
He’d opted for piggyback—rather than the romantic, bride-over-the- threshold routine—thinking it would be less intimate. Huge miscalculation. Having Mike’s shapely thighs wrapped around his waist, her full, soft breasts plastered against his back, was so affecting that, in spite of his fury, his cock sprang to life like a jack-in-the-box.
Biting back a curse, he tried to keep his mind on the goal. Get her out of the club before she did something stupid she’d regret.
He thought about what could have happened if he hadn’t been there. His stomach soured. She was one of the brightest people he knew, but she’d been so sheltered growing up that her street smarts left a lot to be desired.
The guy she’d been dancing with was a shark. He knew the type. He’d seen them in action more than once and had even stepped in before. Their MO was to find a vulnerable girl, get her good and soused and then take advantage. He would have kept feeding her drinks and the next thing she knew, she’d be waking up in his apartment, confused and humiliated. Or worse.
Bastard. It was one thing to find someone you had a connection with and hook up. As long as both parties knew the score and were in their right minds at the time, there was no harm in some safe fun. This was different, predatory, and he despised that. When she’d tried to get away from the fucker and he wouldn’t let go—
His hands shook, and he gripped Mike’s legs tighter.
When they finally reached the door, the bouncer held it open without a word. All in a day’s work for him, Jesse imagined. He just hoped the guy didn’t think he was one of those predators taking advantage of the poor drunk girl.
As he made his way across the parking lot, Micah was uncharacteristically quiet. By the time they got to Patrick’s car, he wondered if she’d fallen asleep.
“Mike?” he whispered. “Yeah?”
He slid her gently to the ground. “You okay to stand?”
“Yeah. And I’m mad at you.” With that, she wheeled on him, fast as a mongoose, and punched him right in the gut.
“Oof!”
It hadn’t really hurt, but it shocked the shit out of him. She looked like an angry nymph. Her mass of red hair hung around her face in a wild tangle from the head-tossing on the dance floor. Her cheeks were hot pink, and her eyes were shining.
He tried to hold on to his ire, but it melted in the wake of her cuteness. His lips twitched, and she punched him again.
He grabbed her fist and held her still. “Why do you keep doing that?” “I’m not your sister, jerk face.”
“Jerk face? I just saved your ass from being mauled by Doctor Octopus and you pummel me with your tiny, womanly fists?” He knew that would get her even more mad, but he couldn’t seem to help himself.
“Oh, screw you. I was fine without you. I was just about to introduce his nuts to my foot before you stepped in,” she insisted.
“Yeah, as if you’re in any shape to protect yourself right now.”
“I landed two shots on you, didn’t I, wise guy? If I’d wanted to sock you in the manly bits, I could’ve, and you’d have gone down like a stone.”
“Only because you caught me by surprise. Now get in the car. We’ll talk about it when we get home,” he said.
“You’re not the boss of me, Jesse Slade. I’m the boss of me. And I’m not getting in a car with you behind the wheel. You were drinking tequila.”
At least she was finally showing some sense. “Correction. You were drinking tequila. I was watching. Mine are still sitting on the bar. If you hadn’t been so intent on getting piss-drunk, you’d know that. Patrick let me have his keys. His girlfriend is going to give him a ride after her shift is over. Now, would you please get in the car?”
“Whatever. I want to go home anyway since you ruined my super-fun night of awesome.” She opened the door and slid into the car, and he followed suit. Crossing her arms over her chest, she stared straight ahead, refusing to speak to him.
That was fine; he had a lot to think about anyway. Like where the hell had she learned to dance like that? His sweet Micah had some moves. Of course he’d seen her dance plenty of times at school dances and later at weddings and other events. But this…this was different. She’d closed her eyes and let it rip, totally uninhibited. Her curvy hips swayed, her lush ass twitched, her cheeks flushed with pleasure as she tossed her head, lighting up the whole room with her smile. Was that the way her face looked when she came?
The need to know the answer to that question had hammered at him relentlessly until he noticed the blond guy staring at her, probably wondering the same thing. White-hot passion gave way to ice-cold fury.
Don’t think about it.
By the time they got to his house thirty minutes later, his temper had cooled some and Micah was snoring lightly. He reached out a hand and brushed the hair from her face. God, she was beautiful. Smooth, creamy skin, plump red lips, clear hazel eyes…that had popped open at some point during his perusal and were regarding him curiously.
“Are we home?” she asked and gave a sleepy stretch. The thin cotton blouse pulled tight across her chest, and it was only through sheer force of will that he managed to look away.
“Yeah. Let’s get you inside. I’ll make us some coffee and you some food.”
She didn’t respond. She just opened the car door, slipped off her shoes and weaved her way into the house without a backward glance.
By the time he got inside, her shirt was off and she was hopping around the living room on one foot. One leg was bare, the other was still tangled in her jeans. Every time she jumped, her lace-encased breasts gave a jiggle and so did his heart.
He wet his lips. “Uh, what are you doing, babe?” “I’m stuck.”
“I see that.”
“I’m gonna take a shower. But I’m stuck. Can you unstuck me?”
He paused for a long moment and sucked in a breath. Could he? It was a simple request, but over the past few months even the simplest request seemed difficult. He was only a man, made of flesh and blood—every drop of which had drained to his cock. Taking off her jeans rode the line between out of the question and abso-fucking-lutely not.
Micah was on the floor now, wrestling with her jeans as if she was an alligator in the midst of a death roll. Her face was crinkled in concentration, her tongue perched on her top lip à la Charlie Brown, and his heart gave a lurch.“Stop rolling around, you’re making it worse.” He walked over to help her up by the elbow. “Put your arms around me, babe.” His voice sounded like he’d been sucking on broken glass, and for that second he was glad she was shit-faced enough to not notice.
She leaned forward, nestling her head into his shoulder as she wrapped her arms around his waist. He pinched his eyes shut and counted silently until the initial shock of her scent and the lush press of her curves wore off. He got to eighty before he regained control.
She seemed perfectly content to stay where she was, but instead of getting better, his situation was getting more and more dire by the second. “Okay,” he said, patting her shoulder. “Lift your leg up.”
She nodded into his chest and slung her leg—the bare one—high over his hip. Blood pounded in his ears as the soft heat of her pussy pressed against his thigh.
“The other leg, Mike,” he ground out.
She nodded again and slipped her hands to his shoulders, launching herself in the air and hooking her jeans-clad leg around his other hip to straddle him.
Poor word choice. “I meant switch legs, not both.”
She started to slip, and he instinctively grabbed her to keep her from falling. Unfortunately, the most natural handhold left him with two palms full of luscious ass.
Staring at him through wide eyes, she mumbled, “Well this is nice,” and wiggled against him, her almost-bare sex rubbing against his throbbing cock.
“Jesus, Mike, stop it.”
“Why? What do I have to stop? It feels really good. Doesn’t it feel good to you?” She did it again to make her point. He tried to stay still, but his fingertips flexed deeper into the soft flesh of her bottom.
He groaned. And she heard him. Even the room seemed to hold its breath until she broke the deafening silence.
“You want me?” She sounded afraid.
She should be.
He started to shake. “Jesse?”
“No.” The word felt like it was ripped out of him. There was nothing in the world he’d ever wanted more than he wanted her right now, but she was drunk. Worse, even if she were sober, she wasn’t for the likes of him. They’d both always known that.
Her face crumpled, and she pushed her hands against his chest to escape. “Let me go. Just let me go. I’m tired of making a fool of myself over you, so let me go, dammit.”
Defeated, he stared into her tear-filled eyes. “You don’t get it, do you, babe?
It’s not that I don’t want you. I want you too much.”
Jesse’s intense, chocolate gaze held hers captive. “The things I want to do to you… Jesus, Mike, none of it’s nice. Do you get what I’m telling you?” His husky voice was tinged with desperation.
Heat pooled between her thighs as she tried to comprehend what he was saying. Was the tequila addling her to the point that she’d heard him wrong? And if she’d heard him right, did she get it?
Her heart thudded, and she weighed her response. In truth, she had no idea what he meant, and the fear of the unknown assailed her. But if she said no? The answer made her blood run cold and chased her pleasant buzz into oblivion. He wouldn’t sleep with her unless she was going into it with eyes wide open. If she wasn’t, he would walk away from her again. She could bear anything but that.
Better to Eat You Page 3
