The Closer You Come

by Gena Showalter

  Laughing, he stubbed out the cigar and set it aside then handed her a bottle of whiskey. "Any item on the list you check off without me will have to be repeated with me."

  When the taste of ash lingered, she took a shot and wished she'd died. That horrible burn had returned!

  "Consider this punishment for the hustle," Jase said.

  As the inside of her chest cooled, she said, "You deserved it. I never lose," she mocked. "I could have killed you at poker, too."

  He bumped her with his shoulder. She turned toward him, her gaze seeking his in the darkness. He was so close...if he just leaned in a little more...

  Someone flipped on the back porch light. Gold suddenly spilled over him, adding a layer of mystery to features already suffused with raw masculinity. As smoke curled around him, creating a dreamlike haze, her need for him redoubled, shivering through her.

  "I owe you six favors," he said, his voice tighter than before. "What is it, exactly, that you're going to want from me?"

  How about...everything? Though, technically, he owed her and Jessie Kay, which made her want to dump the favors ASAP. "Help me get my tattoo, and we'll call it even."

  He looked her over, his eyelids seeming to grow heavy. "Where are you going to put this tattoo?"

  She took another swig of liquid courage before saying, "My shoulder. And neck," she added. "I want a vine of flowers. Wild strawberries."

  He confiscated the bottle and set it out of her reach. "I'll take you to a guy who did a few of mine. He's good."

  "Really good." She traced her fingertip up his arm, following the lines of several expert etchings. Can't help myself. Along the way, she encountered two areas of scar tissue, thick and raised, both a few inches long, though not very wide. "You were injured." Shrapnel?

  He hesitated. "Yes," he finally said, his voice tight...but also husky with need. "I like when you touch me."

  She shivered. Finally they were getting somewhere. "That makes two of us." He'd once accused her of adding crack to her casseroles, but she thought it might just lace his skin. When she wasn't touching him, she wanted to touch him. And when her hands were actually on him, she wanted them everywhere all at once.

  He picked her up by the waist, and she had to straddle his lap for balance. The move did more than thrill her physically. It told her beyond any doubt that they weren't over, not by a long shot, and she eagerly pressed into him.

  Playing with the ends of his hair, she said, "Thank you for my lessons today."

  "Who taught you to play?" He flicked her hair over one shoulder, but she quickly brought it back into place. He frowned then tried to flick it again, but again, she moved it to cover her ears. She might have let him kiss around the devices in the heat of passion, but after their abysmal finish she wasn't going to make that mistake again.

  "My uncle taught me," she said, some of her old resentment rising up. "He had a new lesson for Jessie Kay and me every time he babysat us, before my mom died. But since he always kept whatever allowance he won, we learned fast."

  "He kept your allowance? That's harsh."

  "Also effective."

  Jase leaned in and placed a soft kiss against the hammering pulse at the base of her neck. "You got any more surprises for me?"

  "Just one. This." She placed two fingers under his chin and lifted his head, then pressed her lips to his.

  He opened immediately, and their tongues thrust together. Desire sizzled through her...sultry, heady. Drugging. Fogging her mind and giving her one purpose: more pleasure.

  "Everyone should experience a kiss like this at least once in a lifetime," he said.

  "Yes." Every inch of her body was engaged, humming and vibrating with need, burning deliciously. "They just have to be prepared to want more."

  "You want more?" Jase stroked the ridges of her spine, a gentle caress before cupping her bottom and yanking her the rest of the way forward, until they were locked together. Her softest part grinding against his hardest.

  She gasped at the sensation.

  "I like the sounds you make," he said, the words nothing more than a growl. He arched his hips, rubbing against her dampening core.

  She balanced on her knees to try to gain a little control. Then she arched against him, rubbing harder...up and down. "I love the way you make me feel."

  He grabbed her by the hips, stilling her. "Only me." His fingers flexed on her. "No one else."

  It was as if he'd penetrated her in a single thrust, so strongly did she react to those words.

  He urged her into a slow grind against his erection, the friction off-the-charts erotic. Then he slid his fingers into her hair and fisted the strands to angle her head...and take her mouth in a soul-searing kiss.

  His hands moved to her breasts, kneading, thrumming her nipples. And when he had her gasping incoherently, straining to get closer to him, pulling at his shirt to get it out of her way, he unsnapped her shorts and tunneled his fingers inside...under her panties.

  "My angel is so hot and wet," he praised, practically purring with masculine satisfaction--and then he thrust a finger deep inside her.

  "More. Please, more," she whispered, lifting to give him better access. The whoosh of the back door being opened barely registered.

  "Jase. Dude."

  But Beck's voice did register--like a hammer-- intruding on the private moment.

  "I'm sorry to bother you guys, but I'm desperate."

  Brook Lynn stiffened, momentarily blinded by panic. Caught with a guy's hand in my cookie jar! But the wide expanse of Jase's chest prevented Beck from seeing anything he shouldn't, and the panic faded...the pleasure once again making itself known.

  "West and Jessie Kay are about to kill each other," Beck said.

  "Not now," Jase snapped. He'd stopped moving in her, and oh...oh...dying here!

  Do not writhe on him.

  "Yes, now," Beck said. "Nothing I've done has helped."

  "I should take her home," she managed, her tone breathless, her inner walls clamping on his finger. Inside she wept.

  Gritting his teeth, gaze still locked on Brook Lynn, Jase called, "Give me five minutes."

  "I don't think we have five minutes. I'm predicting a murder-suicide in less than one." But the door whooshed shut.

  Slowly Jase withdrew his finger, and she had to bite her tongue to stop her moan of remorse. As she watched, he put the finger in his mouth and sucked; this time she couldn't stop her moan from escaping--this one of ultimate pleasure.

  "I like the taste of you," he said. "Pure, sweet honey."

  Shivers danced through her.

  "I don't want you to go," he said, expression one of absolute torture.

  "It's for the best." Maybe. Probably. If she stayed, she wasn't sure what would come of the make-out session. Would he stop short like the other night? Or would they go all the way? And if they did, would he ever want her again?

  Might as well end on a positive note, eager for more of each other.

  He pursed his lips. "Why?"

  "Because. Just because." After all, this was a war for his affections, not just a single battle. She refastened her shorts and stood to shaky legs. "I'll see you tomorrow, Jase."

  A pause.

  "Tomorrow, Brook Lynn."

  There was a promise of something in his tone. But exactly what he was promising, she didn't know.

  *

  JASE HAD DEALT with his fair share of hard-ons throughout the years, but never one so determined to hang on for dear life. It wanted Brook Lynn, and absolutely no one else would do--not even his own hand. The knowledge panicked him. Made him realize just how dependent on her he'd become.

  He remembered the way she'd begged him for more...please, more...the way he'd craved those pleas like a starving man craved food. Remembered thinking, I will die without this...without her.

  No. Hell, no. He couldn't allow himself to depend on anyone like that.

  He'd made a huge tactical error, he realized. He should have taken her
while he'd had the chance, that first night inside his bedroom. He would have already moved on. Surely.

  When she arrived for work the next morning, she told him the day's affirmation--Today I will gladly share my expertise and advice with others, for there are no sweeter words than "I told you so"--as he handed her a shopping list, cash and keys to his car.

  "You're on your own today, honey." He needed distance. Perspective.

  She gaped at him. "Uh, o-kay."

  He strode outside to clean the gutters. She followed him out, only to stand in place for a long while, watching him, her mouth opening and closing, as if she had plenty more to say to him but didn't quite know where to begin. Finally, she left, and though he'd expected to be able to breathe again, he felt more oxygen-deprived than ever.

  The weather. Had to be the weather. Though it was 8:00 a.m., it was already wretchedly hot. The temperature would probably top one hundred and five today. But it won't even come close to how hot I am for that girl.

  Have to resist. It's for the best, just as she said.

  As he worked, several town residents swung by to "check on things." Namely: to probe into his life. What did he do for a living? Was he single or dating Peggy Newcomb's granddaughter? Would he be able to fix the clock tower in town? He knew he'd invited the attention by helping out two of the town's chattiest residents, but still--small-town living was sometimes more nightmare than dream. He wasn't rude, but he definitely wasn't welcoming, either, and he absolutely did not answer any questions. Also, a handful of women brought Beck baskets of food. The disturbances put him behind schedule.

  When Jase finally finished cleaning the gutters, he turned his attention to the fence surrounding the property. His mind continually drifted to Brook Lynn. He liked that she'd hustled him. That she'd enjoyed every moment of it...then kissed him as if only his lungs contained the air she needed to survive. He'd been on fire for her. Still was.

  He wasn't sure how many more hours passed before she returned and called him inside for lunch.

  As he walked into the house, he tried to summon all his strength.

  She had her back to him, steam wafting around her as she drained a pot of noodles. "Hungry?"

  "Yes." For more than food. He used a towel to wipe the sweat from his face. "I'm sorry I was so abrupt with you this morning."

  "That's good."

  "I'm...ready to talk about what happened last night." Maybe then he'd finally unknot.

  She stiffened slightly. "Oh. You mean the fact that we made out again and you liked it?"

  Loved it. "Yes."

  "Well, then. Talk away."

  Tell her the truth. Tell her everything--well, almost everything. "You make me feel things I've never felt before, and I don't know how to deal."

  She spun, her blue eyes wide. "You feel things? What kind of things?"

  "You can't tell?" He took a step toward her.

  "Well, last night you were aroused. But right now? I have no idea. Like I told you before, you're very difficult to read."

  The doorbell rang, stopping him from taking another step. He was disappointed. He was relieved. "I'll get it."

  She sighed. "Put on a shirt at least."

  No need. It was his friend Pepe, the tattoo artist.

  Pepe held a big black bag of necessary equipment, and when Jase explained that he'd brought the tattoo shop to Brook Lynn, he expected her to chicken out--he might even have wanted her to chicken out, because he couldn't bear the thought of her in any kind of pain. But he'd promised to help her, so he would help her.

  She trembled as Pepe showed her the book of designs he'd created just for her, and didn't seem to notice when the guy looked her up and down with interest. Jase grew tenser by the second. He'd paid the guy to work, not to scope out a potential lay.

  "Sure you want to do this, honey?" Jase asked her. Without the whiskey giving her courage, and the cigar making her feel badass, maybe she'd decide--

  "Yes," she said with a nod, pointing to the design she wanted. She raised her chin, determined. Always determined. Her against the world.

  He wondered how many times he'd done the same thing when backed against a wall, in prison and out, when things were at their worst. Even when things were at their best--knowing that could end at any moment. Determination and pride were all he'd had. And it shouldn't be that way for her, he thought. Not now, not ever.

  Not that determination was a bad thing; it wasn't. But he hated the circumstances that had robbed her of her innocence. Circumstances he could guess. People making fun of her for her condition. Her parents dying, one after the other. Her uncle abandoning her. Becoming the mother to her sister. Worn down by too many responsibilities. Never able to do the things she wanted.

  Rather than allowing her to remove her T-shirt for Pepe, Jase had her change into one of his tanks. He liked seeing her in his clothes. A lot. She pulled down one strap. As Pepe labored on her shoulder and the back of her neck, she continually flinched.

  Jase took her hand in his, squeezed. She squeezed back in wordless thanks and cast him a sweet smile.

  "You're doing great, honey. Better than I did."

  "Oh, yeah? Did you cry?"

  "Like a baby." But only the first time. Because he'd been in prison--and he hadn't wanted the tattoo at all. A group of inmates had held him down, given him a gang symbol he'd hated with every fiber of his being, nothing but a representation of humiliation and subjection.

  Breath, suddenly coming too fast, too shallow.

  Brook Lynn squeezed his hand again, drawing him back to the present. "I wish I had been there," she said softly. "I would have kissed your boo-boo better."

  Steady. "Boys don't get boo-boos. They get wounds." He'd since covered the hated tattoo with another one.

  "Too bad. I don't kiss wounds. I kiss boo-boos."

  "I have a boo-boo," Pepe announced.

  "Well, you're about to have a massive, gaping wound," Jase muttered.

  Brook Lynn grinned at him.

  A pang in his chest. "I like the design you've chosen," he said. Not just the wild strawberries, but the flowers that bloomed on the vines. White petals, yellow centers. Dewy green foliage climbing up the sun-kissed perfection of her skin. It was a bold choice. Unexpected. And undeniably hot as hell.

  He wanted to lick every inch of it.

  Pepe finished and tried to explain wound care, but Jase kicked him out and told her what to do. The skin was red and swollen and would be sensitive for a few days, and damn, he still couldn't get over how sexy it was--how sexy she was.

  "Well?" she asked and held up her hair while twirling. "What do you think?"

  I think you're seconds away from being tossed on my bed, angel.

  On the counter, her phone buzzed, signaling a text had just come in.

  He glanced at it out of habit--and did a double take. A curse built inside him, but he held it back.

  "That Brad guy just asked you out," he said flatly and handed the phone to her.

  "No way. I told him-- Wow, he really did," she said.

  The exact text read:

  Thought I'd take a chance. Haven't been able 2 get U out of my mind. I'm asking YOU this time--would U like 2 go 2 dinner w/me?

  Jase stepped into her personal space, realized what he'd done and made himself back off. "What are you going to tell him?"

  She blinked at him. "What would you like me to tell him?"

  He heard yearning in her voice...

  He heard hope...

  At the pool, he'd even staked a verbal claim. Mine. But there was no way he would allow her to put this on him. While he hated the thought of her with the other man, it wasn't his place to deny her. They weren't in a relationship, weren't even headed in that direction. Later on, she could resent him for interfering.

  "Tell him whatever you want," he said, a denial screaming inside his head. What she wanted had better not be Brad.

  Something flashed over her expression...something dark, almost haunted--definite
ly haunting.

  She raised her chin. "In that case, I'll tell him yes."

  *

  DO SOMETHING STUPID because your pride was pricked--or in Brook Lynn's case, say something stupid--and you would have to deal with the consequences.

  Why hadn't she just opened up to Jase, told him what she desired? Why had she goaded him, expecting him to prove with action those possessive words he'd once uttered?

  She'd backed him into a corner, hoping he would confess his feelings--I want you all to myself. While he'd felt comfortable claiming she belonged to him in an intimate setting, he hadn't been ready to say the words during an argument, even if he felt the emotions.

  At least, that's how she comforted herself as Brad led her to his car. A '68 Nova he'd restored himself. It looked dated on the outside, but modern on the inside.

  "You are beautiful," he said, opening her door for her.

  Such a gentlemanly move. My heart should be fluttering. "Thank you. You look very handsome yourself."

  He drove just outside Strawberry Valley city limits, choosing a high-end restaurant with romantic lighting and soft music playing in the background.

  "I hope you like Italian," he said.

  "I do." Guilt plagued her as they were seated at their table. She'd gone from kissing Jase to this. Leading on the man she should want...but didn't.

  A menu was placed in front of her face. She read over it--and tried not to hyperventilate. The prices! Sweet fancy. What did they put in their food? Gold?

  Maybe Brad was paying. Maybe he wasn't. Either way, she would not go over twenty dollars. So...it looked as though she would be one of those lame girls who ordered only a side salad and a glass of water.

  "What sounds good?" he asked.

  "Everything." Truth. But what sounded good and what she would be eating were vastly different things.

  He smiled warmly at her.

  When the waiter arrived, Brad ordered the fettuccine Alfredo with blackened chicken, and her mouth actually watered. When it was her turn, she forced herself to stick to her plan. Thankfully, Brad merely nodded, as if he was used to women eating like baby birds on a diet.

  "How do you like working for the big guy?" Brad asked.

  "He is..." Sexy, thrilling, exciting. A great kisser. Good with his hands. But she settled on, "Fun. It's a whole new experience for me."

  His gaze dipped to the tattoo peeking from the collar of her shirt. "Did he encourage you to get the flowers?"

  Did Brad disapprove? "No. That was all me."