She knew it, too, because she picked up the cash with a frustrated sigh. “I see you have your brothers’ obstinate streak.”
“Must be a family trait.” He bit the inside of his cheek, trying not to laugh at how cute she looked being miffed with him. Cute and hot, he amended as his gaze focused on those pouty lips of hers . . . which then transitioned to lustful thoughts of her soft mouth and all the ways he’d imagined defiling it.
She turned away to put the money into the cash register, and predictably, his eyes lowered to her perfectly rounded ass. Jesus, he was such a fucking pervert. Not wanting to get caught leering at her again, he made sure he was looking above her chest by the time she faced him again.
“What time do you get out of here tonight?” he asked, then took a drink of his lime-flavored water.
She began washing glasses in a small sink behind the bar. “I’m the only one in the bar closing up. It was so slow I sent the waitresses home. The guys in the kitchen finish with their clean-up around eleven thirty, so that’s when I lock up.”
“Any plans after that?”
“At midnight?” She laughed as she dried a martini glass. “The only plan I have is to crawl into my nice, soft bed with a book and read until I fall asleep.”
And there went his rampant thoughts again as he envisioned her in his bed, stripped naked and legs spread, her creamy skin a stark contrast to his navy blue comforter and all that thick, luxurious black hair spread across his white pillow. No doubt, if he had her anywhere near his bed, reading or sleeping would be the last thing she’d be doing.
Not that they were going to have sex tonight, but it wasn’t as though he hadn’t thought of the possibility of fucking her. Yeah, that was a nightly fantasy that always left him hard and aching. Just like he was beginning to feel now.
He shifted on the barstool in lieu of reaching down to adjust his dick that was pressing against the fly of his jeans. Grateful that she didn’t have a view of his lap and his lack of physical restraint when it came to thoughts of getting down and dirty with her, he shifted the conversation back on track.
“I know I might be cutting into your beauty sleep, but would you like to go and get a coffee at that twenty-four-hour donut shop down the road once you’re off for the night?”
Any other woman he’d gone out with in the past would have scoffed at the suggestion of going to what they’d consider a substandard eatery, let alone accompany him to this run-down neighborhood in Chicago. But Tara’s eyes lit up at the invitation.
She batted her eyes at him in a playful manner. “Are you asking me out on a date, Mr. Stone?”
“Yes.” A part of him was relieved she hadn’t flat out turned him down. She at least looked as though she was considering his offer. “I’d take you somewhere far more impressive, but there’s not much open at this time of the night.”
“Lucky for you, donuts are my weakness and one of the few things I can’t resist,” she said, rearranging a few of the bottles of alcohol that were lined up in a bin. “And oh, my God, Angelo makes the best apple fritters in the entire city, and just thinking about them is making my mouth water.”
Her enthusiasm made him grin. “Is that a yes?”
“That is a hell yeah,” she said, and laughed.
Now that he’d secured more time with Tara, he let her continue with her clean-up of the bar, doing his best not to distract her so she’d finish as soon as possible. At eleven straight up, she locked the main doors and cashed out the register and took the money back to the office. While she was gone, a young kid came out from the back area and began putting chairs up on the tables.
As he swept the floor, he kept one eye on Jackson, and it was clear that the kid had heard about him and couldn’t decide if he was a threat of some sort or not. It all depended on what information had filtered through the gossip mill about his meeting with the Kincaid brothers. If Mason was to be believed, then Jackson was sure he was branded as public enemy number one.
“That’s Elijah,” Tara said when she came back from whatever she was doing in the office and saw him glancing at the boy. “He’s a great kid. Clay found him rummaging through the dumpster for something to eat and gave him a job.”
Before Jackson could reply, a man’s voice spoke.
“Tara, are you about finished up?” the guy asked as he limped into the bar area. “The kitchen is clean and—”
His words abruptly stopped as the man’s one good eye that wasn’t covered with a patch stared at Jackson in that way he was becoming all too familiar with. Perceptive and a whole lot standoffish. Now that the employees at Kincaid’s knew about him, they weren’t so quick to assume he was Clay.
“You must be the twin,” the other man said gruffly.
“That would be me,” he replied in a pleasant tone as he extended his hand toward the man in a friendly gesture since he was standing close enough. “I’m Jackson.”
The guy hesitated, then finally stepped forward and clasped Jackson’s hand in his strong, unrelenting grip, silently sending a message Jackson would have had to be an idiot to miss. This man was clearly Team Kincaid, and if handshakes could talk, this one would say you do anything even remotely sketchy and I will gladly kick your ass.
“Hank,” he said brusquely, introducing himself before he glanced at Tara behind the bar. “You almost done out here?”
“Yes.” She stacked a few racks of clean glasses on top of each other. “If you and Elijah are finished, you can go ahead and leave. I’ll have Jackson walk me out to my car.”
A muscle in Hank’s jaw ticked. “I don’t think Clay would be too happy if he found out—”
Tara held up a hand. “Let me deal with Clay, okay? The boys might have a personal issue with Jackson, but I don’t. Since they aren’t here and I’m in charge, I’m assuring you that I’ll be absolutely fine in this man’s company, so I’ll see you and Elijah tomorrow afternoon for your shifts.”
Boom. Mic drop.
Jackson tamped down the grin threatening to appear. Beautiful and defiant—a woman who knew her own mind and was strong enough to assert herself when warranted. Another huge fucking turn-on, especially when he thought about controlling that rebellious streak of hers in the bedroom. Calling the shots. Pinning her down while she bucked beneath the onslaught of his mouth and fingers. Taking her hard and deep and demanding her surrender.
He exhaled a slow breath, which helped, somewhat, to banish those images from his mind. Hank scowled at him one more time—and thank fucking God he wasn’t a mind reader—but didn’t argue further with Tara. Within the next five minutes, Elijah and Hank were both gone, leaving him alone with Tara.
“You all are a loyal bunch, aren’t you?” he asked wryly.
“Hank’s a good guy,” she said as she bent down to retrieve her purse from a locked cupboard. “But yeah, he’s loyal, too. He’s former military and he lost his leg and right eye to an IED, which also caused facial nerve damage. Clay hired Hank when no one else would.”
Jesus, there was no way he could compete with Saint Clay. Not on any level. As much as his twin irked him for being so cool and reserved with Jackson, he had a lot of respect for the man and how he treated people. It said a lot about Clay’s character and the kind man he was. One with integrity, despite his shitty upbringing.
“Is this donut date going to be an issue with the guys?” he asked, keeping his question light and humorous as he slid off his barstool. Jackson didn’t want to give a fuck what any of his brothers thought about his interest in Tara, but he also didn’t want them to give her flack about him, either.
She came around the bar, keys in hand as she switched off the lights in the main area. “As much as I love those three guys like they’re my brothers, they don’t have a say in who I see.” Now that she was on the same side of the bar as him, she stopped an arm’s length away and met his gaze. “Are you having second thoughts about me?”
The unexpected hint of doubt and insecurity swimming in her blue ey
es had him instinctively reaching out to touch her, to reassure her that he wasn’t a man easily intimidated when he wanted something. And his desire for Tara was only growing stronger, not lessening in any way, and he wasn’t ready to walk away from whatever was happening between them.
He brushed his fingers along the soft skin of her jaw, and when her lips parted slightly and her eyes softened, it took every ounce of restraint he had not to slide his hand around the back of her neck and pull her mouth up to his for a hot, deep, claiming kiss. Instead, he settled with the knowledge that she wouldn’t have stopped him if he had followed through with the impulse. Her clear consent would have to be enough for now, because he didn’t think he’d be able to stop with just one taste.
He gently caressed his thumb along her full bottom lip before dropping his hand back down to his side. “Believe me when I say I’m not even close to changing my mind about you,” he promised her.
Her tongue skimmed across the place his finger had just touched, and she looked up at him with a smile that was filled with relief and quickly turned to bright-eyed sass. “Good. Now let’s go get donuts.”
Chapter Four
Jackson glanced in his rearview mirror to make sure Tara was still following his car. The donut shop was only a few blocks away, but she’d insisted on driving herself, which was fine with him. But considering the area, he wanted to keep a close eye on her and her vehicle until they arrived and he had her safely inside the place.
Which was ridiculous, considering Tara seemed street smart and perfectly capable of taking care of herself. She gave him the distinct impression that she could handle all sorts of trouble without the help of a man, but he was quickly discovering that she roused protective instincts in him that he was finding hard to shake. In a short time, she’d gotten under his skin, and it was even more shocking that he’d allowed his fascination with her to evolve into something close to an obsession. And now here he was, taking Tara on a date, of all things, when it was nearly midnight on a work night.
He grinned and shook his head at the insane situation. He was going to be exhausted tomorrow at the office, but he didn’t really care. For the first time since his divorce three years ago, he actually wanted to get to know a woman better, instead of bypassing any kind of getting-to-know-you conversation and getting down to the basics of sex and physical release.
His infatuation with Tara was out of character for him, but he wasn’t going to question such a strong, instantaneous connection to this woman when so much in his life had been clouded with uncertainty and that vague sense that something was missing. With the discovery of his adoption and having a twin brother, he now understood where that void stemmed from and why he’d always struggled with a disconnect from his own family.
There was something about Tara and her lack of judgment about who he was that made him feel as though he finally fit in somewhere, that maybe, possibly, he’d found someone who truly understood him.
The illuminated sign for Angelo’s Donuts came into view, and Jackson turned into the small corner lot and parked his car behind the brick building. Tara’s older-model Toyota took the space next to his Porsche, and they both got out of their vehicles at the same time and met up behind his.
“Nice ride,” she said, nodding her head toward his shiny gray Carrera. “Aren’t you afraid your car might get jacked in this neighborhood?”
The thought had crossed his mind, but he wasn’t about to admit it and come off as an egotistical jerk who had an issue being in her part of the city. “That’s what LoJack and insurance are for, right?” he said of the tracking and recovery system he’d purchased with the car.
She laughed lightly. “I guess so. Hopefully you won’t have to put it to the test.”
They walked toward the front of the building, where two police cars were parked. The uniformed officers were standing by the trunks of one of their vehicles, drinking coffee and eating a donut while shooting the shit with each other. He glanced at the men, expecting one of them to be Levi—because of course that would be just his luck—but neither of their faces was familiar.
Jackson placed a hand on the small of Tara’s back as an excuse to touch her as he guided her toward the front entrance, nodding toward the show of law enforcement. “I don’t think I have to worry too much about my car,” he said in a low voice. “The place looks pretty well protected.”
“Yeah, the cops around here love Angelo’s.” As they passed the officers, Tara gave them a friendly nod, then said in a low voice only Jackson could hear, “Then again, what decent cop doesn’t like a good donut?”
He chuckled as he opened the glass door for her. “That’s so cliché.”
“I know, but it made you laugh.”
She gave him a cheeky grin as she brushed past him with a bounce in her step, and he had to resist the urge to smack her ass for being so impudent. The fact that he was that comfortable with her, this quickly, should have had him throwing up his walls to keep his emotional distance, but instead he let himself embrace the relaxed, easygoing sensation coursing through him. Tonight was all about enjoying himself with Tara, without second-guessing or over-examining whatever this was developing between them.
Surprisingly, for as late as it was, there were a few people in the shop, testimony to just how good the treats in this place were. As they walked up to the glass display housing an array of different donuts, a young man who looked to be in his early twenties grinned at Tara.
“Hey, Tara, it’s good to see you,” the dark-haired man with a slight Italian accent said. His gaze shifted to Jackson, the same friendly smile on his face. “And what are you doing here so late? Don’t you have a wife at home waiting for you? Or are you here because she’s got a late-night craving?”
“Dante, this isn’t Clay,” Tara explained quickly, because clearly the guy was referring to Clay’s wife, Samantha. “It’s his twin brother, Jackson. And this is Dante, Angelo’s son,” she said.
Dante’s brows shot up to his forehead. “Oh, wow . . . ”
Jackson braced himself for that adverse reaction he was getting used to, like the one he’d just been dealt back at the bar with Hank. But Dante clearly didn’t know the dynamics of the situation that made Jackson an outsider to the Kincaid clan, because he didn’t hesitate to thrust his hand across the counter for Jackson to shake.
“Nice to meet you, man,” Dante said without an ounce of awkwardness between them, his tone completely sincere. “What can I get for you two?”
“I’ll take a large black coffee and an apple fritter,” Jackson said, going with Tara’s recommendation.
Tara bit her bottom lip, an indecisive frown creasing her brows as she looked into the display case. “Now that I’m here, I can’t decide. Do I want the donut with the sprinkles on it, the chocolate French cruller, or the apple fritter?”
“How about all three?” Jackson suggested.
She gave him a sexy sidelong glance. “Are you trying to seduce me with donuts?”
“I might be.” He winked at her.
A small, beguiling smile curved up the corner of her mouth. She certainly didn’t appear opposed to the idea, and he had to shove his hands into the front pockets of his jeans so he didn’t drag her out of here and make good on that promise.
Tara glanced back at Dante. “I’ll have a coffee and an apple fritter, too,” she told him.
The kid bagged their donuts and set their items on the counter. Jackson paid for their order, and while Tara stopped to put cream and sugar into her coffee, he carried their late-night snack to a vacant table away from the front area so they’d have some privacy. She joined him a few minutes later and took a seat across from him.
Once they each had one of the deep-fried donuts set out on a napkin in front of them—still warm from being freshly made—he watched as she pulled off a corner and popped it into her mouth. She chewed and a soft moan rumbled up from her throat as she closed her eyes as if to savor the taste. But all Jackson could think abou
t was her making that same arousing sigh of pleasure while he was buried deep inside her body. Another bite, and she made the same sound again, and this time his cock hardened with lust.
Fuck. “Please don’t do that.” His voice sounded strangled. He felt strangled.
Her guileless gaze met his, and she looked genuinely confused. “Do what?”
He swallowed his own bite of fritter, and damn, it was that good. “Moan like that.”
It took her a moment to catch his understanding, but when she did, the wicked light that glimmered in her gorgeous blue eyes tempted and enticed him, as did the sparkle of the diamond above her lip. “Like what?” she dared.
Did she really think he wouldn’t accept that challenge? He leaned across the table, his voice low and direct. “Like you’re in the throes of an orgasm.”
“I can’t help myself.” Her perfectly straight teeth grazed her bottom lip, scraping off a smudge of sugary glaze that he wanted to lick off for himself. “These fritters are crispy and buttery and sweet and all the bad things I shouldn’t have.”
He took a sip of his coffee, his eyes meeting hers from over the rim of the paper cup for a moment before he set it back down. “Am I one of those bad things?” he teased.
“Probably.” An emotion he couldn’t name crossed her features, bringing with it a vulnerability that changed the undertone of their flirty exchange and made her expression turn more serious than he’d intended. “But there’s something about you I find hard to say no to.”
He felt the same compelling attraction. “Then don’t,” he said, meaning it.
A wry smile tipped up the corner of her mouth. “There’s so many reasons I should say no.”
“Clay, Mason, and Levi?” he guessed.
She shook her head as she ate another bite of her donut, much more demurely this time and without the sound effects that had led them down this path of conversation in the first place. “Believe it or not, they aren’t at the top of the list.”
Dirty Sexy Sinner Page 5
