by Marie Harte
“I don’t know.” Shane shrugged. “I just wanted to see you again.”
“Why?”
“Because I did.” He ignored his rising discomfort and studied the menu, but it was hard to do when he saw Jill grinning at him from the corner of his eye.
“What?” he grumbled.
She beamed. “You like me.”
Resignation floated through him as he met her eyes. “Yeah. I guess I do.”
Jill looked ready to tease him about it, but the waiter chose that exact moment to approach their booth and take their drink orders. He left a moment later to give them time to look at their menus, and Jill skimmed hers with impressive speed before setting it down. “Okay, I know what I want. Let’s get to the question portion of the evening.”
Shane stared at her in suspicion. “Meaning what?”
“Meaning I ask you questions and you answer them. And if I’m satisfied by your answers, then maybe…maybe…I’ll sleep with you again.”
His lips curved mockingly. “Who said anything about sex? I invited you to dinner, pervert.”
Her tinkling laughter surrounded him like a warm embrace. “Bull,” she shot back. “This was a booty call and you know it. Only it’s the kind of booty call where you feed the girl first.”
Before she could launch into Twenty Questions, though, the waiter returned with their beers and stayed to scribble down their orders. They both ordered burgers, which Shane liked. There hadn’t been too many dinner dates in his life since Alana’s death, but the ones he had been on involved him ordering actual food while his companion picked at a starter salad without eating a bite. He appreciated a woman with a healthy appetite.
“First question,” Jill said the second the waiter disappeared. She shifted in the booth, angling her body so she was turned toward him. “Why do you only do one-night stands?”
He sipped his beer, keeping his tone casual. “I already told you, I’m not interested in relationships.”
“So, what, you’re scared that if you see a woman more than once she’ll get attached to you? Fall head over heels and hold on tight and never want to let you go?” Jill snorted. “I do love a man with a healthy ego.”
“I just don’t want to take the risk, okay?”
“Fair enough.” She tilted her head. “Second question is the same as the first, since you didn’t answer it properly. Why don’t you want a relationship? And don’t you dare say ‘not interested’. I want to know why.”
Hesitation rippled through him. “I…” His tongue tripped on the words. “I was married for eleven years.”
“Oh.” Her expression went serious. “Divorced?”
“She died.”
“Oh. Oh gosh, I’m so sorry, Shane. Did it happen recently?”
“Two years ago. Breast cancer.”
“Shit. That’s awful.”
“Yeah,” he mumbled. “It was.”
“You must have married young,” Jill remarked.
“I guess so. Alana was twenty when we met. I was twenty-two.”
“She was the love of your life?”
“Yes.” It was difficult to get the word out. His throat had clamped shut.
“Then you were lucky to have eleven years with her,” Jill murmured, gently touching his arm. “That’s something, right?”
Bitterness shot through him. “We should’ve had a lifetime.”
“Life doesn’t always go the way we plan.” She curled her fingers around his biceps, her thumb moving over his sleeve in soothing strokes. “I’m sorry for your loss, Shane.”
Christ. The conversation had taken a depressing turn he hadn’t intended on, so he quickly swallowed a lump of pain and changed the subject. “What about you? Any longtime relationships?”
“A few. I dated one guy all throughout college, but he landed a job in New York after graduation, and I had one lined up in California, and, well, the long-distance thing didn’t work out. After that I was with someone else for three years, but that didn’t work out either. We were too different, I guess. Didn’t have much in common.” She made a face. “And my last relationship was suffocation central. I wasted six months on that guy, until finally I couldn’t take it anymore. I swear, I wasn’t even allowed to breathe without asking for permission.”
Shane chuckled. “I can’t imagine you asking permission for anything. You take what you want, remember?”
“Yup. That’s why you like me so much.” She cast another dazzling smile. “I like you, too, by the way. I’m not sure why, though.”
“Thanks?”
“I mean, you’re just not my usual type,” she confessed. “You’re so…serious. And annoyingly indecisive.”
“I’m not always serious,” he argued.
“I notice you didn’t correct me about the indecisive part.”
He grudgingly conceded. “Fine, I was indecisive before. But I really did think it would be better if we didn’t get involved. I don’t like hurting people.”
She studied his face. “You think you’ll hurt me?”
“Not intentionally. But I can’t promise you anything serious or long-term. I honestly can’t see myself ever getting married again.”
“What about having kids?”
“Can’t see that either.”
Apparently she was capable of frowning, because her lips puckered deeply. “So you’re just going to be alone for the rest of your life?”
“I could think of worse things,” he said lightly.
Jill looked incredibly disturbed by that, but their waiter had the best timing on the planet, because he suddenly reappeared with their food. It was the perfect opportunity for another subject change, which Shane initiated by asking Jill about her new restaurant, and as they ate, she told him everything she’d done during the week.
He had to admit, it was nice talking to someone again, even if it was just chatting about work. From the sound of it, Jill and her staff were nearly ready for their grand opening, and Shane liked the enthusiasm in her voice as she outlined their preparations. He knew way too many people who had zero passion about what they did for a living, so Jill’s excitement was incredibly refreshing.
But despite the casual, easy conversation, sexual tension continued to sizzle beneath the surface. He was wildly attracted to the woman. They’d barely finished dinner and he was already semi-hard, his cock pulsing with anticipation for what he hoped would follow.
When Jill took a delicate bite of a French fry, his gaze homed in on her pouty red lips, and the lust in his blood came to a boil. Christ, he wanted to feel those lips on his cock again. So fucking bad.
She caught him looking, groaning softly. “Stop looking at me like that. Otherwise I won’t be able to concentrate on dinner.”
He played dumb. “Looking at you like what?”
“You’re staring at me like you’re thinking about stripping me naked and doing me right here on the table,” she accused with a scowl.
He shot her a smug smile. “Actually, I was thinking about your lips wrapped around my dick.”
Jill’s breath hitched. “Are you always so blunt?”
“When it comes to sex, yeah.” He popped a fry into his mouth. “I know what I like and I’m not scared to say it.”
“Good. Because I happen to know what I like, too, and I’m also not scared to say it.”
“Good,” he mimicked.
“With that said, you should probably know I’m not having sex with you again until you tell me what the deal is.”
“The deal?”
“As in, what exactly do you want from this?” She wiped her mouth with her napkin and pushed her empty plate to the edge of the table. “I don’t want to be dicked around, Shane. If we sleep together again, I need to know you won’t disappear for a week again only to call me out of the blue.”
He chewed slowly, then met her eyes. “As long as you want to keep sleeping with me, I won’t disappear.”
“But no commitments, right?” she said, as if readin
g his mind.
“No commitments,” he answered gruffly.
She nodded. “All right. I guess I’m okay with that. I mean, at least until someone better comes along.”
He had to laugh. “You’re just killing time with me then?”
Jill threw his own words back at him. “I could think of worse things.” Then she edged closer and placed her hand on his thigh.
The heat of her palm burned right through his jeans, and his cock responded by thickening beneath his zipper. Jill eased her fingers closer, artfully arranging the tablecloth over their thighs to shield her ministrations from view.
Shane almost choked on his tongue. “I wasn’t suggesting we start now.”
“Tell me to move my hand. I dare you.”
Jesus. She wasn’t fucking around. And for the life of him, he couldn’t stop her. She was stroking his erection now, the friction of her hand, his jeans, and his zipper creating the most incredible sensations inside him. She cupped his package, squeezing hard, and the pleasure was so intense he almost fell out of the booth.
“Pick up your beer and take a sip,” she ordered. “You’re being too damn obvious.”
Obvious? As in, he couldn’t hide his reaction to the sinful fact that a gorgeous woman was jacking him off under the table? No fucking kidding. He doubted any red-blooded man was capable of hiding that.
Still, he grabbed the Heineken bottle and took a much-needed sip, the beer coating his dry mouth and adding to the heat gathering in his stomach. When he felt his zipper being dragged down, he slugged back some more beer in order to distract his throat from releasing the anguished groan lodged there.
Delicate fingers slipped into his jeans and tickled his shaft, and Shane had to curse himself for not wearing any boxers. He always went commando, and Jill took full advantage of that by closing her fist around him.
His gaze darted around wildly, but nobody in the bar was paying them any attention. Max was still in deep conversation with Allie. The waiter was preparing drinks at the counter. The people in the neighboring booths were obliviously munching on their dinners, while the group of navy boys at a corner table watched the ESPN highlights flashing on one of the flat screens mounted on the wall.
Not a single person knew what was happening under the table, but Shane’s body was wholly aware of it. His dick was so hard it hurt, throbbing from every slow pump of Jill’s hand.
She leaned in close, her breath tickling his ear. “Should I make you come?”
Another groan clawed up his throat. He choked that down, too. Knew he should tell her to stop, but God help him, he couldn’t.
“Yes,” he ground out.
Delight danced in her eyes. “Dirty man.”
“Dirty woman,” he mumbled back.
The movement of her arm was barely noticeable beneath the tablecloth, but he felt every soft stroke, every teasing squeeze to his cockhead. If anyone glanced their way, they’d think Jill was scratching her leg or rearranging her skirt. They’d have no clue that she was giving the man beside her a handjob that made him see stars.
He was tempted to move his hand underneath her dress and exact his own form of wicked punishment, but doing that was guaranteed to steal the control he was trying to cling to. If he slid his finger in her pussy and felt how wet she was—and God, he knew she’d be wet. So fucking wet—he’d probably snap and fuck her in front of everyone.
Breathing through his nose, Shane forced himself to keep his hands on the table. One on his beer, the other flat on the tabletop.
Jill’s mouth found his ear again. “I wish I could suck you off right now.”
He nearly growled. “You’re evil, sweetheart.”
“Take another sip of beer. Sweetheart.”
He did, but the cold liquid did nothing to quench the hot eddy of arousal swirling in his groin. He was harder than a rock, his precome oozing into Jill’s palm as she worked his cock like a pro.
“I know you like it rough, but this is the best I can do right now,” she whispered as her hand moved over him. Slow, gentle, teasing as fuck.
He wasn’t complaining, though. He didn’t need a rough touch tonight, not when they were in the middle of the damn bar surrounded by people. Shane had never been into public shenanigans, but there was something insanely hot about knowing that their waiter could walk up at any second. That someone might take a closer look and figure out what Jill was doing.
“Are you close?” Her teasing murmur was barely audible.
“Yes,” he hissed.
“How close?”
Another pump, another squeeze, and he gritted his teeth. “Really fucking close.”
Jill leaned in and kissed his cheek, the innocent act belied by the filthy-as-fuck words she whispered to him. “Come in my hand, Shane. Pretend it’s my pussy.”
He exploded. Shot off like a rocket, coming so hard he had to bite his lip to stop from making a sound, so hard he was forced to clutch the table so he wouldn’t keel over from the force of the orgasm. His cock twitched in Jill’s hand. She milked him dry, a pleased smile on her face as she stroked him through the release.
Jesus. He couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t believe she’d gotten him off in the bar.
Couldn’t believe how much he’d fucking loved it.
Still smiling, Jill withdrew her hand and reached for the napkin on the table. She brought it underneath the tablecloth and discreetly wiped him up, and the second his zipper clicked back into place, Shane ripped his wallet out of his pocket and dropped a handful of bills on the table.
“We’re going,” he announced.
Jill batted her eyelashes. “What’s the hurry?”
He was already on his feet, reaching to help her out of the booth. “We need a bed,” he said tightly.
“We didn’t need one five seconds ago.” She blinked again, the picture of innocence.
“Well, we do now. Otherwise I’ll take you right here on this goddamn table.”
The little minx tipped her head as if she were considering it. And his body was so primed he was scared he’d lose the ability for impulse control and actually do it.
Without another word, Shane grabbed her hand and dragged her to the door before they gave the whole room a hell of a show.
Chapter Seven
‡
Three Weeks Later
“YOU MADE IT!”
Jill was overjoyed when she saw Shane stride through the front doors of the Hampton Grill for the restaurant’s grand opening. When she’d emailed him the official invitation last week, she certainly hadn’t expected him to come, and even though he’d shocked her by texting his RSVP, a part of her still thought there was a chance he might not show.
She’d seen Shane several times over the past couple weeks, but their interactions continued to revolve around sex. They had meals together—before or after sex. They talked—before or after sex. They’d even spent a day exploring Chesapeake—before coming back to his place for sex.
Sex was always the common denominator, and although she was perfectly content with that, she couldn’t deny she was happy to see him tonight on an occasion when sex wasn’t on the table.
The restaurant was already at full capacity, hosting not only important critics and food bloggers, but some of Virginia’s elite as well. Jill had been worried that Shane and teammates would give off a military vibe that might hamper the exclusive atmosphere she and Drake were going for, but the men who walked through the door didn’t look the slightest bit out of place. She’d asked them to dress up, and boy, they sure hadn’t let her down.
It was difficult not to drool over the three very tall, very muscular men who filled out their dark suits to perfection. Shane had brought Duke, who greeted her with a warm hug, and Wyatt Connor, who she remembered from that first night at the bar. She hadn’t spoken to him then, and he didn’t say much now, save for a gruff thank-you for the invitation. The guy was intense as hell. Black hair, black eyes, black stubble—dude had bad boy written all over
him.
When she shifted her gaze, she realized that Shane and Duke were sporting facial hair, too. She’d noticed that Shane hadn’t been shaving, and although the results were a sexy beard that made her fingers itch to stroke it, she wondered why he’d been forgoing a razor lately.
“Of course I made it,” Shane said in response to her surprised exclamation. “I RSVP’d, remember?”
“Right.” She decided not to mention she’d been worried he might be a no-show anyway. The man was a commitment-phobe to the core, and she didn’t want to do or say anything that might push him away again. “Come on, I’ll show you guys to your table.”
“This place is awesome,” Duke raved as they crossed the main room. His blue eyes drank in every inch of the space.
She and Drake had gone with a black-and-gray color scheme for the restaurant, sleek and modern, with a masculine edge to it. They were targeting a mostly male clientele, not just with the sleek mahogany tables and crisp black tablecloths, but the menu itself. Steaks galore, which would hopefully draw in the politicians and wealthy Virginians Jill and her partner hoped to lure in. To her elation, a lot of important people had shown up tonight, including two well-known senators and the editor-in-chief of the city’s major newspaper.
Jill led the men to a table against the far wall, blushing when Shane dropped a quick kiss on her cheek before sitting down. Wyatt settled in the chair across from him and immediately reached for the drink menu, while Duke remained standing. “Where’s the restroom?” he asked casually.
“Oh, you go down that corridor, turn right, and—you know what? I’ll show you. I’m heading back there anyway.” She glanced at Shane. “Have a good time and enjoy your meals, okay? I’ll try to pop over once things settle down a bit.”
“Sounds good.”
He smiled, and her insides promptly melted. Smiles from this man were so rare, and so damn rewarding when they made an appearance.
She and Duke headed for the corridor, but the moment they were out of sight, the dark-haired man stopped and flashed her the most adorable dimples. Jeez, he really was gorgeous. Chiseled features, high cheekbones, deep blue eyes. She could see why he played the field—he probably had no shortage of willing women eager to play with him.
