Yours Tonight

by Joya Ryan

  I folded my lips together. I didn’t want to have that look. Hell, I didn’t want to have that feeling. But, I didn’t want to be where Brock was. Especially now that the second drink was settling in my belly and buzzing through my head.

  “How about this? Pull up your friend’s number on your phone.”

  Though I didn’t know where he was going with this, I did. Then Jack gently grabbed my cell phone from my hand. He fiddled with a few buttons, then took a photo of himself.

  “You want to capture this moment with a lone selfie?” I asked.

  He handed me back my phone. There was a picture of him, and his address was in the body of a text message to Harper.

  “Send that to your friend, so she knows where to pick you up and what I look like.”

  I smiled a little. “Smart.”

  “Safe,” he clarified.

  I met his eyes again, and there it was…that intensity. It hummed through me more than the alcohol. Those dark depths were drinking in everything I was, like he could see straight to the soul of me and ease everything tense in my muscles. I couldn’t help but shiver.

  I sent the text to Harper, then nodded. “Thank you for letting me wait at your house.”

  He looked pleased and came to stand beside me. I felt oddly safe, taken care of, and was even enjoying my time with him, all things considered. Tonight had been bizarre, but not all bad.

  Thanks to Jack’s presence, my mind and body were spinning, totally at odds and cranked up from crashing adrenaline. I didn’t know if the sudden rush of emotions I was getting was normal. A thought slapped me out of nowhere:

  What would it be like if Jack touched me?

  The idea hit me harder than the cool summer night air of Colorado as we walked the couple of blocks to Jack’s house. Technically, he’d already touched me a little. That small interaction was a taste of a much bigger drug I was seeking: Heat.

  It was addicting. Especially since, with one encounter, Brock could chase away all that wonderful calm I’d just felt. Calm that Jack helped me feel. If a small touch did that, spurred that kind of fire and strength and want…what would more do to me?

  Whether it was the alcohol or the sheer oddity of the situation, surely a notion like that was not one to be thinking about. Especially for someone like me, someone who didn’t even like the idea of dating.

  We got to a beautiful home nestled in downtown with a massive porch and entryway. The house was huge and had just enough elegant details and lines that it looked like a work of art.

  “This is your house?” I asked.

  He nodded.

  “It’s amazing.”

  “You haven’t even seen the inside,” he said, walking up the steps and unlocking the front door. Inside or not, it was still amazing.

  “How old is it?”

  “It was built in 1898.” He held out his hand and I took it.

  He led me through the door, and I stopped in awe. Partly from the home looking so classic and breathtaking, and partly because Jack’s touch sent heat through me. The fantasy of what it would be like to feel more of his skin overtook my mind again. Squeezing my eyes shut, I tried to dislodge the thought.

  It’d never happen.

  Couldn’t.

  Shouldn’t.

  Maybe it was because, for a twenty-three year old woman, I wasn’t very sexually experienced. Or maybe it was because I had a past littered with less than pleasant memories. Whatever the reason, my body chose tonight to turn on and entertain the idea of something more.

  A kiss maybe?

  Whatever may or may not be, in that moment, I felt alive. And for the first time in a long time, more warm than cold. More relaxed than frigid. More confident than scared.

  My eyes shot open in time with the tap of his shoes against the hardwood floors as he walked further into his home. I looked at Jack, standing amongst the finest craftsmanship I’d ever seen and wanted to sigh…or bolt.

  No, not bolt. I wanted to stay. Despite tonight tilting between being scary and exciting, I was already in over my head. But I didn’t care. Being afraid was exhausting. And nothing about this man caused me fear. In fact, he brought out a slew of other emotions I didn’t really know existed.

  “Would you like to come in further?” he asked, as I hovered at the entrance in the foyer.

  I took a few more steps and looked around the beautiful house. It was cozy. Buttery walls with rich leather furniture lined the living room. Wrap-around windows gave an impressive view of the city surrounding us, and hardwood floors expanded as far as I could see. Dark reds, browns and creams made up the color palette. It was truly warm and inviting. The staircase looked like an antique itself, and had intricate designs carved throughout the wood.

  “Make yourself at home,” Jack said. He disappeared for a moment, walking around the corner, quickly returning with a cup of water.

  “Thank you.” The instant I drank down the cool liquid, I felt a bit better. But I still needed a minute, some air maybe. Because I didn’t know what to do or what to think. Why did I want to pull Jack to me right then and see what his kiss was like?

  “You look flushed,” he said, his tone so raspy it made me want to tell him why.

  “I was just thinking of something,” I whispered, my gaze zeroing in on his mouth.

  “Oh?” He took one step closer. “Care to share your thoughts?”

  I licked my lips…ready to share more than just the thoughts. He’d said earlier he wondered what I tasted like. I was wondering the same about him.

  “Is it easy for you? Telling the truth?” I asked.

  “Generally.”

  “How? Not that I lie, but I just don’t know how you can say what you say.”

  “You mean voice what I want?”

  “Yes.” It was then it hit me. I wanted that. To be able to say what I wanted. Put a voice to my fears. My desires. My everything. To have someone actually listen.

  “It’s a matter of worth over value,” he said. “Any given thing has a value. I just decide what it’s worth to me to keep that value.” He took a step forward. “For example, you have a value. My silence wasn’t worth you walking away.”

  A heavy ache settled in my ribs. This man thought I had value and was worth hanging on to? For how long? Did it matter?

  “It makes the truth easy,” he continued, his smooth voice rolling over me like freshly melted caramel. “To tell you I think of your taste is easy to admit. Especially if it means you’ll look at me like that.”

  “Like what?” I whispered.

  “Like you just may let me find out.”

  I opened my mouth to tell him yes, when my phone buzzed. I grabbed it and saw a text from Harper. She’d made good time and was fifteen minutes early, waiting for me out front.

  “My ride is here,” I whispered.

  Jack nodded once. “I’ll walk you out.”

  He took my glass and set it on the coffee table. I grabbed my purse, feeling hot and bothered, and like I had just missed a moment I desperately wanted to get a second chance at.

  He led me back to the front door, but instead of opening it, he maneuvered me so that my back was against it and he faced me. His dark eyes zeroed in on mine and I knew right then, that yes, I was small prey in the sights of a predator. A sexy, tanned-skinned predator.

  “Tonight was surprising,” I stated like a moron. But I felt like it needed saying, since Jack was closing in on me, his black gaze on my mouth.

  “I agree, and I want to hear what you were about to say.”

  I tried to take another step back, but there was nowhere to go. The cool door pressed against my back, and I felt the indentations of yet more masterfully carved wood.

  “I was going to say…well, do something…I shouldn’t—” Shit! I couldn’t say what I needed to. What made sense. But what made sense didn’t seem to match up with what my body wanted. And that was Jack.

  “You shouldn’t what, Lana?” His voice was like gravel, zinging through th
e air and hitting every part of my skin, making me shiver and ache.

  “I shouldn’t want you,” I whispered.

  The faintest grin tugged at his mouth, and it was heart-stopping because there was something sinful about it.

  “I disagree completely.”

  He closed the distance and seized my lips with his. Hard and rough. One hand cupped the side of my face, and he pressed his thumb down on my chin, causing my mouth to open.

  He didn’t wait. Didn’t ask. He just took.

  Thrusting his tongue inside, he consumed me. The heat and intensity of his body pressed against mine, his erection digging into my stomach made me want to arch my hips into him.

  It should have frightened me. The feel of him. So close. So hard. But it didn’t. He must have read my mind, or my body, because he gripped the back of my knee with his free hand and yanked me closer.

  A moan escaped, because his actions caused my dress to bunch at my hips, his hard cock now rubbing against my center.

  Flashes of pleasure crackled from my core to my breasts and everywhere in between. He didn’t stop. Didn’t let up. Just took me. And I felt his power—wanted to drink it down like a potion, in hopes that maybe I would walk away with some myself.

  Weaving his tongue in and out like a lusty dance, taking and demanding, I realized he wasn’t kissing me. He was consuming me. As if I were edible and made of sugar, he licked, sucked, and bit. Owning my mouth and my body, like he knew exactly how to move and how to work me over so that I felt…

  In control.

  Which was confusing, because I felt totally dominated by him at the same time. Not in a way that terrified me, but in a way that snapped every ounce of will I had to the forefront and pushed away the uncertainty.

  All I felt with Jack was a heady dose of confidence, power, and desperation. An elixir he had locked up and in one kiss, I was already addicted.

  He growled my name and tore his mouth from mine to nip my earlobe, then sucked on the pulse beating wildly in my throat.

  The hand on the back of my knee slid a little higher. Gripping my leg, he dug his thumb into my inner thigh, so close to the place I was craving him most. A violent jolt of wet need rushed, and I pressed closer against him. Desperate to ease the ache I never realized could hurt so much.

  When his mouth traveled lower, the stubble on his strong jaw scraped my collarbone. Sparks rushed to my nipples, as if they were standing up and begging for attention. I was on fire, melting from the heat of him. The heat that was purely Jack.

  I groaned, my mind spiraling out of control. In that moment, I’d never felt more consumed. More guarded. It was the same feeling I had the second Jack sat down:

  Safe.

  He was the wall I’d been searching for.

  He brought something out in me. Something that wanted to grasp on to the world and take it, not let it rule me. Not be afraid. Not cower. Not wait.

  I was tired of cowering and I was tired of waiting.

  I kissed him with everything I felt. All the hurt and anger of my life up until this point, I unleashed on to him. A relative stranger. A man I met in a bar. A man that in the short time I knew him, made me feel more seen and safer than any other man I’d ever encountered.

  “Jack,” I breathed his name and bit his bottom lip a little when I went back in for another searing kiss. My grip on him tightened.

  “That’s it,” he said against my mouth. “Not so shy right now, are you?”

  His teeth grazed my lips. When had I started clawing at him?

  His hips were grinding against me, but he leaned back enough to look me in the eyes. Our noses touching while we breathed for each other. Still cupping my face, he ran his thumb along my lips which felt swollen and tingly.

  “Give me a number.”

  On heavy exhales, I said, “Eight.”

  “Hot or cold?”

  “Very hot,” I whispered.

  “Good.”

  He let my leg drop and I stood on two feet once more, trembling a little from the intensity of what just happened.

  Tucking a lock of hair behind my ear, he backed away. His dark eyes were wild, like lightning behind midnight skies.

  “I hated what I saw on your face tonight. The look of fear. I don’t know what exactly is going on, but you should never feel that way.”

  I took a deep breath and admitted one thing I hadn’t said out loud ever. “I don’t want to be afraid anymore.”

  A muscle ticked in his jaw, and he looked like he was about ready to say something. He reached out and…

  Opened the door behind me.

  The summer breeze met my skin, and beyond the large porch and down the steps, was Harper parked on the curb, waiting in her car.

  I walked out, then turned to look at Jack. “So much happened tonight. I don’t know what to do or what to say.” I was also certain that if what just happened was an eight, I may not be able to handle a ten. Yet, I desperately wanted to find out. “Do I give you my number?”

  “You can.”

  I looked him over in confusion. “Do you have a pen?”

  “No. You can just tell it to me. I’ll remember.”

  He grinned and ran a hand through his hair, smoothing away the mess I had made of it. The action caused his shirt to pull tight over his torso, giving sight to a hard chest and rippling abs that made my mouth water again.

  I rattled off my cell number and he nodded.

  “I look forward to seeing you again,” he said.

  It didn’t sound like a threat or a promise, but a threat and a promise. With the scent of pine on the breeze, I crossed my arms and walked away. Already missing the heat.

  Chapter Three

  “What are you doing here, Lana?” my father asked, opening the door to his million dollar, eco-friendly home with surprise on his face. Though it was in the same city as Jack’s house, everything about my father’s place had clean lines, no color, and felt sterile.

  Since my encounter with Jack last night, I hadn’t been able to sleep. But the more I thought about Brock, about his new “promotion,” the more I needed clarification.

  “I know it’s early, but I needed to speak with you in person.”

  His gray brows knit. “Okay.”

  He let me in, but kept me near the front door, as if to push me out suddenly if the moment arose. And I knew what moment that would be, and her name was Anita, my step-mother. Though I didn’t see her often, it was more than I interacted with my own mother, unfortunately.

  When my parents divorced, it was as though my mom divorced me too. She moved to Florida with her new husband to “get a fresh start on life.” Aside from holiday and birthday calls, I didn’t talk to her much at all.

  “I saw Brock. He said he’s working with you in Denver now.”

  My father crossed his arms and nodded, but his eyes stayed on the floor. “Yeah, that’s right.”

  “Dad?” I tried to get him to look at me, but all I got was a glance. “I thought we were working together this summer. I can’t work with Brock, you know that.”

  “You need to get over your issues with him.”

  The words hit me hard, but they weren’t the first time I’d heard them. Still, it didn’t make the sting any less potent. My father and step-mother didn’t acknowledge the past regarding Brock and I. My father always told me to “get over my issues,” but never gave weight to my claims. And I never spoke of it. I’d never called Brock out since the night he hurt me. Years later, we all still danced around the truth.

  “I can’t be under the same roof as him. Much less have him be someone I report to.”

  “Then maybe the Case-VanBuren firm isn’t where you should be working.”

  My stomach tightened. “I need this job, you know that. I have grad school to pay for.” I had a partial academic scholarship that covered tuition, but all other expenses were on me.

  He looked over his shoulder, then leaned in and whispered, “I can try to get some money to you. Off
the books.” He winked, as if that made it all better. But I knew this game.

  My father and I didn’t come from money. He’d been a struggling real estate agent when he met Anita. Case Investments at that time was a young business, and it had been drowning. She was the one with the money and the name, an effective leash she kept around my father’s neck.

  Case Investments turned into Case-VanBuren. My father might be president, but Brock was VP, and would take over, despite my father having started the company on his own before he met Anita.

  “I won’t take her money. Not now, not the other times you’ve offered it. I can support myself. I’ve been doing it for a while. But I need a job to do that.”

  “You have one,” he said harshly. “Just keep your head down, and you won’t even notice Brock.”

  Yeah, right. But this went deeper than Brock being in Denver. “Why is he even here? He was running the New York branch. Why bring him in?”

  “Because Denver has lost a major client. Brock can bring more of them in. New York is fine, but Denver needs some help.”

  “I can help! That’s why you hired me. I can bring a client in.”

  “Brock has the track record, and you’re not even an associate. You’re…” he waved his hand, and I finished the sentence for him.

  “I’m just in a grunt position.”

  He didn’t deny it, because he knew as well as I did what I was and how he viewed me.

  “Look, Brock is staying.”

  “Dad—” but the rest didn’t come, because it didn’t matter. Just like that night, when I’d gone to my father and told him what had happened, he chose Brock over me. I wasn’t going to wait any longer for him to save the day. I wasn’t going to put myself in a position that sickened me.

  “You have a job if you want it, but I won’t discuss Brock with you anymore.”

  I shook my head. “Then I can’t work for you.”

  “That’s your choice. Not mine.”

  I clenched my jaw, because my choice had been taken away ten years ago. And it was that one moment that changed everything.

  I steeled myself against the tears, like I always did. I’d figure it out. Would have to. My father didn’t see me as an asset. I’d just have to convince him otherwise. Brock didn’t have his master’s degree. It was the one area I could trump him in. Someday. Maybe, someday, my father would see my value.