by Jenna Jacob
More? I was trying to survive this one first. I couldn’t risk thinking about a second date for fear my brain would combust. Stretching my smile even more, I briefly wondered when my face was going to crack from so much forced politeness, and took a sip of bubbly.
“So, as I was saying…” Brice continued.
He obviously didn’t mind monopolizing the conversation, since he’d been doing it all night. Truth be told, I was happy to let him. There weren’t any personal questions to dodge, no awkward explanations about where Dustin came from or from whom.
Besides, it wasn’t so bad learning more about Brice. I’d discovered things about him I didn’t know, such as he’d been born and raised in Southern California, traveled abroad numerous times, and had met Steven Spielberg at a Jewish market once. Why Brice was in a Jewish market, when he clearly wasn’t Jewish, was beyond me. Still, I didn’t ask.
The man had lived a far more interesting life than mine. My vast traveling experience consisted of a road trip to Branson with Dad after I’d graduated high school.
“My dream was to be an orthopedic surgeon,” he confessed. “But when my class was given an assignment to observe a spinal surgery, I strolled into the OR and promptly passed out cold when the doctor inserted the scalpel. I woke up on the floor, with the surgeon cursing and screaming for someone to, and I quote, drag his sorry ass out of here.”
I couldn’t help but chuckle. “That sounds awful.”
“Definitely not one of my prouder moments. So, the next day I made an appointment with my academic advisor and switched majors.” Brice reached across the table and cupped my hand. I swallowed tightly and tried not to tense. “Turns out, it was the best decision I ever made. If I hadn’t gone for a doctorate in sports medicine, I never would have met you.”
Once again, I didn’t know what to say that wouldn’t come out like encouragement. Still, I didn’t want to outright snub the man or insult him.
When had dating gotten so dang complicated?
“What attracted you to becoming a physical therapist?” he asked.
My reasons were buried at the bottom of a can of toxic sludge. I wasn’t about to lift the lid for him or anyone else.
“Like you, I have an aversion to blood,” I lied.
“Ah.” He grinned and nodded. “Another something we have in common.”
I had no clue what other interests we shared, and I refused to ask. Instead, I took another sip of champagne.
“So, do you have any brothers or sisters? Or is it just you, your dad, and Justin?”
“Dustin,” I corrected. “My son’s name is Dustin. And no. It’s just us three.”
“I’m not trying to pry, but I noticed your dad’s hand. Stroke?”
Brice’s tone was sympathetic, and as he was a medical professional, I grasped his interest in Dad’s condition. But I didn’t want him sticking his nose in any facet of my personal life. But instead of telling him to mind his own business, like a bitch, I gave him the basic details.
“Yes. Last spring Dad suffered a subarachnoid hemorrhage. An aneurysm we had no clue was there ruptured.”
“That must have been terrifying.”
“It was.”
“Had he been in good health prior to the hemorrhage?”
“Off and on. A couple of years ago, he had to have a kidney transplant, but he accepted the donor organ without issue.”
“Was he a heavy drinker?”
“No. My dad rarely drinks. He had polycystic kidney disease.”
“Ah.” Brice was wearing his familiar professional face. “So the aneurysm wasn’t related to the transplant then.”
“No. As soon as he was released from the hospital, I started doing therapy on his hand. He’s exercised religiously and has regained an incredible amount of motion.”
“That doesn’t surprise me. You’re an exceptional physical therapist.”
“Thank you.”
“Your son…how old is he? Two…three?”
Brice turned the topic of conversation back on me so fast I nearly got whiplash.
“Actually, he’s only eighteen months. He started walking and talking earlier than most, or so says his pediatrician.”
“He’s a cute kid,” he noted, strumming his thumb over the back of my hand. “Is his father in the picture?”
“No,” I replied, mentally searching for a door to slam this discussion off.
“Why not? What happened?”
I tensed. My love life, or rather lack of, wasn’t for public consumption. Needing a bit of liquid courage, I took a sip of my champagne.
“He left me,” I lied.
The last glimpse I’d taken with me was of Darren, splayed out in bed, gloriously naked, and softly snoring. The image flashed in my brain, and the familiar ache squeezed my heart.
“Was he abusive?”
“No. Never. We simply weren’t right for each other.”
“I’m sorry, Tori. You of all people deserve a man who’ll shower you with unconditional love and make you deliriously happy.”
I prayed Brice wasn’t implying he was that someone…was he? Shoving that alarming notion aside, I shook my head. “I am happy. Between Dad and Dustin, I’m drowning in unconditional love.”
Rejection skipped across Brice’s face. “I’m sure you are, but as a woman, you have needs your son or father can’t fulfill.”
Oh, god…was Brice actually going there?
I leaned in, keeping my voice low. “I’m not discussing my sex life with you.”
He chuckled and flashed me a wink. “Fair enough. We’ll save it for next time.”
Fighting the knee-jerk reflex to drag my hand from Brice’s, I forced a tight smile, number seven hundred and eighty-six of the evening.
“I imagine it’s rough being a single parent.”
“Not really. Dad’s a huge help.”
“I’ll bet, but surely you have to be concerned that, aside from your father, Dustin doesn’t have a stable role model in his life. A young boy like that needs one.”
My date was about to turn ugly.
Erasing the artificial smile from my face, I pulled my hand back and lifted my chin.
“First of all, my father isn’t unstable. He had a stroke, not a lobotomy,” I bit out. “And no, I’m not concerned about my son missing a single thing. For your information, my father raised me…alone. And he did a damn fine job if I say so myself. He’ll do an equally fine job with my son while being a stable role model.”
Brice reared back and raised his hands in surrender. “I wasn’t trying to offend you, Tori. Or insinuate that your father wasn’t capable of taking on the challenge.”
Bullshit.
“It’s just…well, I might as well and come right out and say it. I care for you, Tori, care deeply. I’m well aware that you and Dustin are a package deal, and I’m not afraid of taking on that chall—”
“Package deal?”
Quickly calculating the distance between us, I could easily kick the man square in the balls without moving my chair. But I didn’t for the sheer fact that I needed to keep my job. Dad and Dustin were counting on me.
Brice exhaled loudly before scrubbing a hand through his hair. “I’m making a mess of this, so I’ll just lay my cards out on the table. I want to be a part of your life…a part of your son’s life.”
I shouldn’t have been surprised, but hearing the words roll off his tongue with such conviction completely floored me.
The air in my lungs froze. My heart thundered against my ribs. And a surge of anxiety spiked so fast and high, I half expected it to shoot from the top of my head. I grabbed my water glass and started chugging the icy liquid.
As he watched my reaction with a piercing stare, his jaw ticked, and he issued a grim nod. “I can tell by your reaction that’s the last thing you want…at least with me. Correct?”
Great. I now had to dance through a minefield. If I told him the truth, he’d probably fire me. If I lied, I’d be handing
him an engraved invitation to keep pursuing me.
Since neither option was really an option at all, I opted to sidestep his question instead. “I thought you said you weren’t going to ask me to marry you tonight…that we were just going to have dinner.”
The slow grin stretching over his mouth only accentuated his good looks. The man really was handsome, but sadly, I didn’t feel even the slightest twinge. Maybe I needed to rewire myself, or maybe I was destined to live vicariously in my memories.
“I’m not proposing, Tori. At least, not tonight.”
“Good. Because you’re right, that’s the last thing I want at this stage of my life.”
His expression softened. “I know. Since I’m striking out badly here, why don’t you pick a topic of conversation you’re comfortable with?”
“Okay.” I plucked up my menu and flipped it open, determined to shut Brice down completely. “What do you usually order when you come here?”
While he rambled on about his favorite entrees, I kept my face buried in the menu.
What am I doing here?
I don’t belong with this man.
I don’t belong with any man except the one I can’t have.
As always, the minute Darren popped into my mind, another little piece of my heart broke off and floated away. How long until only a fragment remained?
“You take your time and look over the menu. I need to hit the men’s room.” Brice winked and started to walk away, then paused. “Don’t run out on me.”
His parting words were hauntingly reminiscent of what Darren had said that night in his hotel room. And like a cyclone, I was sucked through a vortex and back in the past.
Two years earlier
Kansas City
Though I hadn’t come right out and confessed that I was a virgin, the look on Darren’s face made it painfully clear he’d figured it out on his own.
Embarrassment and panic consumed me.
I was in so far over my head I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t right my wrongs…couldn’t retract all the lies I’d told him. And I had spewed some doozies. But I wasn’t about to tell him the truth—that I cleaned bedpans and gave sponge baths in a nursing home by day and worked the stripper pole in a club down the street every night. But why did I have to go and tell him I won the ticket to his concert from the radio, when I could have gone with the lie that I’d paid for the ticket myself?
Fear, guilt, and shame tied my stomach into knots.
The web I was weaving was taking on a life of its own and growing exponentially more complicated. I was terrified that I was going to slip up and contradict myself. Sadly, my fears paled in comparison to the nasty dilemma I had on my hands now.
My grand, master plan was coming completely unraveled.
Instead of being an insensitive, womanizing, drug-addicted alcoholic—as I’d been told—Darren Ash was a caring, loving, and loyal down-to-earth, humble man. The trust he’d placed in me sharing stories of his childhood and pouring out his anguish over Mac’s death only intensified my guilt and remorse.
I felt like a stranger in my own skin. The conniving, deceitful, malicious woman sitting on the couch beside this amazing man wasn’t me…wasn’t anyone I’d ever been before or ever imagined being.
God, why did it ever have to come to this?
I’d asked myself the same question the first night I stepped on stage and began taking off my clothes for strangers. Foolishly, I thought I could make the money I needed quickly and quietly, but in the end, I was still thousands of dollars short.
With the world-crushing deadline bearing down on me, this was my last chance. There were no more options.
Still, I’d been raised with do unto others drilled into my head. No matter how hard I tried justifying annihilating Darren’s life to save my own, I knew I’d never scrape the oily sludge off my soul.
This is wrong…wrong on every damn level. Oh, god…I can’t do this.
Panic spiking, I clutched my purse and started to rise from the couch.
Suddenly, Darren’s hand gently clasped my wrist. I gasped at the surge humming up my arm while he held me with a green-eyed stare so deep and penetrating I feared he could see right through me. But only until a smoldering expression, promising hours and hours of sinful pleasure, crawled across his face. Something mysterious and primitive started to awaken inside me. I felt like a phoenix rising from the ashes, spreading my wings, and calling to this incredible man to consume and free me with that fiery passion.
All thoughts of leaving vanished.
Drawing my hand to his mouth, Darren brushed a kiss across my knuckles before tracing his tongue over the apex of each finger. Pulses of electricity scattered through me, igniting sputtering tingles gathering between my legs.
“Don’t run out on me. Stay. Let me be your first.”
Like silk ties, his words wrapped around me, binding my breath, my will, and every fragment of logic to his command.
“Please,” I whispered.
He cinched a hand in my hair, sending sparks of pain and pleasure skittering over my scalp, as he pressed his mouth to mine. I was already addicted to his lips, to the velvety soft texture, that was oh, so firm and strong.
Flames of need licked my spine.
Parting my lips, I welcomed the wet heat of his tongue. Each lash swept me away on waves of reckless splendor.
Cupping my nape, Darren ate at me like a man possessed, drinking in my ragged gasps and needful whimpers. Tongues tangling and scraping, I frantically sought an anchor, until finally I sank my fingers into the warm flesh covering hard, unyielding muscle.
Lost in the primal need to merge myself with him, instinctively I knew Darren would do more than strip away my virginity…he would change my life completely.
A flutter of panic blew through me.
“Stop thinking, beautiful. Just feel for me…feel everything I want to give you,” he murmured against my ear.
As he dragged his lips along my jaw, I lifted my chin, offering him complete access to my neck again. With a guttural groan, Darren laved and nipped a sizzling trail over my flesh, pulling me deeper and deeper under his spell with each kiss, bite, and caress. Melting against his steely chest, I whimpered his name. But it did nothing to vent the mounting desperation inside me.
“Christ,” Darren growled against my skin. “You taste like sugar, smell like sin, and feel like my hottest and dirtiest fantasies have just come to life.”
His kisses unraveled me, but his words utterly destroyed me. I’d never felt such a strong and undeniable connection to anyone in my life.
“I don’t know what’s happening here…what you’re doing to me, or what this powerful attraction is, but I like it.”
The disbelief that he felt the same magnetic force both scared and relieved me.
“You feel it, too, don’t you?” His green eyes were piercing so deeply, I knew I couldn’t lie to him again.
“I do.”
A slow smile tugged his sinful lips. “Good. There’s just one problem.”
Problem? Oh, god. Had I slipped up?
Fear crested like a tsunami.
“What?” I whispered in a shaky breath.
“You’ve got too many clothes on, beautiful.”
Though my relief was immediate, it took long seconds before the panic bled from my system.
“I vote we do something about that. What do you say?” Darren asked, tracing a calloused fingertip over the scoop of my tank top.
“I vote yes.”
A flash of lust skipped over his emerald eyes as he stood and extended his hand.
Peering up at him, my body tingled in all the right places as I traced the contours of his handsome face, the short scruff darkening his sculpted jaw and chin, his sharp, defined nose, and his masterful, masculine lips.
Tearing my gaze from his face, I drank in his tall, lean muscular frame, wide sturdy shoulders, chiseled pecs and abs, and finally his open palm with long, capable fingers.
>
If Darren Ash played my body as well as he did the guitar, he would destroy me.
Oh, but what a way to go.
As I placed my hand in his, a tremor of anticipation thundered through me.
Before we even made it to the bedroom, Darren had me up against the wall. His hungry mouth feasted on me while his talented hands roamed all over me. Surrounded in his masculine scent of leather, soap, and musk, I was growing dizzier by the second.
Gripping my ass, he lifted my toes off the floor, swallowing my muffled cry of surprise and meshing me where I needed him most…against his thick, straining erection.
Lost in his thick, hard heat grinding against my weeping core, I wrapped my leg around his thigh. As his masculine grunt bounded down my throat, he gripped my leg and dragged it to his hip, opening me wider for each lewd nudge.
Tearing from his mouth, I tossed my head back with a desperate whimper.
“I can’t wait to taste your sweet virgin cream, feel your tight cunt clamp around my cock, and hear you scream my name,” he growled against my neck.
Another tremor. Another whimper. God, if he kept stabbing at me and talking to me like this, I was going to shatter in my panties.
“Please,” I begged. “I need…”
“I know exactly what you need. I’ll put that fire out. I promise.”
Gripping my butt cheeks, Darren claimed me in another feral, mind-numbing kiss and carried me to the bedroom. As he eased me onto the edge of the bed, he lifted from my lips. I felt drunk and disoriented, but I forced my heavy eyelids open and blinked, trying to clear the sensual fog coating my brain.
He knelt and placed his wide hands on my thighs. Darren’s expression was teeming with lust and hunger, but etched within those carnal cravings, I saw promise and understanding.
“You’re a first for me, too, Elizabeth. And though I’m dying to devour every inch of you right fucking now, I will take my time and make your first time special.”
He’d never been with a virgin before? I suddenly felt like a freak. But his vow spread through me like a summer sun and melted the stigma away.
