Set the Pace (The Detroit Love Duet #1)

by Kim Karr

  Stepping over my clothes, I pull my phone out. Thumbing through text after text, I stop at the one from Alex that reads, “Need to talk to you. Meet me at nine tomorrow morning at the Hudson Cafe, near your building.”

  That can’t be good. I type a quick response, “I’ll be there,” and toss my phone on the dresser. I’ll answer the other messages in the morning.

  Charlotte’s apartment is on the top floor and the patter of rain on the roof sounds louder than it had moments ago. Slowly, I pad back toward the bed. Slipping in, I try not to move too much so I don’t wake her.

  The flash of lightning and almost instantaneous crash of thunder makes Charlotte jerk. The power goes out with a beep of her alarm clock but comes back on moments later. Another rumble follows another flash, and this time the alarm clocks beeps but the power remains off.

  The storm is moving closer. The lightning cracks at pretty regular intervals and the thunder gets louder and louder.

  An ear-piercing scream has me bolting upright. “Charlotte!” I call out, reaching blindly across the bed. My heart starts pounding out of my chest when her head isn’t on the pillow she was just sleeping on moments ago.

  “I’m right here,” she says in a hushed whisper.

  Pushing my way through the sheets, I crawl to the foot of the bed and find her there. If light and shadows could paint the picture, I already know what I would see. A girl curled up tightly with her arms around her knees, rocking back and forth to ease the fear. Coils of anxiety work their way into my muscles until I reach her. Gently but firmly, I wrap myself around her trembling body, not unlike I used to do when we were eight.

  “I’m okay,” she tells me.

  Sometimes darkness reveals as much as it hides. She’s still afraid of the dark. Afraid of the thunder and lightning. The years haven’t eased her fear in the least. “I know you are,” I whisper against her hair.

  Her voice cracks a little when she speaks. “I have a flashlight in the drawer of the night table.”

  “We don’t need that,” I whisper.

  She clings to me like I’m her safety blanket and I wonder if this is what she considers needy.

  I breathe in and breathe out, wondering how she coped all these years alone. Did the flashlight help? Did her aunt comfort her? Is this why the men in her life left her?

  Assholes.

  Questions I want to ask and will, just not now. Right now she needs to know she’s not alone. With a slight shift of our bodies, she’s beneath me, and I rise on my forearms so as not to crush her.

  She lifts on her elbows. “I really am okay.”

  “I know.”

  “I want you,” she whispers into the dark, sitting up.

  “I’m right here,” I tell her and sit up too.

  In the dark she finds me. Finds my cock. Grips my cock and slides right onto my lap.

  I let out a shuddering sigh. “Charlotte.”

  Her moan is one I already feel I can never get enough of.

  We’re chest to chest.

  Mouth to mouth.

  Breath to breath.

  Her arms go around my neck and hold the back of my head. Our mouths meet. We kiss, hard but slow. Our tongues stroke each other’s like we both love the taste of each other. When my hands grip her hips, she wraps her legs around my waist. I fucking love it.

  Slowly my hips thrust upward.

  Charlotte starts rocking into me at a much faster pace.

  “Fuck.”

  Her fingers twist in my hair at the nape. “Please, Jasper,” she begs.

  Because I can’t say no, because I would never say no to her, I give her what she wants. My hands slide down beneath her ass to lift her higher on my cock. She counters with a downward thrust and a roll of her hips that twists her on me in a way that makes me want to explode right now.

  I hold back and move faster.

  Faster.

  Faster still.

  I thrust into her over and over and before I know it, I’m fucking her in a way I hadn’t before.

  And it feels so good. So fucking good. It felt good before, but this feels even better.

  Better than sex has ever felt with anyone.

  She feels it too. I know she does. Her hands slip out of my hair and she clutches my back. Her nails dig into my skin and although I’m certain I’ll feel it tomorrow, all I can do right now is moan into her mouth. Over and over. Our bodies slap and the bed shakes. She bites my shoulder and it spurs me on. I shout out and thrust so deep inside her. Deeper than I should be. Deep enough that I’m certain we might become one.

  The thunder crashes in the distance, the rain falls, and the lights turn back on with a beep. The room is illuminated from the light in the hall and I stop kissing her so that I can look at her. At her wild hair, at her beautiful face, at her sexy body, at all of her, and I wonder how anyone could ever forget her.

  Licking my lips, I taste sweat.

  She’s moving fast. Keeping up with my pace.

  I can’t hold on any longer. “Come with me,” I manage.

  “I am!” she shouts, and I can feel her sweet pussy clench around my cock.

  And then I let go. And I come. Come like I never have. I’m practically spasming. The incredible feeling builds and I come and come and come. “Oh fuck!” I shout as I cross that threshold to bliss over and over until I’m completely spent.

  She collapses on my shoulder.

  I hold onto her tight without moving for the longest time and then, completely wiped out, I fall back on the bed. I can’t speak. The only words I manage are, “Holy fuck.”

  “Holy fuck is right,” she repeats.

  I burst out in laughter because when we were kids she never swore, and in the few times we’ve been together I have yet to hear her say “damn,” let alone “fuck.”

  She laughs too and collapses on my chest. Minutes later, her breathing slows and she’s fallen asleep.

  Outdoors the storm is still ravaging the streets. But in here, in my chest, that storm is at bay. With her safe in my arms, I close my eyes. And before I know it, I’m out like a light too.

  FUEL INJECTED

  Charlotte

  “IS THAT COFFEE I smell?” Jasper, hair wet from the shower, tucks the towel tighter around his lean hips and slides onto the stool at the breakfast bar.

  I’m wearing his T-shirt, which fits me perfectly. Well, not quite. It was a little large, so I tied a knot at the side. I’m wearing it because I can. Because I want to smell him. To wear what he was wearing. It’s crazy, I know, but I couldn’t help myself. I turn, coffee in hand, and set one of my aunt’s antique china cups in front of him. “French roast,” I say with a smile.

  “I’m sorry I have to run out so early to meet Alex, but I’ll make it up to you tonight by ordering in dinner at my place.”

  Not wanting to talk about tonight, tomorrow, or the day after that, I turn and pull the bread from the warmer. “I made some raisin toast. I know you have a breakfast meeting, but I think you should know I’m famous for my raisin bread.”

  “Famous, huh?”

  I nod and turn to face him. “It was my specialty at the bed-and-breakfast.”

  He bites down on his fist. “You look sexy as fuck.”

  I set the plate and my cup on the small counter separating us and then take a step back. “This ratty thing?” I joke. “It belongs to some guy I couldn’t keep my hands off last night.”

  With a raised brow, Jasper plays along. “I hope he is deserving of that kind of attention.”

  I circle the island. “Oh, he is.”

  Jasper swivels on the stool and pulls me between his legs. “Last night was . . . amazing”

  “It was,” I tell him, and then look for a reason not to kiss him like we’ve been lovers for years, but I can’t think of one. So I kiss him. I throw my arms around him and kiss him hard. Kiss him slow. Kiss him sweet. My shirt rises and exposes my frilly panties. The ones I wore for him. A simple black pair made entirely of lace. His h
ands are on them. In them. Ripping them down. And I’m still kissing him. Kissing him because although I don’t want to leave today, I have to. I have to leave . . . for now. Until he can clear his name. Me by his side will just make things worse. Harder. More difficult for him. And I can’t do that to him. I can’t.

  “I have to leave,” he breathes.

  “I know,” I tell him, pushing myself against him. “But you need your shirt, don’t you?” I tease.

  “I do,” he murmurs into my mouth.

  I step back. My tongue dips into the tiny well in the center of my bottom lip, wetting it. Offering it to him. “You’ll just have to come and get it.”

  His gaze falls to my mouth, watching, and his own lips part. “Is that a challenge?”

  I take another step back and shrug.

  His sexy smile sends tingles down to my toes. And then he darts for me. Leaping forward and reaching for me so quickly I barely have enough time to circle the table. “You’re fast,” he says with a grin.

  “I am,” I say, keeping more than an arm’s length away from him.

  “Just not fast enough,” he says, and he pounces and scoops me up, tossing me over his shoulder.

  I tug at his towel, pull it off, and slap his naked rear end. “Put me down.”

  Before I know it, he’s pushing the plates aside and setting me on the small counter. “Charlotte, you surprise me with your kinkiness.”

  I blink at him and laugh. “I’m really not kinky. Not at all. Really, I’m not.”

  Two hands lift my shirt. “Got it.”

  Even with the sunlight peeking in through the blinds his eyes have gone liquid. They are a dark, dark brown. All traces of gold are gone. He places his rough hands between my thighs. Parts them. He doesn’t look away from my eyes as he does.

  I draw in a breath. “What are you doing?” My voice sounds weak and hoarse, full of need.

  He smiles. Looks down at his hands. “I think you should know, every time you talk dirty it turns me on.”

  “Oh.”

  Jasper leans over me. Spreads my legs even wider. Slides his hands beneath my rear end and lifts me to his mouth. I am already wet. I have been perpetually wet in his presence. “Mmmm,” he groans, like I taste delicious.

  I gasp when he starts to suck me. Slow and soft. I cry out when he flutters his tongue, oh so softly, over and over. I find myself on the edge faster than I’ve ever been. Then I rock myself into his mouth, urging him on. His tongue jets inside me and I let go. My hands slap the polished marble, squeaking, and everything in the world is a rainbow. I shake and shudder, seeing bright colors. “Oh, Jasper,” I cry out.

  Jasper removes his hands from beneath me and stands straight. I pull him toward me and kiss him.

  He laughs into my mouth. “See what happens when you challenge me?”

  Bare-chested, barefoot, and bare all over, he is still giving me butterflies even after he had his hands all over my body. I stare at him. Lock this moment away to remember later when I’m gone. “Yes, you really showed me.”

  His hand cups the back of my neck and his tongue traces my lips like he wants to taste me just a little bit more. “Careful.”

  I push him to the side and hop off the counter. I walk over and pick his shirt up. Hand it to him. Start walking backwards down the hallway toward my bedroom. Pause. Flutter my eyelashes and say, “Is that a warning? Because I’m really scared.”

  Dropping his shirt to the ground, he growls and lunges for me.

  Turning quickly, I start to run but am laughing too hard to gain speed. Still, I make it all the way to my bedroom threshold before he catches me.

  We don’t get much farther than that.

  MORE TROUBLE

  Jasper

  THE HUDSON CAFE isn’t the same place I go to with the guys every Sunday. In fact, it isn’t even a diner.

  A classically trained French chef owns it, but he isn’t pretentious in the least. He’s actually a decent guy who believes in the importance of revitalizing downtown. Just by opening down here he has helped the rebirth of this area tremendously.

  Zooming into a parking place, I shut the engine off and get out of Jake’s car. Other than the color, it’s identical to mine, and so are Will’s and Drew’s. Four prototypes. Four machines of power that once replicated in mass production could change the way America thinks of automobiles—if only all of this shit would just go away.

  I shove the thought of that poor woman’s dead body and the mob of people who looked like they wanted to lynch me from my mind. I have to focus on moving forward and getting the plant up and running. With that I direct my attention back to Jake, who is still talking to me on the phone without noticing that I zoned out.

  “Besides your freedom-of-speech photo, the news also reported four arrests due to indecent protesting. What the hell is indecent protesting any—?”

  Done talking about last night, I cut him off. “Your meetings with the potential new investors on Monday are still on, right?”

  “Two have canceled.”

  “Fuck. How many does that leave?”

  “Three. But I have a few more leads I’ve reached out to. Don’t worry about it. I’m good at this. Let me handle it.”

  “Thanks, man, I know you are. And by the way, I’ll have the car back to you tomorrow night.”

  “It’s cool, Jasper—I already told you that Drew has agreed to be my bitch.”

  Unable to stop myself, I laugh as I part ways with Jake and walk into the café. It takes me a few seconds to spot Alex tucked away in the very back booth. In a sea of running clothes and jeans, the youngest mayor in Detroit’s history’s broad shoulders, navy suit, and white collar give him away.

  Alex spots me too and when he does, he lowers his reading glasses and tosses his menu aside.

  Not in any hurry, I slowly slide into the booth.

  Narrowing his eyes, he sets his glasses on the table. “You’re late.”

  I take a deep breath and pick up the menu to distract my fists from wanting to punch him in the face. “Yeah, well, your summons was a little last minute.”

  Reaching into his briefcase, he throws a newspaper on the table. “I assume you’ve seen this.”

  In black and white, front page and center, is the picture Jake just told me about on the phone. It’s of me flipping the bird to last night’s mob. It looks worse than Jake described. “Fuck me,” I mutter.

  Alex turns the page. “That’s not all.” On page two is a picture of Charlotte and me sitting at the corner booth in the restaurant we ate at last night.

  Jake never mentioned this one. I stare at it.

  Alex closes the paper and reaches for the carafe of orange juice. “Are you fucking her?”

  My eyes dart to his. “Watch it.”

  Unmoved by my threat, he pours a glass of juice and sips on it. “Come on, man, she’s the daughter of the guy who left your mother and so many others in this town high and dry. That doesn’t make for good news or goodwill.”

  As if by magic, the waiter appears and gives us some much needed cooling-down time. He has two coffees in his hands and sets them down. “Are you ready to order?”

  “Where’d Carly go?” Alex snaps.

  Is he fucking for real?

  “She had to go on break. Do you want to wait for her to return to order?”

  That stony stare turns icy. “No, I don’t want to wait. But in the future, let the manager know that when I request someone, I expect that’s who I will get for the entirety of my meal.”

  Such an arrogant ass.

  Alex’s sharp tone flusters the waiter, but he manages to take our order and leave the table without pissing his pants, so that’s a plus for him. Alex has a way with men that make them shake in their boots. Most men, that is. I’m not one of them, and that’s why he’s always trying to spar with me.

  Alex points to my neck. “You don’t have to answer my question. The hickey does it for you.”

  Ignoring him, I take a sip of
my coffee. “What is it you wanted to talk to me about? I’m sure it isn’t my sex life.”

  The lascivious grin pisses me off. This man knows how to push my buttons. “I called you here to help you out, believe it or not.”

  Curiosity gets the best of me and I lean forward. “I’m listening.”

  The ring on his finger shines bright against the black coffee cup clutched in his hand. “Yesterday, just before five, the back taxes on the old Laneworth Automotive Plant were paid off.”

  That gets my attention, because only Tom Worth or someone he appointed as his proxy could legally do that. No wait—that’s not the only person. Adam Lane’s next of kin would be able to as well. “By whom?”

  Before he can answer, the waiter is at our table setting our plates down. “Anything else?” he asks.

  “That’s enough. Just the check,” Alex snaps.

  “No, thank you,” I tell him, trying to soften Alex’s rude behavior.

  Once the waiter is gone, I stare at Alex. And wait for an answer.

  He unfolds his napkin and sets it on his lap. Peppers his egg-white omelet, then takes a bite of his turkey bacon.

  Feeling my palms turn clammy as my heart rate increases, I know better than to press. I have to wait him out. With each passing second of silence that stretches between us, I want to shout across the table for him to tell me. But I know Alex. I know his game. And that would only fuel his fire. He has to be in control. Always. So I sit here and wait. And say nothing more. Make like it’s no big deal. I even fork my ham and cheese omelet, although I have no intention of eating it. My appetite disappeared as soon as I sat down.

  Setting his fork down, he looks at me. “Her name is Tory Worth.”

  “Tom’s daughter?” I ask in shock, dropping my fork to the table with a clank.

  “One in the same. And she’s filed a petition to recover ownership, citing hardship on her father’s behalf.”

  “Does she actually have his proxy?”

  “No; that’s where it gets sticky.”

  “What’s that mean?”