“Didn’t want to turn you on too early in the night. Although, I can drive my truck instead of us catching a cab, if you’d like. Just in case.”
He doesn’t wink, doesn’t make any facial expression with the tease other than to smirk just a fraction more. But the memory of that first time fucking in his truck makes my neck heat, my core tighten.
I flick him off and shove past him before he’s on my heels, chuckling as he catches up.
“Where are we going?” I ask.
“Dancing.”
And then as if it’s the easiest thing in the world, as if I belong to him, as if he never left me or hurt me or pulverized my heart — he takes my hand in his and leads me to the waiting cab.
The Lemon Club is one known for its bustling nightlife, often hosting well-known DJs and never closing before four in the morning. It’s already bumping when we finally get through the line outside, and in the doors, orange and purple lights thumping with the music and fog filling the floor. Above us, aerial artists hang from hoops and silks, and all around us, girls and boys alike dance in go-go cages, their bodies moving in time with the heavy bass.
The club is packed, people squeezed in at the bar and dancing on every inch of the dance floor. Jarrett pulls me into a dark little corner before looking around with a mixture of amusement and annoyance.
Then, he slips his hand around my waist, tugging me closer.
Again, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.
My breath hitches at the contact, at the way it feels to be held by him after all these years, to have his hands on me, that familiar energy buzzing through my veins just with that simple contact. My traitorous body hums to life, pussy throbbing, nipples pebbling and aching for more.
I really am the fucking worst.
“Sorry it’s so loud in here,” he yells over the music, leaning in close enough to my ear that his warm breath brushes my lobe.
I swallow. “It’s okay!”
We stand there for a long moment, Jarrett dragging his gaze down the length of me, his jaw tight.
“You look incredible,” he says, and though I know he had to scream it for me to be able to hear, it feels like a weighted whisper in my ear.
“So do you,” I say, and it’s almost a pout — enough so that Jarrett chuckles and lifts a brow.
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
I offer a slight smile in lieu of answering that yes, it is a very bad thing. Because taking the summer away from him numbed my brain to the power he exudes over me. I’d forgotten his rugged, earthy scent, his thick, muscular arms, his devilish smirk, his dark, hypnotizing eyes. I’d forgotten what it felt like to be pinned by his gaze, to know without him saying a word that he wants me — desperately.
But with him standing right in front of me, his hand possessively holding my half-bare waist, I’m all too aware of everything I’d tried so hard to forget.
Jarrett’s expression is a little more solemn when he says, “It’s been excruciating staying away from you.”
I close my eyes, letting out a slow breath like it’ll somehow save me.
“Did it help?” he asks, leaning in even closer, his breath on my neck. “Did you find the space you needed to think?”
A wave of chills runs over me at the feeling of him being so close, and thinking is about the last thing I can do.
“Let’s dance,” I say instead of answering, and I grab his hand, pulling him deep into the middle of the dance floor.
I know immediately that it was a mistake.
I didn’t want to talk, didn’t want to answer his questions, didn’t want to look him in the eyes and admit that I’m more confused than ever. I didn’t want to confess that I still love him, that just like he told me — I never stopped. Because I also love his brother, and it just doesn’t seem fair or right or sane for both of those things to be true.
But now that we’re on the dance floor, his hands snaking around my waist and pulling my back flush to his chest, I realize that talking or crying or literally anything else would be safer than this.
The music seems louder out here — thicker, heavier, like a physical presence pulling both of us in. Jarrett grabs my hip hard with one hand, the other splaying over my midriff, and then he’s moving us, hips swaying slowly at first before finding the beat.
We haven’t even had a drink yet. I can’t blame it on the alcohol that the moment his body lines up flush with mine, I moan, biting my lip and letting my head fall back against his chest. I reach one hand up to hook behind his neck, the other covering his hand where it spreads across my stomach. Lights pulse overhead, blinding me from time to time as we dip and sway and move together.
It’s intoxicating, that buzz of desire that shoots through me with every new touch. His hand moves from my hip to my thigh, and I gasp. His other hand slides up just an inch, his thumb pressing into the hollow space between my breasts, and I arch my back, grinding my ass against him.
He’s hard as a fucking diamond, and the way he rolls that impressive length against me, I know he couldn’t care less about me or anyone else in this club knowing it.
“Your costume is very fitting,” he rumbles in my ear, sucking the lobe of it between his teeth. “My little witch, spinning her web, keeping me under her spell.”
His words stroke me like expert fingertips, and I grind against him more, grabbing his hand and moving it up until it fully palms my breast. His moan is guttural, a menacing growl as he bites down on my neck like it’s the only thing he can do to keep his composure now that he’s touching me.
In front of everyone.
But who cares? Who’s looking? And even if they are, maybe I want them to. Maybe I need to feel this connection again, to remember what we had, to let myself have everything I once took for granted like I never lost it at all.
It’s selfish and fucked up, but I can’t find it in me to care.
Before I can talk myself out of it, before the angel on my shoulder can get a peep out, I whip around in Jarrett’s arms, crushing my mouth to his.
He catches the kiss with intention, one hand coming to the back of my head to hold me there. My witch hat flies off in the process, which only gives him permission to fun his fingertips more through my hair, to grab the back of my skull and kiss me like it’s his chance to mark me, to claim me for good.
His arm wraps around me like a boa, squeezing tight, holding me to him so I can feel every breath, every muscle, every inch of his rock-hard length. And the moment our lips meet, I feel every memory rush back in a furious wave.
I remember that first time in his truck, and that last time in the hotel — the time I didn’t realize would be our last. I remember him caring for me when I was sick, remember him taking all my friends out for dinner, remember how every time his fingertips ran along my skin, my entire body came to life. I remember how fiercely I loved him.
And how utterly destroyed I was when he left me.
I wince against the pain that memory brings, and Jarrett seems to sense it, because he kisses me harder, slicking his tongue along my lips until I open up and let him inside. We both moan, and I press up on my toes to get more, Jarrett’s hand sliding along my ass, my thigh until he hooks his hand behind my knee and hikes my leg up.
The kiss is deep and bruising, tied up with emotions of love and lust and pure fucking hatred. Slowly, we start to move again, grinding to the beat with his thigh between my legs and my dress hiked up over where he holds me in place. All of my weight is in his arms. I have no choice but to move the way he dictates, to sway the way his hands tell me to, to rub where he wants me to rub.
Holding me steadfast with one arm around the small of my back, he snakes the other one between us, sliding up my hiked leg along the tender skin of my inner thigh.
I shiver, barely breathing the words, “What are you doing?”
His only answer is a wicked grin, and then his fingertips slide up and up, higher and higher, dangerously close to where I k
now I’m slick for him.
Suddenly, the music is too loud. We’re too close. The kiss is too hard. My heart pounds in my chest in a warning, reminding me how much this man hurt me, reminding me how dangerous it is to play with a fire that burns so fucking cruelly.
I snap back away from his mouth, shoving my hands into his chest and pushing with all my might until he has no choice but to let me go. I stumble backward once he no longer carries my weight, but I don’t take more than a second to watch the stunned look on his face before I’m squeezing through the crowd, running over anyone who doesn’t move at the first muttered excuse me.
I have to get out of here. I can’t do this to Kade. I can’t do this to myself.
I want him.
I want him so fucking bad it hurts.
And I love him.
I still fucking love him.
Tears sting my eyes, not just at the admission, but at the realization that the love I have for him burns just as hot as the love I have for Kade.
Someone will end up broken.
The someone who deserves it most is me.
I push and shove and tear through the thick crowd until I finally push outside, stumbling over my heels in the process. But I catch my footing, straighten my dress, fix my hair and strut on once I’m on the sidewalk. Sniffing, I keep my eyes focused forward.
I have no idea where I’m going, but I know I can’t stay still.
I hear him calling my name after a moment — softly at first before he’s jogging up and hooking my elbow to rip me around. I expect to find anger, to find a man who was cock-teased and is now pissed off about it.
What I find breaks me even more.
Jarrett must have removed the stupid red contacts he was wearing, because his natural dark brown ones are flicking between mine, brows furrowed over top of them as he searches me for where I’m hurt. There’s nothing but care and concern and pure fucking love, and it instantly makes those tears I’ve been holding back build and rush over before I have the chance to stop them.
“What’s wrong? Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”
I laugh at that last question, which makes him frown more. Slowly, tentatively, he pulls me into him, wrapping me in a soft, sincere hug. He holds me like that for a long while, and I just let the tears come, let them soak his tunic and the street we stand on.
“Yes,” I finally breathe. “You did hurt me.”
With my head on his chest, I see the way his throat hollows out, the way a thick swallow strains his neck. I pull back, breaking all contact and swiping at my face before I fold my arms over my middle and stand a few feet away from him. It’s far from fall in Florida, no matter what the date on the calendar, but the nights are cooler than they were before, and the breeze chills me to the bone as I look around at the people laughing and talking as they walk by us — oblivious to the turmoil raging inside me.
“You hurt me worse than anyone ever has in my entire life,” I continue. “I loved you, Jarrett. I trusted you. I gave you everything I had to give. I put up with the long distance and the lack of communication because I knew, at the end of the day, that I wanted you — no matter the cost.”
I sniff, more tears building in my eyes that I refuse to let fall.
“And then you tossed me to the side.”
Jarrett shakes his head, pain etched in his features as he reaches for me, but I pull away.
“You did. You let them get in your head, let other people convince you I was crazy. You left me like some silly part of your past.”
“It was a mistake,” he says quickly. “The worst fucking mistake I’ve ever made. I was stupid. I was wrong.”
“All I wanted was for you to come back,” I admit on a strained whisper, rolling my lips together and shaking my head. “And now that you have, I hate that I wished for it.”
Jarrett tries reaching for me again, but I flinch away.
“I wish you’d have stayed gone. I wish you’d have never shown back up and turned my life upside down as soon as I figured out how to right it again.”
“No, you don’t.”
I cry at his words, covering my face and forcing a breath to stop the tears as much as I can before crossing my arms and lifting my chin to face him again. I don’t want to break, but goddamnit if he doesn’t undo me.
“I never left you.”
I laugh under my breath, but Jarrett moves in closer. I back away, but he doesn’t relent. He just keeps closing the space until my back is against a brick wall and his chest is touching mine.
“You’ve always had me and you know it — just like I’ve always had you.”
I swallow, staring at him through bleary eyes, but already I can feel it — my pulse quickening, thighs tightening, head pounding as every molecule of my body swirls at the way it feels to be watched by him.
“This?” he says, gesturing between us. “What we have? It’s elemental. It’s… transcendental. It doesn’t matter what happens, what mistakes we make, how much time we have apart or who might come between us.”
He shakes his head, stepping into me more, his entire body pressing against mine as his hands snake up my arms, over my neck, up my jaw to cradle my face between them.
“It’s always going to be us, Jess.” He licks his lips. “For me, it’s always going to be you.”
His mouth is on me in the next second, stealing any response I had.
And I let him take it.
Let him take all of me.
We’re in a cab back to my place less than sixty seconds later.
Hands.
Hands everywhere.
Grabbing my hips, my thighs, my ass, my back, my neck. Gripping my hair. Shredding my clothes.
And lips.
Lips everywhere.
On my mouth, my breasts, my neck, the sensitive skin along my inner thighs.
I might as well be drunk, or high, or in a fucking meditative state for how time passes, how I lose track of everything as that man sweeps me away to a universe all his own.
It’s all a sensory-overdrive blur until the moment he rips his briefs down.
He’s already on the prowl for me, crawling his way up the bed where I wait for him propped against the pillows. Before he can reach me, I press my toes into his chest, pushing back until he’s on his knees so I can get a good, long look.
A good, long, hard look.
A good, long, hard, perfectly shaped, perfectly thick, perfectly mine look.
Jarrett crooks a smile, tilting his head a bit. “Someone likes what they see.”
“Someone hasn’t seen it in far too long.”
In a feat of movement my brain can’t comprehend, Jarrett flips me onto my back, stands at the edge of the bed, and grabs me under the arms to drag me until my head hangs off the mattress.
“Maybe someone should taste it,” he husks, carefully moving my hair from my face and gently, tenderly tilting my head until my throat is long and exposed, head hanging completely off the bed.
Jesus fucking Christ.
He doesn’t wait for my smartass answer that I’m sure he knows I have on the tip of my tongue. Instead, he grabs his cock and presses it to my lips, arching a brow and slicking his tip along them until I grant him entrance.
The gentleness is gone.
He presses inside before I’m ready, slicking himself with my saliva as I force a breath and open my throat wide so as not to gag. He curses when he’s fully inside me, and then he’s palming my breasts, pulling out again only to slide back in nice and slow.
I kind of wish I had his view, kind of wish I could see his dick bulging in my throat, my tits under his hands, my thighs spread, body writhing with need.
This is what he does to me.
This is that elemental, carnal connection he was referring to.
It’s the most powerful high.
“Goddamnit, Jess. Do you know how many nights I’ve laid awake thinking about this, about you?” he asks, withdrawing just to push inside my throat once more. “Do
you know how badly you’ve ruined me for any other woman, how dull and lifeless their touch is compared to yours?”
I threaten with a little bit of teeth when he mentions other women, and it makes him yelp a little before he chuckles, pulling all the way out and yet again flipping me on the bed. He picks me up—
Picks. Me. Up.
And throws me into the pillows, dropping down on top of me before the mattress has even adjusted to the weight. He kisses me hard and long, our teeth clashing, and then he’s trailing little bites and sucks of skin all the way down.
Before I can prepare for it, he drags the flat of his tongue along my slick pussy, groaning as he laps up my desire. “Fuck, I never forgot how much I loved breakfast in bed with you.”
“It’s nighttime,” I remind him.
“It’s after midnight, technically. And besides,” he adds with a quirk of his brow. “Haven’t you ever had breakfast for dinner?”
He steals my breath to answer with another lash of his tongue, and then his fingers are spreading me wide, creating better access for him to tease and suck my clit.
It’s fire and ice, my body heating to unbearable temperatures before a chill shudders through me, over and over again.
He knows just how to lick me, suck me, touch me.
And I know before we even get there that he knows just how to fuck me, too.
For a split second, a flash of guilt surges in my stomach. It’s so fierce I sit up and grab Jarrett, but then it’s gone, replaced by the hunger raging through me as Jarrett takes that as his cue that I’ve had enough foreplay and am ready for him to be inside me.
He answers the plea by grabbing my ass and pulling me toward him, and then he pushes my feet toward my face, like I’m doing the fucking happy baby yoga pose.
“Hold on,” he says, waiting until I grab my feet — literally the yoga pose.
Then, he presses up onto his knees, grabs the condom I didn’t realize he’d slapped on the bedside table, and rolls it on.
“Spread,” he commands, and I pull harder on my feet, opening myself completely. I mean, there is no more vulnerable position for me to be in. I’m spread with my vagina just waiting there, catching a draft, my legs restrained by my own strength like a good little girl.
Greek: A New Adult College Romance (Palm South University Book 7) Page 12
