Shortcake disappeared into the kitchen, washed her hands and returned. Coming up to me, she wrapped her arms around my waist and pressed her cheek against my chest. Her skin was warm.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“Why are you apologizing?” I folded my arms around her, holding her close.
“Because I know you’re worried,” she said, rubbing her cheek along my skin. “And I know this injury is serious. I just hope it’s not as serious as it can be.”
I dropped a kiss to the top of her head as I slid my hand up her spine, cradling the back of her neck. “Me too.”
She was quiet for a few moments. “Thank you.”
Laughing softly, I leaned back so I could see her face. “Now what are you thanking me for, sweetheart?”
“Thank you for going to Texas with me.”
I cupped her cheek with one hand. “You’ve already thanked me for that.”
“And you told me that I didn’t need to thank you.” She placed her hand over mine. “But I need to thank you again, because I wouldn’t have done it without you.”
“Yes, you would’ve.”
She shook her head. “Maybe I would’ve, but I don’t really know. I needed you there and you were there, no questions asked. I can’t thank you enough for that—for everything.”
“Oh, Shortcake, you still don’t have to thank me.”
“But I . . .” She stopped, frowning. “Shortcake?”
I opened my mouth and then realized my slip. Dropping my hands, I stepped back and laughed. “Did I say that out loud?”
“Yeah. You kind of did.” She tugged on the hem of the borrowed shirt. Curiosity filled her face. “What’s up with that?”
Fuck me, but I felt my cheeks start to burn.
Her eyes widened as she smiled. “You’re blushing! Oh my God, you’re actually blushing!” She pinched my cheek. “I need to know now why you’re so flushed.”
“What do I get if I tell you?”
She pinned me with an arched look that said what I wouldn’t get if I didn’t tell her. That pissy look turned me on. Then again, when she breathed, it made me hot.
“It’s really kind of stupid.” Catching her hand, I pulled her back to me. Once she was close enough, I dipped low and slid an arm under her legs.
“Hey!” She smacked my back. “Stop trying to distract—” She squealed as her feet went off the floor. “Cam!”
Picking her up, I held her close to my chest as I turned toward the hallway. “I’m not distracting you. I’m helping you back to the bedroom.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Besides the fact that I don’t need help going back to the bedroom, why are you carrying me back to the bedroom?”
“You don’t walk fast enough,” I told her as I carried her to her bed. “Hey.”
Her look grew exasperated. “What?”
I winked a second before I dropped her over the middle of the bed. Her squeal ended in a grunt as she bounced. Her mouth opened, and I knew she was about to cuss me every way but straight. I was on her before she could start what she was about to say, sliding my hands up under the hem of the shirt. In a second I had it off her and she was beautifully, magnificently bare. I shucked off my pants.
Her breath leaked out of her as I climbed onto the bed, admiring my handiwork. “So,” she said, her voice soft. “What about this Shortcake business?”
“Well, it’s a nickname.” I kissed the space between her breasts. “For you.”
“That much I figured.”
I placed another kiss along the underside of one breast and then below her rib cage. “I came out with it the first time I met you.”
“The first—oh!” She jerked as I tongued her navel, clenching the covers on her bed. When she spoke again, her voice was husky as I moved down. “The first time we met?”
“Yep.” I kissed the inside of her left thigh and then the right. “It was the day you ran into me outside of astronomy class—a class you need to retake.”
Shortcake groaned. “Don’t remind me.”
I didn’t know if she was talking about the class or the running into me part. “When I first saw you and your hair . . .” I paused, kissing her between her legs. Her soft gasp brought a smile to my face. “All I could think was that Strawberry Shortcake . . .” I paused once more, running my tongue the length of her. “That Strawberry Shortcake had run me off.”
She laughed as I lifted my head, prowling back up so that we were eye level. “Wow. I don’t understand how your brain works.”
“You love it.”
“I do.” She slid her foot along my calf. “So you’ve been calling me Shortcake in your head all this time?”
I nodded as I settled between her legs. “I might have . . . a few times.”
“And you never slipped until now. Wow. That’s kind of amazing.” Her eyes danced with humor. “And it’s kind of cute.”
“It’s definitely cute. It’s—” I groaned as she rolled her hips up, joining us together. “Well then . . .”
She giggled and then neither of us were laughing or talking. I let out a ragged moan at the tight fit. I lost sense of everything except her body and I wanted to be deeper, closer. We moved together, our bodies flushed and straining. It was crazy, but I couldn’t get enough of her. It appeared the same for her. My mouth closed around her breast as I thrust into her. She matched me move for move until she arched her back, crying out.
Her release slammed into me. Gathering her close, I sat up, keeping her in my lap. The new position had lust zinging through me. I couldn’t last. Not when her little teeth scraped over my neck.
Minutes went by where all that could be heard was the sound of our ragged breathing. I was still inside her. There was a peace in this completion. And I held everything in my arms.
Later, much later, we sat on the bed with the plate of chocolate cookies between us. A tiny smudge of chocolate ended up on her lips and I leaned over the plate, kissing it away.
And well, I kissed her for real.
I kissed her, and it was like kissing her for the very first time. The initial zap, the shock of our lips together hadn’t faded. Dumbly I realized that love made it that way, making sure that a simple kiss never dulled, never lost its luster.
My chest swelled as I pulled back and stared into her warm eyes and my heart did that crazy, stupid jumping thing. Something I also knew would never truly go away.
Shortcake placed her small hand on my cheek. “What?”
At first I didn’t know what to say. I . . . I had waited for Avery—I had waited for her for months. Hell, I would’ve waited for her for years, but she . . .
Turning my cheek, I pressed a kiss to the inside of her palm. “Thank you for trusting in me.”
Ready for more?
Read on for a sneak peek at the next fabulous story from J. Lynn
BE
with me
One
Sweet tea was apparently going to be the death of me. Not because it contained enough sugar that it could send you into a diabetic coma after one slurp. Or because my brother had nearly caused a triple-car pileup by winging the truck around in a sharp U-turn after receiving a text message that contained two words only.
Sweet. Tea.
Nope. The request for sweet tea was bringing me face-to-face with Jase Winstead, the physical embodiment of every girly-girl fantasy and then some, outside of campus, and in front of my brother.
Oh sweet Mary mother of all the babies in the world, this was going to be awkward.
Why, oh why did my brother have to text Jase and mention that we were at his end of town and ask if he needed anything? He was supposed to be taking me around so I could get familiar with the scenery. Although the scenery I was about to witness was sure to be better than what I’d been seeing of this county.
If I saw another strip club, I was going to hurt someone.
Cam glanced over at me as he sped down the back road. We’d left Route 9 years ago. His gaze dropped from my face to the tea I clutched in my hands. He raised a brow. “You know, Teresa, you could put that in a cup holder.”
I shook my head. “It’s okay. I’ll hold it.”
“Okay.” Cam drew the word out, focusing on the road.
I was acting like a spaz and I needed to play it cool. The last thing anyone in this world needed was Cam finding out why I had reason to act like a dweeb on crack. “So, um, I thought Jase lived up by the college?”
That sounded casual, right? Oh God, I was pretty sure my voice had cracked at some point during that not-so-innocent question.
“He does, but he spends most of his time at his father’s farm.” Cam slowed his truck down and hung a sharp right. Tea almost went out the window, but I had a death grip on it. Tea was going nowhere. “You remember Jack, right?”
Of course I did. Jase had a five-year-old brother named Jack, and I knew the little boy meant the world to him. I obsessively remembered everything I’d ever learned about Jase in a way I imagined Justin Bieber fans did about him. Embarrassing as that sounded, it was true. Jase, unbeknownst to him and the entire world, had come to mean a lot of things to me in the last three years.
A friend.
My brother’s saving grace.
And the source of my crush.
But then a year ago, right at the start of my senior year in high school, when Jase had tagged along with Cam and visited home, he’d become something very complicated. Something that a part of me wanted nothing more than to forget about—but the other part of me refused to let go of the memories of his lips against mine or how his hands had felt skimming over my body or the way he had groaned my name like it had caused him exquisite pain.
Oh goodness . . .
My cheeks heated behind my sunglasses at the vivid memory and I turned my face to the window, half tempted to roll the window down and stick my head out. I so needed to pull it together. If Cam ever discovered that Jase had kissed me, he would murder him and hide his body on a rural road like this one.
And that would be a damn shame.
My brain emptied of anything to say and I so needed a distraction right now. The perspiration from the tea and my own trembling hands were making it hard to hold on to the cup. I could’ve asked Cam about Avery and that would’ve worked, because Cam loved talking about Avery. I could’ve asked about his classes or started talking about mine, but all I could do was think about the fact that I was finally going to see Jase in a situation where he couldn’t run away from me.
The thick trees on either side of the road started to thin out and through them, green pastures became visible. Cam turned onto a narrow road. The truck bounced on the potholes, making my stomach queasy.
My brows lowered as we passed between two brown poles. A chain link lay on the ground and off to the left was a small wooden sign that read WINSTEAD: PRIVATE PROPERTY. A large cornfield greeted us, but the stalks were dry and yellow, looking as if they were days away from withering up and dying. Beyond them, several large horses grazed behind a wooden fence that was missing many of its middle panels. Cows roamed over most of the property to the left, fat and happy looking.
As we drew closer, an old barn came into view. A scary old barn, like the one in The Texas Chain Saw Massacre, complete with the creepy rooster compass thing swiveling on the roof, and several yards beyond the barn was a two-story home. The once-white walls were gray, and even from the truck I could tell there was more paint peeling off than there was on the house. Blue tarp covered several sections of the roof and a chimney looked like it was half crumbling. Red dusty bricks were stacked along the side of the house, as if someone had started to repair the chimney but grew bored and gave up. There was also a cemetery of broken-down cars behind the barn, a sea of rusted-out trucks and sedans.
Shock rippled through me as I sat up a bit straighter. This was Jase’s farm? For some reason, I pictured something a little more . . . up-to-date?
Cam parked the truck a few feet back from the barn and killed the engine. He glanced over at me, following my stare to the house. Unlocking his seat belt, he sighed. “His parents have had a really hard time. Jase tries to help with the farm and stuff, but as you can see . . .”
The farm needed more help than Jase could provide.
I blinked. “It’s . . . charming.”
Cam laughed. “It’s nice of you to say that.”
My fingers tightened around the cup in defense. “It is.”
“Uh-huh.” He flipped his baseball cap around, shielding his eyes. Tufts of brown hair poked out from the back rim.
I started to speak, but movement out of the corner of my eyes caught my attention.
Racing out from the side of the barn, a little boy seated in a miniature John Deere tractor hooted and hollered, his chubby arms bone straight, his hands gripping the steering wheel, and a mop of curly brown hair shining under the bright August sun. Pushing the tractor from behind was Jase, and even though I could barely hear him, I was sure that he was making engine noises. They bounced along the uneven gravel and ground; Jase laughed as his little brother shouted, “Faster! Go faster!”
Jase appeased his brother, pushing the tractor so it zigged and zagged to a stop in front of the truck as Jack squealed, still clenching the steering wheel. Plumes of dust flew into the air.
And then Jase straightened.
Oh man, my mouth dropped open. Nothing in this world could’ve made me look away from the splendor before me.
Jase was shirtless and his skin glistened with sweat. I wasn’t sure what ethnicity he had in his family background. There had to be something Spanish or Mediterranean, because he had a naturally tan skin tone that remained that way all year round.
As he walked around the tractor, his muscles did fascinating things. His pecs were perfectly formed and his shoulders were broad. He had the kind of muscles one got from lifting bales of hay and tossing them places. Boy was ripped. His stomach muscles tensed with each step. He had a very distinctive six-pack. Totally touchable. His jeans hung indecently low—low enough that I wondered if he had on anything underneath the faded denim.
It was the first time I saw the full extent of his tattoo. Ever since I’d known him, I’d caught glimpses of it peeking out from his collar on his left shoulder and from under a shirtsleeve. I never knew what it was until now.
The tat was massive—an endless knot shaded in deep black, starting at the base of his neck, looping and twisting over his left shoulder and halfway down his arm. At the bottom, two loops opposite one another reminded me of snakes.
It was a perfect fit for him.
A flush spread across my cheeks and traveled down my throat as I dragged my gaze back up, mouth dry as the desert.
Sinewy muscles in his arms flexed as he pulled Jack out of the driver’s seat, lifting him into the air above his head. He spun around in a circle, laughing deeply as Jack shrieked and flailed.
Ovaries go boom.
He sat Jack down on the ground as Cam opened the driver’s-side door, yelling something at his friend, but I had no idea what he said. Jase straightened again, dropping his hands to his hips. He squinted as he stared into the truck.
Jase was absolutely gorgeous. You couldn’t say that about a lot of people in real life. Maybe celebrities or rock stars, but it was rare to see someone as stunning as he was.
His hair was a mess of rich russet waves falling into his face. His cheekbones were broad and well defined. Lips were full and could be quite expressive. A hint of stubble shaded the strong curve of his jaw. He didn’t have dimples like Cam or me, but when he did smile, he had one of the biggest, most beautiful smiles I’d ever seen on a guy.
He wasn’t smiling right now.
Oh no, he was staring into the truck with a searing intensity.
Parched as I was, I took a sip of the sweet tea as I stared through the windshield, absolutely enthralled by all the baby-making potential on display before me. Not that I was in a hurry to make babies, but I could totally get behind some practice runs. At least in my fantasies.
Cam eyed me and made a face like I’d lost my damn mind. I might have. “Dude, that’s his drink.”
“Sorry.” I flushed, lowering the cup. Not that it mattered. Wasn’t like Jase and I hadn’t swapped spit before.
On the other side of the windshield, Jase mouthed the word shit and spun around. Was he going to run away? How dare he? I had his sweet tea!
In a hurry, I unhooked my seat belt and pushed open the door. My foot slipped out of my flip-flop and because Cam just had to have a redneck truck, one that was feet off the ground, there was a huge difference between where I was and where the ground was.
I used to be graceful. Hell, I was a dancer—a trained, damn good dancer—and I had the kind of balance that would make gymnasts go green with envy. But that was before the torn ACL, before my hopes of dancing professionally ended when I came down from a jump wrong. Everything—my dreams, my goals, and my future—had been over in an instant.
And I was about to eat dirt in less than a second. There was no stopping it.
I reached out to catch the door, but came up short. The foot that was going to touch the ground first was connected to my bum leg and it wouldn’t hold my weight. I was going to crash and burn in front of Jase and end up with tea all over my head.
As I started to fall, I hoped I would land on my face, because then at least I wouldn’t have to see his expression.
Out of nowhere, two arms shot out and hands landed on my shoulders. One second I was horizontal, halfway fallen out of the truck, and the next I was vertical, both feet dangling in the air for a second. And then I was standing, the cup of tea clutched to my chest.
“Good God, you’re going to break your neck,” a deep voice rumbled. “Are you okay?”