J.C. and the Bijoux Jolis (Blueberry Lane 3 - The Rousseaus #3)

The sound of brakes screeching would have made her lurch forward even if he hadn’t suddenly come to a stop on a dime by the side of the road. He snapped the gearshift into “Park” and turned to her.

“Listen up, Libitz,” he said, his eyes boring into hers as his chest rose and fell rapidly, his eyes focused fiercely on hers. “Any way you slice it, you’re using him to get away from me. You know it, and I know it.”

“So what?” she demanded, blinking her burning, confused eyes at him. “Why is that wrong?”

“Because it just is!” He reached for her head, cupping the back of her skull with his hand as he yanked her closer. “Because this…us…is right.”

She didn’t fight him when he kissed her, his tongue invading her mouth to mate with hers the moment their lips connected. Whatever was wrong between them, their physical connection was so undeniably strong, she couldn’t force herself to push him away. She didn’t want to. She didn’t know how. And she was so tired of fighting her attraction to him, shutting down her thoughts of him, and pushing away her growing feelings for him. Falling for him wasn’t something she’d planned; it was just something that had happened…and she’d never felt so helpless about anything else in her entire fucking life.

“It scares me too,” he murmured, his lips hot on her neck, his teeth biting her earlobe and making her gasp, then whimper. “I can’t stop thinking about you, Lib. I’ve tried, but I can’t…”

She reached for his face, cradling his cheeks and demanding his lips once again. His free hand groped at her shirt, slipping inside the thin silk, under the lace of her bra to cover her breast with his hand as he had when they’d kissed in the moonlight at Kate’s wedding. She didn’t push him away. She arched her back, filling his hand with the small mound of flesh and moaning when he rolled her erect nipple between his fingers.

Hot tears, uncharacteristic and unwelcome, burned her eyes as he ravaged her mouth, as he explored hidden depths, plundering hot, wet crevasses that felt branded by the intimacy of his touch, almost like she didn’t belong to herself anymore. Almost like she belonged to him.

“Lib…Lib…Lib…” he whispered. “We were made for this…”

She inhaled his breath, nipping at his bottom lip as he smoothed his hand back up from under her bra, leaving the taut points of her breasts longing for more of his touch.

Opening her eyes, she found his black and wide, fixed on hers, as hot as she’d expect, but surprisingly vulnerable.

“I’m not fucking you by the roadside,” he said between panted breaths. “The first time we fuck, it’s going to mean something.”

She gulped, the muscles at the crux of her thighs contracting with lust, the ice around her heart thawing as he said “mean something,” words she doubted he’d ever said to another woman.

“This is messy, Jean-Christian,” she murmured, using her fingers to clear away the moisture that had gathered at the edges of her eyes. “Really fucking messy.”

“It doesn’t have to be.” He rubbed at her cheek with his thumb, the touch tender, almost reverent.

“We can’t be reckless.” She reached for his hand and pulled it away. “There’s too much at stake here.”

“I know,” he whispered, leaning back in his seat, his eyes still holding hers, pleading with hers. “Don’t sleep with Neil.”

She winced, shifting away from him as she straightened her bra and blouse. Taking a deep breath, she backhanded her slick lips before looking at him. Honestly, she had no idea what to say. She exhaled slowly as she gazed at him.

“Let’s just…see what happens.” How she managed to muster a small smile wasn’t totally clear to her. Maybe it was just because she was staring into his eyes, and in their depths—deep, deep in the forest-green wilds of them—she saw something that felt a little bit like hope. “Deal?”

***

“Deal.”

But he felt unsettled. The idea of her fucking Neil on Monday night was going to eat him up inside.