“Not now,” Jase snapped. He’d stopped moving in her, and oh...oh...dying here!
Do not writhe on him.
“Yes, now,” Beck said. “Nothing I’ve done has helped.”
“I should take her home,” she managed, her tone breathless, her inner walls clamping on his finger. Inside she wept.
Gritting his teeth, gaze still locked on Brook Lynn, Jase called, “Give me five minutes.”
“I don’t think we have five minutes. I’m predicting a murder-suicide in less than one.” But the door whooshed shut.
Slowly Jase withdrew his finger, and she had to bite her tongue to stop her moan of remorse. As she watched, he put the finger in his mouth and sucked; this time she couldn’t stop her moan from escaping—this one of ultimate pleasure.
“I like the taste of you,” he said. “Pure, sweet honey.”
Shivers danced through her.
“I don’t want you to go,” he said, expression one of absolute torture.
“It’s for the best.” Maybe. Probably. If she stayed, she wasn’t sure what would come of the make-out session. Would he stop short like the other night? Or would they go all the way? And if they did, would he ever want her again?
Might as well end on a positive note, eager for more of each other.
He pursed his lips. “Why?”
“Because. Just because.” After all, this was a war for his affections, not just a single battle. She refastened her shorts and stood to shaky legs. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Jase.”
A pause.
“Tomorrow, Brook Lynn.”
There was a promise of something in his tone. But exactly what he was promising, she didn’t know.
*
JASE HAD DEALT with his fair share of hard-ons throughout the years, but never one so determined to hang on for dear life. It wanted Brook Lynn, and absolutely no one else would do—not even his own hand. The knowledge panicked him. Made him realize just how dependent on her he’d become.
He remembered the way she’d begged him for more...please, more...the way he’d craved those pleas like a starving man craved food. Remembered thinking, I will die without this...without her.
No. Hell, no. He couldn’t allow himself to depend on anyone like that.
He’d made a huge tactical error, he realized. He should have taken her while he’d had the chance, that first night inside his bedroom. He would have already moved on. Surely.
When she arrived for work the next morning, she told him the day’s affirmation—Today I will gladly share my expertise and advice with others, for there are no sweeter words than “I told you so”—as he handed her a shopping list, cash and keys to his car.
“You’re on your own today, honey.” He needed distance. Perspective.
She gaped at him. “Uh, o-kay.”
He strode outside to clean the gutters. She followed him out, only to stand in place for a long while, watching him, her mouth opening and closing, as if she had plenty more to say to him but didn’t quite know where to begin. Finally, she left, and though he’d expected to be able to breathe again, he felt more oxygen-deprived than ever.
The weather. Had to be the weather. Though it was 8:00 a.m., it was already wretchedly hot. The temperature would probably top one hundred and five today. But it won’t even come close to how hot I am for that girl.
Have to resist. It’s for the best, just as she said.