Chapter 8
Jealousy Makes for Stupid
Josh was going to hell. No ifs, ands, or buts about it.
He had dragged Lexi onto the dance floor so he could strut his stuff and impress her for reasons that weren’t entirely clear.
In the past, when he’d pulled shit like this, it was because dancing opened bedroom doors without him having to try too hard, and he’d taken full advantage.
But that wasn’t his aim at the moment. Or was it?
He’d solve that mystery later. Right now his second reason for going to hell stared him in the face. He had “accidentally” bumped into Neil, the grand wizard of douchebaggery.
Wait. Hold on just a second. What the actual fuck?
The creep had had his hands all over some chick’s ass—a different one from the woman he’d lit out after, and the sight had raised Josh’s blood to a boiling point.
Neil was a manwhore opportunist of epic proportions who needed to stay the hell away from Lexi.
Why should Josh feel remorse for outing him?
Except Lexi’s feelings were involved, and he suspected those were fairly tender.
And now he was pressuring her to make Neil see green.
This had nothing to do with Neil and everything to do with the emotions ramping up inside Josh, some weird combination of desire and safeguarding.
His logical mind knew this on some level, yet primal instinct was taking control of his mind and body with its caveman grunts, and Josh was about to let it throw its weight around.
Which was why he was going to hell.
Lexi was a good girl, the girl next door, the girl you brought home to meet Mom.
The girl who listened to you bellyache about not having a contract and didn’t judge you, who made you feel better simply by giving you a safe zone where you could vent.
She probably baked apple pies and rescued kittens from storm drains too.
Lexi was that girl, which meant she was way out of his league.
She was also the kind of girl Josh never dated—not that he was dating her. Just pretending to. Sort of.
“Now let’s piss him off,” he whispered against the shell of her ear, taking a moment to sniff her skin. Damn, she smelled good. And that tender lobe of hers tempted him to pull it between his teeth and lick.
He sensed a shudder move through her entire body, and her shoulders grew rigid. His heart kicked up a notch. Was the trembling a result of him whispering in her ear? Had the action sent a thrill through her, or was she suddenly leery of him?
Shaking the dude up is what she wants, the little devil seated on his shoulder reasoned. And she was playing her part to a T, letting him hold her close like this, so she was obviously on board with the plan. Oh yeah, this was a terrific idea.
The guy with the horns pumped a fist in the air.
Now the angel on the other shoulder got into the act. Who knew he even had one of those? It’s a terrible idea, you idiot.
No, it’s selfless. I’m doing it for her sake.
The winged one snorted at him, and he told it to shut the fuck up.
And now Josh was looking at her like he wanted to kiss her—because he did want to kiss her—and she was staring right back, her orbs dark glimmering pools under the soft lights.
Questions danced there. Could she trust him to do right by her?
No, she couldn’t. He knew that; she didn’t.
But when she spared a nod of secret understanding and her lips parted ever so slightly, the invitation was clear.
He didn’t hesitate. The angel lifted off and zoomed away like a slapshot deflecting into the nosebleeds.
His mouth descended on hers in a kiss that started gently but quickly gathered heat. The sweet citrus smell of her engulfed him in an intoxicating cloud that went straight to his head and his crotch, making him reel inside. Logic and good sense followed on the heels of his conscience.
Her body grew pliant, leaning into his as the kiss accelerated. Her thumbs toyed with the unkempt curls at his nape, sending hot chills racing up and down his spine.
He nudged her mouth with his tongue, and she opened.
Licking into all that lushness, he sought out every sweet corner in a possessive claim.
He wanted to taste all of her. Pushing back, her tongue dueled his, sweeping into his mouth as she made an exploration of her own.
She sucked his tongue, twirled hers over it, then pulled in his bottom lip and nibbled.
Whoa! A good girl with a dirty, dirty mouth.
The kiss set fire to every part of his body, kindling a blaze in his blood as they stood on a packed dance floor, surrounded by jostling bodies, in their own world, their mouths fused.
Supercharged blood raced to his pants, making his cock lengthen and swell against his fly.
He held fast to a shred of control and kept his hands in the PG zone, even though his fingers itched to explore every dip and valley of her luscious body.
Lexi gently rocked her pelvis against his shaft—a slight motion no one could see but with enough friction to remind him it had been too damn long.
He answered that sweet siren’s call with a few restrained thrusts of his own as the music, the lights, and whoever-the-fuck they were trying to make jealous withdrew to the edges of his consciousness.
A little voice in his head piped up—neither devil nor angel this time—warning him to keep his body in check so he didn’t lose his load right then and there.
Damn! In an effort to dampen his rampaging lust, he tried to conjure stats from his last three seasons, but his needy dick demanded more, and if they hadn’t been surrounded by dozens of people, he might have taken Lexi right there on the floor …
a nearby table … the stage … the warm sand.
Lexi. Naked. In the sand.
Oh hell yeah!
Fortunately for them both, she still possessed her sanity, and she broke the kiss abruptly and pulled back, her breaths coming fast and furious.
His betraying eyes dropped to the exposed swell of her creamy breasts, and he wrestled back an overpowering urge to lick between them, to yank the fabric out of his way and feast.
“Josh?” Concern was clear in her tone and her expression.
God, he probably looked unhinged, feral. He certainly felt feral.
“Yeah,” he panted. “Um, I think we shook him up. We should go.” He didn’t bother to look in Neil’s direction, and he held Lexi’s chin so she couldn’t look either.
He managed to uncouple his body from hers, and though his brain cells had melted during that … that … whatever it was—because it wasn’t merely a kiss—he had enough sense left to pull her from the dance floor, back to the tree where he’d tossed their shoes.
Yay! Look at my brain coming back on board.
He turned to hand over her sandals. She stood gawking at him, hands on her hips. “What was that?” she demanded.
“A mistake. I’m sorry. I went too far.” He thrust the shoes at her, but she ignored him, so he let them dangle from his fingers by their slender straps.
With his free hand, he smoothed the back of his head where her fingertips had dug into his scalp only moments ago.
Leftover chills continued sparking in his veins.
“Why did you—”
He didn’t want to hear the outrage he deserved in her tone, so he ran over her. “I thought you wanted to make Neil jealous, and I figured that was a good way to do it.” Like the dumbass that I am.
“So that was an act?”
“Yes.” No.
Her chestnut brows cinched together. Anger—or hurt, he wasn’t sure—flared in her green depths, and he wished he could reel the word back because it was a lie. Yet as the effect she’d had on him continued to ebb, he decided her thinking it was one big fake was for the best.
Right?
The feel of her lips on his had rocked his world like no other kiss before it, but he couldn’t let her know that because … he had no idea why. His brain had yet to fire on all cylinders since every drop of blood in his body was currently in his dick, making it throb painfully behind his zipper.
She crossed her arms over her chest in a protective gesture that gutted him. “A … a mercy kiss then?”
“Yes.”
“That’s really what you were going for?”
“Yes.” Seriously, was this the only word in his vocabulary right now? It was the wrong one.
“Who does that?” She threw out her arm and whacked her hand against the tree trunk. “Ow!”
He made a move to take her hand in his and make sure she hadn’t hurt herself, but she waved him off with a growl. “Don’t.”
He held up his hand in surrender. “Sorry. I’m sorry about … all of this.” He was damn sorry he couldn’t haul her back to his room right now and find out what made her moan.
Holding her hand to her middle, she winced.
He held out his palm. “Let me take a look—”
“No! I’m fine!” As if to prove her point, she yanked her sandals from his grip.
Okay, then. “Lexi, I don’t want you thinking … There wasn’t any mercy anything we did on the d-dance floor,” he stammered. Why was he stammering? And pleading? And why had his grammar turned to shit? “That was …”
Incredible. Amazing.
“None of what we did just now was real, so just admit it already. Look, I am not a charity case. I’m a big girl who can make her own mistakes and recover from them by herself, thank you very much. And frankly, I’ve had it up to my eyeballs with men lying to me.”
Anger began to simmer in his gut. “Hold on a second. I didn’t lie. You wanted my help to make that asshole jealous, and against my own better judgment, that’s exactly what I did. I asked you if I could kiss you, remember? And you said yes.”
“You never asked, and I never said yes.”
“Not verbally. When you looked up at me out there, you let your eyes do all the talking for you.” God, that didn’t come out right at all. He sounded like a perv. “You didn’t push me away,” he pointed out, hoping he came off less creepy.
Apparently, she agreed he was a perv because she turned on her heel and huffed off down the beach toward the hotel.