Chapter 14
Fourteen
Lane
My breath catches when I see Luke striding toward us, the hard set of his shoulders and the smug grin curling his mouth has my stomach clenching. Four of his friends are flanking him like a pack of wolves. The tension in the air makes my skin prickle, goosebumps rising along my arms.
Jameson turns, placing himself between me and Luke, the solid weight of his body grounding me. A shield of warmth and reassurance.
Luke glares at us, eyes glazed over and bloodshot. For fucks sake. Is he drunk?
“I heard you’re already spreading your legs for the next guy,” Luke sneers, his tone dripping with false bravado.
Heat rises up my face, not from shame, from the attention his words are drawing. I peek around Jameson, biting my lip nervously when I see all the families who have stopped to watch the spectacle he’s creating.
“Luke, there are families around. Keep your voice down,” I plead, my pulse hammering in my ear.
“I think you should take your friends and walk away before you embarrass yourself further,” Jameson says, his voice calm but edged with danger. The vibration ripples through me, right down to my core.
“Come on, Luke,” Brett, one of his friends, mutters, tugging at his arm. “Now isn’t the time.”
Luke pushes him off and takes a step forward, his boots grinding gravel beneath them. “I don’t know who the fuck you think you are, but this is my town. I suggest you make your visit here brief.”
Jameson takes a slow, menacing step forward, his fists clenched at his side.
The cup of feed crumples beneath his fist, pieces falling to the ground at his feet.
“I'm the man who is going to make her cum tonight. I’m sorry you weren’t man enough to keep that job.
” Another step, his voice a blade wrapped in velvet. “Lucky for Lane, I am.”
His words hang in the humid air. Luke lunges forward, but his friends grab him, pulling him back.
He thrashes, fighting against their hold. “This isn’t fucking over!” He yells, his voice slicing through the night.
Eyes turn from Luke to us, and I shrink against Jameson, cheeks burning. I hate being the center of attention. I’ve spent years learning how to disappear.
Jameson turns, and gently lifts my chin, thumb sweeping across my jaw, eyes scanning mine. “Are you okay, Wildflower?”
I sink into his touch, my anxiety slipping away. “I’m fine. He’ll get bored eventually.”
“If he bothers you again, you call me.” His tone leaves no room for argument. To my surprise, I find comfort in his authority.
“Okay.”
He drapes his arm around my shoulder, tucking me close, and presses a kiss to the side of my head. His warmth seeps into me, settling my nerves.
He steers us back toward the rides and glowing game stalls. “Do you want to go home,” he murmurs, his breath warm against my ear, sending a chill up my spine. “Or stay and have some more fun?”
He’s giving me a choice. He doesn’t assume I’m weak and would want to go home, but he’s giving me the option. He’s giving me a choice.
My lips turn up in a small smile, heart squeezing just a little. “I want to stay.”
“Good girl,” he purrs, his breath fanning across my cheek. We stop in front of the Milk Bottle Baseball Toss, tilting his head toward the prizes. “Want to give it a try?”
I wince, remembering how many of my axes landed outside of the target. “I don’t think so. You saw how well I did with ax-throwing. Chances are, I’ll hit some random person in the head.”
He chuckles, rich and warm, the sound wrapping around me like a warm blanket. “Alright, Wildflower. Pick a prize, and I’ll win it for you.”
I point at a giant sloth dangling overhead. “Think you can manage that, hotshot?”
He hands the attendant a few dollars and picks up a ball, testing its weight. He gives me a slow, teasing smirk. His bicep flexes, straining under the cotton of his shirt as he pulls his arm back and lets the baseball fly through the air. All three bottles topple in one smooth, powerful motion.
Laughter bubbles out of me, gleeful and unrestrained. Despite everything, Luke’s scene, my past, the shadows that follow me, I feel light in this moment. Jameson radiates effortless confidence, and being near him makes me feel safe. Wanted.
“Where’s your head at, Wildflower?” Jameson murmurs, his voice pulling me from my thoughts. I look around. We are sitting in his Bronco, in front of my house, Downfall by Trust Company crooning from the radio.
Heat coils low in my stomach and I peek up at him through my lashes. “Did you mean what you said to Luke, about making me come tonight?”
A dark smile tugs at his lips, slow and deliberate. He slides his seat back, the leather creaking under him. “Come here, Lane.”
My pulse skips. I climb onto his lap, straddling him, feeling the hard length of him press against my center, warmth seeping through my jeans. My fingers find his shoulders, brushing over the soft cotton of his shirt, tugging him closer.
He tucks a piece of hair behind my ear, his other hand resting firmly on my hip. “Is that what you’ve been thinking about this whole time, baby?”
I nod, biting my lip. “Yes.”
His fingers slide into my hair at the base, tugging just enough to make my breath catch. His eyes burn into mine, his voice dropping to a sinful rasp. “Are you wet for me?”
I squirm against him, my body answering before my mouth does. “Yes.”
He tightens his grip, pulling my mouth to his. “Good,” he murmurs against my lips. His hand snakes up my side, leaving a trail of fire across my ribs. “You are so fucking beautiful.”
“Kiss me, Jameson. Please,” I plead, hands running down his taut chest, muscles jumping beneath my fingertips.
That’s all the incentive he needs. He closes the distance, his lips taking mine in a hungry kiss. It starts slow but quickly builds as he kisses me deeper. I open for him willingly, wanting him to consume me. Mind, body, and soul.
And he does.
This man’s mouth is pure fucking magic. I can’t wait to find out how well he kisses other parts of me.
He trails kisses down my neck, teeth grazing, sending sparks of fire across my skin. I grind against him, desperate for friction, need igniting through my veins.
It feels too good.
He feels too good.
“You’re soaking through my jeans, baby,” he rasps, voice thick with desire. “Take your dress off, Wildflower.”
I glanced around nervously, bottom lip caught between my teeth. We are on a public street. A street where anyone could walk by and see us.
He pulls my lip from between my teeth, with the pad of his thumb. “My windows are tinted, and it’s late enough that nobody is going to be walking by. Now take your dress off.”
I comply, gripping the hem of my dress, pulling it over my head and tossing it aside. I’m vibrating with anticipation, more turned on than I think I ever have been.
He runs his tattooed hands up my sides, brushing the pads of his thumbs over my peaked nipples. I let out a soft moan, his touch sending waves of heat coursing through my body.
“Did you intentionally not wear a bra to torture me all night?” he asks, voice husky and sinful.
“Maybe,” I whimper, struggling to think through the haze of desire.
He pinches my nipple, pulling a gasp from my throat. The slight pain adds fuel to the fire already igniting between my legs. I feel like I’m going to combust.
He lowers his head, soothing the bite with his tongue, flicking the sensitive bud before he draws it into the wet heat of his mouth. His other hand continues its torment, circling, teasing, until I’m a quivering mess. My hips rock against him, chasing friction, chasing release.
“Fuck yes, Wildflower,” he groans, the vibration of his voice thrumming against my breast. “Ride me. Just like that.”
My needy moans mix with the music still flowing out of the speakers, though I couldn’t tell you what it is.
Our hot breath fogs the glass, sealing us in our own private world.
His mouth continues its assault, alternating between gentle worship and sharp tugs that make me cry out, every nerve screams with need. Every ounce of control slipping away.
He bites down, and the pleasure laced with just enough pain has me gasping out his name. I clutch at his shirt like it’s the only thing keeping me from unraveling completely.