Chapter 9 #2
“No.” So, yes, that bothered me. He had so many answers and so much insight, and then he was also related to the woman who could help me out, but he hadn’t offered to talk to her until now?
And then I wanted him to swoop in and rescue me from my own decisions.
I was doing exactly what I’d always done.
Dropped my plans and went for help. “I rely on you a lot.”
“Okay?”
It wasn’t a bad thing, but it was. I’d already told him all about it, and he still didn’t see. “I’m taking you for granted, and I’m not standing on my own two feet. I mean, I got drunk as soon as I heard some bad news.”
“You got drunk because you were at a brewery and probably because you don’t let go like that. When you did get some bad news, and you had someone to talk to, you let it all spill out.”
Snippets crept through my memories. Did I fondle his biceps or just tell him I wanted to feel them up? “I let way too much out.”
“Like how handsome you think I am?”
I closed my eyes, exhaling. “Exactly. You work for me.” I uttered it like the weakest mantra in existence.
“And you don’t need the complication.” He stated it like a fact. It was one.
“Usually, the complaint is that I’m too simple.” I twisted to face him.
“Maybe to a boy who can’t see what a treasure you really are.”
“You can’t keep saving me,” I whispered. How would I do this when he moved on? “If I can’t even survive the summer, how does that bode for me? My brothers are waiting for me to fail so they can sell.” Then it’d be gone. My happy memories and the only place I was ever truly happy.
“It’s okay to have some help.” He leaned closer to me, our faces inches apart. “Besides, there’s something else I want to do.”
What else? Tell me, please, please, please. “And what is that?”
His gaze languidly stroked over my face before he lowered his head.
When his lips touched mine, I nearly sighed a finally.
Instead, I fisted a hand in his shirt. He increased the pressure and twined an arm around my waist, cinching me against his hard body.
Pleasure tingled from every inch of me that touched him.
This was more like it. No worries could reach me in the solid ring of his arm. No stress, just pleasure.
A whimper escaped me, and he met it with a growl. I opened like it was a command and he swept his tongue inside my mouth. I was consumed by him. Meant to be devoured.
This. I needed more of this. Less work and more—
I ripped away with a gasp. “We can’t do this.”
His heavy-lidded face met mine. “We can’t.”
Okay, so we were in agreement. I rose to my tiptoes and planted my mouth on his. He hugged me closer, a grunt ripping from him. My tongue was back in his mouth, and I would’ve climbed him like a ladder if I wasn’t already plastered against him.
The throb between my legs grew stronger. Maybe if I shifted to the right, then back again, or hooked a leg around his hips.
Oh god. I yanked my mouth off him. “I can’t. We can’t.”
How many times did I need to keep saying it before I quit doing it?
Jasper wiped the corners of his mouth. “No, we can’t.”
Was he trying to convince himself too? All I knew was that if I stayed, I’d scale that big body of his and stick my tongue back down his throat. Worse, he might let me, and that thought scrambled my mind.
I pressed my fingers to my head. My headache had all but been wiped out, yet it was returning, blanketed in confusion. “I should go.”
“Yeah.” His rough voice was a caress.
Go. Now. “See you Monday.” And to remind myself why I couldn’t touch him again, I added, “At work.”
Jasper
I collapsed on my couch and blew out a gusty breath. I had been fighting an erection, but now I let it go. My heart beat through my dick, and I didn’t care. What the hell did I do?
That kiss was—
I had to readjust how I was sitting. Damn.
She’d been responsive. The flavor of my food had lingered on her tongue.
She’d been ripe for the picking, and I had nearly plucked her.
After knowing she was in my bed all night and assuming she’d slept in my shirt, my wants had overridden my preservation. I’d tried taking what wasn’t mine.
She had her hopes and dreams, and I wasn’t going to stand in her way. I’d give her a boost. By putting my hands on her round ass and—
I jumped up and retrieved a beer from the fridge. It was five o’clock somewhere. I grabbed my carving kit and went out onto the porch. Memories assaulted me of how nice it’d been to chat with her. Talking and eating. How easy it all was.
I’d been lured by that before. Sheridan had her plans, and if I got in her way or weighed her down, she’d move on. Our history wouldn’t matter. My own plans wouldn’t matter. She’d continue on her path, and it may not be hiking the Appalachian Trail, but it’d likely be away from me.
Rolling the mat out, I had no idea what I would carve. I just needed time to process whatever the hell that kiss meant. I liked her. She’d said we couldn’t because we worked together. She hadn’t said she didn’t like me. And she was under a lot more stress today than she’d been yesterday.
I dug my phone out and tossed it down. Should I call Linda? Ask her what she knew and what her plans were.
Should I think about the stipulations of the trust and exactly what I could do to help Sheridan?
It wasn’t what she wanted. My churning stomach said it wasn’t what I wanted either.
There’d be inherent lying involved. A situation that could make Sheridan look like she wasn’t capable of being in charge without me.
She might even think that if I were to propose what was on my mind. And there’d be the inevitable end.
It hadn’t been inevitable with my siblings.
Shaking my head, I pick up the basswood I had messed up carving. I wasn’t going there with the trust.
I studied the misshapen piece. It wasn’t meant to be an Arabian. I thought of the bottle of beer at Sheridan’s pink lips. If I carved her mouth from memory, that’d be over a line I didn’t know I could cross. I shouldn’t even kiss her again. I wouldn’t. But I could carve the bottle.
After opening my beer and taking a long drink, I let all the memories of last night replay through my head. The shy way she entered the brewery. How she opened up to me even after hearing possibly devastating news. Her drunken rant about all the exes who let her down.
Not even the kiss this morning would help me get over that.
We weren’t exes, but I’d probably let her down worse than any of them.
Because I knew the stipulations of that trust. Linda was my aunt, but I had more knowledge about that property by Bishop’s Landing than almost anyone else.
I knew a way for Sheridan to get her hands on it.
But she would need me, and I wasn’t going to participate, and she wouldn’t believe it was for her own good.
Once she learned about everything, she’d think none of her exes had let her down like me.