6. Jocelyn
6
JOCELYN
His mouth descends on mine and when our lips meet, I’m lost. The banked heat I’ve been tortured with all day flares into a conflagration, burning away all sense and leaving me consumed by desire.
I slip my hands up the hard plane of his chiseled chest, solid under his sweatshirt, and gasp into his kiss. His tongue dips in to taste and tease, and the sweetness of it all makes me moan.
Every stroke of his tongue stokes the fire within. Every lick leaves me wanting more, and soon, my control evaporates like snow in the heat of the midday Colorado sun.
Want gathers between my legs, hot and slick and aching.
This shouldn’t be happening. This can’t be happening.
But it is, and I’m powerless to stop.
Unwilling to stop.
Needy mewls escape me when his hot kisses trail over my cheek, across my jawline and down my neck.
“Maddox,” I moan, holding his head to me and plunging my fingers into the silky strands of the hair that curl out from under his hat. “This is against the rules.”
“Fuck the rules,” he says into my skin, sliding his seat as far back as it can go.
My husky laugh turns into a groan when his strong hands grip my hips, and he hauls me across the car to settle me on his lap. A heavy, thick bulge presses insistently against the center of my heat, and… oh God …
New desires unfurl within me as I rock my aching clit against him.
His fingers slip under my sweater and slide up my rounded curves. He skims the exposed skin under the hem of my cropped top, just under my breasts.
I squirm in his lap, my gaze meeting his as the heat we’re generating fogs up the windows of my car. His dark storm gray eyes bore into mine.
“Jocelyn,” he rasps, mouth hot against my neck. “I know it’s crazy. I know it’s fast. But I think you might need me as much as I need you.”
“I… Yes, I need…” The rules, the rules, the rules… what were they again?
His mouth finds mine and I trace the shape of his bottom lip with my tongue.
Then, his rough thumbs flick across the stiff tips of my nipples and I bite down on his lip. He growls, claiming my mouth in a punishing, bruising kiss that has me knocking off his ball cap and tearing at his clothes.
“Jesus,” he hisses, shifting beneath me to rip away his hoodie and shirt.
He’s so perfect I nearly whimper. I want to run my tongue over the lines of his muscle, leave crescent fingernail marks in his shoulders. Instead, I drag my nails over his peachy nipples as he shoves my shirt and sweater up, finds the front zip of my sports bra and frees me with his teeth. My unbound breasts swing heavy and free and he nestles his head in the valley between them, groaning as if in pain.
“Please.” His breath is ragged, his voice rough with hunger. One hand delves between us to stroke my sodden slit through my leggings as he plants wet kisses across my stiff, extended peaks. “I need to touch you. I want to feel the slide of your pussy against my fingers, the drip of your juice into my palm. Let me taste the sweet slick of you.”
A choked sob burst out of me when his tongue curls around my tip and he suckles me. Half-blind and swearing, I guide his hand past my waistband, past my panties, past every rule I thought I’d set.
“I’ll show you how I like it.”
Our eyes lock as I press two of his fingers to my clit and grind myself on his hand.
“God, you’re so wet for me, sweets.” His Adam’s apple bobs up and down as he swallows and surveys my face through heavily lidded eyes, mouth curved into a delectable, wicked smile. “You want to fuck my fingers? You want to show me how you’d use my cock if it was out?”
“Yessss.” I slide two of his fingers to the heart of my heat, tilt my hips to encourage him to slip in. “See how much of you I can take. How many fingers will fit inside me but start here. Start with two.”
And he does, sending me arching against him.
Gasping, I grab onto his shoulders and roll my hips. He moves with me, fingers curling and sliding and delving. Until he finds the part of me that makes my body draw taut, my breath catch, my grip flex.
“You’re so fucking gorgeous, sweets. So perfect. I want you wet and wild and writhing. Come for me, baby.”
His mouth closes over my nipple and he slips another finger into me. The fullness of him making me gasp and arch and buck.
“Maddox.”
And that’s all it takes for me to shatter. My back bows and I cover his mouth with mine. My screams are swallowed up in his kiss while I flood his hand with wave after wave of my heat.
It’s only when he drags his hands out of my pants and I watch him lick his hand clean that I realize we’re in the parking lot of the practice rink and snow is falling all around us.
“I’m sorry. You did what now?” Melissa gapes at me the next morning, almost dropping the entire sugar canister into the cup of coffee she’s doctoring. “Did you do the dirty with him?”
I shush her, glancing around at the senior citizens shuffling down the hall. Today’s planned event is meant to showcase Maddox’s ability to put smiles on the faces of dance partners of all ages.
But calling in this favor with a friend has come at a cost to Maddox’s dignity and my own already fragile heart. I’ve watched him attempt to cha-cha, fumble at the foxtrot, and accidentally trod on the toes of a septuagenarian during the waltz.
That one earned him an affectionately pinched cheek when he begged for forgiveness.
“It didn’t go that far.”
“But it will.”
“It might.”
She quirks a brow at me and I roll my eyes. “Maybe, okay? It kinda just happened.”
“In a public parking lot. Yeah, I’ll say it just happened.”
I swat at her arm. “You know I have strict rules against that kind of thing.”
“Some rules are meant to be broken.”
“Sounds like something Maddox would say.” I steal a glance over at him as he stoops to walk arm-in-arm with one of the nursing home residents, giving her the same care and attention he gives to his dedicated fans.
“Does it bother you? Rule breaking?”
“It’s only a rule because Luke and I worked side-by-side.”
“Until you didn’t.”
I nod. “Right. Until we didn’t.”
“If it helps any, I don’t think Maddox and Luke are anything alike. One’s a selfish douche canoe who wanted you for what you could do for his profile and social credibility. The other’s one’s straight up obsessed with you just because you are you.”
“How can you be so sure about that?”
She thinks for a moment, then fiddles with her phone. When she finds what she’s looking for, she hands it over to me.
“I could tell you what I see when I watch the two of you in the same room, or you can see it for yourself. Whatever’s going on between you two, it’s not something I think Maddox is capable of faking.”
I hit play on the video and see how Maddox’s eyes track my movement across the room. I watch as an expression of longing flickers across his features before he turns back to his dance partner.
It’s Elaine, the octogenarian who loudly proclaimed how handsome Maddox is, how like her first husband he seems. Then, I watch as her hand drifts down his back. She gives him a quick pinch on the backside and Maddox skitters halfway across the hall, surprising me by snatching my hand and spinning me into his arms for a dance.
I stifle a laugh for the second time watching the playback, but a thrill trips down my spine when I see Melissa zoom in on the possessive press of his hand against my lower back.
In the video, he leans toward me, whispers something undetected by the microphone but the memory whispers in my mind.
“Save me, sweets. She’s got firm fingers and I’m sure she left a bruise.”
Video me laughs, loud enough for the camera to capture, and as we look at each other, I see what Melissa means.
Something simmers there, between us. Strong and vibrant and evident as anything. But is it real?
Could it be real?
How can I ever trust my instincts again after last time, when I got so badly burned it’s taken me three years to rebound?
In the video, Maddox spins me in his arms, then buries his nose in my hair and speaks low into my ear. My body heats as I remember his words.
“Will you check me over later? Maybe soothe the spot where she took a chunk out of me? You can use your hands or your mouth. I’m not picky.”
We turn in the clip and I see the expression on my face. I’m practically glowing with happiness, color high in my cheeks, eyes bright with mirth.
I can’t remember the last time I felt that light, that carefree.
“Damn, we look good together,” Maddox speaks from behind me, making me jump as I fling the phone back to Melissa like it’s a hot potato. She catches it before it crashes to the floor, but some of her coffee splashes onto the floor and over the tip of my boots in the process.
“God, where did you come from?” I lay a hand over my thundering heart and scowl at him as I grab napkins and drop them to the floor.
“From over there.” He points across the room where he’d helped one of the elder ladies to take a seat. “Had to come see what you were smiling at.”
“Just some excellent footage for repairing your public image.”
Melissa stamps on the mound of napkins and swipes her foot around, muttering about wasted caffeine while Maddox reaches over and grabs a handful of napkins himself.
“Mm. Let me help with this mess.”
Then he drops to one knee in front of me and Melissa and I exchange wide-eyed glances as he carefully wipes the coffee off my boot. His hand grips my calf, just under my knee and his fingers slide along my leg down to my ankle.
My breath catches in my throat and I remember what he’d said to me in the conference room.
I don’t mind mess.
“The clip’s a good one.” His voice is level, nonchalant even. “But I think we could do better.”
“How?”
“Oh, I don’t know. You’re the PR expert.” He stands, tossing the napkins into a trash can. Then he tucks his hands into his pockets and winks. “But imagine us doing that dance again, only with me in a tux and you in a white dress.”
Then he flashes that damn dimple at me and walks off, whistling.