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He flicks heavy-lidded eyes at me. “Good eats, Pitch. Better than hot fudge.”
“You’re welcome,” I quip with a lazy grin aimed at the ceiling.
“Although, I’d be willing to slurp some off you. That combo would be addictive. Might never get enough.”
I jolt when he taps my outer thigh. “What’s up?”
The arrogant ass smirks, well aware I’m basking in the afterglow. “Want another?”
“Um, that was plenty.” My clit is freaking numb, likely to stage a revolt if I accept.
A chill bites at my exposed skin. It serves to remind me that I’m nude from the waist down. I cross my legs and draw them against me. That vulnerable sensation rattles my bones again. My shoulders curl inward as a cold and empty ache replaces the warmth.
What I could really go for is a hug. A sideways glance proves I’m alone in that yearning.
Jake is slumped against the armrest. A flinty guard is already slamming shut over his gaze. The space he’s shoved between us is an icy expanse better left uncharted. Instead, I gather my discarded clothes to keep from overanalyzing.
An awkward lull creeps in as I get dressed. The silence allows confusion to enter the room, try as I might to remain unaffected. Turns out that an emotional connection—no matter how fleeting—is important to me. How he can be this detached agitates my pesky need for comfort.
“So,” I mumble. “That was… interesting.”
Jake snorts. “We don’t have to do this.”
“Do what?”
“Talk,” he deadpans.
His flippant tone irks me. The casual dismissal tempts me to ask him if I can spend the night, just to watch his composure reel, but I won’t appear clingy.I should’ve prepared for this. He’s predictable in that sense. Even more so, he spelled out the terms before getting personally acquainted with my cooch. This misplaced hurt is on me.
“Welp,” I yawn with an exaggerated stretch. It’s a feat to stop my knees from wobbling as I stand. “I’m gonna sleep well tonight.”
Steely eyes follow my measured backpedal toward the entryway. “Don’t say I never gave you anything.”
The urge to throttle him forms my hands into fists. My euphoria has fizzled out completely. What’s left is the unfortunate realization that this was a shallow means to an unfulfilling end.I know the score, and he rightfully earned a win this round.
That doesn’t mean I’m admitting defeat. “Give my best to Jill or Rosey Palmer or whoever keeps you company between the sheets. That fresh spank bank material should come in handy. Pun intended.”
I turn and flounce to the door, my dignity giving Jacob Evans the middle finger behind my back.
Harper Fucking Wilson.
Her name might as well be tattooed on my brain. It’s a personalized plague, ruining me from the inside out with each passing day. The entire point of getting a taste was to snuff out this incessant need that never shuts up. In reality, all my down-under actions succeeded in accomplishing was ramping up my appetite for more.
That woman is finger-licking good, and I have a bad feeling my cravings for her are only going to get worse. I can still taste her pussy on my lips a week later. The unique honey blend has ruined me for any other flavor. She’s too tempting. I surrendered in a weak moment, but there are bound to be more. On cue, another rush of longing hits and I almost crash to my knees.
It cements my resolve and the stalkerish behavior that accompanies it. Although to be fair, it took zero effort to track Harper down. She’s a creature of habit and I’m fucked on her enough to know her constant whereabouts.
Which is why I’m loitering on the sidewalk outside of Bean Me Up.
Knox Creek’s beloved coffee house is mostly full when I enter. The rich scent of freshly caffeinated brews assaults my nostrils, but I barely notice as I scour the quaint space. Several curious gazes are quick to study my random appearance. Included in the onlookers are Susan and a few other recognizable faces. The mom squad is seated together with their eyes firmly pinned on me. Their interest is probably piqued higher seeing as I’ve never stepped foot inside this café until now. I’d stare at the man frozen in the doorway too.
Glossy hair the shade of a homing beacon attracts my attention in the correct direction. Just the sight of Harper swiping whipped foam off her upper lip gets me hard. It makes me want to drizzle hot fudge on her pussy and take my sweet ass time licking her clean. Feverish desire pumps hot in my veins until I nearly stagger where I stand. Fuck. Maybe this was a mistake.
Doubt hits me too damn late as the crowd stills with bated breath. A rapt audience isn’t ideal, but providing fresh meat for the town’s gossip rings is kind of our specialty. Harper will be made aware of my creeper status either way. To prove that undeniable point, the nosy onlookers track my direct route to her table. It’s only a matter of seconds until conspiring whispers replace the idle chatter.
Harper’s startled gaze leaps to mine while I erase the remaining distance. Without waiting for her jaw to lift off the floor, I slide onto the chair opposite hers. A tense quiet settles as I make myself comfortable.
“Mornin’, Pitchy.” My tone is calm, collected, and utter bullshit.
