She buttoned the shirt as I changed my shoes. I couldn’t take my eyes off her. Even soaking wet, she was fucking breathtaking.
Her nose twisted to the side as she finished the last button.
“Told you it wouldn’t be too fresh.”
She wrapped her arms around herself. “It’s warm though. I actually like it. It smells like pine and river water and—and man.” She pressed the collar to her nose. “Oh wow.”
I laughed. “Too much man?”
“Actually no, it smells like stale pot.”
I finished tying my boots. “Yeah, guess that might be on there too. How does a pure and natural girl like you know what stale weed smells like?”
“Perhaps you weren’t listening when I mentioned my upbringing in the commune. I think some of our neighbors were breathing weed more than oxygen.”
“Sounds like a fun place to grow up.” I took her hand. “Let’s blow this joint. Did you catch my play on words there?” I led her to the door and stopped. I looked questioningly at her.
She hopped on her toes and kissed me. Her long lashes fluttered open as she dropped back to her feet. “I want to go home, Jem . . . with you.”
Chapter 19
Tashlyn
The ride home was a blur. Not a terrible blur like this morning but a good, giddy blur. I’d even, for the time being, managed to dismiss the threatening note as a benign warning, a prank of some kind. I’d decided not to worry Jem about it yet. If there was one thing that could keep my mind from dwelling on depressing, confusing stuff, it was the man sitting next to me. And something about wearing his shirt on my bare skin on the ride home made me nearly breathless with a need for him to touch me.
The neon sign above Milly’s Diner lit up the tiny weed riddled front yard as Jem, feeling the same urgency as me, hit the driveway fast enough to make the tires chirp. I knew he lived in the back house, and his dad and brother lived in the front. I kept my fingers crossed that I wouldn’t run into Alcott Wolfe.
I opened the door. Jem came around to my side of the car and grabbed my hand to lead me through the side gate and across the backyard.
“I’ve got to warn you, I’m a total slob.”
“Just like I didn’t picture you with a bird watching guide, I don’t picture you dusting furniture and mopping floors.”
He pushed open the door.
“Or picking up dirty clothes . . . or empty chip bags . . . or beer cans,” I added once I stepped inside. “Yep, you’re a slob.”
“Damn right, but I’ve got awesome fucking taste in women.” He slammed the door shut and pulled me into his arms. His mouth covered mine as his hands got busy unbuttoning the flannel shirt. He had it off my shoulders and me completely naked from the waist up in seconds.
His mouth slid down my neck as one hand cupped my breast and the other smoothed down my back below the waist of my jeans. “I need more fucking hands,” he groaned in frustration and began working the buttons on my jeans. He slid his mouth to my shoulder and bit it lightly. “And maybe an extra mouth. I can’t get enough of you, baby. I’ve got to taste and touch every fucking inch of you.” He pushed my jeans down to my thighs, not an easy task with wet denim. But my panties slid right along with them.
Jem dropped to his knees in front of me and kissed my belly before running his mouth down my pussy. I braced my hands on his strong shoulders as he lifted each foot to pull off my wet shoes.
He wrapped his hand around my foot. “Your skin is still cold.” He rose up on his knees and pressed his mouth against my bare thigh, then peered up with a heated gaze that made me sway on my feet. “This house is small, but believe it or not, I have a shower that can hold three people.”
I held back a grin. “I guess I won’t ask why you know that.”
He stood up. “Yeah, you don’t want to know, but it did involve an entire bottle of tequila so I’m standing by that as my excuse.” He reached up and tugged my nipple just hard enough to make me gasp in delight. “What do you say, Woodstock? Should we take this into the shower?”
“Well, I am still cold and I’m covered with pond water.”
He pushed my pants all the way off and I stepped out of them. He stood back to look at me, and instinctively, I crossed my arms to cover my completely naked body.
He shook his head. “No way, darlin’.” He grabbed my hands and held them out to the sides. “I’m going to look at you, all of you.” He took his time surveying every bare inch of me and a frisson of delight went through me as if his gaze was touching me. Then, he released one hand and held the other up to turn me around as if we were on the dance floor. I was facing away from him, but I could still feel the heat of his gaze on me. “God, Tashlyn, you’re fucking unreal.” His voice was deep and ragged, and the urgent sound of it made moist heat surge in my pussy.
He twirled me back to face him and led me down a short, dark hallway. He had, it seemed, every intention of leading me into the bathroom and shower but stopped short. The fevered glaze in his eyes made them shine almost gold in the light streaming in through the dusty windows. “I’ve got to have you now, baby. I can’t wait for the damn shower to heat up. Can’t even make it the ten steps to the bedroom. I’ve been thinking about being buried deep inside your beautiful pussy all day.” He reached back and pulled off his shirt.
It was time for me to gaze with appreciation. He had a smattering of black ink tattoos placed seductively over the imposing hard muscles of his arms and chest. I smoothed my palms over his skin as he unbuttoned his fly. His gaze never left my face, it was a face of concentration, a man with one thing on his mind and that one thing was me.
Before he could do it himself, I shoved his jeans down below his hips. His thick, hard erection sprang free. The fleshy tip was glistening with moisture, like the hot, misty dew filling my pussy. I wrapped my fingers around him. His head dropped back as his eyes closed. I stroked my fingers along him, luxuriating in the silky, hard feel of it. As badly as he seemed to want me, I wanted him just as much, or more.
“Jem, do you have protection?”
It took him a second to hear my question past the feel of my hand on his cock. He opened his eyes, took a deep, jagged breath and reached down to the pocket of his pants. He fished out his wallet, pulled out a condom and tossed the wallet on the hallway floor.
He took an almost rough hold of my wrist, prompting me to release him. My arms went around his neck. His mouth covered mine as his strong arms lifted me. My back pressed against the cool plaster wall of the hallway, and I wrapped my legs around him. He leaned his head back to watch me as he slid every delicious inch of his cock inside of me.
My eyes drifted shut, as I felt him entering me, filling me with just what I needed to relieve the ache in my pussy. His hands slid beneath my bottom. He gripped me as if I might slip away, but I was there . . . in his arms . . . the man I’d been warned about as trouble. I wondered how it was possible—if Jem Wolfe was so wrong, then how could this all feel so damn right.
The hallway floor creaked beneath Jem’s feet as he rocked against me, dragging his hips low before rolling them up to fill me again. I was nearly crushed between his hard body and the even less forgiving wall as he thrust into me deep and fast.
He kissed me. “Fuck, baby,” he growled against my mouth, “it’s like everything I fucking needed walked into town in a beautiful package, a long legged package with the finest fucking pussy in this whole goddamned world.”
He moved faster. My legs tightened as my pussy gripped him firmly, wanting more of him each time.
“Jem.” His named came out on a long, whisper.