“Only way I know how to cook a steak. No self-respecting gentleman would eat, much less cook, a steak well done.” We arrive at her car, and she clicks the key fob starting up the two-door black coupe. Sophisticated with a purr, exactly like its owner.
“Then you’ve got yourself a deal. Anything I can pick up along the way, like sides to go with dinner, alcohol?” she asks as she steps away from me, losing my hand on her back in the process. Damn, does that fucking suck.
“I got it covered. All you gotta do is follow behind me. You got your phone? I’ll give you my address in case anything happens.” I’m lying through my fucking teeth. There’s no way I’d let her get stuck behind a light or drive too fast for her to lose me.
“Oh yeah, that’s probably a good idea. You know, just in case.” She hands me her phone after thumbing the code to unlock it, and I take it from there. A few seconds later, my number is saved in her phone, and I’ve got her number after calling myself.
“All set.” I hand her phone back, grab mine from my pocket, and send her a quick text with my address.
“See you soon. And thanks again. You’re right, I really could use a breather,” Willow places her hand on my chest, tilts her head up, and just when I think she’s about to do something more, a lot like planting her lips on mine, I move back a little.
“And that’s what you’ll get. Come on, peaches.” I guide her to the driver’s side door, open it, and watch as she slides inside.I’d love nothing more than to leave her with a parting gift, but considering we’re outside the building, I don’t. With any luck, I’ll get to taste her sweet lips later.
“Thank you, Jace. In case I haven’t said it yet, thank you.” Her voice slides through the early evening air, wrapping around me and making my goddamn dick twitch.
“You don’t have to thank me, Willow. But I appreciate it all the same.” I pull her seatbelt out, bend inside, and fasten it. Meanwhile, it’s not lost on me that her breathing quickens when my knuckles skate along her chest. “See you soon.” I connect the seatbelt to the buckle and back out of the car. Once her door is shut, I make a beeline for my truck, click the button to unlock it, and climb inside.
I quickly turn on the ignition, put my hand on the passenger headrest, and look out the rearview mirror as I back out. I make sure to put my own seatbelt on once I’m inDriveand Willow is behind me. As soon as she is, I drive slowly and steadily to my place even though what I really want to do is push the gas pedal to the floor. I want Willow to myself, without prying eyes, where she can let her guard down and be who she wants.
And I plan on helping her do exactly that, tonight and hopefully well through the night.
3
Willow
“You’re going to make a mess of this. You’re going to screw everything up, and you’re only going to have yourself to blame.” These are the words I utter as I follow Jace into his driveway, watch as he parks and steps out of his truck. I pull in next to him, do the same thing, and watch each movement he makes.
The whole way here, I’ve been thinking about the man—the way he looks, the way he walks, the way he talks, the way he carries himself. And I have to say I really appreciate the visual one hundred and ten percent.
As the evening sun clings to his skin like honey, turning the hard lines of his body into a golden hue, he stands near the front of his truck, phone to his ear, looking every bit the hardworking man he is. Broad shoulders, lean muscles, the kind of quiet strength that didn’t come from endless hours at a gym but from long days and nights working under unforgiving elements.
Jace’s skin is bronzed by the sun, glistening faintly when he moves just the right way. You can tell he’s spent the majority of his time outdoors and fixing things with his hands. His jaw is set in concentration. Whoever is on the other end of the line is saying something he doesn’t like. His gaze turns toward me, he does a slight head tilt, and I take that as my sign to move out of my car.
I so badly want to keep my eyes on him, to look at him without the fear of someone scrutinizing what I’m doing. In the same sense, listening to him speak is just as hot. I grab my bag. Both actually. I keep one with a spare change of clothes, along with shoes, deodorant, toothbrush, and toothpaste in my car. There’s been many a time I’ve had Brenda call me and had to hurry into grandmother’s facility either from or work or in the middle of the night.
I’m out of my car after putting my smaller bag into the bigger one, and I’m sure it’s presumptuous of me to ask to use his bathroom to change, but it’s a price I’m willing to pay. The glad rags, what I call my business attire, isn’t my style; it’s what I’m forced to wear to keep up for the sake of the Ashford name. I’d much rather be in a pair of jeans, a dressy top, and a nicer shoe if I had to, but on the days I’m not at work, it’s completely different. I prefer to call my style Adam Sandler chic—a tank top, loose sweatpants rolled at the waist, and a flannel of some type to wear over it in case I get cold. On my feet are usually sandals. The only problem with that is, it makes it hard to wear socks. And when you’re in a hospital-like facility, the last thing you want is open-toed shoes. Which is why I learned to pack slippers.
I back out of my car and hit the lock button on the door instead of the key fob to avoid it making a noise since Jace is still on the phone. My eyes gravitate toward his like a magnetic forcefield. The force is so strong, there’s nothing that could stop me. The sharp lines of his cheekbones and the close cropper hair at his temples add to his rugged, almost untamed good looks.
He’s not polished or refined.
He’s raw, and he’s real.
The kind of man who smells like sun-warmed steel mixed with oil and leather.
The kind of man whose voice is low and slow, with a Southern drawl to it that makes your thighs clench.
The kind of man whose scent is so masculine it makes your pulse spike and the temperature rise whenever he’s close. Every inhale drags his intoxicating scent into my lungs, making me want to stay forever.
And right now, he’s the kind of man whose focus is solely on me. Jace stops just inches away. I can feel the heat rolling off him in waves. A ripple of tension and desire surrounds the air between us.
The unexpected touch of his calloused fingers skates along my upper arm, and I can hear the deep rumble of his voice, which I’m sure would vibrate against your chest when you’re closer to him. It’s a feeling I want more than I’ve realized until now. The type of moment when the clothes are gone, you’re between the sheets, bodies touching, sweat coating your skin, and the only thing you need is each other.
Jace’s forest-green eyes are so vivid that the color should seem unreal—bright one second, dark and dangerous in the best way possible the next. He hangs up the phone with a gruffbye, and then his focus is completely on me. It’s sharp and observant, as if he sees far more than he lets on. The kind of gaze that’s steady, confident, and utterly sexy.
“You good?” he asks, drawing attention to his full lips. Whether he’s licking them to moisten or to see how I’ll handle him, I’m not sure. What I do know is that he repeats the process, slowly, deliberately, and it’s almost unfair what he’s doing to my body. I nearly whimper when he takes a step closer. “Yeah, peaches, you’re good.” His smile isn’t easy or careless but slow and all-too knowing. It starts with a slight curve at the corner of his mouth, like he’s keeping a secret you’ve yet to figure out, and when it finally spreads, it’s all-too tempting and full of promises. It’s the smile of a man who knows exactly the effect he has on you—and enjoys every second of it.
“Jace.” His name tumbles off my lips at the same time I feel him take my bag off my shoulder, lacing his fingers with mine and guiding me away from our vehicles and up the stairs to his home.
