Chapter 7

Okay, not smart, and not nice, but J.T. was asking for it. Still hard, my ass. He knew exactly what he’d implied and took great pleasure in teasing her, only to then get bitchy. He wanted to go out and relieve his arousal? Join the club, buddy.

As if she were at fault for his problems.

She’d done her best to stop staring at the man. God, knowing he was aroused and growly turned her way on. She liked her men a little mean, probably why she kept picking assholes, but whatever. Now she had this asshole to deal with.

She’d never been so forward before, but he deserved it. And it wasn’t as if she’d grabbed him by the balls. She’d simply reached underneath him for the pen.

She sat back, clicked the pen a few times, then wrote down a few facts, ignoring the way he gritted his teeth and glared at her.

“I like white or milk chocolate but can’t stand dark. It’s too bitter. I’m a cat person. Dogs are okay, but I’m not a fan of the slobber.” She gave him a look. “I like them drool-free—like my men. I prefer a man who can control himself.” She gave his crotch a dismissive glance, seeing his scowl out of the corner of her eye. Doing her best not to laugh, she continued. “I appreciate kindness and manners. Pink is not my favorite color. Red is. I also like purple. I prefer skirts over dresses. I don’t like high heels, but I love pumps. And sadly, I’ve given up foreign films.”

She stopped writing and handed him back the pad. “Any questions?”

With him sitting so close, it would have been impossible to miss the large man suddenly looming over her like a dark cloud. A dark, sexy cloud.

“You want to play, little girl?” He moved closer, at an angle as he sat facing her, and she leaned back into the couch while pretending to remain unaffected.

“Ooh, I’m so scared.” Well, maybe a little. He was big and tough and making it difficult to remember why she shouldn’t jump his bones. “Hey, you started it. ‘Still hard.’” She snorted. “Right.”

“Let me tell you about me.” He moved so fast she had no time to adjust. One minute she’d been sitting up, the next he had her back flat on the couch. He tossed a back cushion to make room for his big body and now straddled her middle. Though he sat up on his knees, she still felt some of his weight over her.

Not good, because when she tilted her head up, she came face-to-face with Mr. Still Hard.

“J.T., get off.”

“Pay attention. Here, I’ll take notes for you.” He started writing while talking, leaving Hope nowhere to look but up at the ceiling or at the mouthwatering package displayed inches from her face when she lifted her head. “I like a sweet, submissive woman. She should be able to cook, think I’m great, and give amazing head.” He lowered the pad to look at her. “That isn’t a euphemism. I mean I like a good blow job.”

“Didn’t you say amazing head?” she asked, growling at him.

“Good point.” He lifted the pad and crossed through what he’d written, then added to it, continuing to talk as he wrote. “She should like sex. A lot. And she should be hot for it a few times a day, to keep up with me.”

“Gee, this is great information I can share with my mother when she asks. Because I’m sure she’ll want to know how many times we do it in a given day.”

He peered over the pad and nodded. “Feel free. I’m happy to share.”

“Keep going. I’m all ears.” And nerves, apparently. Their sexy banter had gone a little too far, but she was loath to be the one to cry uncle.

“Oh? You want to hear what gets me off? Or would you rather see me lose it?”

“You’re going to give me a show? Really?” She paused when she saw him unsnap his jeans. Oh my God he’s going to whip it out! Danger, danger! “You’re just reinforcing what I said before about guys having no control.”

He tossed the notepad and glared down at her. But at least he left the snap of his jeans alone. “Yeah? Well, I’m not the one who reached between your legs, Ms. Grabby.”

“Feel free. I’ve got nothing to hide. I can control myself.”

“Is that right?” With impressive speed, he blanketed her fully, leaning up on his elbows so as not to smash her. His feet had to drape over the end of the couch, he was so tall. His height didn’t dampen their connection, though. They pressed together, hip to hip, and she felt that large, solid essence of him all too firmly against her belly. “Well, let’s just see how much control you think you have.”

“Go for it, Webster.” What am I doing? She couldn’t stop herself from daring him to…what? Touch her? Feel how wet he made her just by existing?

Before she could call a halt to it all, he unbuttoned her jeans with slow, measured movements. J.T. stared into her eyes, and it was the sexist thing ever. His breath heavy, his eyes dark, his lips firm. He used one hand to angle the zipper down, then moved to the waistband of her panties. “Soft,” he whispered.

She tilted her chin. “And red. And lacy.”

He looked down and stopped moving, his big hand poised to delve beneath the fabric. “What am I doing?”

“Good question.”

He didn’t pull away, as she’d thought he might. Instead the blasted man left her to kneel on the floor and yanked her to a sitting position on the couch while shoving the coffee table out of the way.

He’d effectively positioned himself kneeling between her legs. “I couldn’t see from on top of you. This is much better.” He gave her a wicked grin and tugged her jeans down to her thighs.

“Hey, you can’t—”

“Can and did. Just tell me to stop, and I will. I mean, since you have something to hide, apparently.” The naughty hunger in his gaze drove her to insanity. Reason and rational thought went right out the window when he pulled her jeans completely off.

“Do your worst.” She gave a fake yawn. “Wake me up when you’re done.”

He gave a low laugh, and she tensed, shocked to feel his breath over her abdomen where he’d pulled up her shirt. He planted a kiss on her belly button, and she shuddered.

“I like your taste in panties, Hope.” He pulled back, his eyes dark with desire.

She squirmed, embarrassed and annoyed to feel herself slick, arousal causing the need gathered between her thighs.

J.T. didn’t give her room to move, his large hands on her thighs, controlling her movement. He widened her legs but didn’t pull her thong down. She didn’t know whether to be annoyed or grateful and decided on irritated when he stroked her hips, skin to skin, unencumbered by her tiny panties.

She waited what felt like forever and stared at him. But his gaze remained on her red thong. He didn’t remove it. Instead he pulled it to the side, exposing her sex.

“Oh fuck. You’re wet.”

“I, ah, well—”

He slid a thick finger between her folds, and she nearly shot off the couch. J.T. had big hands, mother of—

“Easy, baby. Let’s see just how slick you are. How sweet,” he murmured, and before she knew it, his mouth replaced his finger.

J.T.’s mouth felt like fire, an inferno that continued to build as he stroked her with his tongue.

“Oh, oh, J.T.” She arched into his mouth, aware he now held one of her breasts while the other hand kept her thong pulled aside. The playboy molded her breast, then played with her nipple, pinching and tugging. And all the while he lapped her up like he had nothing else in the world he’d rather do.

She shot toward a climax before she could stop. “I’m coming, wait,” she tried, not wanting him to stop but needing him to. He let go of her breast, only to fit a thick finger inside her while he tongued her to orgasm.

She cried out while he pumped his forefinger in and out of her, the ecstasy more than she could bear. The climax lasted way longer than it normally did and left her panting, incoherent, when he finished. He licked her again, and she shuddered, overcome.

J.T. put her thong back in place and her jeans back on her, awkwardly tugging them up over her hips without fastening them. “Well, that answers one question,” he said, his voice like gravel.

It took her a moment to fashion a response. “What’s that?”

“You’re a natural blond.”

* * *

J.T. did his best to come back to earth. What the fuck had just happened? They’d been talking, then flirting, then heavily teasing. From pizza to a board game to oral sex so amazing he’d come in his jeans, grinding against the couch while he ate the sweetest pussy he’d ever had.

No, no—oh fuck, yes. Again.

The no’s should have been winning, but her scent and taste lingered, and he licked his lips, wanting more.

She slumped against the couch, blinking at the ceiling, her expression one of repletion, a foggy pleasure he felt all too well.

He stared at her panties—a fucking thong—pleased with the damp spot in front. God, but she’d been wet. Still was. He could imagine sliding inside her, his fat cock fitting so tight, locking in her body.

He should have been too tired. But his dick jerked, and he wondered if trying again would be pushing it. Yeah. Probably.

“You said something about an answer?” She slowly sat up, not caring that he knelt in front of her. She had yet to button up her jeans, and the knowledge she was so close, just a thin strip of silk between her and him… “To what?” she asked.

“Huh?” He rubbed his hands over her toned thighs, squeezing and convincing himself he’d done enough damage for one night. He should go before he did something really stupid.

“Never mind.” She stretched, let out a kittenish moan, then sagged back against the couch, thoroughly pleasured.

He felt more than a measure of pride to have exhausted her. “Guess I should probably go.”

“Um, yeah. Might be best.”

He stood, by sheer will not grimacing at the sticky mess in his pants. Then he walked to the door and paused before leaving. “So we both know who lost, right?”

“Lost what?”

“Control, sweetness.” He winked at her, pleased to see that woke her up. “Of the two of us, who came all over my tongue?” He waved. “See you soon.”

She stood and wobbled on her feet. Having finally realized her pants were open, she hurried to button up. Blushing so hard it looked like it hurt, she stalked over to him and poked him in the chest. “You still owe me a round of bowling.”

“I do, hmm?”

She narrowed her eyes at him but took a step back. “Yeah. And another chance to show you I’m just as controlled as you are. It’s not my fault it’s been a while. You were handy.”

Hmm. Someone sounds defensive. “Handy, was I?” He had to smile.

“Oh, go home. And come back tomorrow. We’re bowling, buddy. And the loser is not going to be happy about it. I can guarantee you that.”

He crooked his finger at her, delighted when she stomped closer once more.

“What?” she snapped.

J.T. kissed her before he could think better of it. “You taste damn good. See you tomorrow. Same time?”

She scowled. “Yep. Six. Don’t even think about being late. We have a score to settle.” Her face still bright red, she added, “We’re not having sex, and no more kissing.”

There was kissing, and then there was kissing. “We didn’t have sex, Hope.” He’d come close, but he hadn’t affected the ecosystem.

“You’re darned right we didn’t. And we won’t.” She mumbled what sounded like, “I’m making good choices now,” then turned to glare at him and in a louder voice stated, “I’m off men.”

The thought of Hope with another woman flooded his mind with X-rated images, none of which she’d find titillating. “Right.” He cleared his throat and winced at the return of his arousal. That’s all he needed, to sport another erection around the woman he could barely keep his hands off. “See you tomorrow. And no sex.” To needle her, he added, “No matter how much you beg for it.”

She slammed the door behind him, and if it wasn’t for feeling cold and funky in his pants, he’d have claimed victory. But he had to hand it to her. Even unknowingly, she’d brought him to his knees.

With any luck, he’d manage to convince her to get to her knees. He groaned at the images accompanying that thought all the way home.

* * *

Hope spent her night replaying the evening with J.T. Through the rest of her Friday and into eventual sleep, where she yet again dreamed about him. She woke up with J.T. on the brain and wanted to slap herself for her lack of control with the man.

Staring at the ceiling, trying to concentrate, she again wondered how things had gotten so out of hand. She’d been trouncing him at a board game. Shared pizza, good times. Laughter. And then…he’d gone down on her? On a dare? A challenge? How exactly had she lost sight of her pledge to put herself first?

Well, technically I focused on me. I mean, his lips and tongue were on me. It was my orgasm, not his.

She flushed, needing to talk to someone. But as Saturday rolled around, she had no idea who to talk to. Ava, her brother’s fiancée, had provided useful advice plenty of times. As a clinical psychologist, Ava knew what she was talking about. But Ava knew J.T. as a friend, and Hope felt funny about sharing her feelings about him.

Mostly because she didn’t know how to define her emotions. She liked J.T. She was attracted to J.T. And…what? Confused, alarmed, shocked at how easily she’d fallen prey to his seduction. She still couldn’t pinpoint when she’d lost control of the situation.

Yet she couldn’t deny she felt a heck of a lot more relaxed since having had an orgasm. It had been too long since she’d been with someone else, and it had felt good. For once, a man hadn’t gotten off and left her to fend for herself. No matter what J.T. might think of their evening, she’d won in the end. Because that man packed a punch when it came to sex.

The safe thing, though, would be to keep her clothes on and her legs together. A bowling alley was just the thing. She’d interrogate him tonight, see what made him tick. Maybe figure out why she was so susceptible to his charm.

Yet, she didn’t just want to get one over on her mother with a pretend relationship. Hope wanted to know about J.T. He was her friend. A casual friend who’d seen her panties. Sure. But since they were done messing around, the friendship would continue to develop.

After making plans to talk to Noelle tomorrow—after Noelle’s big date with some French guy she’d met during her language classes—Hope spent her day doing chores, finally getting her laundry washed and dried if not folded. She showered and dressed, then waited for J.T. to arrive.

Nerves plagued her, and she couldn’t understand it. That same flirty need to get him to notice her reared its head, and she shoved the stupidity back down, where it belonged. J.T. had agreed to help her deal with her mother. Period. No dating, no sexual relationship, no longing for something deeper.

God. Why did she always do that with a guy? Start wondering what tomorrow would be like with him by her side?

That was her problem. A need to be partners with someone. Standing on her own two feet the past five months had been good for her. She’d grown. And not around her belly, thanks to workouts at the gym, and thanks to an emotional maturity that had come from being alone and being okay with that.

She cringed, remembering Greg and her other exes. Noelle liked to say that no one made mistakes; they had episodes they learned from. Apparently Hope had learned not to date the Gregs of the world. What would she learn from J.T.?

He rang the bell, startling her, and said through the door, “It’s me.”

She took her time opening it, because she didn’t want to look as if she’d been ready and waiting for him for the past forty-five minutes. Desperation be thy name. “Hello.”

He smiled, a grin that told her he knew something she didn’t. “Hello, Hope. You ready to bowl?”

“What? No button-down shirt tonight? Slumming, are we?” He slummed so well. The T-shirt he wore had shorter sleeves, showcasing the definition of his huge biceps.

She made her own muscle, stared from it to J.T., and sighed.

He laughed. “Don’t worry. I promise not to show off my glorious manliness around your tiny biceps.”

“Thanks so much.”

“Come on. We should get to the bowling alley.” He looked past her to the couch, then gave her a knowing look. “Where it’s safe.”

She felt foolish for not wanting him to come in any farther. But honestly, she worried more about her willpower than his restraint. “Safe? From what?” She snorted. “Your colossal ego toppling me over?”

“Oh, I’d like to topple you. Right over the back of that chair…” He sighed. “You have a great ass.”

“Seriously? This is you reining it in? Us just being friends?”

His amused expression turned into something more thoughtful. “Good point. Come on. Let’s go bowl a few and share some fries. In public. Fully clothed. Okay?”

He just had to keep picking at her. She blushed at the fully clothed comment, unable to forget he’d not only seen her in a thong, but he’d seen and kissed under it as well. Hope wasn’t the type to give it away on the first date. Not that she minded what other people did, but she’d never felt comfortable being so intimate so fast.

Until J.T.

“What color?”

“Hmm?” She followed him to his car and buckled herself in. “What did you say?” The look he was giving her didn’t do her raging libido any favors. She prayed her shirt hid the effect his nearness had on all the standing points of her body. “J.T.?”