A small groan rose from Marty's throat as she made contact with Jake's lips, hungrily drinking in his essence. They kissed gently at first, then more fiercely, passion swelling up in Marty with every touch. Every taste thickened the fog that swept around her, clouding her judgment, obscuring her common sense.
She didn't think about the fact that this man was a musician, a star, one of those people she disliked and mistrusted. She didn't worry about the fact that he was currently her employer. All her mind could focus on was the intoxicating flavor of his lips.
She pushed herself closer to him, her arms slipping around his shoulders as he pulled her tight against him. His hands filled each spot he touched with heat, excitement. Desire rose up in her like a flower blossoming, growing, expanding.
She felt like a woman who'd been starving who now gobbled up the sweet banquet in front of her. She couldn't get enough, the hunger raging through her. She tried to watch out for his injured nose, but the heat was burning her, scorching her from head to toe. She ran her hands through his shaggy black hair, reveling in the feel of the silky locks gliding between her fingers.
Jake's hands embraced her, exploring her delicate frame, sliding them slowly down her spine. He tipped his head and let his lips glide along her neck, his tongue making tiny flicks along the way. His breath played across her collarbone, his lips following its path.
Goosebumps broke out across Marty's skin despite the heat he distributed and the warm night air. She shivered as his mouth traced a path along the base of her neck, his tongue flicking into the sensitive hollow there. Her hands grew more desperate as they clutched his hair, and she felt her nipples blossom against his chest.
His hands traveled sensuously, slowly, around her rib cage. Just as he slid his palm over the top of her breast she felt a flow of moisture between her legs. A strangled moan broke from her throat.
And then…something cold and wet and hard was pushing into her crotch. She squealed and jumped at the sensation, her forehead knocking into Jake's nose. He immediately groaned and grabbed his face, sweat breaking out on his forehead.
"Boo, damn it." His voice throbbed with pain and Marty flinched with guilt. Oh, she hadn't meant to hurt him. And poor Boo looked on innocently, his big head resting in Marty's lap, his bushy tail waving like a flag.
"I'm sorry, so sorry." Marty jumped to her feet not quite sure what to do. "How can I help?"
"Just give me a minute. I'll be all right." His complexion had lost all its color, a sickly look coming over his face. He didn't look like he'd be all right.
In a moment, though, he started looking better and Marty knew a chance to escape when she saw one. Moving fast she hurried down the deck stairs and paused to call back to him.
"I'm sorry. I better go," she called, tossing the words over her shoulder. "I hope you feel better." Then she ran down the path towards her RV.
Jake sat there cradling his nose in his hands and watching Marty disappear into the rusty red vehicle. Despite the pain pounding in his head and the waves of nausea washing through him, he was spellbound by her slim figure, her red-gold hair trailing behind her. His nose wasn't the only body part she'd left throbbing.
He couldn't get over it. She'd felt so right in his arms, so perfect. He hadn't had many serious relationships in his life. Life on the road was just too hard on them to last. Most women couldn't stand him being gone all the time, traveling 300 plus days a year. And then there were the groupies. Women throwing themselves at him, constantly hitting on him. It was hard for any female to tolerate that.
At first it had just been him and the guys in the band getting from honky-tonk to honky-tonk in an old beat up van, oftentimes sleeping in it between shows. Eventually they'd moved up to an old RV, something like Big Red. When he finally hit it big he bought himself one of those big luxury buses to travel in and another to haul his equipment.
Though the accommodations improved, he was still constantly on the road, always moving on to the next gig, the next show. There just hadn't been time for any serious relationships.
But things were different now. He wasn't going to be on the road constantly anymore. He could write and record right here at the farm. He could finally slow down, take time for life…for love.
He sat there for a long time. Even after the lights in her RV went out, he sat there thinking. Thinking about her, about the way her nose curled up when she laughed, how her smile lit up her whole face…about how sweet she tasted when he kissed her. Just recalling it made his dick hard again.
He knew she was afraid of him for some reason. He could sense it in her wariness. She was holding back, keeping a part of herself locked away from him.
Now he just had to figure out the key that would unlock her.
Marty cried herself to sleep that night. She didn't want to fall in love with Jake Stryker. She didn't want to feel this yearning for him, this gnawing hunger. She really didn't want to feel that for any man and especially not for a musician. Hadn't she learned the hard way that musicians couldn't be trusted? Her own father had turned his back on his family to enjoy the high life, the party life that seemed to surround all musicians. God, she didn't want anything to do with that life.
But a part of her mourned that decision. A part of her yearned for love, ached for the passionate fulfillment that could only come from a man.
But not that man. Not Jake Stryker. He had a reputation as a bad boy, a free spirit, a playboy. He wasn't right for her. He'd only cause her pain—she knew it in her heart.
But what if you're wrong? A small voice in her head whispered. What if Jake's different?
Yeah, right. A likely story. She turned over and angrily punched her pillow. Was she willing to bet her heart on that?