Don't Go Away Mad (Burgers and Brew Crüe Book 2) Page 13

  She finishes shrugging on the coat and faces me. “You don’t have to take me home,” she counters, starting to zip the fluffy outerwear closed.

  “You’re not walking, Lyndee. It’s late.”

  “I only live a short distance, Jasper. I don’t need an escort.” She lifts her head, meeting my gaze head on. What’s crazy is the way my cock stirs to life by her firmness. It’s a huge fucking turn-on, even if I want to paddle her ass for being so cavalier with her safety at night.

  “Maybe not, but you’re getting one,” I argue, placing my hand on her back and guiding her through the kitchen, out the back door, and down the hallway. We don’t allow just anyone back here. The employee break room, staff restrooms, and bar storage is this way.

  We pass the stairs leading to Isaac’s office, as well as the spaces for Walker and Jameson, the sound of my friend playing Eric Clapton on his guitar growing louder with each step we take. I open the door that separates the back area from the bar and am greeted with a standing room of patrons, their eyes all cast toward the small stage where Jameson plays.

  At the bar, I find Isaac sitting on the stool at the end and Walker pouring a draft beer. Lyndee’s attention is automatically pulled in the direction of everyone else’s, even after we stop beside Isaac. “Wow,” she mumbles to no one in particular.

  “He’s pretty damn good,” Isaac replies, sipping a glass of amber liquid and pulling her attention from where Jameson plays.

  “He is. I love this song,” she adds, a soft smile playing at the corners of her lips.

  And I love watching her. I find myself mesmerized by her eyes and the way they widen ever so slightly when she’s excited. The way she nibbles on her lips when she’s concentrating. The way her cheeks flush the most gorgeous shade of pink when she’s nervous. And the way her mouth looks ripe for kissing under any light.

  “What can I get you?” Walker asks, his eyes flicking between myself and the woman beside me.

  “Just a Coke, please,” Lyndee replies with a flash grin before returning her gaze to Jameson.

  “I’ll just have a water.” Walker gives me a questioning look before grabbing two glasses, filling one with pop and the other with ice water. He pops a straw in each and slides them across the bar.

  We listen to two more songs, and as much as I try to ignore the way her slender body brushes against mine as she sways to the music, it’s hard.

  As am I.

  Lyndee yawns for the fifth time in a matter of minutes, which has me sliding my half-empty glass toward the edge of the bar and reaching into my coat pocket for my keys. “We should get you home. You’re about to fall asleep standing up.”

  She doesn’t argue, just places her glass down on the counter and turns to face Numbers. “It was nice to see you again,” she says politely.

  “Hey, thanks for helping out tonight. I want to pay you for your time,” he says, reaching for an envelope in his dress shirt pocket, but Lyndee is already holding up her hands in protest.

  “No, absolutely not. I was helping friends.”

  He hesitates, clearly not happy with her not accepting the cash in the envelope.

  She reaches over and places a hand on his forearm. Jealousy gurgles in my stomach like bad sushi. “Please. I was happy to help.”

  Numbers slips the envelope back into his pocket and smiles. “Anytime you need help across the street, just holler.”

  Now she grins, a breathtaking smile that transforms her already gorgeous face into something so stunning, an ocean sunset would be envious. “I will.”

  While Lyndee steps away, I slap him on the back, a little harder than I probably should. “I’m running her home. Be back later.”

  His smirk is all-knowing. “Jameson and I will help close. Don’t worry about it. Take the night and…relax.”

  I don’t acknowledge his comment or the teasing innuendo behind it. Instead, I guide Lyndee toward the way we came. As I push out the back door, I click the fob in my pocket, starting my car. The air is chilled and crisp and feels good against my warm skin. Maybe it’ll help calm the raging desire I seem to be carrying around like a backpack whenever she’s near.

  “I can walk, Jasper, really,” she counters, her gait hesitant as we approach my ride.

  “Don’t argue with me,” I state, unlocking the doors and opening the passenger one. “Please just get in the car.”

  She sighs and gives me an incredulous look. “Fine, but only because you have heated seats.”

  I chuckle as she slides down into the front seat and runs her hand over the buttery soft leather. I watch as she leans her head back, resting against the headrest, and closes her eyes. There’s the faintest smile on her lips. I want to kiss them more than I want my next breath.

  I’m in big trouble.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Lyndee

  A girl could get used to this.

  The ride is too short, and before I know it, we’re pulling into my driveway and I have to get out. But I don’t want to. The seats are the most comfortable seats in the world, conforming perfectly to my butt. And the heat? I’ve never actually sat on heated seats before, and I’m pretty sure I’ll never be happy with the regular old cloth seats in my Malibu again.

  “Thanks for the ride,” I say.

  “You’re welcome. I’m glad you’re home safe and sound.”

  I can’t help but roll my eyes. “I would have been fine walking.”

  Jasper shrugs. “Maybe. Now we don’t have to worry about it.”

  I start to reach for the handle, but something gives me pause. “Do you want to come in for a drink?”

  Even in the darkness of his car, I can see the surprise on his face. “Oh,” he replies, seeming a bit confused, which tells me one thing.

  He’s trying to figure out how to let me down easy.

  “Never mind,” I blurt out quickly with an awkward chuckle, reaching again for the door handle. “It’s late. I’m sure you’re busy.”

  Yeah, busy trying to come up with a getaway excuse.

  I practically throw myself out of the car, only to be stopped by the still-fastened seat belt. A whoosh of air leaves my lungs in a very clumsy fashion as it tries to hold me against my will inside this fancy Mercedes. Could this get any more humiliating? Rejected by the owner and the car itself.

  “Let me help you.” Jasper suddenly appears at my door, crouching down and reaching for the buckle release. I can feel the warmth of his imposing body as he reaches across my lap and presses the small button. He meets my gaze as I feel the restriction of the belt relax, but for some reason, I still can’t breathe. It’s almost worse now, staring into his deep brown eyes. They practically swallow me whole with their power and need.

  Maybe I’d be better off taking my chances with the seat belt.

  I stand up, barely feeling the cool air around me. The night is silent as he shuts the passenger door and escorts me toward my condo. “What are you doing?” I ask, realizing for the first time that his car is off.

  Jasper stops, a look of uncertainty flashes across his features. “Well, you invited me in. If you’d rather not now, that’s fine,” he says, taking a step back and dropping his hand.

  “No!” I insist, reaching for his coat. I don’t know why I grip it in my hand, to keep him from leaving, maybe?

  His leisurely smile turns a bit too cocky for my liking, and I can’t help but roll my eyes again. “Then I’d love to join you inside for a drink.”

  Something in the way he says inside sounds way too dirty and way too good.

  I quickly unlock the front door and usher him inside. We’re both quiet as to not wake up my brother, even though I know my brother could sleep through a freight train running through his bedroom. Dustin’s always had this uncanny ability to sleep through anything.

  “Throw your coat on the chair, if you’d like,” I whisper, toeing off my sneakers and tossing my own coat over the arm of the couch. Four in the morning comes too early to worry about han
ging it up in the closet.

  Jasper does and kicks off his own shoes before following me into the kitchen. Our condo is fairly open, with wide doorframes and plenty of moving space, but for some reason, having Jasper in my kitchen makes it feel small. He’s close, hands shoved in his pockets, as he looks around at the space.

  “What would you like to drink? I have water, orange juice, Dr. Pepper, and some milk that might be questionable on the date. Oh, and chamomile tea,” I say, glancing in the refrigerator.

  “What are you having?”

  “Tea. I love warm tea before bed.”

  His eyebrows arch upward, and another smirk spreads across his lips. I can tell he took that whole bed comment the wrong way. It’s in the way his eyes dance with something naughty. I feel a fierce blush creep up my neck, and I try to hide it by sticking my face back in the fridge.

  I hate that he has this schoolgirl crush effect on me.

  I shut the door a little too hard, causing the condiments in the door to rattle. “I just mean it helps me relax after a long day,” I add, crossing my arms over my chest.

  Jasper leans a hip against the counter, mimicking the way I hold my arms. “I prefer other activities at bedtime to help me relax.” He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively just to punctuate his point.

  And now my blush feels like someone lit my face on fire.

  “Umm,” I stammer, clearly flustered. I reach for the tea kettle and notice the slight shake of my hand. I don’t know if it’s the embarrassment or the fact I can’t stop picturing Jasper doing other things, but I’m completely out of sorts right now. Maybe it’s best if I just offer an excuse to end the evening, run to my room, and come out in the year 2055. Surely I’ll have forgotten all about this moment by then, right?

  “Tea would be great, thanks. I actually prefer coffee, but I don’t see a pot on your counter,” he says, glancing around.

  “Oh, uh, yeah,” I stutter, awkwardly laughing. “I don’t have one. I can’t drink that stuff at night, or I’d never go to sleep,” I add, turning on the stove and filling the kettle.

  “It doesn’t bother me,” he informs, taking a seat at the small table in the corner.

  “You drink it at night?”

  Jasper shrugs. “I have insomnia, so it doesn’t really matter. I don’t sleep whether I drink coffee or not.”

  Pulling two mugs from the cabinet, I place a teabag in each and pop a hip against the counter. “Insomnia? What’s that like?”

  Jasper seems to contemplate my question, gently leaning back in the chair. “Well, it started in college. It was like overnight I went from a solid eight hours of sleep to like four. At first, I just thought it was because I was in college, drinking like a typical twenty-year-old student and occasionally smoking pot in someone’s dorm.

  “But then I was done with school and working full time. My stress level was off the charts, so that didn’t help. I went to a doctor, who prescribed a sleep aid. All that did was make me groggy and grumpy.”

  I can’t stop the snort.

  Jasper glances up and grins. “Fine, more grumpy than normal. Anyway, over the years, I learned to live with it. I come up with some of my best recipes after midnight.”

  The whistle sounds, so I turn to fill our cups, letting the tea steep for a few minutes. “Well, good news for you. Chamomile tea is supposed to be a great sleep aid. I bet, one cup of this, and you’ll be sound asleep in no time,” I tell him, carrying the cup over to where he sits.

  “I guess that’s okay. You know, since the thing I do to help me sleep hasn’t been thrown on the table yet.” His eyes are playful as they meet mine. “Unless you want me to throw it on the table.” Jasper waggles his eyebrows suggestively.

  I burst out laughing, causing my tea to slosh over the rim of my cup and burn my hand. Quickly, I place it on the table and reach for a napkin. “Ouch.”

  “Are you okay?” he asks, jumping up and grabbing the hand towel from the counter.

  “I’m fine,” I insist, pulling my hand back as he reaches for it.

  “You burned your hand.”

  I have no choice but to follow as he takes my hand and pulls me toward the sink. Jasper turns on the cold faucet and moves it under the running water. It’s uncomfortable, but not horrible. It’s not even really a bad burn. I’ve had worse, usually grazing a knuckle or a fingertip against a rack in the oven.

  “Hold still.”

  “I’m…fine. It’s just a little burn. Happens all the time,” I insist, giving my hand one more tug. But Jasper’s Herculean strength is no match for my slight physique. He carefully holds my hand under the cold water for a full minute before he gently pulls it back.

  Jasper examines my hand, taking in the slight pink coloring on my thumb and index finger. Those don’t hurt. What does sting a little is the tender skin between them. It’s a touch redder, the burn more sensitive. He runs his thumb over the angry flesh. “You should put something on this.” He continues to hold my hand, his fingers soothing the burned skin.

  My heart hitches in my chest. “I have some ointment in the bathroom.”

  “I’ll get it,” he quickly states, releasing his hold on me and heading for the short hallway. I should go with him, to assist him in finding the burn ointment, but I’m so stunned by the tenderness he displayed, I can’t seem to force my feet to catch up. “Here.” Jasper returns just a few seconds later with the small jar of ointment.

  I reach for the container, but he shakes his head.

  I watch in wild fascination as Jasper gently grasps my wrist and brings my hand to his mouth. He softly blows on the burn, making sure it’s dry. Why he’s not using the hand towel is beyond me, but I’m not about to complain. His warm breath is intoxicating, his touch mesmerizing, and I find myself not wanting it to end.

  Once he’s certain the flesh is dry, Jasper reaches for the jar of cream and spreads a generous amount on the reddened area. His steady fingers are gentle as he makes sure to apply the medicine to all affected areas, his eyes concentrating on the task at hand. I know this because I’m watching him. My eyes are fixed on him, taking in the way his dark eyes study my skin and makes sure to spread an even coat. Even when he’s doing something as mundane as applying ointment to a burn, he’s simply stunning.

  He glances up, meeting my gaze. There’s a moment where time stops. Where the sounds of us breathing together in such a close space makes everything else just fade away. Where the burn doesn’t hurt and all I can feel is his hand wrapped around mine, softly caressing my skin. Where all I see is deep chocolate eyes and the slight stubble on his jaw from the day.

  I bet that would burn against my cheek…

  And other places…

  It’s as if he knows exactly where my mind wandered. I see the desire pooling in his eyes, followed by hints of resignation, as if he knows he can’t fight whatever happens next.

  Jasper takes a step forward, our bodies a whisper away, and his gaze drops to my lips. A hushed gasp spills from mine as I inhale, anticipation and excitement coursing through my veins.

  He’s going to kiss me. I can feel it.

  Our eyes remain locked as his mouth slowly moves toward mine. My eyelids flutter closed just as his lips press firmly against mine. This isn’t a sweet kiss. Not the kind one would expect for a first kiss. There’s something so…possessive about the way he plies my mouth open with his tongue and takes what he wants. All I can do is hang on and enjoy the ride.

  I press my body against his, reveling in the head-to-toe hardness, the slight discomfort of my hand a distant memory. All I can think about—all I can feel—is him.

  His tongue dances with mine, his expert lips taking me for a ride to Ecstasy Land. The hand not holding my own comes up and cradles my jaw, his thumb stroking my neck and sending shock waves of lust through my extremities. We rock together. I’m not sure who moves first, but I can feel the very hard, very large length of him pressing against my stomach. A moan of pleasure fills the space. Did it come fro
m him? Me?

  Probably both.

  This kiss is everything that’s always been missing from kisses in the past. It’s passionate, it’s powerful, it’s all-consuming.

  It’s infinite.

  I’m mere seconds away from climbing up his lean, muscular body as if he were a tree, when a throat clears behind me. I jump back, ripping my lips from Jasper’s and trying to put as much distance between us as possible. Unfortunately, all I do is connect with a wall, bumping my head.

  Jasper’s eyes dance with shock and a touch of humor before he glances toward the doorway. “Hey, Dustin.”

  “Jasper, hi. Wasn’t expecting to find you in the kitchen,” he says, grinning widely.

  “Lyndee invited me in for tea,” Jasper replies, still standing directly in front of me.

  “Yeah, tea. We were having tea!” I blurt out, causing two sets of eyes to land on me.

  Dustin smirks. “Why are you being so weird?” he asks, moving to the cabinet by the sink. My brother retrieves a glass before heading for the fridge and pouring a glass of orange juice. After taking a sip he adds, “You act like I’ve never seen you making out with a guy before.”

  A gasp spills from my lips. “What? I’ve never…when?” I ask, my voice shaky.

  Dustin just laughs. “Right after you moved home after college. You were dating that guy with the bad bowl cut. What was his name? Gary?”

  “Jerry,” I correct, clearing my throat. “I, uh, didn’t realize you saw us.”

  “Mom did too,” he replies with a shrug. “You were on the front porch after a date, and we were coming back from a walk. I remember Mom commenting on him trying to swallow your face.”

  I can feel my face bursting into flames, and it only gets worse when Jasper starts chuckling. “He tried swallowing her face?”

  I recall the kiss my brother is referring to. It was…bad. Jerry was very scholarly, but not so knowledgeable about kissing. It was horribly sloppy with too much tongue, and I remember being a tad grossed out by the kiss. So much so that I declined his request for another date a few days later.