The Closer You Come

Cold sweat broke out on the back of Jase’s neck at the same time as fire blazed in his blood. How soon before Brook Lynn learned the truth?

“I am,” he said, lifting his chin.

“Good, good. I paid your boys a visit in town earlier today, introduced myself and let them know I’m here if they need me. Wanted you to know the same.”

A welcome? A trick, surely. “Thank you,” he said carefully. Why hadn’t the boys warned him?

The sheriff rocked back on the heels of his boots. “I hear our sweet little Brook Lynn Dillon is working for you.”

“Yes.” He offered no more, no less.

“Pretty as a picture, that one.”

Fishing? This time, he said nothing.

“Not a very talkative fellow, are you?” Sheriff Lintz laughed, and it sounded genuine. “Well, now. Guess you’ve got things to do. I’ll take my leave. You take care, you hear.” He ambled to his black-and-white and drove off.

Jase remained in the doorway until the car disappeared from view. He swiped up his phone to call Beck—and saw his friend had left three messages. Damn it, he’d left the ringer off.

The scare with the sheriff made his need to see and hold Brook Lynn animalistic. What the hell was taking so long?

Hinges on the door squealed a few minutes later, and she sailed inside the house. His body reacted instantly, tensing, heating—readying. Just like that.

He wasn’t sure how much longer he’d have her in his life, and urgency filled him. He was on her in seconds, pinning her against the wall.

“Well?” he said. “Is it done?”

She curled into him, not even a little bit upset by his manhandling. “I talked to Brad,” she replied, breathless.

“And?”

“And I told him I’m seeing a Mr. Jase Hollister exclusively.”

The tension he’d been carrying around, boulders on his back, suddenly dissolved. “Did he cry? I would have cried.”

“Please. You are not a crier, Mr. Hollister.”

“No, I suppose I’m not.” He found himself adding, “I cried the time I was taken from the apartment I’d shared with my mother,” surprising them both by revealing a little more of his past. “I expected her to come back...was afraid she wouldn’t be able to find me if I wasn’t there. And I cried the first time I was pulled out of a decent foster home. After that I had no more tears to give.”

She melted against him, warm and soft—and all mine. “I hate that you went through those things.”

“I’m learning to appreciate what I have.” He nuzzled the line of her jaw. “But all that moving around as a kid gave me a boo-boo that hasn’t healed, and I know how you like to kiss those.”

“Yes,” she said with a tremor. “Tell me. Where is this boo-boo?” She tapped a finger against his heart. “Here?”

“No.” He took her hand and curled it around his erection. “Here.”

She chuckled, even as she tightened her grip on him. “I’d be happy to kiss this boo-boo...after I tell you a ground rule I have.”

Playing me like a piano...and I love it. “Tell me.”

“As long as I’m on the clock, there will be no PDA.”

It was a little after nine, and this was definitely a public display of affection. “The rule needs an addendum. No PDA, unless I fire you. Then you can tell your boyfriend all about your cruel boss, and your boyfriend will comfort you...naked...and then you can convince your boss to rehire you.”

Her warm breath drifted over his skin as she leaned in and licked his throat. “That’s the caveat, is it?” As she spoke, she stroked his erection, the pressure building in his groin.

“I have a rule of my own,” he gritted out. “You have to wear a garbage bag Monday through Friday. That is your new work uniform. Anything else is likely to be ripped off you the moment you walk through the door.”

“And that would be terrible, wouldn’t it?” She nipped at his collarbone.

Building...

He forged ahead. “Actually, I have a couple more rules. You aren’t allowed to prance around the house if I’ve got a hammer in my hand. And you aren’t allowed to bend over. Ever.”

“Such a stern taskmaster,” she said...and slid her free hand under the hem of his shirt. Her fingers traced a path of fire to his nipple.

He flattened his palm on her bare thighs and had to bite the side of his tongue to silence his groan. She was so damn soft.

“You’re wearing a dress. Which means you’ve already broken a rule. Which means you’ll have to be punished.”

She pinched him lightly. “Spanking?”

“Severe tongue-lashing. But as your man, it’s only right that I take the punishment for you.” He unsnapped his jeans.

“You’re so good to me.”

He hissed in a breath as she bent her head to bite his nipple just the way he liked. Then she dropped to her knees. Watching as she freed his length from the constraints of his underwear, he braced his hands on the wall. Brook Lynn. On her knees. For me.

She peered up at him with baby blues smoldering all kinds of need and licked her lips. It was the most erotic thing he’d ever seen. Until she opened her mouth and sucked him deep. He could only throw back his head and pant at the overwhelming flood of pleasure.

She worked him good and hard, sucking all the way down, licking all the way up, the pressure never ending. When her teeth scraped against the head, his hips jerked, sending him back down her throat, deep, so damn deep. He tried to gasp out an apology for being too rough, but all he managed to say was her name. When he glanced down, he saw her hand moving between her legs.