Too Hot to Handle (Romancing the Clarksons #1)(30)

When her hands slipped under his shirt and pulled down on his belt buckle, putting pressure on Jasper’s cock, he cursed into her mouth, securing his fist in her hair like a goddamn barbarian. And she liked it, too. Why else would she be tugging on his belt, encouraging him to rock into the notch of her pussy? Too far. This was going too far. Any farther and they’d end up somewhere naked.

She’d leave the encounter with no doubt of his experience, because, hell, Jasper knew every button to press, when to change rhythm, when to be forceful or pull back. Knew it all. But Rita wouldn’t look at him the same way afterward. She’d see the local tramp, like everyone else.

She’d leave. And he’d have failed in his one attempt to be more to someone.

Jasper tore his mouth free, releasing a gruff exhale into her neck. “You have me ready to bust in my jeans, beautiful. I was smoother than this in high school.”

“That’s a scary thought,” she breathed out in a rush, her fists still curling in his shirt. “Was that the other half of your apology for last night? B-because I have to say, it was pretty effective.”

“At the risk of sounding arrogant, Rita, I haven’t even moved my hips yet. You’ve barely gotten a preview of how thoroughly I can…apologize.”

“Don’t leave me in suspense,” she whispered, those golden-brown eyes going as big as salad plates.

Don’t do it. You’ll have a hard-on for a decade. “If you agree to go out with me tonight, I’ll rub that wet, aching seam of yours with my own ache.”

Rita’s head fell back on a whimper. “Fine. Yes.”

Victory moved through his veins like liquid gold. Drugging him, relieving him, propelling him. With an arm wrapped low around Rita’s hips, he dragged her forward to the edge of the bike seat. Teeth gritted against her soft neck, he imagined her naked in his king-sized bed, imagined that first thrust into her tight body after about an hour of foreplay, give or take. “I really am sorry…about last night,” he lifted his head and husked, mouth a mere centimeter away from hers. Lord, don’t kiss her while you dry hump her. You’ll rip her jeans off right here in this parking lot. Already groaning, Jasper rammed himself into the notch of her legs, pinning her ass against the bike, agonized by the outline of her pussy where it branded the fly of his jeans. “I’m sorry. You want the other half of my apology?” Another five rough, pounding pumps that made the bike creak and teeter beneath Rita. Creak, creak, creak. “I’m sorry.”

When her head lolled to one side, his mouth latched on to the sensitive flesh of her neck and sucked. Damn right I’ll leave a mark. Any way I can.

“Again,” she moaned. “Just a little more. I’m so—”

“Stop. Don’t tell me.” Jasper ground his forehead against her shoulder, in utter disbelief that he wasn’t going to finish her. This woman who seemed to have his cock on a leash.

Risky move, man. You think you’re good enough to earn the reward?

“I don’t know,” Jasper said out loud, taking a last inhale of her scent before stepping away, turning his back to calm himself. Which wouldn’t happen if he kept looking at her.

“You don’t know what?” Rita asked, sounding dazed.

When he heard her boots find the ground, he faced her. “Nothing, beautiful.” His throat was raw. “I’m picking you up at seven, all right?”

“Okay. I’ll wait here.”

They both laughed, but the notes held more pain than humor. “Go ahead inside. I need to watch the door close behind you for my peace of mind.”

Rita blinked at him for a few beats before ducking her head. Why did his concern seem to surprise her? She shuffled forward a few paces, then stopped, sending him a self-conscious look over her shoulder. “I accept your apology.”

“Now that’s something.”

She stared out over the parking lot. “I don’t like sushi so much.”

His chest felt light. “Italian, then.” When she nodded and walked toward the front entrance, leaving him behind, words just kind of left his mouth without warning. “Rita, how do you feel about going to dinner right now?”

She kept walking, but her shoulders were shaking. “See you at seven.”





Chapter Fifteen



Rita was still staring at the closed motel room door when the commotion started outside. Commotion might have been too strong a word, but since she’d been sitting in silence for an unknown quantity of time, trying to piece together how some desert-dwelling player had wedged himself underneath her skin in a matter of twenty-four hours, any disturbance in the force qualified as a commotion.

Really, she should call off the date. And if her pride allowed her to go back on an agreement—even though it had been made in the heat of the moment—she might have done just that. What was stopping her from canceling? Why was she wasting her time? Funny enough, she’d asked herself the same questions before the sparse dates she’d been on in San Diego. Those men would never mean anything to her, or vice versa. They were looking for a Peggy. Or some other cool girl who cheered for a specific sports team and got invited to poker night. Jasper couldn’t be so much different from those men she’d so easily disregarded, could he?

So why did calling off the date with Jasper feel like sacrilege?