Too Hot to Handle (Romancing the Clarksons #1)(44)

“Why do you suppose that is?”

She lowered herself onto the bed with a shrug. “Maybe because we’d have to decide how to feel.”

It took a great effort on Jasper’s end not to pounce all over that statement. It sank down into his stomach, making him wonder if wanting to know how Rita felt about him would only ever be a pipe dream. But he didn’t say that out loud. Instead, he took a turn around the room, noticing documents beneath the headphones on Rita’s side table, a red college logo printed across the top. “May I?” Her hum was wishy-washy, but he was curious enough to pick them up anyway, scanning the contents. “Graphic Communication at Baruch College.”

“Just until I decide on something more specific.” She glanced at Jasper over her shoulder, then away just as fast. “So, you see, Jasper? Just because we have one more day…”

Yeah, that was his cue to move. He let the school acceptance letter flutter to the nightstand and went to stand in front of Rita. “Yeah, I heard. You’re leaving. But I need to straighten something out right now.” He took hold of her hair, winding it around his fists. The position put her at eye level with his lap, which was exactly where he needed her to be, in a minute. But just then he kept her head tilted back, needing those eyes up. “Don’t you need me back? Did you actually ask me that, Rita?”

“Hard to tell,” she whispered, her lips appearing stiff.

“That right?” Keeping one hand twisted in Rita’s hair, Jasper unzipped his jeans with the other. “Would you like a clear answer?”

Her nod was subtle, thanks to his hold, but her parted lips and stained cheeks gave him the answer before she spoke it out loud. “Yes.”

His dick was almost embarrassingly engorged as he took it out of the restraining denim. His growl of agony snapped Rita’s spine straight on the bed, those big eyes riveted on the swollen, aching wet-tipped flesh he presented. And damn if a little more fluid didn’t seep out at her awed reaction. “Still hard to tell if I want to bang you, Rita?”

“No,” she breathed.

“No, it ain’t,” Jasper rasped. “It’s pretty obvious I want to strip you naked, fuck you mindless, and leave you whimpering in a pile of sweaty sheets, no idea if you want round two or a week to recover. Isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“Good, beautiful. As long we’re on the same page.”

Pretty sure he would die from the agony of stuffing his turgid cock back into the jeans, Jasper managed the feat, nonetheless. Not without a few pained groans, however. Rita was staring up at him in total shock from her position on the bed’s edge, which he half loved, half detested. They’d learned a lot about one another tonight, but he appeared to have overshadowed some of that progress with his naughty presentation. Best to get an agreement out of her before she wondered who the hell she’d let walk into her motel room.

Jasper crouched down with a grimace to plant a kiss on Rita’s mouth. “Now, I’m going to see you tomorrow, Rita. Whether you come to me or I show up here, that’s your call, beautiful.” Another, slower, wetter kiss that made him ponder the merits of standing back up and seeing if Rita would unfasten his jeans again and give that same kiss to his cock. That’s your cue to leave, man. “It’ll be early in the morning when I come looking. Or when you show up.” He gripped his erection. “Either way, I’ll still have a nasty need to come in Rita’s name.”

He left Rita swaying on the bed, and prayed like hell he wasn’t pressing his luck.





Chapter Twenty-One



So. Wedding planning, huh? That must be…rewarding.”

Rita took a long sip of her scalding coffee, not minding the burn one bit. Maybe it would debilitate her tongue enough to prevent any more lame attempts at conversation with Sage. The apple of Belmont’s eye didn’t seem to mind, however, as they walked along the dusty road, back toward the Hurley Arms.

Turned out, Rita and Sage were both early risers. They’d walked out of their motel rooms at the same time, going through caffeine withdrawals and no longer satisfied by the motel-provided Sanka. Belmont—as if he had some kind of Sage bat signal—had appeared out of nowhere to follow behind them in silence, eyes glued on Sage as they ventured half a mile down the road in search of a buzz. Neither Rita nor Sage had commented on his presence, saying it all by trading a half smile of understanding. Or nonunderstanding, as it were, because to know Belmont was to accept that you might never understand him. And that appeared to be fine with both of them.

“Rewarding is a perfect way to describe it,” Sage murmured after a time, smiling over at Rita, the rising sun forming a halo on the crown of her head. Some of Rita’s nerves over having to walk a half a mile while making small talk faded into the desert grit on either side of them, as if Sage had decreed Rita’s relaxation. Make it so! “When the couple climbs into their limousine or carriage and everyone is cheering…” Sage closed her eyes and blew onto the surface of her brew. “It makes you believe in fairy tales, you know?”

“Uh…sure,” Rita answered, eliciting a clear, clean laugh from Sage.

Rita didn’t know what compelled her to look over her shoulder at Belmont, but when she did, he paused in his step—one second, two—before resuming.