Glitter Baby (Wynette, Texas #3)(114)

The door was locked against her. “Open up.”

Nothing but silence came from the other side.

“I mean it, Jake. Open this door right now.”

“Go away.”

She swore under her breath and went back downstairs to get her key. By the time she got his door unlocked, she was shaking.

He sat on the unmade bed, leaning against the headboard with a bottle of beer propped on his bare chest and his jeans still unzipped. His hostility crackled like dry ice. “You ever heard of tenant’s rights?”

“You don’t have a lease.” She stepped over his shirt, which lay crumpled on the floor, and walked toward him. When she reached the bed, she studied him, trying to read his mind, but all she saw were the harsh lines of exhaustion around his mouth and the desperation that had etched itself into the shadows under his eyes. “If anybody needs mercy,” she said quietly, “it’s me. It’s been a long time.”

His expression tightened, and she realized right away that he wasn’t going to make this easy for himself. He’d revealed too much need, and now he had to throw up some camouflage. He took a swig of beer and looked at her as if she were a cockroach who’d just crawled across his floor. “Maybe some poor slob would take you to bed if you weren’t such a ballbuster.”

She’d love to take a swing at him, but he was only capable of self-destruction tonight, and she suspected that’s what he wanted. “It’s not like I haven’t had plenty of offers.”

“I’ll just bet you have.” He sneered. “Pretty boys with Cuisinarts and BMWs.”

“Among others.”

“How many?”

Why couldn’t he just admit he needed her instead of putting them both through this? She had to stay in charge of this dangerous game he wanted to play. “Dozens,” she replied. “Hundreds.”

“I’ll bet.”

“I’m legendary.”

“In your own mind.” He took another slug of beer, then swiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “And now you want me to take the edge off your sexual frustrations. Play stud for you.”

The man was shameless. “If you don’t have anything better to do.”

He shrugged and kicked the blankets away. “I guess not. Take off your nightgown.”

“No way, cowboy. You want it off—you take it off. And while you’re at it, get rid of those jeans so I can see what you’ve got.”

“What I’ve got?”

“Consider this an audition.”

He couldn’t even manage a smile, and she knew he’d reached his breaking point. “On second thought,” she said, “why don’t you just lie there? I’m feeling aggressive.” She peeled her nightgown over her head, but her hair got tangled in the strap. She was standing naked and vulnerable in front of him. Her fingers trembled as she tried to free her hair, but she only made the snare worse.

“Lean over,” he said softly.

He pulled her down to the side of the bed. She sat with her back to him and her bare hip brushing his denim-covered thigh.

The nightgown slipped free. “There.”

He made no move to touch her. She gazed across the room, her spine stiff, her hands crossed in her lap, and she knew she couldn’t go any further. She heard him sliding off his jeans. Why did he have to make this so difficult? Maybe he wouldn’t even kiss her. Maybe he’d just pull her back on the bed and have sex with her without even kissing her. Wham, bam—nice knowing you, kiddo, but I’ll be moving on now. And wouldn’t that be just like him? He was such a son of a bitch. Playing on her sympathies. Refusing to talk except to insult her. Getting ready to run out on her again!

“Flower?” His hand touched her shoulder.

She spun on him. “I won’t do it if you don’t kiss me. I mean it! If you don’t kiss me, you can go to hell.”

He blinked.

“And don’t you think for one minute—”

He caught her by the back of her neck and dragged her down over his bare chest. “I need you, Flower,” he whispered. “I need you real bad.”

His mouth closed over hers in a deep, sweet tongue kiss. She floated through the kiss, bathed in it, drank it and ate it, and didn’t want it ever to stop. He rolled her onto her back and pressed her into the mattress with his weight.

The kiss lost its sweetness, becoming dark and desperate. His breathing grew more ragged, and she arched her back to press her hips closer. Sweat broke out on his body, mingling with her own, and suddenly his hands were all over her. Rough, clumsy hands—at her breasts and waist, on her hips and buttocks, pushing inside her.

There was something so desperate about his touch. She was frightened for him, frightened for herself. All the frustration, the years of denial, formed a fiery ball in her chest. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and met his fierceness with her own. “Love me, Jake,” she whispered. “Please love me.”

His fingers dug into the soft skin of her thighs, spreading them far apart, and his weight settled between them. Without warning, he thrust deep and hard within her. She cried out. He grabbed her head between his hands and covered her mouth with his own. He kissed her desperately as he drove inside her. She came at once, breaking apart in a joyless orgasm. He didn’t stop. He stayed with her, tongue in her mouth, hands in her hair, pushing harder…faster…letting out a harsh, anguished cry as he spilled himself deep within her.