All That Jazz (Butler Cove #1)(6)

Playing.

“Step away from me, Joseph.”

“Why, Jazz? I thought you wanted me to soothe this ache.”

“Turns out, I’m getting that ache soothed by far more accomplished candidates. Thanks for reminding me. Now, step away.”

His eyes narrow on mine. He doesn’t believe me. His gaze slides to my mouth. His pupils almost cover the blue of his eyes.

We’re sharing breath. And mine is heavy.

His mouth is inches away, and I want it so bad. I want to remember the taste of him. The way his lips molded to mine perfectly, his teeth grazing my skin, his tongue hot as it slipped inside.

Then his fingers move and they’re on me. “Jesus Christ,” he says as his fingers make contact with my underwear, and we both realize how wet I am.

I shudder out a moan of surprise and relief. I’m shaking. I want to stop him. I’m embarrassed my arousal has been found out so easily.

Then he slips easily beneath the material and finds me, and it’s like I’m pulled under a wave of lust. The giving in to it is a sweet rush. I whimper.

Joey’s breath is rough, labored, almost a groan as he creates room between us and starts to move his fingers, slipping easily over my slick skin.

I started this. I don’t want it. But I do. Panting out air in rhythm to his fingers, I mindlessly press against his hand, my legs widening. Seeking more like I’m starving.

His mouth is closer but not touching. His fingers are moving faster.

I thrust my hips forward on a whimper.

“Shit,” he rasps and a finger slips inside me.

A loud cry rips out of my throat and reverberates around the kitchen. It’s like an alarm bell. What the hell am I doing? My hands are on his chest, and I push with everything I have.

Joey stumbles back.

I’m cold in the wake of his heat. Icy, and trembling. Desperately trying to find a semblance of mental armor before he sees how he almost laid me bare.

Our gazes clash together. Both of us are breathing hard.

His chest is heaving beneath the blue of his button down that’s molded to him.

I can’t tell what’s going through his head.

He looks angry. Shocked, but angry. I should be the one angry. Yes, I called him on his flirtation. More than called him on it. But he took the challenge. Why?

A noise sounds, and I hear Keri Ann coming down the stairs.

Joseph rakes a hand through his hair as we stare at each other.

“What the hell was that?” I whisper fiercely.

“What you wanted apparently.”

“What I—?” I glance toward the still empty doorway then back at him. I have only seconds. “That’s rich. You touched me.”

“You started it,” he says and winces at his words.

“Started what?” asks Keri Ann as she walks in with the scent of hot steam and strawberry shampoo. “Never mind,” she adds, taking one look back and forth between us.

I’m sure I’m flushed, sunburn not withstanding. But surely the air is still heavy with leftover sexual tension. Certainly feels that way to me. And a whole lot of frustration.

She heads to the cupboard and grabs three plates and some paper towel. “Pizza’s on the way, and I just queued up three new releases to choose from.”

I smooth my sundress and tie my hair up into a bun with the elastic on my wrist. “Great.” I smile brightly and vow not to catch Joey’s eye for the rest of the evening. “Let’s see what our options are.”

I can’t believe what just happened. Jesus, we didn’t even kiss.

Joey retrieves his duffel where it’s still lying on the floor. “Going up to grab a shower,” he says, his voice slightly off pitch. He walks out of the room.

The sound of his heavy footsteps fade up the stairs.

I stalk over to the sink, grab a glass and fill it with cold tap water. I absently take a sip then spit it out.

Keri Ann is watching me, the jug of filtered water from the refrigerator in her hand. “Everything okay, Jazz?” she asks. She knows I hate to drink tap water on the island, the taste of mud, sulphur, and ancient cast iron pipes grosses me out. I take the jug from her, fill my glass and drink. “So what movies did you queue up?” I ask.

She stares at me for a beat, realizes I’m not going to fill her in right now and sighs. “Come on.” She huffs and nods toward the living room. “Let’s go decide on the movie before Joey gets back down here.”





I’M STARING BLANKLY at the TV screen.

We’ve put on some movie with Scott Speedman, and as hot as he is, the movie just isn’t doing it for me. Keri Ann is curled on the other end of the sofa. On my other side, radiating tension, is Joey.

He’s freshly showered, wearing baggy workout shorts and a white t-shirt. His hair is damp and finger brushed back from his face.

That’s all the detail I can make out because I am deliberately avoiding looking directly at him.

I’m feeling the aftermath of my adrenaline surge in the kitchen and all my late nights last week. I’m tired, so I fail to catch myself glancing at him when my guard is down. Joey’s not watching the movie either.

He’s watching me.

Meeting his eyes in the dark, with the flickering screen as the only illumination, is a shock to my system again. Instinct makes me want to look away. Instead, I narrow my eyes at him. “What?” I mouth.