Rough Rhythm: A Made in Jersey Novella (1001 Dark Nights)(20)

“Don’t get too excited. The house is empty,” James said, breaking into her elated and somewhat sappy thoughts. “Anyway, I haven’t been back here in a decade. It’s been even longer since I lived in the house.”

James slowed the car and turned into a small, blacktop driveway. It was empty, signaling the realtor hadn’t arrived yet. Lita was too busy focusing on him to notice much else, though. “Why haven’t you been back?”

“My father and I aren’t on good terms.” He turned off the car’s ignition. “I’m here to help sell the house and run the business for a while. That’s it.”

Lita made no move to get out. “Tell me why you don’t speak to him.”

He opened his mouth but closed it just as fast. “Another time, Lita.”

While Lita attempted to swallow the hurt, James climbed out of the car and rounded to her side. He opened the door and helped her out, eyes and fingers lingering on skin far longer than was necessary. James’s way of apologizing for shutting her out? Probably. But she needed to be patient instead of pushing.

Feeling the burn of James’s regard, Lita turned her attention toward the house. “Wow,” she laughed. There were flowers. Everywhere. A million different colors, all vibrant. Lush greenery and tall, leafy trees surrounded the small, cottage-style house, making it look like something out of a fairytale. “This is not what I pictured at all,” she said, climbing the porch stairs. “Maybe I should have when you told me they owned a landscaping company.”

James passed her on the stairs, keys in hand. “Yes, it has always been pretty on the outside.”

Wondering at his cryptic statement, but determined to keep the morning light, Lita followed James into the house. White walls and dark wood floors greeted her, but the paintjob was obviously fresh. Not a single trace of the family who had lived there before. “Show me your room.”

“It’s not my—” He broke off with a sigh. “It’s upstairs.”

Lita preceded him up the creaking steps, imagining photographs lining the walls at one point. Homey smells coming from the kitchen downstairs. All the things she’d missed out on growing up. “Which way?”

“To the right.”

Based on his husky tone of voice, James was looking at her backside. Lita smothered a laugh as she turned the corner and breezed in through the only open door. The bedroom was small, but bright; empty, save the fluttering blue curtains blowing in front of the open windows. Lita faced James, refusing to dim her enthusiasm one notch. “You slept right here for eighteen years.”

“Why does that make you smile?” he murmured.

Lita executed an awkward pirouette at the room’s center. “Because you just showed up one day, like you’d come into the world fully formed as an adult. You know everything about me, witnessed my best and worst days…” She stopped turning and shrugged. “So I have one thing now. I have one, and maybe in another four years, I’ll have two…”

Transfixed by his intense expression, Lita trailed off, her ability to speak deserting her. James came forward, although barreling down on her was a more apt description. Long, determined strides that kept her rooted to the spot, sending her heart into a fit of erratic beats. His mouth swooped down onto hers and opened, pushing her lips wide. On a simultaneous groan, their heads tilted opposite directions, mouths interlocking like the final piece of a jigsaw. Oh…oh God. She could barely stand under the assault of feeling. Drugging, dirty, f*cked-up passion that made her white blood cells scream and she couldn’t get enough. Couldn’t ever. Lita’s hands tangled in James’s hair the same time he walked them backward, giving Lita the wall to lean on while he mouth-f*cked her.

Holy shit. The seam of her jean shorts was damp within thirty seconds of James stroking his talented tongue along hers, again and again, hungry sounds ripping from his throat. His hands slid up her outer thighs and gripped the frayed ends of her shorts. “I will destroy these before the day ends.”

“They’re kind of already destroyed,” she panted. “It’s a look.”

His laugh emerged on a puff of air, stirring the hair he’d messed up in his hands. A beat passed as he scrutinized her face. “I played water polo when I was younger. There’s your second thing, all right?”

Lita’s mouth dropped open. “Did you wear a Speedo?”

“Hmmm. A white one.”

Two very potent emotions were fighting for precedence—hope, because he’d opened up to her, even with such a small thing, and all out arousal, because his powerful body had her plastered up against a wall, his pupils dilated enough to obscure the gray, need like she’d never seen in their depths. “James?”

He dipped his head to suck at her top lip, slowly pulling it into his mouth and letting it go. “Yes?”

…aaand arousal won the day. Lita wedged her right hand between their bodies and gently squeezed the bulge behind his fly, running her fingers over the thick outline until she found the plump tip. So big. God, he’s so big. “I need to get on my knees for you. For this.”

“Fuck yes.” James placed his hands on the wall, easing his hips back to give her room to work the button and fly of his jeans. “I’m going to bang your beautiful mouth, Lita. Just the way you like it.”