May the Best Man Win (9 page)

Her breath trembled.

Jase looked back to her. His eyes smoldered now with something she'd never seen in them before. They were close, only inches apart. A blanket of snow had already covered the windshield and driver-side windows, making this space they were sharing feel private, intimate.

She stopped breathing.

Because Jase wasn't looking at her like he wanted to insult her. Or carry on with the banter. He looked like he wanted something else. Maybe the same thing she'd only in that second realized she wanted too.

Jase frowned. Coming to his senses maybe, probably. Because this look between them was nuts. Wrong. Something she knew she shouldn't want, but couldn't seem to break away from regardless.

So it was good that he was. Because otherwise she didn't even want to think about what—

His stare dropped to her mouth. And with a shuddering breath, she realized, yes, she was already thinking about it.

About how big his hands felt on her leg. How strong his arms had been around her. How the lips she'd forced herself to stop speculating about in high school might taste.

“Just once,” he said, his voice gone gravelly low. “Just to put an end to the curiosity.”

She was nodding, sort of, her head moving the barest amount.

“No way will it live up to the hype,” she replied. “I'll walk away disappointed. Probably feeling sorry for the girls with such high expectations.”

Jase's mouth curved at one corner, a cocky addition to his words. “You'll walk away wishing for more.”

She might. “Not a chance.”

“Whatever.” And then he did it. Caught the back of her neck in his palm and closed the distance between them, his eyes locked with hers, almost daring her to back out, until that last instant when she saw something flash in them besides challenge. But then,
contact
.

Contact that teased with a barely there quality, rubbing in a gentle, tasting exploration that shocked a trembling gasp past her lips.

Damn. She wasn't supposed to get caught up in it. She wanted to remain unaffected. Indifferent. But the skill with which Jase's firm lips moved over and against hers made indifference impossible. He was good.

Jase pulled back.

Shoot. She hadn't wanted it to end. Wasn't ready for the wanting more that he'd promised to become a reality so quickly. But the last thing she was going to do was beg, even if she could still feel that almost-too-light, somehow just-perfect press of his lips.

Her eyes drifted open, and she found Jase barely an inch away. A frown carved deep across his mouth. His eyes dark and fixed on hers.

“Jase,” she whispered, barely managing the single word before the fingers at the back of her neck tightened and she knew without question what was coming next.

More.

His mouth crushed down on hers. No tentative kiss this time. No featherlight tease. His mouth was firm, his kiss confident. Arresting. She opened beneath him, letting him lick into her mouth, breathe against her lips. Taste her tongue as she tasted his.

Her fingers were locked in the front of his shirt, pulling him closer. Because yes, please—
closer
. She needed him closer. And he must have been of the same mind because he'd wrapped his arms around her and was gathering her toward him as he kissed her again and again. Devoured her mouth, and groaned when she bit at his.

Her fingers were in his hair, the silky waves she'd spent too many study halls thinking about. Thank God she'd never gotten her hands into the stuff before now, or she wouldn't have been able to forget it. Even now, she wondered if she could.

His kiss was so hot.

Hot enough that her mind seemed to be flickering between satisfaction that this was Jase—her high-school fantasy fulfilled—and the certain knowledge that this had to stop because it was
Jase
. Jase kissing her like she'd never been kissed before. Jase thrusting into her mouth, his tongue sliding wet and hot against her own. Jase working one wide palm beneath her skirt and up the side of her thigh, his grip tightening and relaxing with every few inches he advanced. Jase making her burn and beg for his touch to extend just a little farther, just that much more, just—

A phone sounded but neither of them stopped, not until the third ring when suddenly Emily jerked back with a gasp, staring in horrified shock at Jase, who looked more stunned than anything else. Stunned and still wearing that sexy sort of frown on his face.

They were in the car. In the parking lot of the church, where they were both supposed to have been five minutes ago.

Jase snapped out of it, patting around his pockets and then retrieving his phone, all while keeping his eyes trained on her.

“Jase,” he answered. Then, “Are you fu—” He broke off, closing his eyes as his free hand went to the bridge of his nose and a coarse sound worked its way past his gritted teeth. Slapping the wipers on, he asked, “They can't get anyone else?”

Emily sat up as her stomach began to sink. Over the dash she saw the first signs of activity. One bundled body after another leaving the church.

Oh no.

“Okay, man. Yeah, let me know.” Clicking off the call, Jase looked down at Emily's feet still in his lap. “Priest slipped on the ice and broke his hip. They aren't sending anyone else out. The wedding will have to be rescheduled.”

Passing the phone across the seat, he sat quietly as Emily dialed first one number, then another until finally she got through to the father of the bride.

Sally was okay but didn't want to talk. They were taking her home.

A moment later, there was a knock on the window. One of the other bridesmaids was holding up Emily's boots and coat.

“You want a ride home?” she asked, her stare flicking from Emily to Jase and then back again.

Emily was about to crawl out the window and into the girl's arms because she was so relieved to see her—because what the heck had she been thinking—when Jase pushed her back in her seat and reached past to grab her things.

“I'll take her home.”

Oh man.

The ride back into the city was quiet, the roads improving with every mile they traveled. Emily used Jase's phone to make a few calls, trying to distract herself. But when there was nothing left to do, she found herself simply looking at him. Watching the way he drove.

How his hands gripped the wheel.

The way the muscles in his legs flexed beneath his tux pants as he hit the accelerator.

The man was too good-looking.

Too confident.

Too much of an ass for Emily to have let him kiss her the way he had. For the
nothing
she'd had to say about him driving her home. For the questions running through her mind about what would happen when they got there.

Jase pulled up to her building and took a spot in the front. She had her boots and jacket now. Her purse. There was no reason for him to come up.

And yet, when he put the car in Park without a word, killed the engine, and hopped out, rounding to her side of the car without missing a beat, the flutter of anticipation within her was unmistakable.

Then they were inside the building. Riding the elevator up to her floor. She was unlocking the door with Jase a mere inch from her back. They were inside, the lock thrown, and his hands on the espresso-stained panels beside her head as he pressed into her with his hips. He was so much bigger than she was. So hot and broad and warm and, oh God, he was pushing her coat from her shoulders. Gathering her skirt as he pressed a hard-muscled thigh between her legs.

Hitting that perfect spot that had her lids dropping to half-mast and her breath leaving her lungs in a slow sigh.

“This doesn't mean anything,” she panted, her fingers feeling for the studs fastening his shirt.

“Less than nothing,” Jake assured her, bowing forward to let his hands coast up the backs of her thighs as he burrowed his face in the crook of her neck and groaned her name.

Her name
. When he said it like that—like he was in heaven and hell at the same time, blaming her for both—her entire body ignited.

“Good. Just so we're clear.”

Jase was rocking into her, his breath ragged, his erection thick and long between them. Positioned low against her pubic bone.

“You're so tall,” she gasped, savoring the unique fit of this man moving against her body. Sure it wasn't the most romantic thing she'd ever said, but something told her Jase wouldn't have appreciated it if it was. This was, after all, a strictly physical release.

“Perfect fit. I fucking knew. From back—”

His words cut off as he buried his face in her neck and swore.

The coarse sound of it…
Yes.

She wanted to hear it again. All night.

She rocked back into him. Meeting his rhythm as she turned into his ear.

Ran her teeth along the outer shell and felt his hands tighten on her ass as he swore again. Rocked harder. Just exactly
there
.

Emily started to shake, her fingers clutching at anything, everything, trying to get a hold on a world that felt like it was coming apart.

“Like that,” she gasped, no longer caring whether she sounded like she was pleading or not. More than happy to let Jase have the upper hand especially if he was going to use it like… “Jase!”

“Are you close, Emily?” he growled, his body like steel around hers. Tensed, ready.

Another thrust rubbing against that needy, aching spot, and her answer broke against his lips. “Ye-es.”

He hiked her knee higher, tucking it up against his hip. Then reached between them and, with what seemed a single flick of his hand, had his pants open, his cock free.

She looked down, her eyes going wide. Because wow.

He was…a big man.

Everywhere.

Her tongue flicked out to wet her lip. She wasn't generally the drop-to-her-knees sort, but something about the sight of Jase's heavy cock between them had her mouth watering.

Her center clenching with a need to be filled.

Jase caught her chin in the crook of his finger, bringing her eyes back to his.

“Are you on the pill?” he asked, rocking into her again.

“Yes,” she panted, moving into the press and slide of his steely length against her sex. Wishing she had a magic wand to get this skirt out of the way. And her panties too. Because she wanted to feel him against her. She wanted the hot, wet friction of his skin… No!

Jesus, what was she thinking? This was Jase Foster. Pill or not…

The crinkling sound of a wrapper being ripped opened stopped her thoughts in their tracks.

“Good,” he said, rolling the latex on with a deft move she never would have thought sexy before, but something about Jase's big hands moving up his length… “I mean, I'm safe, Em. And I know you well enough to know you'd tell me if you weren't. But I'm a ‘no chances' kind of guy.”

Was it hot?

Not in the traditional sense, but in terms of open communication and responsibility?

Definitely.

Especially when paired with the heated intensity in Jase's eyes. The bunched tension in the flexing muscle of his jaw. The way he raked his eyes over her and gathered up the length of her skirt, one hand after the other until all that remained between them was the pale-beige silk and white lace of her panties.

Jase smoothed his palm over the front of them, cupping her with his fingers. “Hot,” he growled against her lips. Then pulling the scrap of lingerie aside, he stroked where she was already open to him.

“Christ, Em. You're so wet.”

Her leg tensed around his hip, her body pleading for more of the contact her mouth wouldn't beg for.

Or she'd thought she wouldn't. But that was before Jase slid a single finger inside her. Pushed deep and then, on the withdrawal, stroked forward, making contact with that spot deep, deep inside her that no one got right.

“Jase. There,” she gasped, her eyes locked with his, her lips open as her breath sucked in when he did it again.

“What? This?” he asked, that heated look in his too-blue eyes going supernova.

So sexy. And combined with the cocky half grin on his gorgeous mouth, she might not need him to do anything at all but look at her that way.

“Yes!” she gasped, rocking into his hand.

“Ask me nice, Em. Say ‘Please, Jase.'”

His finger grazed the spot again, only this time, too lightly for it to be anything more than exactly what he'd meant it to be. A tease. Torture.

Another play for control.

She wanted him to touch her. To take her over the edge. She wouldn't need much. He could do it with another single touch, if he touched her the way she needed him to.

But something inside her wouldn't let the “Yes, please, please, please, Jase!” poised on her tongue go free.

Instead, she leaned her shoulders back into the door, tipping her hips into his touch as she met his eyes, taking a little of her own control.

* * *

Something had happened in the last three and a half seconds Jase hadn't seen coming. He'd thought he had Emily ready to beg. To plead. To offer up home-cooked baked goods and a back rub if he would just finish her off.

Yeah, not gonna lie, it was hot as hell listening to those breathy, desperate noises coming from her. In fact, thirty seconds ago, he would have ventured to say there wasn't anything hotter.

But that was before Emily Klein realized she wasn't interested in giving up the upper hand. At least not without a fight.

And holy hell, what she had in her arsenal.

She'd tipped her hips into his touch and given him one of those seductive looks from beneath the ashy fringe of her lashes. A look that said she liked what he was doing, enough to maybe let him keep it up a while. Yeah, it was the kind of look that lesser men embarrassed themselves over…because
hot
.

Where had she learned that, anyway?

He didn't have much time to ponder, because then her lips parted on a soft sigh. It was the precursor to the pink tip of her tongue wetting the inner flesh of her kiss-swollen bottom lip. Followed by her neat teeth pressing into that same flesh as she slowly rolled her hips from one side to the other, tracing her fingertips across her neckline.

Jesus, someone had been watching too much porn to be pulling moves like this.

To have him ready to drop to his knees and give her just about any damn thing he could think of.

And then she did it. Low and breathy and infinitely confident, immeasurably sexy, she murmured softly, “Please, Jase.”

Damn. Those words, delivered in that tone, with that look.

He could feel the tightening at the base of his spine. His body reacting like he'd been pumping inside her for the past hour, not like he hadn't even had a taste of what she'd be like yet.

Every man had his limit.

Mouth crashing down on hers, he thrust his tongue past her lips, needing to be inside her more than he could remember needing anything else. Knowing it was going to be mere seconds before he was thrusting deep, but not being able to wait for that last bit of realignment.

Not that Emily seemed to mind. She was moaning around his tongue, licking at him with small flicks as he spread her wide to him, positioning himself until he was just exactly
there
.

The frantic hunger of their kiss eased.

Time slowed and their eyes met as he pushed into that spot of soft give, groaning at the tight passage gripping him. At the breathless mewls against his ear. At the feel of Emily's hands clutching at his neck, his shoulders, his arms and chest. Like she desperately needed to hold on to something, to him, but she didn't know exactly how or what would be enough.

Inch by inch, he pressed inside her, working himself deeper and deeper, pulling back only to give her body a chance to adjust, then pushing forward again until he'd taken her completely and they were staring into each other's eyes.

Her hands were still on the move, still restlessly roaming from one spot to the next. Clenching and flexing. Doing things to him he couldn't handle if he wanted to last.

And Jesus, he did. Because this was never happening again. Which meant he didn't want to rush. He wouldn't risk Emily not having a good time.

No way.

He'd never hear the end of it if he did, and while the idea of her ruthless insults were maybe making him even a little harder than he'd already been, the part of him that didn't like to lose had plans to make it so good that she would have to think of him if she ever wanted to come again.

Yeah, definitely harder still at that thought.

She'd be so pissed.

Lips parted, she narrowed her eyes on his mouth.

“What's that look?” she demanded breathlessly, her voice barely holding although he sensed that steel in her spine was as strong as ever.

“Just thinking about how pissed you're going to be when I ruin you for all other men.”

Her mouth curved, a sexy little laugh escaping. “Good luck with that.”

“Don't need luck,” he growled, starting to move within her. All he needed was the promise of Emily cursing his name every time another man tried to satisfy her.

“Jase!”

* * *

“You what?” Lena gasped, as Emily paced back and forth across her best friend's office floor.

“I think I might have let him ruin me for all other men.” Emily stopped, glared at the ceiling, and shook her head, cursing her own stupidity. “He warned me. Actually warned me what he was about to do. And Lena, you should have seen the look on his face. Like he didn't have a doubt in his mind that he could. But did I heed the warning?”

There was a little too much delight in her best friend's eyes when she answered, “I'm guessing no.”

“No! And not just a simple no. I
dared
him to do it. I basically challenged him, Jase Foster of all men, to do his worst.”

“And he did.” Lena's expression was something between sympathy and amusement, one seeming to break through the other in regular intervals.

She really wasn't taking this seriously enough.

“Yes, he most definitely did.”

Being the pragmatic sort that she was, Lena leaned back in her too-big executive chair and steepled her fingers.

“Okay, I don't want to minimize what you're going through here. But Em, it's only been two days. I think maybe you're giving him more credit than you should just yet. I mean, how many other guys have you been with since Saturday morning?”

“None,” Emily grudgingly admitted. It was only Monday at noon, and honestly, her average was probably one sexual partner every two to three years. So chances were good it would be a while before she actually got to prove what she knew deep in her heart to be true—that she'd been ruined. Completely.

Because nothing had ever even come close to what Jase had done to her against that front door. And then on the back of her oatmeal linen sofa. She was pretty sure that the point where she had nearly lost consciousness…yeah, that had been on the buffet cabinet in her living room.

“Three times, Lena. To his once.”

Her friend's brow pushed up slowly. “Three times in a row? Or with breaks? I mean, did you guys stop for some water or—?”

“No water. No breaks. He just… He was… I don't even know how…and then…”

Lena was up out of her chair then, rounding her desk, concern—genuine this time, thank you—filling her eyes. “It's okay. It's okay. Just sit down, Emily.”

And then Lena winced, looking from the club chair to where Emily was standing beside it. “I mean,
can
you sit down?”

“Yes, yes.” Just not without thinking of Jase. Which was all part of the same problem. She hadn't been able to stop thinking about him since she'd thanked him for the good time—drawing on every bit of false confidence and composure she could muster—and walked him to her door.

Where he'd looked like he might kiss her good-bye, but then she'd known she was already in too deep and had simply laughed like she was still the one in control and waved him out.