Page 47 of Just This Once

“I’m fine,” I lied. I was very muchnotfine. I was crawling out of my skin being so close to him. The cab of his truck shrank into a tiny bubble filled with his masculine scent and my needy, achy nipples.

His place.

Despite only ever being there once, it was chock-full of delicious, haunting memories. Memories I wished I could forget but at the same time didn’t mind using to get myself off from time to time. I shifted in the seat as pressure bloomed between my legs.

Good grief.

I needed to get myself under control. Half the time we couldn’t stand each other, and the rest of the time we were in the presence of my father.

The short drive to his home was spent in strained silence. When he pulled down his driveway, I exhaled a sigh of relief. I could get through this. As we pulled up to his house, Whip opened the large bay doors to the detached garage on his property rather than the one attached to his house.

Rain pattered against the windshield as he pulled into the open bay. After he put the truck in park, he glanced at my lips, then quickly darted away. “Be right back.”

Warm light flooded the garage, illuminating the large space. I realized it wasn’t a typical car garage, but rather a workshop of some kind. Exposed beams and wooden rafters framed the space. Wood projects—what looked like furniture mostly—were in various states of completion. I tried to marry the carefree, indifferent nature of the man I thought I knew with someone who could create something so beautiful and with such an attention to detail.

Curious, I exited the truck as Whip looked for the car battery jumper thing. The scent of freshly cut wood mingled with the earthy fragrance of varnish and filled my nose. The shop was bright and clean. Every tool was neatly organized on a huge workbench that ran the entire length of the back wall. In the center of the room stood a gorgeous table that looked as though it had been freshly sanded. It was long, big enough to accommodate at least eight, and had beautifully turned wooden legs.

I ran my hand across the pale, glass-smooth surface. The warmth of the wood seeped into my fingertips.

When I heard his footsteps behind me, I didn’t look up. “It’s gorgeous.”

“Sure is.” His deep voice caressed my skin.

I turned to find him staring at me. As if my attention startled him, he quickly turned and set a small machine in the back of his truck.

Awareness settled over me. Night and rain enveloped us in a cocoon of solitude. Here, on his property, there was no one to see us. No father or boss or ghosts from our past.

Just us.

I ran a hand down the unbuttoned edge of my cardigan, brushing the back of my fingertips across my nipple. I stared at Whip’s chest as I gathered the courage to look him in the eye.

When I did, the fire in his burned back at me. His chest rose and fell with measured breaths.

“I don’t understand you, Whip King.” I surprised myself at how low and sultry the words came out.

He took a step closer to me—a predator stalking his prey. “What do you mean?”

“Just when I think I have you figured out, you surprise me.” I took a step toward the workbench at the back of the shop and ran my hand over the cool metal of his tools. I shot a hot look over my shoulder. “I don’t like things I can’t figure out.”

I turned, leaning against his workbench. Heat sizzled through me, and rain battered against the metal roof, drowning out the rest of the world.

“I never asked you to like me.” He took another step forward, closing the distance between us.

My stomach quivered, and I lifted my chin in challenge. His hand moved to my hip and squeezed. I slid my palm up his chest. Another step and his body was flush against mine. His hard length pressed against me as I was pinned between him and the workbench.

“No. You just asked me to beg.” I lifted an eyebrow and watched his blue eyes darken.

His right hand slid from my hip up my chest and clasped around my throat. My head tilted back to maintain eye contact as my skin ignited.

“I like the way you whimper when I finally give you what you need.” His hand faintly flexed around my throat. “You don’t have to like me to let me praise how well you take my cock.”

The tether of my control snapped at his promise. My grip on his shirt tightened as I pulled his mouth to mine.

SEVENTEEN

WHIP

That goddamn womanmade me lose every ounce of control. My mouth took hers, hot and savage. The whimper that escaped her throat only stoked the fire inside me as my tongue swept inside her mouth.

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