Page 24 of Jasper
Me: You awake?
Tessa: Yeah, I’m cleaning up my kitchen.
Me: Want me to come over there and help you clean up?
Tessa: What? No, of course not.
Me: Just checking you’re okay
Tessa: Why wouldn’t I be?
Me: Problems always happen when you least expect it.
Tessa: I’ve been taking care of myself for years.
Me: Yeah, I know, but you have me for that now.
Tessa: Is this you trying to be funny?
Me: Maybe…
Tessa: Goodnight, Jasper. Sleep tight.
Me: And don’t let the bed bugs bite, right?
When our boring little texting session was over, I put the phone on my chest and run through our conversation in my mind. Tessa was pleasant and easy-going. I appreciated those qualities in a woman.
Heading to my shower, I want to get clean and catch some sleep. When I step inside, the shower’s running almost hot enough to scald. And the room fills with steam, just the way I like it. The hot cascade of water flowing over my body makes it easier for me to shut my brain off, to keep the Hyenas and club politics and broken bike parts from circling like vultures in my mind. But tonight, none of that noise matters. Not when all I can think about is the woman carrying my child.
I lean my palms against the tile and let the rain down from above. I try to focus on the heat, the fiasco with my parents or how exhausted it all made me. But her face keeps rising in my mind. That look she gave me the first time we met in person, how wary she was at first. She’s beautiful in a way that doesn’t try too hard. She pulls her hair back, to show her face but wasn’t wearing makeup. I love her curves, the soft tone of her voice. She’s not delicate, just overwhelmed. She’s strong enough to carry my damn legacy in her belly.
I drag one hand down my stomach, water slicking over my skin, and exhale through gritted teeth. I didn’t go into this expecting to want her. This was supposed to be business. We didn’t need contracts because we were decent, honest people.
I get that she’s not mine to lust after, but that does nothing to make me want her less. Just knowing she’s carrying my child gets to me.
I wrap my hand around my cock, already half-hard, my balls heavy. The thought of her belly growing rounded with my baby, her breasts swelling with milk makes me stroke harder and faster. My eyes drift closed, and I let my imagination run wild with thoughts of her. Tessa lying back on her bed, fingers pressed to her stomach as it rises beneath her shirt. My baby in there. My mark. Her skin flushed, breath hitching as she touches herself and thinks about me.
Fuck. My grip tightens, stroking harder now, my hips rocking in time with the motion. I imagine peeling her out of those jeans she wears, spreading her thighs and burying my face between them until she moans my name. I’d take my time, not like I do with club girls, fast and forgettable. No, with her, I’d go slow. Make her feel every goddamn second of it.
In my mind, she’s wet and wanting me. I want her slick and hot and desperate for it. I picture her on all fours, ass up, my hand on her hip as I slide into her, thick and deep, making her stretch around me while she gasps. She’ll want it, crave it. Her back arches, her mouth parts, and she begs me not to stop.
My rhythm stutters, breath ragged. “Fuck, Tessa…”
I brace myself harder against the wall, my thighs tensing and my balls drawn up tight. The pleasure builds sharp and fast. My release hits with thick spurts spilling over my hand, hot water washing it all away like it never happened.
I stand there, panting in the steam, jaw clenched. This was supposed to be simple, but it’s anything but. I don’t just want her body. I want her to want me back.
Chapter 9
Tessa
Ihear the throaty roar of multiple motorcycles before I see them. The sound is distant at first and draws closer until they’re right on top of me. I know it’s Jasper and his club brothers without even looking.
The sound of their engines humming away in my driveway makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I don’t know why, but my best guess is it is either out of fear or excitement. Fear because they are outlaw bikers, after all. Then again, it could be simply because I’m excited to see him, the father of this child I’m carrying. A weird mixture of danger and protectiveness radiates off him. If I’m being honest, it confuses me as much as the sight of him has my heart racing.
I can’t resist peeking out the window to double-check. Pulling back the curtain, I see them into my driveway. They turn off their motors and pull their helmets off, smiling and talking with one another. Today, there’s a beat-up truck trailing behind them. It parks on the street right in front of my driveway. The strange thing is that the bed of the truck is loaded high with stacks of plywood, bundles of shingles, and enough lumber to build a small house.
Jasper’s club brothers have been good at keeping their distance. They’ve also been discreet and haven’t come to my door even once. And they are dangerously efficient at guarding my house. I’ve been getting text messages from Mr. Whitmore complaining about the bikers hanging around my place. My best guess is that he’s tried to come back, and they’ve cut him off at the pass. I’mglad about that. I don’t want that asshole dropping by anytime it strikes his fancy. Whitmore is that weird combination of creepy, persistent, and entitled. It’s a dangerous combination.
