Can't Shake You (23 page)

Tiffany nodded. “The beer bottle indeed. And a bloody nose.”

“What? I couldn’t just sit there let that guy manhandle you. It wasn’t right.” The hand that had been rubbing was now scratching something fierce at the scar he now bore as a result of his interference.

Carissa’s breath became a little tighter in her chest. First, because of the sweet, heroic gesture and then because she’d quickly recognized the pattern in his behavior, perpetually unable to resist stepping in to save the damsel in distress. Of course, she wanted to think that things were different with her and Josh. In fact, the more time they spent together, the more apparent it became. At least to her. But maybe he had something special with Tiffany as well. From the way he looked at her, it was certainly possible.

Stop! He’s not your boyfriend, chica, he’s your lover without the love.

Ugh! Why did she care about love? And since when had even thinking about the word make her heart flip-flop?

She returned her focus to the conversation, realizing she’d checked out long enough that both Josh and Tiffany were staring at her, waiting. For what she didn’t know.

“Um, I think I’d like to look around.” She angled her chin toward the showroom, hoping she was at least on the right topic. When they both smiled and nodded, she made a quick escape, leaving them to catch up and desperate to pull her head from her behind.

***

“I
’m not sure if I should congratulate you or slap you silly.”

Josh leaned an elbow against the front counter of the store and crossed one ankle over the other, chuckling lightly at the incredulous look his friend and fellow Marine’s face. “Don’t get too excited. It’s not what it appears to be.”

“Oh, so you’re not still in love with her?”

“Uh...”

“Mmm-hmm, you dirty dog. Not only was she with your friend, but now she’s your client, too.” She shook her head, her blonde ponytail swinging. “I suppose if you were gonna break your own rules, it was bound to be with her.” Tiffany glanced toward the back of the store and he followed her gaze to where Carissa stood, caressing a panel of dark cherry cabinetry in a telltale fashion.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He watched Carissa’s hand slide up and down the smooth wood, the irony not lost to his perverted mind.

“You know what it means, Staff Sergeant. Think about it. Don’t be blind to it.”

“I’m not blind to anything. And neither is she. We’re burning the last bit of fuse between us. Plain and simple.”

“Uh-huh. So how long did she last with your friend after you got home?” Tiffany crossed her arms over her chest and stuck her tongue in her cheek.

“I don’t know. A few months? Half a year? They split up last summer.”

“Was that before or after you told him about you and her?”

He shook his head against Tiffany’s scrutinizing glare. Why was everyone on his dick about telling Fletcher? This thing with Carissa was temporary. Harmless.

Wasn’t it?

“He doesn’t know about then
or
now, does he? Jesus, Josh.”

“It’s temporary. No sense in making unnecessary waves or getting anyone riled up.”

To that, Tiffany gave an honest to goodness snort. “You mean like you got riled up when you heard your girl was fu—”

“Please tell me I can afford this.” Suddenly, Carissa was before them, holding a sample piece of the cherry cabinetry like some cherished family heirloom. Thankfully, the soft, dreamy look in her dark amber eyes showed no hints of having overheard any of their conversation.

Tiffany’s grin stretched wide, as she looked between him and Carissa, amusement practically seeping from her pores. “For Josh’s girl, I can make anything happen.”

***

J
osh’s girl.
An hour and a half and part of a cherry snow cone later, Carissa’s mind continued to toss around those two words. She stood to the side of the ticket booth, watching Josh exchange forty dollars for two neon green wristbands, wondering what it might be like to go on an actual date with him. One that was planned and one that she got all dressed up and prettified for. One that, for at least a few hours, would garner her enough privilege to be considered a more intimate part of him.
His. His date. His girl.

Sure, Tiffany had made the assumption, but Josh had jumped in to correct her as soon as the words were out of her mouth. She didn’t look like she’d bought it for a second and she’d still given Carissa quite a deal, but nonetheless, Josh had made it clear that there was no exchange of possession whatsoever going on between them.

Still, Carissa couldn’t help but feel a little wistful and maybe even a little eager to at least pretend that they were doing something more than just sleeping together. The way he’d tucked her beneath his arm earlier had given her the slightest taste of what might feel like to be a part of his life. The life he shared with others, anyway. Not the one they’d decided to keep hidden away like some dirty little secret.

Josh finalized the sale and turned a wicked, intent-laden smile upon her.

Mmm. Not for the first time that night, she pushed the “what ifs” from her head and decided to be content with what was real and what was standing right in front of her—a gorgeous, sexy as hell man, who thought he had game enough to make her see stars on the Ferris wheel.

“The line looks shorter than it did before. We could go now and then again later, too.” He waggled those dark eyebrows at her and his eyes glittered like fireworks beneath the multicolored lights blinking all around them.

“Hmm, I wanna play games first.” She hedged her lips to one side and angled her head toward the midway of rigged basketball, balloon pop, and shooting games, among at least a couple dozen others. Of course, she was dying to see what kind of skills he had on the rides, but finding that out was inevitable. She wanted a little fun with him first. The date that wasn’t.

His face fell slightly, surely his libido rearing its horny head, but then he quickly recovered with another full-on grin. “Bet you want one of those big, pink teddy bears, huh?”

“Ppfftt, no. I want one of those mirrors with a picture of the Rock on it. Preferably without a shirt.”

One of his previously playful eyebrows angled sharply upward. His tone was flat, however, and somewhat annoyed. “The Rock. Really? John Cena would be a much better choice. He at least
pretended
to be a Marine.”

“Mmm, he sure did.” She gave an appreciative sigh as he stuck one of the neon bracelets on her wrist. And then he pulled her flush against him, her partially eaten snow cone a near mess down the front of their shirts as their bodies collided and his hands took up residency on her ass.

“Fuck those losers,” he growled in her ear. “You’ve got a real Marine right here, ready and willing whenever you want it.”

Thank God she’d closed her eyes, to save her the embarrassment of letting him see them roll back in her head.

“And I’m sure you’ve heard what steroids can do to a man.” His lips were hot around the shell of her ear, eliciting goose bumps down her neck and her spine, all the way to where his big palms kneaded her rear end. “Tell me, baby girl...do you think either of those guys could give you what I’ve got?”

Not in a million years. And, frankly, just the thought of what he had to offer made her hot around the collar. But she wasn’t giving it up as easily as one of those teenage girls he probably remembered from his misguided youth. Fun first, fondling later.

“Arrogant, aren’t we?” She toyed with his earlobe, loving the way such a simple touch could make him shudder.

A muttered curse broke free from his lips when she pushed up on her toes, added a searing kiss to the mix, and then abruptly broke free.

“Come on, Marine. Let’s see how cocky you are when I ring more milk bottles than you.”

***

“T
hat’s a mighty fine looking flamingo you got there, man.”

Josh chewed the inside of his cheek as Carissa tugged at their intertwined hands and giggled as yet another complete stranger commented on the enormous,
pink
stuffed animal she’d won for him by sinking five straight NFL-sized footballs through a hole the size of a dinner plate. He’d spent forty bucks on the same game and hadn’t made a single shot.

“Come on, Josh. Pink looks totally hot on you. You should accessorize with it more often.”

He thought about telling her that the only pink he wanted anywhere near his body would require
her
body, but he thought better of it. She seemed to be playing hard-to-get tonight, because every time he tried to make a move, she shot him down. Or worse, challenged him to another friggin’ carnival game.

Which was how he’d ended up toting around a goldfish, the flamingo and a SpongeBob and Patrick mirror. All courtesy of Carissa. Who carried a small white teddy bear from him, thanks to a carnie guy who had obviously taken pity on him, not to mention probably felt guilty as hell for swindling him out of so much money.

Beside him, Carissa yawned and, from the looks of the thinning crowd, it had to be getting late. Later than he’d been up in months, late. But he’d had a good time, so it was worth it.

“You think they’ll let you take your flamingo on the Ferris wheel?” she asked on another yawn.

“Probably not. But it’s gotta be close to midnight. Much as it pains me, I think we’re going to have to forego the dirty Ferris wheel ride and call it a night.”

“No way. It’s the whole reason we stopped.”

He gave her a small smile, amused by the trooper she was trying to be and somewhat perplexed at where his wanton woman had been hiding all night long. He wondered if she was insisting on the ride out of obligation and, though they’d agreed to be available to each other’s every sexual beck and call, it wasn’t nearly as much fun knowing she probably didn’t want it as much as he did. Besides, the ride—and the fair in general—had really just been an excuse to do something fun with her, without having to worry about getting caught together.

“Babe, you’re exhausted.” He slowed up and turned to face her, looking so beautiful beneath all the bright lights.

“You promised me the ride, Josh. I
want
the ride.”

And there she was, the insatiable woman with a libido as needy as his.

He grinned. “All right then. We’ll ride.”

They made their way to the big, lighted circle in the sky and, much to his relief, there was no line. But Josh did have to spend a moment finding a place to stow his loot. The operator wasn’t at all impressed when he’d asked him to babysit his flamingo, but a ten spot folded into his grubby mitt seemed to warm him to the idea.

A couple minutes later, they were seated in an orange gondola making a slow ascent to the top of the ride, easily the highest point of view in Hastings. The night was beautiful. Clear sky, bright stars. Only the faintest of breezes, carrying along the typical scents of a carnival. Cotton candy. Elephant ears. Corn on the cob. Hot, burning rubber from a long night of ride, after repeated ride.

Josh curled his arm around Carissa’s shoulders and pressed his face into her hair, inhaling a deep breath of her magnolia shampoo. Letting her aroma fill his lungs was all he needed to feel fully charged and ready to make her the happiest Ferris wheel rider of the night.

She gave a soft hum and leaned in closer, so her head rested in the crook of his neck. She felt like heaven in his arms. “Thank you for tonight.”

“You had fun, I hope.” He brushed the hair from her shoulder and traced lazy fingers along the exposed line of her collarbone.

“I did. Already more fun than I’ve ever had at a carnival and my capris are still zipped.”

He chuckled lightly, pleased to realize their gondola was slowing just past the top of the ride, but even more so that he’d been able to give her something other than an orgasm or new drywall.

He nuzzled the top of her head and slipping a thumb under her chin, lifted her face upward so he could lean in and brush his lips across hers. It was the faintest of touches, but, like always, the zing of electricity ignited between them.

He deepened the kiss and she opened further to him, her hand sliding up along the side of his neck, her fingers threading through the hairs at the base of his skull. She tasted like sweet popcorn and cherries, like completion and happiness and an addiction he never wanted to kick.

Son of a bitch.

A wave of something heady and unexpected washed over him, as a fine sweat broke out on his brow. He was used to the feelings he had for her when they were horizontal—he liked her
a lot
when they were without their pants—but getting all emotional from a little kissing? When the hell had
that
happened?

He half-considered pulling away and ending their make-out session, but then her fingers slid up under his t-shirt, spanning over his chest and toying with his nipple. And he was a goner all over again.

With shaking hands, his fingers found their way to the button on her pants and then her zipper. When his hand slid into her panties, the effortless glide had her clit pinched between his fingers in one sweep.

Hell yeah. Making her come was something he had plenty of experience with. It was safe. Comforting even.

She gasped into his mouth and, though no one else could hear the outcry of her pleasure, he swallowed her muttered words and pleas for more as he continued to stroke and tease her. Slow circles, focused pressure, and feathery caresses against her slippery flesh had her writhing against him in no time.

She turned her face fully into his neck, clung to him as she rode his hand, trying to get there...faster, desperate, frantic. And then she tensed, hips suspended off of the seat and his tongue and his fingers thrust deep inside her warm, welcoming body at the same time. When she shattered, the entire gondola shook, swaying and glittering against the night sky.

The fact that he also shook, from the soles of his boots to some deeper, more primal part of himself scared the shit out of him.

The Ferris wheel began to move again, their gondola descending slowly toward the ground, and Josh was pretty sure it wasn’t the only thing falling.