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  Jasmine hooked a finger in Sarge’s belt loop and tugged his hips forward, smiling when his breath rushed out in the form of her name. Jasmine. “When I was watching the video?”

  “Yeah?” he prompted.

  She cupped his erection through his jeans, pulse picking up speed at her own bravery, at the weight of him. “I couldn’t look away from this.”

  Sarge groaned, tilting his hips to push himself into her palm. “Did you see me fucking your bed I needed inside your pussy so bad?”

  “Yes,” she whispered, giving him a firmer grip. “But that’s not what you want right now, is it?”

  “I always want it,” he growled, ramming his fist into the cement wall. “I want to be pumping inside you every minute of the day.”

  Good Lord. It took Jasmine a moment to come down from the potency of his statement. There were two sides of her battling for supremacy inside Jasmine. The terrified side, worrying Sarge wanted more than she could give—and the side dying to give him everything. In the darkness, with their bodies primed for only one thing, logic was the weaker opponent. Her thighs rubbed together, her teeth raking over her lips like an all-out addict whose drug of choice was this man. Only this man. Now.

  Jasmine unbuttoned Sarge’s jeans and slowly lowered the zipper, noticing that he held his breath. “Do you ever think of me on my knees?”

  His laugh turned to a gritted curse when she fondled his hardness, pulling it from his jeans and running light fingertips over every ridge and vein. “Ah, Jesus. You don’t want to know how often I think of that, baby.” His forehead dropped down onto her shoulder. “You’ve sucked my cock in every hotel shower across Europe.”

  The apex of her thighs contracted—a swift tug of muscles. “But it was all in your head.” Using one hand to grip his length, she found his balls and massaged, her eyelids falling when his body jerked on a moan. “I want to give you the real thing.”

  Back and forth, his head shook on her shoulder. “I’ll come too fast. You need me between your legs. The song…the video. I know you need fucking.”

  Despite his denial, she could hear the lust coating his voice. He wanted inside her mouth. She was aching to give herself to him that way. There was no stopping this. Jasmine went down on her knees between his body and the wall, pushing away his halfhearted attempts to keep her standing. “You’ll give that to me later, won’t you?”

  His eyes blazed, hands clenching in her hair. “Jesus, don’t tell me from your knees that you want me to fuck you later, Jas. I won’t last a minute.”

  Had she ever felt this alive? This daring? She swirled her tongue around the slick, engorged tip. “But I do want that. So bad.”

  Sarge’s groan rang in her ears. “Fuck this. Stand up so I can rip the panties I made wet right off your sex-kitten ass.”

  Jasmine’s response was to glide her mouth halfway down his shaft, maintaining eye contact as she sucked her way back to the tip. Sarge fell forward, his lips parting on a silent shout of pleasure. His palms slapped onto the wall behind her, leaving him bent at the waist, legs spread shoulder width apart. As if the move were unconscious, but he wanted to get all of himself as close as possible, Sarge gathered his shirt in a fist and lifted, giving her a front-row seat to his flexing stomach.

  “Baby, baby, that’s so good. Feels so good riding on your tongue. My stomach hurts already just knowing…knowing it’s you. Won’t last, goddammit…I can’t.”

  His face was a mask of pleasure, eyes struggling to stay open but squeezing shut every few seconds when she sucked a little more of him. The taste of salt was already spreading on her tongue, evidence of his lust that couldn’t be contained. She lifted his heavy arousal toward his belly to lick the underside, turned on to see how tightly his balls were drawn up. Close, he was already so close, and having witnessed his unbelievable stamina last night, the obvious desire wrought by her mouth was a huge turn-on. Her heart was beating triple time in her chest, wetness rushing between her legs. Without conscious thought, she palmed the twin globes of hanging flesh and gloried in the sound of him releasing a string of curses.

  “That’s it. That’s it. Feel me getting ready?” His thighs started to shake on either side of her face. “You…no. Jasmine, baby. You stop now. I’m…oh my God I’m going to lose it so hard. I’m thinking of fucking you. Fucking you. Fucking you. Get up. I can’t stop it.”

  Greedy. She was greedy for Sarge. His shaft was so full inside her mouth, so stiff. His hands were punishing fists in her hair, made all the hotter because he likely wasn’t even aware how much they pulled. He was just a hungry male trying to get his mate’s mouth closer, tighter. When she felt his fullness jerk, heard Sarge’s voice choke off into rough pants, she reached around his hips to dig her fingernails into his ass, hard enough to leave marks, tugging him closer as he spent himself down her throat.

  “Fuuuuuck.” His hips gave two uneven rolls. “It can’t…be this…good. Jesus.”

  Jasmine lost her balance, partially because of Sarge moving against her mouth, but mostly because of the incessant rounds of heat blasting her. One after another, until she tipped to the side, felled by the power of his climax. She’d done that? Yeah…she’d done that.

  “Up,” Sarge growled, gripping Jasmine’s elbows and hauling her into a standing position. And ohhh, what a knockout punch to have his giant, satisfied body towering above her, still semierect and dripping onto the ground. Her fingers twitched, desperate to dip inside her jeans and give pressure to her swollen clit. Time wasn’t allotted to her, however, because Sarge had other plans.

  He turned Jasmine toward the wall and pressed forward, forcing her hands up to stabilize her. A breathless moment passed wherein she could feel him forming intentions with a sweep of his gaze. Jasmine found herself arching her back, offering her bottom up for his perusal. “Did you like that, mi rey?”

  “What did you call me?” Sarge’s chest was flush with her back in a split second, his mouth messing up her hair, fingers fumbling with the zipper of her jeans. “Call me that again while my fingers are in your pussy.”

  Fragments of light shot through Jasmine’s vision when Sarge’s touch delved into her panties and thrust home with two fingers. “Mi rey. Don’t stop, my king.”

  “Fuck. Your king? I won’t stop, baby. You know I won’t.” His free hand dragged her jeans down, leaving the denim bunched beneath her backside. Working his fingers in and out of her already-clenching center, he kneaded her bottom hard, stroking in between light slaps. “Feel how sweet you are on both ends? Goddamn. Don’t even get me started on your mouth. My imagination wasn’t doing you justice.”

  A rush began at the tops of her thighs, swirling higher, unnamed muscles beginning to spasm. “Almost, almost. Please keep going.”

  He spanked her bottom harder than before. “You think I would let you pull those jeans back up over an unsatisfied pussy?” His teeth raked up and down the side of her neck, his voice dropping as he started to sing in a tone made of gravel. Just hearing the song he’d written for her sent Jasmine’s system into a tailspin. Oh God, she couldn’t breathe. “I need tending, never ending. Want that, need that, girl in blue,” he sang. His warm breath blew into Jasmine’s hair, and her neck lost its ability to function, letting her head drop forward. “Grip those hips…” Slap. “Up into you.”

  Her core pulled tight, tight around his fingers. “Oh, oh…Sarge—”

  Slap. “Once not enough.” His thumb dragged over her clit, back again, and she climaxed. “Flipped over…round two.”

  Sarge caught Jasmine around the waist as her knees gave out. The sweating palms of her hands slid down the wall as she struggled to inhale. So much. So much. She could actually pinpoint the exact spot beneath her belly button that twisted, twisted, with such wicked precision, it blinded her in its perfection. Sarge was muttering husky words against the back of her neck, his body solid and reassuring behind her, keeping her anchored to reality. Although being in the darkness with a dynamic man was
n’t reality for her. Never had been. Might only stick around for a short while.

  Could she just enjoy it while it lasted? Without questioning it?

  She wanted to so bad. When would she get this chance again?

  “You with me, Jas?”

  “Yeah.” She managed a half smile as Sarge turned her around in his arms, those blue eyes analyzing her face like a hot, mussed-up mad scientist. “Yeah, I’m just…yeah.”

  The corner of his mouth lifted, forming a dimple in his right cheek. “You like me singing to you, baby?”

  Oh damn. Who was this sexy and adorable at the same time? Jasmine went ahead and let her knees give out again. Just so Sarge could catch her. Which he did, looking more than a little startled. It was a silly thing to do—and she didn’t care. It felt really freaking good.

  “Jasmine.” His alarm eased when he saw her smile. “I’m not even going to ask because it got me holding you again.”

  After a long moment of scary hesitation, Jasmine gave in to the urge to put her arms around his neck, inhale his scent. “Yeah, I like you singing to me.”

  Sarge jerked her up against him so hard, her feet almost left the ground. “We have some time before that retirement party tonight.” A beat passed. “Hang out with me for a while?”

  Jasmine didn’t look. She simply leaped, along with her heart. “Okay.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Sarge rested his hand on the small of Jasmine’s back, wanting to sing “We Are the Champions” when she didn’t pull away.

  It couldn’t have been this easy, right? He orders some pizzas and pays everyone’s factory salary for a couple hours—and in return, Jasmine agrees to spend time with him? For now, she appeared to have set aside her reservations and given them an afternoon free of the million-dollar question. What happens now? If Sarge thought his answer wouldn’t dissolve the beautiful smile from Jasmine’s face and replace it with censure, he would have told her. Straight up.

  What happens now? Now he fought for her.

  Sarge held no illusions that everything had been solved last night. Or back in the factory’s dark machine room. Nor was he arrogant enough to believe sex would eventually change her mind for good. But he could see a crack of jagged daylight in Jasmine’s wall. No longer did she have that worry in her eyes, telling Sarge exactly what she was thinking. That they were wrong together. Their age difference was too much. That people in Hook wouldn’t approve. The deeply etched line between the two of them had been brushed away for now—and Sarge intended to take the crack of light in Jasmine’s resolve and break it wide open.

  Step one involved getting her out of Hook for a while, eliminating the worry of being seen together. Proving their relationship could be more than sweaty encounters behind locked doors. At the mall two towns over in the middle of a workday, hopefully they’d be in the clear. Notoriety was a strange thing. Some days, he could walk for hours without being recognized. Other days, not so much.

  Please let today be one of the former.

  When Sarge let his fingers dip into the waistband of Jasmine’s jeans, she gifted him with one of those pursed-lip smiles. “You still haven’t told me why we’re at the mall.”

  “Two reasons.” He massaged the base of her spine with his thumb, smiling when she bit her lip and groaned. “One, I need your help buying a Christmas present for Marcy.”

  Her brown eyes went soft. “Oh. And what’s the second reason?”

  “I owe you a dress.”

  Jasmine’s back went straight. “You’re not buying me clothes.”

  “Yeah.” They reached the glass double doors of the mall’s main entrance, and Sarge held one open so Jasmine could go in ahead. “I kind of figured you wouldn’t be thrilled about that idea.”

  “So you drove me here before telling me.”

  “Hear me out.” A group of teenage guys were pointing at him, so he threw them a casual wave, but kept Jasmine walking. “I’m going to buy you the ugliest dress we can find.”

  “Oh, well now I’m on board.” Her widening smile ruined the effect of her sarcasm, spreading across her face and making her glow. “Is there more to this plan or does it end with me making Hook’s worst-dressed list?”

  Damn. Damn, he should have just taken her home. He could be kissing her mouth, her stomach, her knees. Now they were stuck in a public place and she couldn’t stop being amazing for even a little while. “There’s more.” Sarge noticed the group of teenagers had turned and begun following them, holding up their cell phone cameras to take pictures. “You get to buy me something ugly, too.”

  Jasmine appeared thoughtful. “Which will take care of your guilt for ruining my dress, I don’t have to feel like I owe you money, and we get to out-ugly each other.”

  “See how that works?” Feeling protective of Jasmine, even though it was only a group of kids following them, Sarge wrapped his arm around her waist and drew her close. “I’m not going to lie, a significant part of the plan involves watching you try on dresses. Ugly ones.”

  “Long ones. Modest ones.”

  “The plan said nothing about long or modest.”

  She laughed into his shoulder, and his chest almost caved in. His imagination conjured an image of a dozen invisible arms reaching out, trying to snatch up the details of that moment. Jasmine’s warm breath passing through his sleeve, the way she lifted on her toes to press her mouth to him. Her golden scent. God, her scent. There had to be a way to take moments and freeze them forever, right? It didn’t seem fair they had to end, like an album track. And damn, he needed to bring his thoughts down a notch before he did something crazy. Like promising to write her a never-ending song. Or begging her to laugh into his shoulder again. Or both.

  “So who’s going first?” Sarge managed, his voice gruff.

  Her gaze lit on something up ahead. “You first. Definitely you.”

  Almost afraid to look, Sarge spotted the mall kiosk boasting custom tie-dyed shirts. “Oh wow. It’s like they saw us coming.”

  Jasmine tugged him toward the booth. “Funny how plans backfire.”

  Twenty minutes later, Sarge was the reluctant owner of a hot-pink and baby-blue tie-dyed shirt that said “Band Geek” across the chest. Looking adorably pleased with herself, Jasmine still hadn’t noticed the group of people forming across the mall, watching them and snapping pictures. Wanting to keep it that way lest she worry about them ending up on the internet, Sarge kept her facing away from the building group, throwing them an occasional smile over her head, hoping they would lose interest.

  Old News traveled with light security on the road, mostly for Lita’s safety, but today marked the first time Sarge had to worry about someone in his care—Jasmine—being affected by curious fans. Any other time, he wouldn’t hesitate to sign autographs or take pictures, but he was all too aware that this hiatus with Jasmine was set to expire. One of her parameters had been to keep their relationship a secret. Dozens of people seeing them together would break the spell for sure.

  Dammit, he hadn’t been careful enough.

  “All right, smart-ass. You’re up,” Sarge muttered, throwing the bag containing his new shirt over one shoulder. “Payback is going to be beautiful.”

  “I thought ugly was the point.” Jasmine shook her head at Sarge, even as he took her hand. “You don’t even remember your own rules.”

  Wanting to get her off the mall’s main floor, Sarge pulled her into the first women’s clothing store they passed. Which thankfully, turned out to be exactly what he’d had in mind. Designed for shoppers on a budget, the hemlines were brief, the material thin…and there was an overabundance of animal print. Last-minute clubbing outfits. “This makes my job pretty easy,” Sarge murmured, noting they were the only customers in the store. Thank God. The longer they could fly under the radar, the better.

  “Put me in zebra print and die.”

  Forcing a laugh, even though his throat was tightening with dread, Sarge’s gaze snagged on a red dress with no sleeve
s, the number 69 in giant yellow letters below the neckline. “Oh, I think we have a winner.”

  Following his line of sight, Jasmine’s jaw fell. “No. No way. Don’t you dare.”

  “You were so smug with your tie-dye.” Dodging her attempts to prevent him from retrieving the dress, Sarge managed to snatch it off the rack. Jasmine made for the exit, but Sarge hauled her back with an arm across her middle before she’d taken two steps. “Oh no, you don’t. We had a deal. You at least have to try it on.”

  Jasmine wiggled in his hold, which presented a problem since her bottom was curved into his lap. Her struggle was halfhearted at best, but the way his body responded was the exact opposite of halfhearted. “Now look what you’ve done,” Sarge rasped into her ear, thankful they were hidden by the clothing racks.

  “You weren’t kidding…” Jasmine breathed. “About needing me more.”

  “No, I wasn’t. I need you all the fucking time, baby.” Sarge slid a hand down her belly, pressing her back against him more firmly, groaning when she tweaked her hips. “Jesus. Stop doing that.”

  She tossed a crafty look over her shoulder. “I’ll stop when you put the dress down.”

  “God, you play dirty.” Sarge unglued their bodies with an inward groan, unable to remove his attention from her hips and thighs. “Fine. I won’t make you try on the dress. But you do realize you’re giving a man from New Jersey bragging rights?”

  That brought Jasmine up short. She swayed toward the exit, then circled back around with a glare. “Oh, fine. I’ll try it on.”

  On their way to the dressing room, they signaled the salesperson, but she didn’t even look up from her cell phone, simply waving them back. A quick glance toward the exit told Sarge the crowd following them didn’t appear inclined to enter the store; however, they would most likely be waiting when he and Jasmine left. Worry over her reaction began to weigh heavier on Sarge’s shoulders as he watched Jasmine disappear behind the last in a row of hanging curtains.