Right Kind of Wrong(24)

I shrugged. “And no satisfaction.”

A slow grin stretched out his face. “I’m Jack, by the way. Your new trainer.”

I didn’t flinch but inside all I could think was how fan-fucking-tastic it was that I’d just sassed off to the guy I was going to be stuck training with for the next two weeks.

But then Jack started talking about bar menus and scheduling policies and all I could think about was how I was ever going to learn anything from this beautiful man when he kept talking to me with that voice of his. That raspy, deep, alluring voice. But I did, eventually, learn a thing or two from Jack.

And some of it was even work-related.

A few months later, Jack got a job as a bartender at a nicer bar, which meant batter pay, and he quit the Thirsty Coyote. He’s finishing his master’s in psychology because he wants to be a counselor for at-risk kids—I know; he’s too good to be true—but putting himself through school has been a constant battle for him, so the opportunity to make more money while still keeping his same bartender hours was a no-brainer for him. Even still, I was disappointed that we weren’t going to work together anymore.

But we were good friends and continued hanging out together, along with Pixie, Ethan, and a few of our other friends from school. But Jack and I… we had a connection, from the very beginning. It was like we were soul mates, but not in a stupid, obsessive way. There was no silly flirting, no jealousy, no awkward tension between us. It was always easy.

Jack and Jenna: friends.

Jack and Jenna: work buddies.

Jack and Jenna: partners in crime and late-night tattoo decisions.

But then one night, everything changed and we became something entirely different.

Jack and Jenna: drunk and naked in Jack’s bedroom.

The night started out harmless enough. We were at Jack’s apartment—where he lived alone at the time, since this was before Ethan moved in—and drinking with our friends. I was wearing my colored contacts that night—a blue color that made my eyes look really green—and I was the happy kind of buzzed, not too drunk but tipsy enough to find everything amusing. And I guess Jack was too, because we were the happiest people in our posse.

Our friends slowly called it a night, one by one crawling back to their homes, until it was just Jack and me laughing in his kitchen as we fed each other carrot sticks.

Don’t ask me why. That’s just part of being drunk. You do weird shit like feed people carrot sticks like they’re a donkey you’re trying to win favor with.

The point is we were having a good time. I always had a good time with Jack. He was easy and I was free, and we made each other laugh.

But then, in my buzzed kitchen silliness, I tripped over his foot and fell into him. My chest sank against his as I lost my balance and stared up into gunmetal-gray eyes alight with laughter. My smile grew, matching his, and then I kissed him. Just for fun. Just because I could. But then I fell into him in a whole different way.

I pressed my lips to his and our smiles melted into mouths of want, of passion, of things I couldn’t control—things I didn’t want to control. Letting the kiss be my master, I surrendered to the desire inside me and wrapped my arms around his broad shoulders. He took me against him easily, tucking my body into his as he kissed me back with those lovely lips of his. So full and red. So hard when he scowled yet so soft against mine in that moment.

Jack. This was Jack.

The reality didn’t slow my passion. If anything, it enticed me more as I lifted up on my tiptoes and rolled my hips into his hot body. It was crazy. It was reckless. It was Jack, for Christ’s sake. But I couldn’t stop, didn’t want to stop.

So I thought, what the hell? A night playing naked with Jack might not be bad. It could be fun.

So I pulled away with a teasing smile and walked backward as he tried to reach my mouth again and again. Before I knew it, we were in his bedroom and his lips were on mine again.

With swift and sure movements, he took my ass and hoisted me into his arms, shoving my back against the nearest wall as he pressed himself between my legs and sucked at my mouth. I was instantly wet and aching, desperate for more touch, more want, just… more.

I exhaled loudly, letting my hot breath flit over his ear as I tilted my head back for air and exposed my throat. Guys love the throat, so vulnerable, at the mercy of their mouth.

But instead of kissing along my windpipe, Jack cupped my throat with his hand and held my head to the wall as he continued to kiss me. He pulled at my lips and pushed his tongue into my mouth. My nipples hardened in excitement but my mind whirled, not sure what to make of my neck in his grasp. He squeezed lightly, then ran his thumb down my windpipe. Slowly. Softly. The juxtaposition had me panting and arching my back, wanting more.